Chapter Seventeen
Rhylen
The smell of smoke still hangs in the air as we get closer to the destroyed village. Regret and anger swims in my stomach as the trees of the grove clear. Isla stirs in my arms.
“Where are we?” She mumbles.
“Getting closer to Rockstall Village.” The trees clear completely away to a view of heads on pikes leading towards the village. Bodies picked apart by buzzards' sway in the wind. Isla gasps, turning her head into me. Nausea churns in my stomach at the sight. It’s a stark reminder of our failure.
We tried to get here, to move as many innocent people as we could, but Cahir beat us. For once in his pathetic life, he got the upper hand. I couldn’t figure it out. I’ve wracked my brain, over and over. Scoured over plans again, seeing where we failed, where we slipped up, but nothing.
The afternoon sun beats down on us as we walk through the burned streets. “What happened?” Isla asks gently.
“The Rockstall’s didn’t support the crown anymore, so naturally, he had to make an example of them. The village was burned as a message to the rest of the kingdom.” We start down another path, looking at the remains of buildings.
Black soot and ashes of what once was a big and bustling town is a shocking sight to newcomers. Phantom flames and smoke flicker in the corner of my eye. Isla grips Fia’s mane tighter. My stomach lurches as we pass the heads of the former Rockstall family.
“Who could do this?”
“Children and women that survived were sold into the prince’s flesh market — what became of them I don’t know.
We’ve freed some of them, reunited what families we could.
The men that were able-bodied, strong workers, were stripped down, whipped, and forced to work in the mines.
We haven’t figured out how to get to them yet. They’re too guarded.”
“That’s what you’re doing, then. You’re destroying the crown by destroying his labor force,” Isla asks. There’s a different tune in her voice, but rage at the thought of the flesh market distracts me.
“I want to destroy this market brick by brick, person by person.
I want the crown to suffer for each family that spoiled prince has ripped apart.
I want your captain to suffer for every ounce of pain he has committed.
These people? They wanted peace with our neighbors in the West, so they pleaded with your prince.
Begged him to see reason while they starved in their homes due to the taxes that were levied after the last village was destroyed. These people weren’t killed by a Forranach army, none of them were. They were killed by the crown, by your captain.”
Isla tenses at the mention of Captain Cahir. “Oliver didn’t do this. He… he’s trying to stop this,” she argues. I sigh.
“That’s where you’re wrong, love. Oliver did all of this.” I push Fia into a canter to get through to the center of the village. The town square is still standing, a proclamation nailed to the post. I dismount briskly, without saying another word.
Reaching for Isla, I pull her down and lead her to the post where two proclamations are nailed. One sighting the warrant and reward for my arrest, the other the damning of the village. Both are signed by none other than Captain Oliver Cahir.
Isla shakes her head in denial, stepping back into me. “It’s not possible,” she whispers.
“Don’t be a fool, Isla.” Raia tells her from behind us. Isla’s eyes well up with tears.
“Ach, sorry lovey,” Wyll mutters, gripping the back of his neck.
Before Isla can respond, a familiar screech sounds from the sky. I look up to see Altai circling us. I hold my arm out to give her a space to land, noting the scroll tied to her leg.
Isla eyes her wearily, stepping away from me to give the Saker falcon her space. I untie the scroll. Altai takes her leave to the highest perch that’s still standing in the village.
Halstead Estate. We’re standing by.
I quickly ball up the paper and shove it into my pocket. Isla watches me curiously. “We’ve got news,” I look at Ewan. He dips his chin and tugs at Raia to follow him. The twins follow suit.
Isla watches as her best friend mounts Ewan’s horse. “What was that?” She asks.
“None of your concern,” I warn.
“I beg your pardon, but how is it not my concern when I’m at your mercy? Wasn’t it you that told me I belonged to you?”
“Exactly, love. You’re at my mercy and I don’t trust you.”
She rolls her eyes, grabbing my arm. “What? This didn’t seal it for you? I want to help.”
I look at her. The flecks of gold dance in her eyes glitter in the sunlight. She juts her chin out in defiance. “Let me help,” she insists.
“You have to prove yourself.”
She grunts and turns away from me. Marching over to Fia, she reluctantly waits for a leg up. Without hesitation, we mount the horse and set off out of the destroyed village. I look over my shoulder at everyone behind us. “We’re off to Halstead. We ride quickly.”
I push Fia into a gallop. My hand grips Isla, pulling her towards me tighter. She tenses for a second, before melting into me, following the rhythm of Fia’s deep strides.
Thoughts of want and need swirled in my head, immediately souring my mood. We ride for the next few hours in complete silence, nothing but the sounds of hooves filling the silence. Argus wears a foreboding look on his face as we ride closer to the village.
The gates of Halstead are a welcome sight. Isla’s breath catches as they open for our party.
“Whatever you see here, you don’t speak of. Any questions you have, I’ll answer them later. You speak of this to anyone else, I’ll cut out your tongue,” I threaten in her ear, causing her spine to stiffen in my arms. “You want trust, this is it.”
A broad man with a round belly meets us in the courtyard of his estate. Unlike other villages, Duke Halstead built his village around his estate. His village was his family, his community. They look out for one another and depend on the Duke to keep them safe.
He’s their leader, but he isn’t their master.
It’s an admirable difference from the rest of the dukedoms spread throughout the kingdom.
Duke Halstead isn’t under the powerful influence of the prince.
He balks at the royalty, missing the days when the kingdom was not under a tyrannical rule and the dukes were clan leaders rather than minions of the crown.
Duke Halstead holds out his arms wide in a greeting, a huge smile dons his face. Ewan dismounts and embraces his father emphatically. “Son, you’ve been missed dearly.”
A petite, graying woman pushes between them with tears in her eyes. “My Ewan is home. My Ewan is home,” she repeats as she grips his face.
“Ma, it hasn’t been that long,” Ewan chuckles as he embraces his mother.
“Two months! It’s been two months since you’ve been home. Don’t you tell me it hasn’t been long, when it feels like ages. You’ll see, one day, you’ll see.”
Ewan’s cheeks turn a scarlet shade, causing me to chuckle. All their eyes turn towards Isla and me still on Fia. I dismount, lifting my hand up to help Isla down. She looks unsure of herself as I grip her hips.
“Duke Amos,” I say, turning towards him once Isla is on the ground.
The Duke cut me off. “Enough with the formalities. Welcome home son,” his voice booms off the rock walls of the courtyard. “Your arrival has been much awaited by our friends.”
Amos glances at Isla when he utters the word “friends,” immediately putting me on edge. Before I can ask, a tall blonde prince walks around Amos. His arms spread wide as if he were about to embrace me as an old friend.
“My arrogant thief,” quips the prince. “Oh, how I have missed you.”
I roll my eyes, grasping his forearm in a shake. “Prince Cohen.”
“Come now, Rhylen. We’re far more familiar than that.” Cohen turns towards Irric and Wyll, slapping Wyll’s shoulders as they hug. It’s still hard to reconcile that this prince is so unlike his cousin. “I received word.”
My shoulders immediately tense, dreading what news Cohen’s about to deliver. “Let’s go inside,” Amos interrupts. “We have much to discuss.”
I grip Isla’s wrist, pulling her into me. Cohen’s eyebrows raise in a curious glance. “Who’s this?” A sly smile slides over his face. A rush of irrational anger hits me in the chest, but I shake it off.
Placing my hand on Isla's lower back, I push her a little forward. “This is Isla.”
Cohen bends low at the waist, gripping her hand lightly. He presses a light kiss on the top of her hand. Isla’s cheeks flush a pretty shade of pale pink as the heat rushes to them. “So this is her, is it?”
“Don’t even think about it,” I growl. Cohen laughs as I push past the arrogant prince. Jealously simmers in my stomach at the thought of Cohen being even the slightest bit attracted to Isla, but why wouldn’t he?
Isla steps closer to me. “What does he mean? How does he know me?” She asks under her breath. Hair falls out of her braid and into her face. I want to reach up and tuck it behind her ear but think better of it before I can.
“It’s nothing. Come,” I snap. The anger taking over my rationality.
“You’re absolutely shameless,” she bites back.
“I know, love.”