21. Chapter 21
Chapter twenty-one
Erix
Cold steel snaked up my spine at the sight of the General from Doran. I didn’t want to let go of Keera—I was still shaken by the terror that had overtaken me when I made it through the obstacles between us, only to see Keera floundering against the heavy wet sand that threatened to engulf her.
Now though, she pulled out of my grasp and scrambled to her feet. I followed suit, standing at her shoulder with my hand on my sword.
Warrick held up his hands, palms out. “I come in peace,” he insisted.
“You’ve said that before,” Keera grit out.
“And I wasn’t lying then either. I wanted peace with Kelvadan, but you sided with my enemies,” he pointed out. “But this time, I am truly here as an ally. Well, her ally.” He gestured to Izumi, who still knelt on the ground, but seemed to be coming back to herself and her wits.
“The ally of our enemy is our enemy too,” I said. I had not forgotten how Warrick had undermined Keera’s rule at every turn trying to put me on the throne. But he had also supplied the antidote to Calix’s poison that had saved Keera’s life.
“There are many things we might be besides enemies and allies. Neither of us wants Calix to retain control of Kelvadan—not when it could allow him to mount a cavalry that would tip the scales of the war between Doran and Viltov.” Warrick crossed his arms across a broad chest. He wore a plate of metal across his torso, at odds with the light leather and minimal armor worn by most in the desert.
It would be too heavy to be practical when traveling long distances on horseback.
“You went behind my back,” Keera observed, her tone flinty.
“I did not,” Warrick insisted. “Once I figured out that clan lords did not bow to the Monarch of Kelvadan, but remained sovereign in their own right, I realized there might be many ways to treat with the people of the desert. And from Kelvadan, my falcon could reach these lords who spoke the language of war—the language I understand best.”
“The lords answer to no one,” Dhara challenged.
“We will when it is for the greater good.” Izumi finally climbed to her feet. She was surprisingly steady for one on the brink of death just a few moments ago. Badha kept a supportive hand on her arm, though.
“They seemed to answer to him before.” Warrick nodded to Erix.
Wary glances were exchanged among the group. There were too many lords and queens all in one place.
Warrick snorted. “Once you decide who is in charge, come find me among my men. Then, we can finalize our plans. I want Calix out of Kelvadan before he uses any newfound resources against Doran.”
With that, he stalked from the small circle. An uneasy silence settled over the seven of us. To a man, we were disheveled and coated in grime.
Izumi sighed. “You are in no more danger from me. But I would prefer if any further discussions waited until I have had a chance to change.”
With that, a fragile peace settled over the encampment in the wake of untold destruction.
Somehow, I found myself shoulder to shoulder with a young man, helping him repair the barriers around a horse enclosure that had been damaged in the earlier chaos. I didn’t know whether it was by the unnatural storm or the sinking sands—although I suspected both had been my fault.
I had summoned the lightning out of desperation to find Keera, and the desert seemed to have reacted violently to my conversation with Kelvar.
I had almost hoped he would reappear so I could ask him more questions, but he had been notably absent since I pulled Keera into my arms. The bond I had tried to rip out by the roots grew back like a weed, just as stubborn as Keera herself, for which I was eternally glad and apprehensive.
Over the tentative new bond, I could just sense a whirlwind of emotions from Keera’s end, more muted than her feelings had been when our bond had been forged of months of repeated contact and mixing magic.
Now, I could not pick apart each individual reaction, but some came across more clearly than others—betrayal and hurt mixed with relief.
I knew we would talk about what I had done.
My limbs were heavy with guilt for the hurt I caused her.
I had done what I had to. But right now, there was still so much uncertainty around us, and my actions had hurt others besides her.
The only way to free myself of the burden of my guilt was to try and fix what I had set awry.
So, as Keera had headed off with Aderyn to find Daiti and wash off, I had wandered into the camp full of people I had once ruled from behind a mask.
Unlike those in the other encampment, these riders did not recognize my face.
So, when I came across a man—little more than a boy really—struggling to herd horses back into their enclosure and re-erect the portable fences around it, I rolled up my sleeves and began to help.
I hammered the supporting stakes deep into the re-hardened ground as the stranger held the panel in place.
The quicksand seemed to have retreated as soon as we saved Keera and Izumi from its grasp—a thought that my brain was too tired to grapple with at the moment.
Instead, I reveled in the sweat breaking out on my skin from the exertion in the late afternoon sun.
“I don’t remember building fences to be among your skillset, Viper.”
I spun to find Izumi standing a few paces away, watching me curiously. Her hair was damp and curled at her temples as it dried. She had changed into clean clothes, and I couldn’t tell if the slump of her shoulders was from exhaustion or relief.
Meanwhile, the man holding the fence jumped back as if in fear. He indeed had not realized who I was when he accepted my help.
I sighed. “I don’t use that name anymore.”
“Then what, Prince Erix?” Izumi asked.
I shook my head. “Just Erix.”
She sucked on her teeth. “It doesn’t seem right.”
“I’ve always called you Izumi.”
“Fine. Then walk with me, Just Erix.”
With a nod, I handed the mallet back to the man I had been helping.
He tapped his fingers to his brow in respect, but then his eyes widened as they darted to Izumi, as if expecting retaliation.
Izumi did nothing, just turning away and picking a path through the tents.
I followed, hastening my steps until I walked abreast of her.
People looked curiously at us as we passed, and I took in the damage wrought by the morning’s fight. As chaotic as it had been, the people of the desert were resilient, and already tents were being repaired and wounds bandaged.
In my youth, clans seemed to fight one day and share their campfires the next.
The desert’s people were quick to draw swords but did not seem to hold grudges.
The thought bolstered me as Izumi and I continued to walk in silence for a moment.
She had carried a deep-seated anger inside her the entire time I had known her, but perhaps we could find peace after all our battles.
We reached the outer circle of tents in the encampment—usually just for supplies and single riders—but Izumi kept walking. We were headed in the direction of the crumbling temple.
“I always envied your power,” she started suddenly.
I pressed my lips together, giving her time to speak. It was something I had always suspected, but we never talked about it outright.
“I thought that if I had your strength, perhaps I might have been able to prevent the tragedies of my past. And I always sensed that Lord Alasdar confided in you more than me. It made me fear that I might not be capable of doing what needed to be done to save the desert. I would do anything to prove to Lord Alasdar—to myself—that I could do what was necessary.”
“He pitted us against each other.” I sighed. “Used us to sharpen one another like a sword and whetstone.”
“He knew my weakness, and he played on it well,” she agreed. “I realize now that he did the same to you.”
I exhaled heavily through my nose, and we walked in companionable quiet for a moment. Our boots crunched in the sand, and the crash of the waves on the shore to our right was equal parts peaceful and violent, much like the rest of the desert. It seemed to echo the events of the day.
“Her name was Azara.”
I frowned, taking a moment to realize what Izumi was saying. And then it hit me: The twin she had never spoken of, but I had learned of from Lord Alsadar.
“Izumi and Azara. Water and fire.”
“I always found it funny that she was named for fire when I was always the one with the temper,” Izumi said.
She did not look over at me as she spoke, and I sensed it made it easier for her to speak of her past. “She was the better of us in every way, and I didn’t even mind.
She was both kinder and fiercer. A better fighter while less likely to come to blows with all she met.
Azara was the better half of my soul. When quicksand appeared and swallowed her tent in the middle of the night, taking her with it, I wished I had been the one to die.
I’ve spent my entire life thinking that she would not have failed to avenge me.
She would have taken vengeance on the ones who took me from her and healed the desert.
But no matter whom I betrayed for my cause, or how fiercely I fought, I could not bring her back.
“And today, when I thought I had lost Badha the same way, I knew it was my fault. Azara would have been strong enough to see I had been deceived. She would have turned away from her course before she destroyed even more people she loved.”
By now, the walls of the crumbling temple were near.
“It’s hard to turn away from a path to which you had given so much.
” It was true. The scars on my back were a testament to how far I was willing to go in the wrong direction, because enduring more pain was so much easier than admitting all of your prior suffering had been in vain.