Skirmish by the Sea. #4
Fitzroy let out a satisfied sigh, reluctantly tearing his gaze from the gallows to address his men.
“Let this serve as a warning to all. No infighting. No using the battlefield to settle petty disputes. We’re on the same side, fighting for Lyonesse—not against one another.
Today, we proved our strength when united, pushing back the enemy.
I’m proud of each of you.” His voice deepened as he gestured toward Red’s lifeless body.
“Don’t disappoint me by acting like that heathen hanging over there. ”
The soldiers nodded solemnly, murmuring their agreement.
Fitzroy exited swiftly, leaving his knights to handle Red’s swaying body. I ducked out of Finn’s embrace and hurried after him.
“My liege,” I called, quickening my pace.
He slowed so we could walk together back to his tent.
“Thank you for saving my life,” I said, looking up into the rainfall to meet his eye.
“You saved me once before—I owed you,” he replied, giving me an affirming pat on the back. “I’ve been thinking,” he continued, holding open the tent flap as I ducked inside.
“That’s never good news,” I quipped, unable to restrain myself from making a snide comment even in my misery.
Fitzroy forced a dry laugh. “I was dismissive of your previous suggestions—about finding courage and telling the men that magic isn’t our enemy—because I had no intention of staying in Lyonesse.”
He grabbed a linen sheet, tousling his drenched hair until it was only damp.
“Pardon?” I asked, thrown by his words.
“My personal plan was to flee back to Albion the moment my father dismissed me from my duties,” he admitted, offering me the sheet.
I declined, wallowing in my discomfort. “I was going to change my name, hide with an ally, or even fake my own death. I wanted to leave behind all of Lyonesse’s problems. I wasn’t fighting for a better future—I was seeking a quick victory so I could leave. ”
“That’s incredibly selfish,” I uttered tonelessly, knowing that if I wasn’t too numb to summon real anger, I’d be furious.
He nodded, regret appearing in his eyes.
“I know. But I no longer want that. After our conversation about my mother, I realized how disappointed she’d be if she knew I’d fled when an opportunity to emancipate wizards arose.
I hope she’s watching, wherever she may be, and I want to make her proud by doing what’s right. ”
“And what’s that?”
“My father will never let magic exist comfortably in Lyonesse. He’ll never permit witches and wizards to live freely—it would mean going back on his word.” Fitzroy’s gaze lowered before he gestured toward my torso. “But today, we saw how magic can be a force for good. It can save lives.”
Instantly, I rested a hand on the part of my stomach where the arrow’s fletching had been only hours ago. Without magic, I’d be dead.
“I only have hazy memories of Regina from my childhood, so I cannot recall if she’s truly hysterical,” Fitzroy continued. “But one thing I do know, my father’s a liar, especially when falsehoods make him more favorable.”
My brow furrowed in confusion, wondering why he cared about Regina’s true mental state.
“I don’t understand why—” I began, but Fitzroy quickly shushed me.
His eyes darted toward the entrance, then narrowed into slits. “I think there’s someone outside.”
Before he could edge toward the opening, the esquire burst in without preamble.
“My liege,” he called.
Fitzroy scowled at him. “How many times must I tell you to announce yourself?”
“Apologies, Your Highness,” the esquire murmured with a swift bow. “Shall I write to the King to inform him of your heroic handling of the invasion and the traitor?”
“No need,” Fitzroy said dismissively, rummaging through a chest of drawers.
“Why?” the esquire asked.
Fitzroy didn’t respond—he simply pulled a thick, fur-lined coat from the drawer.
“Where are you going?” the esquire demanded, his tone edged with concern.
“I need to speak to the King in person,” Fitzroy said. “I’ll return within the week.”
“You’re going to go back to the Walled City?” I blurted, speaking out of turn.
The esquire shot me a glare as Fitzroy nodded, draining the last of his wine.
“Why?” the esquire asked.
Fitzroy sighed, slamming the empty goblet down with a thump. “Because I’ve war matters to discuss. I don’t trust sending a scroll—too many hands, too little security.”
“I’ll accompany you.” The esquire tipped his feather-topped cap.
“You cannot,” Fitzroy said, clapping the man on the back. “I’m bestowing a great honor upon you. I’m leaving you in charge in my absence.”
The esquire shook his head, a panicked glint in his eyes. “I’m not sure I’m the right man for the job.”
“Don’t waste this opportunity,” Fitzroy said.
“But traveling alone isn’t safe!” the esquire protested.
“I won’t be alone.” Fitzroy gestured my way. “Smith will join me.”
He handed me the fur-lined coat. “It’s a long journey on foot. You’ll want to stay warm.”
Too drained to argue, I obeyed, shrugging it on.
The esquire persisted in trying to change Fitzroy’s decision, but no amount of moaning could sway him. Once we were dressed for the journey, I followed Fitzroy out of his tent and into the woods.
With a tired sigh, I struggled to keep up with his long strides, dreading the exhausting trek ahead.
“I don’t understand why—” I began, only for Fitzroy to interrupt.
“I lied to the esquire. We’re not going to the Walled City.”
My brow furrowed. “Then where are we going?”
“The Isle of Annwn. I intend to negotiate a truce—or even forge an alliance—with Regina.”