Chapter 50
Emrys
Isca had left me feeling more level-headed than I had in nearly a decade. I could do this.
But each step that took me closer to Gelida and farther from the people I needed to protect felt like one of my scars ripping open.
If I wanted to return to our tent and finish what Isca had only just begun—her mouth, her warmth, the way she’d looked at me like I wasn’t a monster—I’d have to keep my hands off the Gelidian bastard’s throat.
I barely felt my boots hit the ground as I dismounted. It should’ve been Nisien here. He was far better suited to diplomacy, and he could slice off the general’s head as cleanly as I could.
The field stretched in brittle brown and faded green between our two camps, the place neutral by treaty and soaked with the blood of old wars. How exposed it was made it a foolish place to parley. But for once, I wanted a confrontation to end quickly.
General Cadoc approached alone on foot. His armor, though polished, showed the marks of battle. I hadn’t expected him to appear so much older than the last time I’d spied his face across a battlefield. His beard was now more gray than brown, and burn scars trailed up his neck like ivy.
My father had put those there.
“Crowned Prince Emrys ap Euros of Darreth.” It was more a statement of fact than a greeting and he’d sneered through my father’s name. He stopped a few paces away, folding his hands behind his back. He didn’t bow; his spine remained straight as a rod, and his pewter eyes never wavered from mine.
“General Cadoc,” I returned.
His mouth curved, just barely. “You’ve gained quite the reputation.”
I said nothing, just let my stare settle into his with the weight of my disdain.
He tilted his head as if testing the air between us. “I trust you have come to talk, not to fight.”
“If I’d come to fight, General, you’d be remembering what burning feels like.” I couldn’t keep the wolfish grin off my face. It was too entertaining to watch the beads of sweat pearl on his forehead as he fought the urge to act out.
Cadoc’s lips twitched again, almost imperceptibly. “Then let us be quick, shall we?”
He gestured to the table they’d set up on this neutral ground. There were two simple stools, a crude table, and nothing to shield us from the open sky. If they thought concealing a weapon under the table or his chair would make the difference in his survival, or my death, they were highly mistaken.
Cadoc sat first, his posture now calm and relaxed, as though he had nothing to fear. I followed, pulling my chair out slowly, deliberately, making the act of sitting a gesture of control rather than submission.
I met his gaze across the table, letting the silence stretch for a beat longer than necessary. The sweat hadn’t abated.
Cadoc’s gauntlet tapped once on the wood before he folded his hands. “I expected to see your new diplomat with you.”
I stiffened. A vision of ripping his jaw off with my bare hands then using it to stab him in the gut played in my mind.
The million ways I could kill him went on in more colorful detail before I reined myself in enough to answer.
“She remains in Tir Darreth,” I replied, my tone clipped with the lie. “Her work is not your concern.”
Cadoc’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Of course, of course. It would be a shame to see such talent go unprotected…” He trailed off, his words almost an afterthought.
I decided his death would be excruciating if it came to it.
“To business,” I said gruffly.
He allowed a brief flicker of a smile, just enough to soften the sharpness of his gaze. “We’ve reviewed the reports. The recent raids—if they were conducted by Gelidian soldiers—were not sanctioned.”
“If?” I asked, the word a blade’s edge between us.
He shrugged slightly, as if the question were beneath him. “The border has always been this way, Prince Emrys. Some things are difficult to trace.” His gaze was steady, but I saw calculation there.
“Your men burned three villages,” I said, each word drawn through clenched teeth.
Cadoc’s expression remained unshaken, his fingers lightly tapping the table. “And you retaliated by destroying our garrison.”
I forced the words out. “I want peace.”
Cadoc leaned forward slightly. “The only thing you have done so far to prove that is show up to this meeting.”
He was testing me, pushing, waiting for a crack. His tone was calm, too calm, as though he knew just where to apply pressure to make it sting without breaking.
My hand clenched at my side, the curse’s heat flickering dangerously under my skin. It felt my hatred for this man. It would push and push until I felt like I was standing on the edge with no choice but to act.
I could easily burn Cadoc alive where he sat. The curse begged for blood and screams. But I wanted her, and my people deserved better.
That was the difference now. I’d spent fifteen years obeying my fury. Today, I would choose her peace over my rage.
“I retaliated,” I said slowly, “because peace demands it sometimes. Don’t mistake my current restraint for weakness.
I want a cessation of hostilities,” I continued, my voice lower, less volatile.
“But I want it on agreeable terms and in writing. If your raids do not stop, my people will have no choice but to react accordingly. And I… I will attack as I see fit.” I managed only the faintest growl in my voice.
He leaned forward slightly, his eyes glinting with something unspoken.
“Then you have my word, Prince Emrys. Gelida does not seek conflict with Darreth. We will look more into border conditions to see if we can quell any raiding.” He paused, letting the silence do its work.
“We offer you a concession.” He reached into the satchel at his side and withdrew a scroll, sealed tightly with blue wax.
He sedately slid it toward me across the table.
“A piece of land to act as a buffer zone. To be controlled by Darreth’s crown for the security of both our peoples. ”
I reached for the scroll, broke the seal, and glanced at the contents quickly. They were offering a rocky stretch of ground that no one wanted besides maybe goat herds. An empty gesture designed to keep the conversation going, meant to buy time rather than peace.
Still, it was a concession, even if small. Each day that our soldiers could be home with family was of immense worth.
I allowed my gaze to flicker from the scroll back to his face. “And what do you want in return, General?”
“Conversation until we reach an accord,” he said simply, leaning back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest. “We see how this first step goes until midwinter. Then we meet again. Maybe expand the buffer zone.”
“Trade must continue,” I argued.
“Of course. We could restrict travel to the main roads only and set up a checkpoint on both sides.”
That…didn’t sound awful. It might offer a future where Gelida’s threat wasn’t constant. My kingdom would need more than this to stand secure, but it would buy us the harvest season at least.
But at what cost? Something was buried beneath this proposal, and I feared that only time would reveal it.
“You should know, Prince Emrys,” he said, trying to hold my gaze, “that the tides in Gelida are shifting. Soon, decisions will come from a different crown. I cannot say which yet, but…both sides have many supporters.”
I studied him. His tone at last was polite, even conciliatory, but something about his wording caught on me like a burr. Was he a supporter of Maelric, who opposed magic? Or Princess Anwen, who was said to be ambivalent to it?
I snatched up the scroll, barely holding back my desire to burn it, and stood. “A courier will hand you my decision by nightfall.”
His gaze burned into my back as I departed.
I’d restrained myself long enough to start what I hoped would be a period of peace. Land had been offered, along with a promise that the raids would stop. I could return to Isca with good news.
I felt almost giddy at the thought.
But the taste of the small victory was like ash. Something in Cadoc’s eyes had unsettled me, and I knew deep down that I’d left the table with more problems than I’d bargained for.
Everything seemed normal when I reentered the camp to cheers from the men. Like me, they craved vengeance, yet the prospect of returning to their families was even more tempting. I left the horse I’d ridden in place of Arth to be brushed and fed by a squire.
I waited for the embrace of her aura, to feel it thrumming just under my skin. But with each step toward the tents, the absence of her magic grew more noticeable.
Something was wrong. Her magic usually rose to greet me before I even saw her face. The void sent a chill that felt like claws of ice raking down my spine.
Her bedroll was still warm where she’d sat upon it using her makeshift writing desk. But the ink had spilled, its dark stain spreading across the papers, dripping onto the canvas floor. She hadn’t been gone long—a quarter of an hour at most.
I dropped to one knee beside it, reaching out a shaking hand as if I could summon her back by sheer will. The scent of lavender still clung to her pillow. I buried my fingers in the blanket and felt the lingering heat of her body like that might be enough to satisfy me.
Never enough.
She wasn’t in my tent. So I went to the one she shared with Catrin.
I threw back the flap and felt even less of her magic in that space. No warmth, none of the peace that she seemed to carry around like it wasn’t the greatest miracle to have ever grace Avanfell.
I opened myself up completely to the thrum of magic that laces itself through everything. I sensed all the expected things, yet the silence of her most perfect note, compared to the rest of the world’s noise, left me wanting.
Gone.
But there was a discordant note there. It was fading, but it had been loud. Unfamiliar magic…
Whoever had taken her had covered their tracks shortly after leaving. It was masterful work.