Chapter 70
To Gaeren’s surprise, Aeliana’s guards listened and stayed rooted outside her bedroom door.
But it was most likely because his own guards shadowed them through the halls and out into the moonlit garden.
After Gaeren speared a single look in their direction, they kept a respectful distance, and Gaeren finally felt free to speak.
“Did my father do anything to you?”
Aeliana’s brow furrowed. “To me? You’re the one he put in prison.”
Gaeren rolled his eyes. “He had far worse disciplinary measures when we were children. I was fairly certain he’d release me eventually and call it a lesson.”
Her eyebrows arched, and he gave a sheepish shrug.
“I could have been wrong, but I wasn’t.”
She glanced back at the guards and lowered her voice. “Enla seems just as much a prisoner. It’s no wonder you had to come back.”
Gaeren steered her through a grove of magnolias, hoping to block out the guards even more. “I hated leaving, but you have dozens of people protecting you. Sometimes I feel like my sister only has me. Besides, I knew you couldn’t really leave. Less than a week away and you’re already back?”
A breathy laugh escaped her lips, bringing his mind back to the night they’d kissed and the way her lips had felt on his.
“Somehow, I suspect Enla has plenty of people watching over her. But I understand what you mean. She’s your sister.
And I’m… not.” The statement hung in the air more like a question.
He wanted to explore that answer with her but not with war looming on two fronts.
“Did you bring Gullet back with you?” he asked instead.
“Gullet?” She frowned. “Maybe he came with my mother, but I haven’t seen him since we left Myndren.”
Gaeren halted his steps, glancing back at the palace. “Gullet arrived before your mother, and I sent him to warn you. We suspect it means Myndren has fallen.”
Aeliana pinched the bridge of her nose as if warding off tears. “If it’s already fallen, why is she still gathering an army in the north?”
“How do you know Mayvus gathered an army if you didn’t get my message??”
She glanced up, her answer coming out distracted. “Durriken went to check the icebergs in the Northern Sea. He showed me a fleet of her ships. We knew we couldn’t pass her, so we had to turn back.”
“A fleet?” Gaeren ran a hand through his hair. “Where is she getting all the ships? Is she able to bring those across the barrier as well?”
“Speaking of Durriken…” She hesitated, then pulled on his hand, leading him deeper into the grove beyond the guards.
He marveled at the way she gripped his hand and yet no twinge of pain crossed his bond mark’s scar and no guilt pricked his conscience.
“I can’t expect you to fly off on a whim, not when you’ve just returned to your sister, but I can’t wait any longer.” She bit her lip, holding in some internal struggle.
Sylmar’s suspicions rose to the surface in the back of Gaeren’s mind, but this time he successfully shoved them back down, unwilling to entertain the idea that Aeliana was a potential enemy.
Just like when they’d been on the balcony and she’d been branded by Mayvus, he knew Aeliana could never truly be an enemy.
“Wait, did you say fly?”
She laughed again, and he joined in, curious to hear the joke.
“Just to Mt. Vescano and back. How long would that take?” Her brow rose in earnest, waiting for him to do the math.
“You’re serious?” His heart pounded with the possibility, and for a fleeting moment he imagined the wind in his hair and the earth passing by in a blur. He supposed it would feel like sailing, only a hundred times faster. “You want to go flying with a dragon?”
She hushed him, then ducked under a branch, pulling him back to the path so they could pick up their pace while the guards were stuck in the grove.
“When Lady Merinnia showed me the curse placed on my mother, it was done by a woman with tattoos on her hands.” She frowned at her own scarred palms, turning her hands over to study their backs. “They reminded me of Marnok.”
Understanding dawned. “You think the woman who cursed your mother was a witch.”
Aeliana nodded. “Now that we know that’s where he comes from.”
“And you’re going to ask Durriken to take you to them.”
She grimaced, then nodded.
There were so many holes in her plan. Would Durriken even do it? Could she even find them? And would they help her?
“It would be out of character for me to stay at the palace for too long anyway,” Gaeren said slowly.
Aeliana’s lips twitched, her eyes holding a mirth that made him want to give her the moon.
“And Durriken probably flies pretty fast.”
She nodded, her face unusually solemn. “Very fast, indeed.”
“However, I did promise Thallahan I’d bring Fay a princely gift at their wedding.”
She tapped her lips as if deep in thought. “That’s only two days away. It might even take that long for Durriken to get here. While we’re gone, Sylmar and Velden can hash out details with your father about how they want to work together to recapture Myndren.”
“So I tell Enla I’m taking a short trip to Rykarn after the wedding. I send Larkos out with supplies for Bayla and the Recreants to make my story look good.”
Aeliana held out her hands. “Even better. It serves a dual purpose. That should settle it.”
They grinned at each other, and a new sense of hope stirred within him.
Not just for them to find a cure for the curse that plagued Emeris.
And not even for him to protect Enla while still serving the Recreants.
But hope that when this was all over, he and Aeliana might be able to figure out more of what they were to each other.
“I guess I’d better hold up my end of the deal and go check in with Durriken.” Aeliana glanced back at the palace.
“If you ask one of my guards to escort you, that will make it easier for me to give the other the slip.” A strange sense of regret sliced through him at the thought of parting ways.
“Are you going to the Recreants?”
He nodded. “I haven’t been able to see them since I was imprisoned. Tonight I need to convince them to go up against Mayvus in exchange for me taking my parents off the throne.”
Her eyes widened. “And how would you do that?”
“By placing Enla on it instead. That’s step one toward the people’s freedom. As long as my parents are on the throne, a violent and bloody war will be required to enact change. But if my sister is on the throne…there’s a chance at peace.”
She nodded slowly. “Is Enla…well?”
The fear that clawed up his throat made it difficult to answer. “No. But that’s why placing her on the throne is the best way to shift the power. She’s not a threat to the Recreants, so giving her power is the best move for them to start gaining their own.”
“And what about for her?” Aeliana asked, but he could see she knew the answer.
“She won’t last as queen,” he admitted. “Partly because I’ll see to it that she doesn’t. That’s the best thing for her health.” His conviction grew with his words even as his guilt flared. It went against everything he’d been raised to do as a throne warden.
“And what if you can’t save everyone you’ve set out to save?” Aeliana whispered.
He stilled as the memory of his deal with the sprites flashed through his mind, followed quickly by the visions from Lady Merinnia. “It may not look the way we expect, but I still think it’s possible. The future is never set in stone.”
She gave him an incredulous look, almost as if she could hear the words he left out. But his confidence rested in his willingness to pay the high cost demanded by the sprites. The cost Lady Merinnia seemed to confirm by pointing out his absence in those future visions.
The hope that had grown during their walk was immediately snuffed. He couldn’t dream about a future with Aeliana, not if he might not live to see it. The truth sobered him into being prepared for the night’s agenda.
“Go on,” he said, angling his head toward the palace. “Ask one to take you back to your rooms so I can leave.” His abrupt dismissal made her flinch. But in light of his recent thoughts, he didn’t rescind his words.
With a stiff nod, she turned back to the palace, and Gaeren rushed through the gardens, eager to get away from the reminders of what he could almost have.
When Gaeren finally found the tavern where Riveran had arranged a meeting, he questioned his sanity. There were only half a dozen tables, all filled with seedy-looking men either lost in their drinks or snarling at their companions, as if a brawl might break out at any moment.
Riveran waved him down from the darkest corner where he sat with two other men, hooded cloaks deliberately hiding their faces. Gaeren tightened his own cloak around his shoulders, ensuring the hood stayed in place as he approached the table.
“You didn’t mention he was your contact,” one of the men muttered.
“Would you have come if I did?” Riveran said the words to the stranger but smiled at Gaeren, slapping his back and practically pushing him down into the last empty chair.
“How’d you even recognize me?” Gaeren asked.
The other men snorted, and this time the second spoke up, his voice oddly familiar behind his growl. “Your cloak and boots are evidence of your wealth, and your signature swagger could be recognized a mile away.”
Gaeren frowned. He didn’t have a swagger. He took in the intricate stitching of his cloak and the fine leather of his boots, unable to argue the first point.
“I’ll pick up some ill-fitting clothing on my side of town for you,” Riveran said. “As long as you’re buying tonight’s drinks.” He waved over the barmaid, and the other two men chuckled.
Gaeren ignored their condescension and held out a hand. “I’m Gaeren Elanesse. And you are?”
The first man cocked his head, giving Gaeren a glimpse of green eyes and a heavy brown beard, but he ignored Gaeren’s hand. “It’s brave of you to come here and expect to leave.”
“Smits.” The second man drew the first’s name out in warning.