CHAPTER 30
ROOKSNEST
The duties of lordship supersede all personal loyalties, including those of blood.
– Principles of Vallennan Lordship, Article II
Sebastian and Kara left the refuge of the barn about an hour after sunrise, two mornings after their escape from Vallenna City. Sebastian lifted Kara onto her valmare himself, his hands steady on her waist.
“I can climb on my own,” she protested.
“Not when your hands are still shaking.” His tone left no room for argument. He busied himself checking her straps and stirrups. For the second time. He adjusted her cloak. Pulled it tighter around her shoulders. Reached up to her face to brush a strand of hair back–
“Sebastian–”
It was like he couldn’t stop himself.
“Humour me.”
He’d worried over her more, if that was possible, since she’d returned that morning.
Kara had slipped into Falcroft village before dawn and sent the coded message to Sebastian’s father – asking him to meet them somewhere called Rooksnest in three days.
Sebastian had stolen them a second valmare from the village stables.
It’d made sense to separate. A lone woman at a hawk post drew less attention.
She’d felt bad about having to steal the hawk, with no Creststone to pay for it; hers had been confiscated when she was captured.
Sebastian had laughed – she was wanted for treason and worried about borrowing a bird?
He was right. It had to be done. And even though she’d returned without incident, her being out in the open without him, around potential dangers, had affected him.
She watched Sebastian run a hand along her saddle one final time.
He looked better than he had when they first fled the City – he’d washed the blood away at the stream, and colour had returned to his cheeks.
Stubble shadowed his jaw now, the mask he usually wore dropped completely.
He looked more himself than she’d ever seen him.
He’d even managed some real sleep last night.
But the tiredness lingered. It was still etched in the heaviness in his expression, and he moved slower, more deliberately.
It wasn’t just exhaustion that plagued him.
She’d seen it in his eyes, once or twice, when he thought Kara wasn’t looking.
Him reliving the horror of her captivity. And knowing him, blaming himself.
I shouldn’t have told him about the pyre.
And yet, he focused all his attention on her. Like she was the only thing in the world that mattered.
“Do you think he’ll come?” she asked, when he finally handed her the reins.
Sebastian frowned. “It’s a big risk for him to come himself, but then it was a big risk to let me go.” He mounted his own valmare – a strong-looking chestnut. “I can hope.”
Kara nodded, and together they turned their mares towards Rooksnest.
And rode.
Tobias Thorne left Vallenna City at sunset.
The Council had summoned him that morning, the moment he arrived.
To explain how Sebastian had managed to escape his supposedly impenetrable Keep.
It had been tense, to say the least. Evelyn had made scathing accusations, Merrick had been furious at Thorne’s ‘incompetence’, Elias had tried to read him with his damn emotion magic. Tobias had shut that down.
You are not disappointed he escaped.
That’s what the Lyran had said. And it was true.
Of course he wasn’t. But Tobias had spun a careful web of lies about how he’d underestimated Sebastian’s skill, that climbing that tower shouldn’t have been possible.
He’d told them that he hadn’t been able to sleep with his son bound under his roof, how a father’s grief and struggle with duty had driven him from the Keep to a southern garrison.
The delay in discovering the escape, in communicating it to the Council, had been unfortunate but understandable.
Some of them didn’t believe him.
But they couldn’t prove it.
And none of them wished to go against Thorne right now, with Sebastian and Kara also having escaped with the three Arcanth Shards.
Tobias had been impressed. His son had always been a fine swordsman but it seemed his love for this girl had made him unstoppable.
He regretted the loss of his men in the City.
But his son’s life – and Vallenna’s only chance against Draknor – were more important.
For peace we sacrifice.
The Council had moved on to strategy quickly enough – debating guard rotations, fortifications, where Sebastian and Kara would strike next.
The Fire Shard, they all agreed. Evelyn had insisted on Sorrel archers to accompany his men in the defence of the temple.
Tobias had accepted graciously. Better to appear cooperative.
Better to know exactly where every guard would stand.
Only hours later, as he was preparing his valmare to return to Thorne Keep, the hawk from his son had arrived – perfect timing, really.
Now he knew exactly where he needed to be.
Simone Navyr’s sharp gaze had followed him out of the gates of the City, her mouth pressed in that quiet, disapproving line she wore so well.
It was a strange sight for a lord to travel alone, and he knew it.
Lords did not ride without guard or banner.
But Tobias had told them he now required solitude – ‘time to reckon with the failures of my House’.
They hadn’t dared question him openly.
But someone did not trust him.
He’d been followed since leaving the City. A rider had been behind him for miles. Getting closer. More bold. A tail set upon him by Simone, perhaps. Or Merrick.
He reined in by a stream and waited. Observed from cover. A brown valmare appeared, the man on its back clad in Sorrel yellow.
Ah. Evelyn, then.
He watched the rider grow more and more frustrated as he realised there were no more tracks to follow.
Tobias stayed perfectly still until the man finally gave up, turned, and rode back the way he had come, defeat on every line of him.
He avoided main roads after that. Even doubled back twice, crossing through the shallows of several more streams, ensuring his tracks had vanished.
It never hurt to be cautious.
He’d taught his son the same. And it was more important now than ever.
From his cloak he drew the crumpled parchment, smoothing it out across his knee. It was written in an old Thorne code that he could translate easily:
K and I safe.
Need your help for the final Shard.
Meet at Rooksnest in three days.
S
He read it twice more, even though he had long since memorised it.
Kara.
Hale’s daughter.
Tobias knew what Alaric had offered her. His guards had informed him. She could have lied. Could have claimed Sebastian forced her, coerced her into running. The Council would have believed it. She would have lived.
But she hadn’t. She had stood by him, flames licking at her skirts, and declared her loyalty to Sebastian to the Council.
To Vallenna itself. Chosen her own death rather than betray him, even though she believed him damned regardless.
It had impressed him, to say the least. Especially after what she’d endured.
He’d been told about Cade Sarren. A servant had witnessed it. The pyre. His amusement.
A monster wearing his colours.
But Sebastian had dealt with it. The man was dead. Justice served.
Good.
No, the loyalty Kara had shown Sebastian could not be taught. Alaric Hale would call it foolishness. The Council would call it treason. Tobias called it something else entirely.
Worthy.
A Hale and a Thorne.
Unthinkable. Impossible.
And yet, not unlike the choice he had once made himself, when he had cast aside his arranged match – and married Sebastian’s mother instead.
Rhyana.
A Sorrel huntress of low birth. But everything he’d ever wanted. They’d called it scandal. But he’d ignored them all and loved her anyway. Twelve years of happiness. Now their son walked that same path, only harder. If Sebastian had inherited anything from Rhyana, it was her stubborn heart.
He tucked the parchment safely into his riding cloak. In all ways that mattered, Kara was Thorne now. Blood or not. His to defend as much as Sebastian himself. And now they called for him, to help them retrieve the final Shard.
He considered it his duty.
He was convinced keeping the Shards apart would not stop Draknor. They needed to be ready. Sebastian had acted where the Council would not. Reckless, yes. Dangerous. Yet right. Pride tightened Tobias’s chest.
But it was not yet time for his true loyalty to be known.
Patience must be his sharpest weapon. He would assist from the shadows, give them what they needed – use his power subtly to clear the way for them.
But overtly? He would play the loyal lord a little longer.
His power lay in being untouchable without hard evidence.
For nearly three days on the road, he thought of little else.
Help his son unite the Shards of the Arcanth, keep him alive, avert all-out civil war and defeat the army of dark magic wielders across the sea.
Not easy. Perhaps impossible. But Tobias had already promised himself – he would do everything in his power to see it done.
It was with that promise burning in his mind that he arrived at Rooksnest outpost, buried in a valley in northern Sorrel territory.
Long since abandoned by his soldiers. It had fallen into disrepair – its stone walls cracked and weathered.
An ideal place for such a meeting; Sebastian had chosen well.
He pushed open the groaning oak door with a little effort – it was rusted on its hinges – and was immediately hit by the scent of dust and damp wood clinging to the air. Nearly fifteen years of disuse.