me?”
He shivered at the contact, even though their flesh was separated by the thick leather of his cuirass. He shook his head, hoping to clear his mind, but could not fault her. Deep inside though, he had a need for answers, to know if all Olenn had told him was true.
“You have sons?” Disappointment flooded the question against his wishes.
She lowered her eyes. “Aye, I have two, by my husband, Falen. He is a good man, and I have grown to care for him.” She coughed quiet. “My father arranged our marriage, for the good of Lathah. He did not want Olenn to reign for long.”
Arrin stood trembling, his heart and mind divorced from one another as he listened to Malya’s words. He met her eyes once more when she lifted her face, and he saw the truth swimming in their teary depths. It was yet another wound inflicted upon him.
She had believed him dead these long years and had been a faithful daughter to her father’s wishes to depose a foul son to whom he was honor-bound to pass the crown. As she had her entire life, she had been true to herself, doing what she thought best for her people she was destined to never rule. In his absence, she had lived as she knew best, for her land and king, and had moved on as Arrin had never been able to.
He turned away as the tears leaked bold down his cheeks. The strands of his world unraveled in the span of moments, there was but one thing left between them. “What of our child?”
Malya sighed. Arrin saw her shoulders slump from out of the corner of his eye. He turned to stare at her, his heart slow in his chest, fearful of the worst.
“That is a secret my father guards well within the shrouded depths of his addled mind.” Anger and sadness, in equal parts, seemed to glitter in her eyes. “He alone knows to whom our child went, but even burdened beneath the full weight of dementia, his mind unclear for many years, he has spoken no names. I have done everything in my power since that day to find our baby. My threats and bribes have turned up nothing, my father’s willful command of secrecy overruling my attempts.”
Arrin turned to face her. “And your brother? Does he know?”
“My father kept it a secret from him as well, trusting the less Olenn knew, the safer our child was. He has… had,” she corrected, “No faith in my brother’s sense of justice. Of that, at least, I concur.”
A sour grin crept to Arrin’s lips. “To which I too agree.”
Their eyes met once more and she gave him a somber smile. He felt a pang of jealousy stab at his heart as he longed to embrace her, but knew it was no longer his place to do so. Though her explanation stung his pride and thrust hardened steel deep inside the very essence of his being, they had brought back his purpose.
“You must leave Lathah,” he told her, hoping she would hear the seriousness in his tone.
“I cannot. These are my people.”
Arrin had expected no less, an argument to challenge her unflinching loyalty prepared during his long walk from Fhen. “Then rally them to you and warn them disaster comes at the hands of the Grol.” He could see the doubt, even in her eyes.
“We have battled the Grol for centuries-”
Arrin cut her off. Heat colored his voice. “Do you not think I know this?” Maltis and several of Malya’s guard inched closer. “I would not have come, would not have dared to put you or our child at risk of Olenn’s wrath for such a lowly menace as the Grol were it not a true threat. The beasts have come unto magic.” He leaned close and whispered, “They are armed with the same magic as the gift you gave me on the day of my exile.”
Her eyes went to his throat, growing wide. “You speak true?”
“Aye. As ever so true as when I fell to my knees and told you of my love for you.”
Her tears spilled free. She placed her hand beneath his wild hair and set it upon the collar. He could feel the warmth of her fingers pulsing against his throat. “It was meant to be my brother’s, but my father could never bring himself to pass on such a powerful relic to a man like Olenn. He feared what he might do with it so instead, he gave it to me in hopes I would bear the land a legitimate heir one day.” She gave Arrin an apologetic look. “My father believed a man might need its power to unseat Olenn once he had become comfortable upon the throne. I passed it to you, for I believed you needed it more than any speculative unborn heir.”
Arrin could hardly catch his breath. “For that, I am forever grateful.” He bit back the satisfaction that Olenn had been robbed of the gift and stared deep into the emeralds of her eyes. “But I know its true power, am fearful of it even. I am doubly so for that which the Grol now wield. There is conquest in their heart; murder, revenge.”
He waved her to silence as she began to speak. “They do not possess but one or two of such relics, which would be terror enough, but hundreds. I watched as they rained fire down over Fhenahr, blasting the walls to rubble and burning their people alive in a fiery conflagration from which there was no escape; not alive, least ways.” The memories flickered to the fore in shades of blood and ash. “And when the walls fell, the beasts stormed into Fhen and murdered all without mercy.” His voice grew low. “They come next to Lathah. They will not be satisfied with simple victory.”
Malya let her trembling hand slip from his neck. “What would you have me do, Arrin?”
“If your brother will not listen to reason, as we know is his wont, then come away with me. If I cannot save everyone, I would save you…and your family.” He added the last with effort, the words reluctant to form upon his tongue. “The great walls will be no protection when they come this time. They will only trap the people inside, a sarcophagus of stone made for all of Lathah. Our beloved homeland will be a cemetery.”
“I cannot leave my people behind.”
“If you would see your sons live, your husband, father, then you have little choice.” He hated the cruelty of his words but knew he spoke only truth. The Grol would not spare the nobles any more than they would spare the poor. They were all meat as far as the beasts were concerned.
He stood silent as Malya mulled his words. The difficulty of the task was clear in the worry lines carved into her face.
At long last, she spoke, her voice barely above a whispered breath. “Though I would not have my family fall prey to Grol cruelty, I will not abandon my people. They must have one leader who understands compassion.” She grasped Arrin’s wrist and squeezed. “Carry a message to Pathrale and ask sanctuary of Warlord Quaii for all the people of Lathah. Bring me his word of refuge and we will march as one to Pathrale.”
“We are short on time, Malya. I know not how soon the Grol will come. Please, do not delay with politics.”
She shook her head. “It is enough I contemplate fleeing my home with my tail between my legs, but I will not do so without assurance of safe asylum. I would rather we all die fighting for our nation than creep away to live landless, like our forefathers before Lathah was founded.”
Arrin sighed. The fire he’d loved in her still burned as bright as it ever had. He knew she would not be swayed from her course. For all his strength, it was a battle he would not win. “Then it shall be done.”
She graced him with a smile and pulled him to her so that she could plant a soft kiss on his cheek. The gentle scent of her was like a fresh breeze in spring, her kiss a touch of the sun. He warmed to her closeness, a lifetime of loneliness brushed away in an instant, but he set his mind against the impulses that surged through his veins. Her kiss was all he could hope for.
She pulled away with what seemed to him as deliberate slowness and bowed her head. “Thank you, Arrin, for your loyalty, and your love. It is, and shall always be, a treasure to me.” She lingered a moment and then turned to the prince’s men, her look stolid once more. “My guard shall assist you to escort Arrin Urrael to the gates. Be warned, should any harm come to him or my men, you will pay most dearly, my brother’s will be damned.” She waited until they acknowledged her threat, her gaze tempered with steel, before looking to Maltis. Her expression softened. “I would appreciate your continued supervision to their escort, commander.”
Maltis smiled. “Certainly, my lady.”
Malya cast one last glance at Arrin, whispered her thanks, and strode back toward the Crown, five of her men close at her side. Lieutenant Santos glared after their backs, fury undisguised in his eyes.
Arrin growled and drew the lieutenant’s attention. The collar glimmered and Arrin snapped the chain of the shackles without effort. Before the wide eyes of everyone, he tore the manacle cuffs from his wrists, bending the iron with obvious ease, and threw them at the feet of the lieutenant.
“If you even deign to cause Malya harm, now or ever, I will find you and tear your still beating heart from your chest as you watch.” He turned and gestured toward the main gate. “Now, let us be about my second exiling before I’m forced to see myself out.”
