Chapter Thirty-Five
Rhylen
We stand around Amos’ long table for the last time, before we make our way towards Eldsford Keep. I’m running out of patience as Ewan and his brother pour over the map of the city and the castle grounds. Cohen argues among them. I simply stare at the roaring fire in front of us.
Eight days. Eight long days since I’ve seen Isla, since I knew she was safe in my bed. My mind racks with the possibilities of torture the captain and prince were putting her through. My hand tightens to a fist as I try to shake the thoughts that spin in my brain.
Clarissa stands near the fire. She rocks back and forth, muttering under her breath.
I fight the urge to ask her what she’s muttering about, to demand she tell me the tales Fate is showing her, but I’m pulled away when the doors barge open.
A small boy comes running in, his hands on knees, as he tries to catch his breath.
He often runs errands and messages for the Duke.
“There’s,” he gasps. “There’s someone here. Papa sent me.” The blacksmith’s son turns to me, “he’s asking for you.”
I stand up, following the boy out. A hooded figure stands under the twilight of the courtyard. He stands with his back towards us, watching the sun finally dip behind the trees.
“What do you want?” I demand. There’s no time for pleasantries, so I don’t even bother.
The hooded figure turns towards us, pulling his hood down. Rage fills me up. I pull my sword out, holding it to his throat.
“You’re either awfully brave, or awfully stupid to be showing your face here,” I grit out.
He holds his hands up in surrender. “I can help you. I came here to help you.”
Wyll scoffs behind me. His bow is drawn, along with Irric’s. One slip and Henry would be dead before he ever hit the ground. “I don’t want your help,” I snap.
“I’ve seen her, Hood.”
“I should kill you right here, send you back in pieces to your father and your brother.”
“They don’t know I’m here,” he explains. I sneer at him. “Let me explain. I’m here to help.”
Clarissa speaks out behind me. “You need him, Rhylen.”
It only pisses me off more. She comes up to us, resting a hand on my arm. “Listen to him. Please,” she begs.
I sigh, ultimately relenting. Irric and Wyll lower their bows. I simply turn around and walk back to the estate, not caring whether Henry follows me or not. I don’t want to waste anymore time.
Once we’re back around the table of Amos’ war room, Henry clears his throat. “Why are you here,” I bark.
“Because you need my help. You need me,” he deadpans. Wyll snorts, rolling his eyes.
“And just, pray tell, do you have to tell us?”
Henry inhales deeply, “everything.”
“Why,” I ask. Henry’s lips tighten at my question, as if it’s one bit of information he doesn’t want to explain. I slam my hands on the table. “Why.”
“Because I owe it to her,” he murmurs.
Ewan and Irric look at me with confusion, while Wyll leans a bit in. “I beg your pardon?” He asks.
Henry grips the back of his neck. “It’s a long story.”
“So, start now,” Ewan motions to him.
“We don’t have time to go over the trivial details of why I feel the way that I do. I just need you to trust me.”
“Trust you,” I roar. “Trust my enemy? The family of the man who attacked innocent people? Who attacked this village? Who took my—”
“I owe her my life,” Henry shouts, interrupting me. “Listen, I’ve always known what I was to become. The first-born, the Duke’s son. I have always been set to follow in his footsteps and rule over our land.”
“Yeah, we know. We got that a long time ago,” Wyll rolls his eyes. “Tell us something we don’t know.”
Henry sighs. The first bit of exhaustion starts to peek through. “I used to write letters to her when we were children.”
Wyll’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline. Confusion fills me. “She’s never mentioned you?”
“She never knew.”
“How is that?” Ewan asks.
“I slipped her letters in a tree she always visited where our lands meet. She would walk out there, through the grove. Always talking to the plants out there. Isla was,” Henry pauses. “She was different. She never really got along with the other village kids. I… I felt like I could relate.”
I shift, waiting for more details.
“It’s always been isolating, being the heir to the Dukedom. I never got the chance to relax, to be myself. From the beginning, I was being trained to take my father’s role.
Oliver and Philipa would run rampant throughout the village, wreaking havoc, and having fun.
I’ve always been on the outside, feeling like I didn’t belong.
So, when I saw her there in the trees, crying, explaining to the trees one day, I couldn’t resist. She was crying over something my sister did.
Philipa and Oliver have always been unnecessarily cruel.
I hated it. I wrote my first letter there. I never signed them.”
Henry rubs his temples. “She wrote back and kept writing back. Our friendship formed, even though she never knew who I was. And then one day, Oliver caught me. He ripped the letters out of my hands, realizing who I was talking to.”
He looks off into the distance, as if he were reliving that day all over again. “The next day, he was talking with her, acting as if he were the author of those letters. He told her he couldn’t go another day without talking to her face to face. The rest? Well, you all know.”
The room is silent. Everyone sits in their chairs and digests what Henry says. The poor unfortunate first-born. Isla’s quiet demeanor, her strange life— little did she know she was being circled by wolves. I can’t stop the anger that boils in my chest.
“So now what,” I ask, breaking the silence. “You betray your family, your king, all because of guilt? Love?” The last question tastes bitter on my tongue, but I need to know.
Henry shakes his head, “no, no. It was never like that. It was never supposed to be like that. She was my friend.”
I open my mouth to respond, but he barrels on. “He’s not my king. You cannot blame me for the role that I’ve had to play, when others in this room have played a similar role.” He cuts his eyes to the Duke.
“A role?” Baelur scoffs.
“I’ve been biding my time. I’m only one. How can my Dukedom, how can my people get any better when I’m fighting a lone battle? I’m nobody right now.
But once I take my position as Duke, changes are coming. I do not side with Prince Cailean and my father.” Henry puffs his chest out in determination. He stares at me threateningly, daring me to challenge him.
I mull over his words. I can’t risk relying on words from a man who was just my enemy mere minutes ago. Clarissa paces in the corner of my eye. I turn to look at her.
“He has one,” Henry nods at her. “They look eerily similar.”
Clarissa blanches. “My sister,” she whispers.
“Your sister sides with the Prince?” Amos asks.
I’m not sure Clarissa could get any paler. “She didn’t know. She thought he loved her. She didn’t realize he was only playing her for a fool.”
“Missed that in your future-seeing, did ya?” Wyll quips.
Clarissa rolls her eyes. “We cannot see our own fates. It’s forbidden.” She turns towards me; terror fills her eyes. “The Fates are angry, Rhylen. She’s told him too much.”
“Told him too much? What do you mean?” Cohen asks, pulling Clarissa’s attention from me. She swallows, nodding her head.
“We have rules, certain unspoken guidelines we have to follow. The Fates don’t take too kindly to seers twisting their tales by telling everyone what their fate could possibly be.”
“And… your sister? She’s done this?” Cohen prods.
Clarissa nods. “I fear she’s told him too much in an attempt to buy his affections. You need to tread carefully if you're leaving tonight.”
I give Henry a threatening look. He covers his mouth with his hand while he stares at the table. A million emotions and thoughts are warring with each other, it seems. I look around the room.
Wyll, still healing, but acting as if he’s brand new. His brother, exhaustion plain as day on his face as he worries over his twin. Ewan meets my eyes. He raises a brow, asking if I’m ready. I simply nod.
“We leave within the hour.” I stomp towards Henry, pulling my blade to his neck. “You even think about betraying me, or her ever again, I’m ripping your throat out.”
Henry looks at me, a grim expression in his eyes. “I won’t. I have no plans to betray you. I’m on your side.”
“Time to prove it.”
∞∞∞
Hours later, under the slender moon, we make our way towards Eldsford Keep. My mind spins with the possibilities of what shape we’ll find Isla in. We hurry along, barely taking the time to sleep. Two long days, exhaustion wears on us all.
“Ahh,” Wyll sighs, breaking the tension after the second day of traveling. “I do love a good old jailbreak.”
Henry looks over to him with an arched brow, challenging him. “When’s the last time you’ve broken someone out of jail?”
Wyll throws his head back and laughs. “Oh, simple little first born. You’ve lived a dull life.”
“You mean a law-abiding life,” Henry asks.
Wyll scoffs and turns up his nose. “Stick around, first born. We’ll corrupt you, soon enough.”
I want to laugh at Wyll’s antics and his obvious banter with Henry, but I can’t. All I can think about is her. Henry purses his lips and looks away, set on remaining tight lipped. We ride the rest of the way in silence, pushing the horses back into a canter after a quick rest.
On the third day, peaks of the castle poke through the trees in the distance. The travel roads get wider to accommodate bigger carriages. I look over at Ewan, who scans the horizon.
“We need to stop here, rest. It’ll be better for us to go under the cover of night,” I order. The men all nod in agreement, moving off the trail to a spot under cover. In a few hours we would be storming the city grounds.
Wyll and Irric will follow Henry into the belly of the castle through back doors and secret hallways, while Ewan, Baelur, and I provide a distraction in the city. It leaves a sour taste in my mouth, not being the one to pull Isla from the cells, but Clarissa was insistent.
Three hours later, we’re saddling the horses again and readying ourselves. I pull my hood up, mounting Fia. There’s a grim silence around us and an ominous anticipation fills the air. We pause, waiting to slip through the gates of the city.
Henry looks at the guards that are manning the gates. A wide smile grows on his face as he says, “oh, thank the Fates. They’re friends. We’re good.”
He trots up to the guards, embracing them in a friendly handshake. After a bit, the guards look over to us, and nod to Henry. The gates open, letting us move hastily into the city.
“How do you know them?” Baelur asks gruffly, once Henry reunites with our group.
“The Prince demands a portion of our troops for special favors,” Henry explains. “This group just so happens to be mine. Troops that I’ve chosen, trained, and led for the Cahir Army.”
“Fate seems to be on our side,” Ewan mutters.
We trot through the quiet, sleepy streets, eventually separating when we’re in the distance of the castle. Wyll looks back at us before departing. “Make it loud and glorious, boys.”
“Just go get our girl,” Ewan vows, his brows set in determination. The breath catches in my lungs.
“Bring her home,” I tell Wyll.
“On my life.”
I look over at Ewan and Baelur, giving them a small smile. “Time to burn it down.”
With that, we split ways. Ewan, Baelur, and I make our way to the guards’ barracks. In order to minimize civilian lives, we plan to attack the barracks, take out as many of the Royal Guard as possible.
I push Fia into a canter through the back-allies of the city. Lighted torches are attached to buildings for minimal light. The sight of them brings a smile to my face. Little did they know these torches would be their downfall.
The barracks are within distance as Ewan and Baelur light flaming arrows. Dark shadows in front of the stone buildings have us halting. A dark figure walks out into the street. There’s a wild smile on his face as I finally see who it is.
Prince Cailean stands in front of us with an army slowly emerging from the shadows behind him. He looks at me with an arrogant smile on his face.
“Hello brother.”