Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
The King’s Decision
Loyalties Tested
“Ineed to think.”
The words came quietly, but there was no mistaking the finality in them.
Dravic pushed back from the table and rose. His thoughts were already moving ahead, weighing choices and consequences as they always did when the fate of his kingdom rested heavily on his shoulders.
He turned to Adira and held out his hand.
She took it without hesitation, feeling relieved as his fingers closed firmly around her hand.
The simple gesture continued to ease her worry that he would not send her away, last night’s incident still haunting her. He had not stepped back from her. He still reached for her as he always had.
Fiora lifted her head from the mantel. “Must you leave already? I was just beginning to enjoy making you uncomfortable.”
Dravic gave her a look. “I have no time for your nonsense now. Follow silently or busy yourself elsewhere.”
Fiora pressed her hand to her chest in exaggerated offense, but Dravic had already turned away.
He looked to Ernach. “We will speak again soon.”
“Aye, my king.”
Dravic led Adira from the cottage.
The village no longer carried the sorrow it had the day before.
Where there had been fear and grief, there was now celebration.
Faces brightened when they spoke of Vachel’s daughter.
Villagers moved in and out of the cottage carrying food and gifts, eager to share in the joy of a family who had nearly lost everything.
Adira watched them quietly. She should have been comforted by their happiness. Instead, her attention remained on the man beside her… the king.
She felt the heaviness within him.
It was not difficult to recognize. She had seen it before—the distant look in his eyes, the way his thoughts pulled him away even when he stood beside her. His expression had settled into the stern scowl that caused others to step aside, but she knew now it was not anger.
It was a decision and one that would not come easily.
The king carried every choice as though it rested solely upon his shoulders. He searched every path, every danger, every consequence before he acted.
And now something troubled him.
Adira turned her attention away from him for only a moment.
There it was again. A sound? A whisper in her ear.
She looked toward the trees beyond the village to the forest. Did it continue to call to her? Was it trying to tell her something?
She did not know, but she would pay attention and learn.
For now, her concern was the king.
They had only walked a short distance when Dravic slowed.
Adira followed his gaze toward the edge of the village.
A group of riders approached, and Cadby immediately moved closer to the king, his attention fixed on those arriving.
Adira watched Dravic carefully. His expression changed little, but she felt the shift in him. The thoughts that had weighed heavily on him moments before narrowed into purpose.
The approaching riders wore the familiar dark garments of Hunters. At their head, rode Percy and behind him came several more Hunters, along with a handful of warriors bearing the colors of Caerith.
Percy dismounted and approached, bowing his head. “My king.”
“You did good, Percy.”
The king’s praise had Percy drawing his shoulders back and with a snap of his hand, he had a Hunter bring a man forward.
The prisoner stumbled slightly as two Hunters forced him ahead. His face showed evidence of their efforts to gain answers. His lip was split, one eye darkened with bruising, and his clothing carried the marks of a struggle.
Yet his expression held no surrender.
Dravic studied him as he asked Percy, “What did you learn?”
Percy shook his head. “Little, my king. He refuses to speak.”
The prisoner lifted a defiant gaze to Dravic but remained silent.
Dravic stepped closer. “You endured the questioning of the Hunters.”
The man said nothing, his look remaining defiant.
“Yet you still refuse to speak.”
Again, Dravic’s words were met with silence.
Dravic studied him for a long moment. “You fear Tharne more than you fear me.”
The prisoner’s expression flickered, only slightly, but Dravic noticed.
A cold calm settled over the king. “I can change that.”
Fear sparked in the prisoner’s eyes.
“Take him away,” Dravic ordered.
The Hunters moved at once, dragging the prisoner away from the gathering.
Dravic watched him go, knowing the man would spend the coming hours wondering what fate awaited him.
He turned back to Percy. “I see more of my warriors have joined you.”
Percy nodded. “Aye, my king. Tavish sent them with a message for you.”
“I will hear it,” Dravic commanded, having been expecting one since he had not returned home yet when, by now, he should have.
Percy lifted his hand and motioned toward one of the warriors standing beside their horses.
The warrior stepped forward.
Dravic recognized him immediately.
The warrior’s gait held a limp but it did not stop him from keeping a good pace to the king.
“Turcan,” Dravic said when the older warrior stopped in front of him.
Turcan bowed his head. “It is good to see you safe, my king.”
Turcan had served Scotara for many years. He had fought beside the finest warriors of Scotara and earned his place among them, but age and injuries had taken him from the battlefield. He was a man trusted for his wisdom, loyalty, and judgment, and Tavish had chosen him to deliver his message.
That alone told Dravic more than words could.
Dravic looked toward Percy and Cadby. “Leave us.”
They bobbed their head and stepped away, leaving Dravic, Adira, and Turcan alone.
Dravic turned his attention back to the older warrior. “The message.”
Turcan bowed his head. “My king, Tavish’s words were these.
” He paused, recalling them exactly. “You must return to Caerith. It has been discovered that more spies have entered Scotara than previously thought. That means more information gathered to help Tharne. War plans need to be changed in case the ones we have in place have been revealed. The kingdom cannot afford to have its king absent at such a precarious time. The council must prepare, and your duty to Scotara must come before all else.” Turcan continued.
“Your duty to secure an heir must also be addressed, especially with war pending. The future of Scotara cannot remain uncertain.”
Dravic waited a moment before asking, “That is all of it?”
“Aye, my king, every word.”
He did not like the news that more spies had been discovered. It meant Tharne would know, if he already didn’t, more about what was going on in Scotara than Dravic knew of Tharne’s plans. And with his realization of Tharne attacking from within, that could prove fatal for Scotara.
“Forgive me, my king,” Turcan said, drawing the king’s attention, “but I must speak.”
“You have something to say.”
Turcan nodded. “Aye.”
“Speak your piece.”
“It is not wise of you to be here, in Driochmor. If Tavish knew, I believe he would have sent stronger words than those I carry. The people of Scotara will not understand.” Turcan’s expression grew troubled.
“Rumors will spread that you intend to free the evils of magic. That you seek to undo what your grandfather fought so hard to prevent. He would not have wanted this. He believed magic was responsible for the deaths of your—”
Turcan’s words faltered, his eyes shifting past Dravic, and the color drained from his face.
“Ernach? It cannot be. He is dead.”
Turcan stared at the older man who had stopped walking and looked at Turcan with the same shocked expression.
Adira looked from one man to the other. Only moments before, Turcan’s expression as he spoke was one of slight hesitancy but determined to speak regardless. What he had to say had been important to him whether the king wished to hear it or not.
Yet the sight of Ernach had shocked him, had made him look at the man as if it was not possible he was seeing him. As if he had thought the man dead.
The king remained silent, but she felt the shift in him. His thoughts were moving quickly, searching for answers, weighing what had just been revealed.
Dravic looked down at her, feeling her fingers curl more tightly around his hand, reminding him she was there beside him, always. That he was not alone. Never alone.
I will never let you go.
Adira saw it in his eyes and felt it in the tightening of his hand around hers. He would not let her go… and she did not want him to.
“How?” Turcan demanded. “You betrayed King Halric. He had you killed.”
Just as Dravic turned to Turcan, Ernach spoke.
“He lied.”
Turcan’s face reddened with anger. “You betrayed the king and now accuse him of lying?” He turned to Dravic. “You must do as your grandfather commanded and kill this treasonous bastard.” His hand went to the hilt of his sword. “And I will gladly carry out your command.”
Dravic stepped forward. “Remove your hand from your sword.”
Turcan hesitated. “I served your grandfather faithfully, my king. He ordered the man’s death.”
“And I did not.”
Turcan’s hand remained on the hilt. “He betrayed—”
Dravic’s voice cut through his. “I am king.”
Silence fell.
“My grandfather no longer rules Scotara.”
“Nay, but his command still stands,” Turcan argued.
Dravic took one deliberate step toward him. “I decide who lives.” Then another step. “I decide who dies.”
Turcan’s hand dropped immediately from his sword.
Dravic held the older warrior’s gaze. “If Ernach is to answer for anything, he answers to me. As do you, so guard your tongue or chance losing it.”
Turcan bowed his head. “Aye, my king. I am honored to serve you with the same loyalty I served your grandfather.”
“As my grandfather expected all who served him.”
“I will wait to hear what message you wish me to take to Tavish.”
A smile edged its way to Dravic’s lips but never reached them. “Tavish’s words for you to repeat.”
“Aye, my king, word for word,” Turcan assured him.
“Brace yourself, Turcan, when you deliver my message, for Tavish is not going to like what he hears. Tell him I intended to go deeper into Driochmor.”