Chapter 40
Chapter Forty
M ounted on horseback, with his hands secured behind his back, Leander’s thighs were aching with the effort of staying atop the horse. Fortunately they were walking at a comfortably sedate pace, which meant it was relatively easy to maintain his balance.
The twenty minutes of riding west were almost over, Leander guessed. The proverbial clock ticking towards their inevitable demise.
The gag in Leander’s mouth had started to make his jaw ache. But the pain in his heart was more palpable. He could not use this time to explain himself to Jarryn, who had done nothing but keep his cold, hard stare fixed straight in front of him.
It was cruel, really, to have them ride side by side. So close, yet the distance was utterly unacceptable to the demigod.
The one time Jarryn did glance at Leander, he didn’t know if the prince was looking at him with… sadness, hate, fear, scorn? Maybe it was just indifference. But without Aesthesia, he was no better off in knowing how to tackle Jarryn’s silence.
Twenty minutes of riding to his doom gave Leander the chance for a lot of thinking.
But not until it was too late and everything was already falling apart.
Slowly moving forward on his guided horse with eight guards surrounding them, he had no semblance of a plan.
He had no notion of what it would really take to right the wrongs of his admittedly short, but extremely destructive, life.
“ We have each other. ” They had said to each other, mere days ago.
What a fucking joke.
His life was crashing down around him. Crashing and burning and he was alone, no one there to catch him as he fell. And he had only himself to blame.
It was a good thing Leo was gagged: Jarryn’s rage and hurt was apparently too much for words. There was nothing more that Leander could say, nothing that could fix this.
“That’s far enough,” one of Nevari’s guards said and all of the horses stopped.
The soldiers dismounted first and two went to each of the condemned prisoners. Leander allowed himself to be pulled from the horse, valiantly trying not to hyperventilate at the thought of his fast approaching death.
Where, by the Nine, was Verin?
Pushed forward, Leander stumbled to regain his footing on the uneven ground. It was pointless, though, for he was next forced to the ground by a hand .
He found himself on his knees and looked to the left as Jarryn gracelessly sunk to the ground beside him. Leander released a mewling sound, as attempt to grab the other’s attention, but Jarryn still did not acknowledge Leander’s presence. He did not even twitch.
Eyes wet with unshed tears, Leander turned to stare forward.
Leander was left with just his hearing, and he listened as a sword was unsheathed from its scabbard. More moments passed and a sharp, cold edge could be felt across the back of his neck. He squeezed his eyelids shut.
“Stop.”
Venser. Verin would not be far behind. And the rest, hopefully. Enough to overcome eight of Nevari’s soldiers.
“Place down your weapons.”
Again, Leander was relying on his hearing to establish that was going on. He heard the sound of steel hitting the ground.
“Kneel.”
A body rounded Leander’s peripheral vision and fell to the ground in front of him. It was Verin.
“This is not what we discussed, brother.” To Leander’s surprise, Verin leaned forward and hugged him tight. After a moment, he let go, first removing the gag before using a small knife to slice through the bonds securing his wrists. Cade was doing the same for Jarryn.
“Took your time,” Leander breathed out, his voice cracking a little as he rubbed at his raw wrists before dabbing at the back of his neck to feel for the slick wetness of blood. There was no damage, thankfully.
“Yes, well, we needed to let you sweat a little. ”
Standing up on shaky legs, Leander turned to see the eight Desannian guards kneeling, submissive, waiting for the next command.
Eyes widening, Leander turned to Venser, who was evidently controlling the soldiers.
Venser grimaced. “Another form of illegal use of Aesthesia. You would do well to learn the lessons from your arrest. I will not be teaching you this skill,” he cautioned Leander, who nodded without smiling.
He felt, in that moment, a chill of horror. He realised the potential consequences of such a power in the wrong hands, grappling with the ethical implications of the delicate balance between autonomy and manipulation. Venser was a good man, even if he and Leander did not always see eye to eye.
But Leander was torn between the desire to live and the horrifying fear of abusing someone’s liberty at the whims of another, Leander opened his mouth. Then he closed it again.
“I told you I found the best to teach you Aesthesia. Venser is a rare jewel. Thing is… he has superb instinct for people’s motivations, their wants, their desires…
borderline supernatural, that’s why I think he is so blessed with Aesthesia.
With a gift that should only be used in the direst circumstances,” Verin explained.
Another speechless nod from Leander. Forgetting himself, he looked over to Jarryn who had, in recent months, become his gold standard for morality.
If Jarryn wasn’t just as horrified by this use of Aesthesia, he would find a way to accept it.
But Jarryn had walked away from the group a ways, deep in conversation with Cade.
Apparently Venser’s power did not alarm him.
“What do you want to do with them, Verin?” Venser asked as he prowled in front of the eight kneeling guards.
“We can’t risk them telling Nevari what happened. Nor can they share... this.” Verin indicated vaguely towards Venser and the general situation.
“No. You’re right…”
“I want no Desannian blood spilled on my account,” Leander heard Jarryn’s voice for the first time since finding out about the truth of Leander’s lie. “Let them go.”
“Your Highness, is that wise?” Verin was clearly unsure of this request but unlikely to openly argue with royalty.
The prince finally made eye contact with Leander as he replied, “They know the truth. I do not want their voices silenced.” He looked away, but not before Leander saw the disgust alight in his eyes.
“Very well, Your Highness,” Venser said, though he surreptitiously glanced over at Verin to confirm his brother’s agreement. Verin nodded.
Venser turned back to the soldiers. “You will walk west until dawn. After that, you will follow the guidance of your heart in what you do next.”
The soldiers stood and began walking. No one spoke until they were some ways into the distance.
“Should have killed them,” someone muttered from the back. Leander wasn’t sure who, and he didn’t bother to turn around to find out. It sounded like Cade, though.
“This was the right thing to do, I hope,” Verin said.
“I think that the conventional standards of morality and what is ‘right’ are inapplicable in times of war. ”
“But we’re not at war.” Jarryn rounded on the speaker and Leander could tell that he was restraining himself with the thinnest sliver of self-discipline.
Nothing more was said.
Eventually, Venser spoke up. “Come on, we have a few hours until dawn, when my compulsion wears off and they turn around and head back to Nevari. I want to be well and truly gone by then.”
Chancing a glance at Jarryn, Leander was disheartened to see what he expected.
Jarryn was still visibly enraged, with furrowed brows and a piercing glare as he watched the Desannian soldier’s silhouettes shrink into the distance.
The prince nodded and turned, briefly meeting Leander’s gaze.
His features were etched with displeasure. Words failed the demigod.
He could only hope that Jarryn would give him a chance… with time.
“Leander.”
The sound of a woman’s voice had the whole group turning, half of them drawing weapons in shocked preparation.
The Goddess of Nature, Taskevi, stood there with a serene smile gracing her features. Beside her, coming before him in the flesh for the first time in months, was his mother.
“Come here, Leander,” Taskevi beckoned softly.
Leía also bore a smile, one of pride, as she met her son’s gaze. “Hello, Leander,” she greeted warmly.
Leander’s feet carried him forward, towards the two goddesses.
Around him, the Vyrican members of the group knelt to their patron. Only Jarryn remained standing, and Cade, who mimicked his prince.
Leía’s tranquil gaze turned from her son to the Vyrican men’s genuflections and spoke to them. “Please, rise.”
They straightened up, and Leander saw that some of them (not his brothers) had absurd grins plastered across their faces. It was strange, he thought, for him to be one of them but also so at ease around divinity. A son of two worlds now, he wasn’t sure if he should have bowed too.
“In deciding your punishment,” Taskevi broke Leander out of his reverie, “I wanted to see if you could care, and I mean really care, about something that was not your own. I expected you to meander through life much like you had in our realm, and you did, for a time. But you surpassed my expectations.”
There was a pause. Leander winced but didn’t speak, knowing Taskevi wasn’t finished. He shuffled a little, uncomfortable at having an audience bear witness to this.
“Desperation is a fickle thing. It exhibits both the best and the worst in people. It distinguishes the ordinary from the extraordinary. You, Leander, have always been the latter. You just needed reminding of that fact,” Taskevi finished.
Leía stepped forward and reached for Leander, who she drew into a hug that lasted long enough for the walls around Leander to come crashing down.
“You’ve burnt so bright, my son. I’m so proud of you.”
Leander’s shoulders shook with the weight of everything that had happened in the last few months. He collapsed into the comforting embrace of his mother. Forgetting his audience, he freely allowed the tears to stream down his cheeks. His voice trembled as he recounted his brush with death.