Chapter 20
Sleep eluded him.
He sensed Ulla’s return to Moonwatch and her climb through the keep. Sadness preceded her footfalls, slow and heavy.
When she stopped outside his door, he held his breath, waiting, hoping, and dreading a knock. But none came. When she continued on, finally settling in a room down the hall, Bastion exhaled shakily. He didn’t know if this was worse than talking.
A summons came at dawn. Bastion failed to wipe the scowl off his face as he opened the door, exhausted from a fitful sleep and the throb in his chest. The messenger didn’t look the least bit remorseful.
“Lord Kyrith and Lady Nesrin request that you join them for breakfast in the library,” the man said.
Bastion gave a curt nod and shut the door, perhaps a bit too forcefully.
He rubbed his eyes and splashed some water on his face before dressing.
When he stepped into the silent hallway, he almost gave in to the temptation to go left.
He could still smell the saltwater, feel Ulla’s hand in his.
He wanted to chase the peace he’d felt as the tide lapped at their legs… but Minato’s words hounded him.
With a grimace, he turned away.
On the second floor, he paused before a pair of wide, double doors. They’d been closed every time he’d passed them before, but now, they yawned open.
The room beyond felt more like a museum than a library. It spanned the width of the keep and far more weapons and artifacts filled the shelves than books. Across from the doors, a floor-to-ceiling window of paned glass looked west over the sea, sparkling with early morning light.
“Sir Bastion,” a voice boomed. “Join us.”
Four people sat at a gaming table near the window. On a silver tray between them was a decanter and crystal glasses, untouched.
Lord Kyrith sat where he could see the doors and window.
Dark, calculating eyes watched him from a face the color of obsidian.
His hair was styled in thick braids, tied into a wolf tail.
Grey shot from his temples and through his full beard.
Even sitting, the way he held himself made it clear he was a leader.
He gestured at a vacant chair beside Lawrence.
Bastion’s expression turned to stone when he saw Minato, but he didn’t say anything as he crossed the room and sat.
Bastion reached for the decanter and poured himself two fingers.
Across the table, Nesrin’s brow pinched in the barest hint of a wrinkle.
Lord Kyrith’s mouth quirked.
“How’s your arm?” he asked.
Bastion downed his drink, then lifted the arm in question and turned it back and forth. The bone protested with a dull ache, and the muscle was tender.
“Not broken,” he answered dryly. “How are the villages?”
Kyrith nodded, as if he approved of skipping the pleasantries. The closest approximation of a smile Bastion had ever seen curved his lips.
“Some are better than others,” he said. “I’ve sent a raven to Tynamara requesting provisions, not only for them, but for Moonwatch, as well. Cutthroat Buck and his depraved crew certainly made a mess of things.”
Bastion mirrored his nod. He poured himself another drink, but only sipped it, ignoring the penetrating look Minato threw at him.
“Do you know what they were after?” Bastion asked.
Kyrith’s chest puffed up as he inhaled, slow and deep. His eyes skipped between the others at the table. When they settled back on Bastion, he said, “No. There are few treasures here, and none are worthy of such a complex strategy.”
Bastion sighed. The trail was all but cold, then.
Lawrence took the decanter from Bastion, saying, “The larger picture is a brilliant study in strategy and precision.”
“How so?” Bastion asked.
“Moonwatch is synonymous with defense,” Kyrith said. “They needed to reduce our forces. The attacks on the villages–inland and coastal–drew us away. It worked so well that no one questioned the need to investigate. Then, they just needed a way to get inside.”
“The weapon,” Bastion stated.
“Yes,” Kyrith said. “With our diminished numbers, they expected an easy capture, especially with men planted among the townsfolk to let them in once we were disabled.”
“Except they didn’t anticipate Ulla,” Minato said. He stared at Bastion, his expression unreadable.
“Yes,” Lawrence agreed. He tilted his glass, swirling the amber liquid. “The weapon didn’t work on her, and somehow, she woke us all up.”
“We owe her our lives,” Nesrin said. A round of nods followed, and Bastion suppressed a shiver as he thought about what could have happened if she hadn’t been there.
He recalled the strange feeling of seeing through her eyes.
The complete absence of all sound. That place they’d visited in Minato’s mind.
It was little more than flashes in his memory, and he wondered if Minato recalled more.
His eyes flicked to the Yvri, and caught there, waiting for him to speak, but Minato said nothing.
A servant arrived with a tray of food. It was a modest meal of fresh, crusty bread, cold chicken, and hard-boiled eggs. Bastion ate, his mind wandering to questions that had yet to be answered.
“Did you recover Buck’s body?”
Nesrin shook her head. “He belongs to the sea now.”
Bastion buttered his bread with a frown. He supposed the crabs eating the bastard would have to be revenge enough.
“We’re leaving for Tynamara tomorrow with the prisoners,” Kyrith said. “Come with us. The king will want to hear the details of your story. ”
Bastion stared at the food still on his plate. He hadn’t thought about returning to the capital since all this began. And now, he had not only failed on the island, but also to discover who had orchestrated the attacks on Lord Kyrith’s vassals and what they were truly after.
“Something larger is afoot here,” Kyrith said, as if reading his thoughts, “and I want to make sure no one else is blindsided, as we were. I would like Ulla to accompany us as well.”
Bastion froze, the hair of the back of his neck standing up, as though he were standing on a ledge and was about to tip over backwards. He hadn’t thought beyond seeing her last night, but knowing he would be close to her for a little while longer was as elating as it was torturous.
Minato cleared his throat. “My Lord, I suspect she will refuse.” A flash of worry crossed the Yvri’s face.
“Then convey the importance of her presence,” Kyrith replied. The command in his voice, albeit gentle, was unmistakable.
__________
The morning sun did little to warm him.
Bastion checked Finn’s saddle one more time.
The Thatian had been unusually docile despite the commotion of their imminent departure.
Still, every one of the two dozen men going to Tynamara eyed Finn, lingering on his striped haunches.
They gave him a wide berth as they secured saddlebags and swords to their own mounts.
A prison cart waited beyond the drawbridge. Eight pirates sat behind bars, blankets wrapped around their shoulders. In the courtyard, guards finished loading a supply cart.
Rowan stood close to Bastion, holding the reins of a shaggy pony named Epona. The beast had once been Nesrin’s. She’d saddled her and handed the reins over to Rowan, ruffling his and Epona’s hair.
Porridge and hard cheese tap danced in his stomach as Bastion looked around for Ulla.
He hadn’t seen her at breakfast, nor sensed her within Moonwatch.
In fact, the ever-present hook in his chest had gone quiet, leaving him wrung out and hollow.
It was worse than denying the pull. He may as well have been quenching his thirst with saltwater.
Lord Kyrith appeared in the doorway of the keep, outfitted in riding leathers accented with blue and silver. Nesrin, dressed similarly, followed him to their horses, Lawrence and Minato right behind her.
Heart in his throat, Bastion turned to Rowan. “Time to go. Do you want to get on Epona yourself? Or do you want help?”
The boy blinked, eyes wide. He handed the reins to Bastion and scrambled into the saddle.
Epona gave a long-suffering sigh but stood placidly while Rowan struggled to figure out how to mount her. By the time he settled, Lord Kyrith had handed the command of Moonwatch over to Captain Hywell and swung onto his own steed.
Bastion patted the boy’s knee. “Ready?”
Rowan tucked his chin and frowned. He whispered, “We can’t leave without Ulla.”
As if her name were a chord of music, his heartstrings thrummed, and the emptiness behind his ribs vibrated with life. Bastion turned, finding her immediately through the crowd.
Relief washed over him.
She took an indirect route, giving the horses who tossed their heads or pawed the ground a wide berth. When she climbed into the supply cart beside the driver, Bastion swallowed.
Selfishly, he wished she were riding with him.
She turned her head, just enough that he could see her lashes flutter. Her back went straighter than a mast, and she staunchly faced forwards. The bond quieted, and the void returned, filling Bastion with a sense of loss. He thought leaving the island without a Godmark had been bad.
This was worse.
__________
They rode for five days.
Lord Kyrith set the pace, alternating between a lazy lope and a brisk trot, stopping often for short breaks to keep the horses fresh.
Rowan clung to Epona’s saddle with one hand, a fistful of mane in the other, while the pony trotted on a lead attached to Finn.
Every time he glanced over his shoulder to check on Rowan, Bastion couldn’t help but look for Ulla as well.
She never gazed in his direction.
But, now and then, the bond sparked, hitting him with the welcome warmth of a ray of sunlight peeking through the clouds.
It left just as quickly, and Bastion would shrug his cloak higher.
Several times, he caught Lawrence observing him.
To avoid the pity in his eyes, Bastion would smooth his face and check on Rowan.
When they arrived in Tynamara, he’d need his courtier’s mask.