Chapter Twenty-Seven
Rhylen
Smoke fills the air, tinging my nose, an entire street up in flames. Chaos surrounds us. Baelur screams at his men to fill buckets, to get women and children to safety, to douse the flames before they spread.
Ewan slices at the royal guards that have infiltrated the village. Irric parries, dodges, and swipes. I pray to the Fates that Isla, Wyll, and Argus made it out.
More of Amos’ guards fill the street, fighting off the Prince’s soldiers. I turn to Irric, doused in sweat and blood. “We need to move towards the estate. See if we can find Wyll and Argus. They should have hidden her with Lady Emilie,” I shout over the chaos.
We move backwards towards the village courtyard. The street empties out, a sudden retreat of the Prince’s men. Ewan looks over at me, confused, as a quiet and eerie calm sweeps over the streets. Amos’ men trot by with grim looks on their faces.
Irric grips my arm. “Wyll,” he gasps.
Ewan whips his head towards him. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
Panic seizes my chest. Irric takes off running towards the back-alley Argus and Wyll first slipped down.
He halts as a bloody Wyll stands, gripping a building wall.
He’s holding his stomach as the blood drenches his clothes.
We rush towards our friend, slowly bleeding out in the cobblestoned streets.
Wyll drops to his knees, gasping for air. His skin is too pale, his actions too weak. He looks me in the eye, whispering words I wish I can forget. “She’s gone.”
My ears ring as rage fuels me. Irric forces his brother to lay back, stripping his shirt off to see the wound. Ewan tosses him his bag filled with Isla’s potent salves. I can’t concentrate as Irric stitches his brother up. He shouts at Wyll, telling him to stay with him, to keep talking.
Everything sounds as if I was underwater, out of focus, slipping away from reality. Baelur yanks my shoulders, shaking me. “Focus, brother,” he snaps at me.
Wyll grits his teeth as the needle moves through his flesh, pulling the wound closed. He looks at me, a fury in his eyes that tells me everything I need to know. “He set it all up.”
It’s a betrayal I don’t want to acknowledge.
A cut so deep, I’m choking, gasping for air as I look around at the preventable destruction.
Halstead village was a stronghold. An impenetrable fortress that the prince despised.
It was only a matter of time before the Prince came knocking, demanding fealty from his Duke.
Whispers of rebellion are centered around the Duke of Halstead. Argus saw an opportunity and he took it. It’s true. He’s spoken with a seer. She must have whispered grand, heroic tales for the poor sod.
Unfortunately for him, the only thing he did was sign his death warrant. And I was damned to deliver it.
∞∞∞
Hours after the streets of Halstead were ravaged, there’s an eerie silence. The moon hangs high in the sky, beckoning for sleep. None will be had tonight. I pace the edge of the room back and forth while everyone sits at the table.
The map of Azmerin is spread across it again. Emilie hands tea to everyone, an unbearable sadness radiates from her. From me? Nothing but rage and a need for revenge festers.
Amos stands at the head of the table. He leans over it with an exasperated look on his face.
Exhaustion pours from him in every move, every sentence he utters.
His family took a hit tonight. Everything he stands for, knocked down in one fell swoop.
“We need to go about this smart. This is the time,” he tries to explain.
I don’t want to hear any of it. The only thing that plays in my mind is Isla. Was she playing nice or spitting her venom at the man she once swore she loved? Was he hurting her? Torturing her, raping her? Every wicked thought runs through my mind.
The entire kingdom can burn for all I care. The time to play smart, to be nice, to play our subtle games was over. They took her. They have her.
He betrayed us. Argus betrayed us and he would pay dearly for it. He will know the pain of every second that Isla wasn’t safe. Once the chaos was over, the fire was out, and Wyll was in bed, we realized what happened. Argus allowed several guards to slip in, taking out the men who manned the gate.
Every trip he’s taken, was he meeting with our enemy? Filling them in on every plan, every detail of our lives?
“It’s time, Rhylen,” Amos warns. He wants to bring in the seer.
The same woman who told me of a prophecy with a tree speaker.
I pause my pacing thinking about her words.
Find the speaker of trees with the dimmed heart.
Could Isla have been the dimmed heart? She was once so wrapped into whatever the captain would tell her.
I stare at the fireplace. A million different plausibilities play in my head. I turn towards the group sitting around the table. Prince Cohen arrived late last night, exhaustion still wears on his face.
“Speaker of trees,” I mumble.
“I beg your pardon,” Irric retorts.
“Speaker of trees,” I say louder. “What do you think the odds are that our Isla is the speaker of trees we need?”
Irric leans his chin into his hand. He looks at me, a calculating expression on his face. “She’s unlike anything I’ve ever seen. And a staunch supporter of his.”
“Until he changed her mind,” Ewan speaks up.
“Call in Clarissa. It’s time,” Amos tells the guard at the door. The man nods and takes off briskly.
It was time to hear another fickle tale of fate. I didn’t want to sit here and wait for whatever story Clarissa claims she’s seen. I only want to bring Isla back. If I have to set the kingdom on fire, then so be it.