And my friend was gone.
Panic and grief wracked me, refusing to let me go and I panted for breath until spots gathered in my vision. Gael folded me in her arms, giving me a measure of calm. I gathered Ealdor’s memories and placed them behind a door that I marked with his name. Before all else, the history of his race, our ancestors, needed to be safeguarded. I looked at Custos. “You have to go back to Cynestol. Safeguard Ealdor’s history. Write it down,” I said, “as many times as it takes for you to guarantee its safety.”
His eyes were wide with wonder. “I’ll write it, Willet, but no one will believe.”
My shoulders curled as I tried to protect myself from grief. “It doesn’t matter. It shouldn’t be lost. If you can’t write it as history, then write it as a tale.” I had nothing else to say, I was too busy trying to put meaning to what I’d seen.
“We’ll have to make arrangements for Ariella and Oronelle to be returned to their family,” Bolt said. A moment later, he raised one hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. When he lifted his head, he looked angry, which meant he looked the same as always. “You’re a lodestone for trouble, Dura. You know that, don’t you?”
“I know,” I said. Under the circumstances it was impossible to argue with him. I glanced at Custos. “Can you see the girls safely back to Cynestol?”
After he nodded, I caught Gael peering at me, the perfect arch of her brows phrasing the question despite her silence.
“We have to get the six together,” Bolt said.
“North,” I said, “at the forest.” My insides hollowed out at the thought of coming within sight of the Darkwater. “Most of the kings and queens are there already.”
“I’ll tell Herregina she’s not going back to Cynestol,” Mirren said. “The news will be less of a shock coming from one of her subjects.”
“What will you do if she objects?” Bolt asked.
Mirren shook her head. “I don’t think she will. I’m going to show her Ealdor’s memories first. The people of Aille, even the nobility, have a keen sense of duty. It’s what allows us to work small jobs in pointless ministries year after year. She’ll come.”
Chapter 47
“We don’t have to go to the forest, Willet,” Gael said. “Send messengers. Bring the kings and queens here.”
“We may not have that much time,” I said. “Rymark and Ellias are fighting a battle they can’t win. They’ve set up a cordon around the forest. They’ll kill any trying to go in, and they’ll kill anyone coming out. Atol’s goal isn’t to defeat Rymark—he wants to escape.”
Bolt’s squint turned ugly. “Most of those who get through won’t even be trying to come out. They’ll be trying to break the prison.”
“Do we have time to stop this?” Mirren asked.
“There’s no way to know,” Bolt said. “We have to hope Rymark and Ellias have realized what’s happening. I’ll send word by carrier bird.”
“It won’t help,” I said. “They can’t go into the forest.”
He shook his head in disgust. “I hate it whenever I have to admit you’re right. It makes my skin crawl.”
“If we can summon the Fayit, we won’t have to fight Cesla or the Darkwater. They’ll fight for us,” I said.
“You don’t know that they will,” Gael said. “Or if they even can.”
“We can’t count on having enough time to meet anywhere else,” Bolt said. “We’re going to the forest, but not directly.”
“Why not?”
“King Boclar isn’t at the Darkwater.”
A flush of anger narrowed my vision for a moment. No one had bothered to tell me. “Pellin’s doing it again,” I said. “He and Toria Deel. They’re keeping me ignorant. Is that ever going to stop?”
Bolt shrugged as if my anger and objections were unimportant. “Probably after they’re dead, assuming you outlive them. Since we can’t return to Cynestol, our best chance of contacting the kings and queens will be at Vadras. We can use Boclar’s scrying stone rather than sending birds. Rymark’s encampment is a long way from Frayel and Collum. We’ll need to give Cailin and Queen Ulrezia as much of a head start as we can.”
“That’s assuming you can convince them of your plan, Willet,” Gael said.
“Let’s start with Boclar,” I said. “If we can convince him, he can help us with the rest. How long to Vadras?” I asked Bolt.
“Four days if we change horses often and ride straight through. But I’m not familiar with this region—we’ll need a map.”
“My family is from this part of Aille,” Mirren said. “I can guide you.”
I stood. “In the morning, then.” Bolt preceded Gael and me out the door and up the stairs to our rooms. On the third step, Gael’s hand found mine and we tarried, waiting for Bolt and the rest to draw ahead.
“You’re hiding something from me,” she said.
I didn’t bother to deny it. Gael knew me too well. We came to the landing, and she took the opportunity to let her lips brush mine. I pulled her close for a kiss that lingered and held her until she pulled away. “While I appreciate and commend your efforts to distract me, Lord Dura, I think you should tell me, one of your guards, what you intend.”
The heat faded, sluiced away by fear, and I pulled a deep breath. “I don’t intend anything,” I said, my voice soft because I didn’t want to hear out loud what I’d hidden in my heart. “Have you ever been in a situation and your options keep narrowing down toward a single terrible outcome?” I waited for her to nod, before I went on. “And all along you say to yourself ‘everything will be okay as long as this doesn’t happen.’ And then slowly, inexorably, every other possibility and hope is taken from you until the worst outcome happens.” I pulled a breath against a weight in my chest. “Then you find in the midst
