Chapter 39
Aiden
The logging camp was a gods-damned fortress.
I’d been expecting a handful of tents and a few guards, but this was almost a small village. A high wooden fence surrounded the camp, the tree trunks carved to sharp tips to deter anyone from climbing in—or out.
From my vantage point high in one of the tallest trees I could find, I spotted at least thirty prisoners scurrying about the camp in their faded clothes and clanging shackles.
They hauled water from the rushing Medria River, sawed logs, and minded the camp.
All under the watchful eyes of over a dozen soldiers.
And that didn’t count the ones who might be patrolling around the camp.
I’d been in this tree for nearly three hours, judging by the stiffness in my muscles. Sunset had come and gone. I was grateful for the cloak of shadows, but the darkness made it much more difficult to distinguish patterns.
Torches crowned the guard posts on the east and west sides of the camp. The guards were alert and well-rested.
Fucking rotten luck.
A low, trilling whistle told me Maz was descending from his tree. He was probably going out of his mind with impatience.
We’d pushed ourselves in the last week of riding, ever-conscious of the timeline we navigated. If Jek and the others had made it back to Yargoth and told Skelly of our plan, Skelly would be sailing to meet the Shadow-Wolf prison ship by now.
Nikella had two days to make her explosives. Then we needed to steal one of these log shipments and raft it right into the mine.
But walking into this camp would be suicide.
I silently swung down from my tree, the movements written into my muscles after years of climbing these trees growing up. Stepping back into the goddess’s forest of Twaryn had felt like coming home. That first breath of rich, dewy air had eased an ache in my chest I hadn’t even known was there.
Kiera had asked me why the trees didn’t change color like the ones in Dagriel. Why the coming winter didn’t seem to touch Twaryn.
I’d told her what Nikella had told me when I was a young boy. These were Viridana’s trees, and she’d willed this forest to live forever.
I watched Maz’s bulky shadow slide down his tree and land with a grunt.
“How are you so gods-damned quick?” he muttered.
I smiled in the dark. “Sheer talent. Let’s go.”
We slipped back through the thick forest to where we’d left the others with the horses. Nikella had chosen a grove far enough from the fortress that no one would see our fire. And if they did, hopefully they would assume we were simple Twarynites.
Ruru was standing guard when we approached. I whistled, and he relaxed. “All right?”
“It’s locked up tight,” Maz said, collapsing by the small fire Kiera tended. “Nothing goes in or out except the logs.”
Ruru frowned. “Who floats the logs down the river, then?”
I sat next to Kiera. “A guard with four or five prisoners, as Caddik said. But they don’t use the prisoners who do the logging, from the looks of it. A wagon arrived with a group of prisoners who hopped on the raft and started riding it down the river with the same guard who drove the wagon.”
“So they use the same guards and prisoners on the river,” Kiera summed up, dusting off her hands. “Probably to prevent many new faces they can’t track.”
I nodded.
“Which means we’ve got shitty luck,” Maz said, glaring into the fire. “We can’t take the shipment from inside the camp because they don’t use the same prisoners. And we can’t take it outside the camp because they do use the same prisoners.”
“It’s clever,” I admitted.
“It’s a problem,” Maz countered. “We have eight days until we have to be at that fucking mine. Otherwise, my sisters and Skelly and the rest of them will be attacking a beach for no reason.”
“We’ll figure it out, Mazkull.” I turned to Kiera. “Nikella?”
She shook her head. “Still not back.”
The moment we’d set up camp, Nikella had disappeared into the forest with her notes.
She’d been more focused than ever on Kiera’s training since the night she made us fight each other. I’d seen the two of them talking afterward, their expressions solemn. I hadn’t asked what it was about, but both women trained like the world depended on it. Which it probably did.
Ruru trained hard as well, as if determined to prove he could do his part in the mine.
I was honored to be fighting this war with every single one of them.
“Is there some water nearby?” Kiera asked, glancing at me as she rose to her feet. “That isn’t crawling with soldiers, of course.”
Maz smirked at me. “I believe Aiden knows the perfect spot.”
I resisted glaring at him. We’d passed a small stream earlier that I told Maz I needed to come back to.
I stood. “I’ll show you.”
Kiera nodded and grabbed everyone’s water canteens.
“Bring us back a few, yeah?” Maz called to our backs as we walked into the forest.
“A few what?” Kiera asked, her light footsteps crackling behind me.
“You’ll see.” I reached back and slid a few of the canteens’ straps from her shoulder onto mine.
My eyes grew accustomed to the dark, slivers of moonlight cutting through the tree canopy. In the distance, flecks of golden light danced through the thick bushes.
“Fireflies?” Kiera whispered. “Twaryn truly only knows one season.”
My chest warmed, remembering the last time we’d been in the woods surrounded by fireflies.
The melodious sound of a stream reached my ears before we stepped into a wide clearing. Several large trees dipped their roots into the shallow water. Their stiff, shiny leaves hid the clusters of fruit I sought.
Kiera stood next to me. “It’s so lovely. I can see why you’d want to live out your days here.”
I glanced sharply at her. “Why do you think I’d want to do that?”
Kiera shrugged, not looking at me. “Something Melaena said once. And you always talked about this place with such reverence. Like you yearned for the peace you found here.”
Something large and thorny took up residence in my chest. “I do yearn for peace, but I’m not sure where—or even if—I’ll ever have it.”
“There will be peace,” Kiera said, finally gazing up at me. “Once there’s nothing left to fight for.”
I cupped the back of her head in my palm, then slowly slid her braid between my fingers. “There will always be something to fight for.”
Kiera’s throat tightened as if she’d swallowed hard. “Why did you tell Helene who you are?”
I frowned at the unexpected question. I pondered my answer as I walked to the stream. Kiera kneeled by the water and filled her canteens. She didn’t ask again, as if she understood I needed a moment.
“I still don’t want to be king,” I said carefully. “But I’m tired of hiding who I am. Renwell tried to bury me—and my family—with more lies, and I just wanted someone else to know the truth. The truth Helene’s husband waited and worked for.”
Kiera sat back on her heels. “So many people want you to be king. My mother did, too.” She drank from a canteen, then handed it to me. “Did you know my brother never had the desire to be king, either?”
I frowned and took a sip of fresh, cold water. Why had Brielle never mentioned that?
“I never understood it,” Kiera continued. “As king, you would have all the power. Much more than I ever had as a princess. It was one of the reasons I was fine giving up my crown. I wanted to be High Enforcer instead. Someone with real power.”
I sat in the thick grass next to her and took another long swallow of water. “And what if you were queen?”
Kiera stiffened.
It was like I’d struck a match. I let the question burn and burn between us, its implications billowing like smoke in a breeze. Then I doused it with one breath.
“If you had inherited the throne instead of your brother,” I added.
Kiera’s shoulders sagged. With relief? Her voice was still tight when she replied, “My father would never have allowed that, even if Everett put up a fight. I was never meant to rule. I never wanted to either.”
Disappointment tunneled through my gut like worms. She was saying what I was, more or less. But I didn’t like it.
“There was a time when I saw myself becoming king,” I said.
I’d never admitted this to anyone before, not even Nikella.
“Back in Pravara, leading the rebellion. I thought we could defeat Weylin’s soldiers and march on Aquinon, victorious.
That I would parade through the gate and the streets with my allies.
And that when I announced I was Aiden Falcryn, son of the last true king, they would cheer and welcome me with open arms. I would take my father’s crown off Weylin’s head and imprison him for his crimes.
I would be the king that Rellmira loved, much as Nikella said they loved my father. ”
Kiera shifted, her shoulder pressing into mine. “But then the rebellion was massacred.”
Memories clamored in their cages, but I didn’t let them out. I didn’t need to here in this forest, the crickets chirping softly, the trees swaying. Kiera’s warmth anchoring me.
“And now?” she asked. “After we destroy the mine and kill Renwell, who will you put on the throne?”
I had no answer for that. At least not one I wanted to give her at this moment.
I rose, leaving my canteens by the stream. I extended my hand to her. “The throne can wait. But what I want to show you cannot.”
She hesitated, staring at my bare hand. I vividly remembered a time not too long ago when she would’ve refused to take it.
But now . . . now she placed her hand in mine.