a little easier as he found it, but it was weak and unsteady.
There were already several others in the cell halls as he came down the stairwell with her. One of the larger guards reached over to take her from him.
He held her firm in his arms, refusing to loosen his grip. 'You should be off to more important things. This one poses little threat of escaping.'
The guard laughed, his voice coming out rough and coarse from years of pipe and ale. 'I suppose she wouldn't be, my Lord. Much of a threat, I mean. Kind to the eyes though, this one is. I haven't seen one quite this young down here in a while.'
'The Laionai wish to have an audience with her at dawn, if she's awake. I expect her to be left alone to regain whatever strength she may still have. I need her at her wits if she's to answer our questions.'
'Certainly, my Lord. I'll come back at first light to make sure she is still here.' He laughed. 'Don't believe she'll be running off though — just like you said, my Lord.'
Garren walked into the cell the guard had opened for him. It was cold and wet. There was nothing to lay her down on and he cringed as she sank into the layer of mud that covered the ground. He left her there and appeared to walk around the corner, but had concealed himself instead and returned to stand in front of the cell. It was a useful ability, though he'd come to find it didn't last very long. It was a little like holding one's breath. He watched as the guard hung his keys and walked through the hall to his chambers.
As soon as the guard was gone, Garren picked up the keys and reentered the cell. Picking her up, he sat with his back against the cold stone. He tore two strips of cloth from his cloak and tied them around her ankles to stay the bleeding, then wrapped what was left of it around her, his own body shivering as the draft hit his bare skin, his chest covered in her blood. Once daylight came, he would be unable to hide his allegiances. The Moriors would hear of it, as Aiden would no doubt get free and summon them, and justice would come swiftly for them both. He sat, weighing the outcome of the path that he was about to take, when Tadraem's words from so long ago rang loud and clear in his ears.
It wasn't Tadraem.
Who could have come to him like that, in the guise of another, knowing years before it would occur that he would find himself here — turning his back on everything he'd ever known?
Could it have been my father?
He questioned then his assumption that Tadraem had been lying to him about his father's betrayal.
Ariana stirred and his thoughts were drawn to her having been in observance. He'd walked the length of the humans' pew — he had to have stood right behind her at some point during the service. She'd been within his reach, and he'd walked right past her. Why was she here? Why was she here alone? She had to be. There was no way Michael would have let her anywhere near Eidolon, with or without escort — unless he was unaware. Then, he found himself hoping that Michael would discover her absence. As sure as it meant his own demise, it was her only hope. He couldn't risk leaving now, not with the attention they'd just brought to the outer courts.
'Michael,' she moaned and moved her head, drawing labored breaths. Her bleeding had slowed, but the pain would only intensify as the night wore on.
'Michael will be here soon,' he whispered. He touched her cheek with his hand, as he'd done that day in the woods. Had it been such a short time ago?
He stayed awake long into the night, looking at her, hoping that some idea would come to him — something that perhaps he'd overlooked — a way out of all of this. But nothing ever came, and he eventually gave in to sleep.
Sunlight streamed through the small window at the top of the cell. He opened his eyes, forgetting where he was until he heard the loud footsteps of the guard coming down the hallway. Garren laid the girl down, rushed to conceal himself and watched as the guard came into the cell. He leaned down to take her pulse and every muscle in Garren's body tensed as he waited for the guard's response.
The guard lingered for a moment before calling out to his friend, 'She's not alive!'
Garren almost lost his composure. The other guard entered the cell and pressed his hand to her neck.
'Yes she is. You couldn't hear it over the rush of hot air in your head!' He stood up and scowled. 'Let's go. It's time to eat. I can't be expected to finish my duties on an empty belly.'
Garren waited until he was sure they were gone before he bent over her to check for a heartbeat himself, and though it had weakened considerably during the night, it was still there. He kissed her forehead, noticing that her temperature had dropped and she no longer responded to the chill in the air.
He had no choice. He would ready his Dragee and carry her to their borders. He could think of nothing else as a viable option. He tucked his cloak tighter around her and laid her in the driest corner of the cell. There was a small area where the light hit that had warmed it just a bit from the coolness of the rest of the room. He smoothed her hair from her face and whispered, 'I will come back for you.'
He took the cell keys and raced to his chambers. Once inside, he threw on a new shirt and cloak and filled a small satchel with minor supplies. He opened the doors to his wardrobe and pulled a shield and breastplate from inside. Laying the shield aside, he pulled the breastplate over his shirt, refastening his cloak when he'd finished. He traded his riding boots for a heavier pair, fastened his vambraces and greaves on his forearms and shins. It hit him then that he would be forced to fight his own men if things went badly. He'd grown fond of many of them, oddly more so over the last two weeks. Not that he had been entirely uninterested before, but he had never paid them much attention. Now, he realized all too late they meant more to him than whatever skill they brought to the battlefield.
He grabbed his satchel and headed down the hall. Whenever he heard someone approaching, he concealed himself until they'd passed. Once he'd reached the solitude of the stables, he saw the Dragee were restless. Perhaps they'd sensed something was coming. He felt it too and hoped it was Michael. It would take them nearly a day to reach Eidolon. Garren had reached Adorian borders much faster on the back of a Dragee, but a regular horse was far too slow. The only way for Michael to reach Eidolon faster would be to fly, though he'd never seen Adorians make such a long journey airborne and thus assumed they couldn't.
'Ride swiftly, Michael,' he whispered. He thought his words had gone unheard until he felt a sword upon him.
The blade did minor damage when it hit, but only because it struck his breastplate, which was concealed beneath his cloak. He spun on his heels to find Tadraem facing him.
'And to think I once believed you were so different from Seth, incapable of his treasonous ways.'
'Treason? What right have you to claim treason when it's you who have been plotting against me? You, who claim to be my mentor and friend — I trusted you once.'
Tadraem sneered, 'Ah, trust, another of your father's errors, though not his gravest. Not by a long shot. I had such plans for you, Garren. You don't know what I have done for you, how I stood behind you even while the Laionai wanted to strip you of your power. How I spared you the dark truths of your past.'
'How you've spared me? Spared me what? The only darkness in my past is how you killed my father, how you betrayed him just as you betray me now.'
Tadraem shook his head. 'No, Garren, Seth wasn't my friend. He was many things, but never my friend. And you're wrong about the darkness of your past — I'd hoped for years that it wouldn't matter. The moment I heard you utter Adorian, I knew you'd inherited more than your mother's blood. You've inherited her sickness as well; those vile, wretched traits they call mercy and goodness.'
Garren's head spun as he struggled to find his bearings. 'My mother… was Adorian?'
Tadraem shrugged. 'Don't act so shocked. I know who you harbored at your breast through the night, who you've given up your title for — your life, once the Laionai are told.'
Garren tried to summon his powers, anything, but found himself completely bereft.
'The Laionai giveth, and the Laionai taketh away.' Tadraem sauntered over to a partial wall, laughing. 'You are insignificant in their plans now, expendable. You could have been the Oni and there was a time that we thought you — '
Micah didn't even have to mind his steps; Tadraem was far too involved in his own self-righteousness to hear him. The boy swung fast and hard, the sword held in both hands, its height nearly twice his. The blade came against the soft flesh of Tadraem's neck, the force alone causing the boy to stumble. Tadraem's body fell to the ground in a crumpled heap, headless.
