“If you’re unwell then you should stay in Aymar and return to Tanglewood when you’re feeling better,” he said, shaking off the argument between them. The last thing he wanted was for Maeve to leave!
“No,” her eyes would not meet his, “no, I really must go home.”
It was soon after that argument that she’d told him to go away.
Looking back at it now, it was more likely this disagreement between them that had caused her love for him to dim. Not marriage, but children. Not being a queen, but being a mother. Why had he not connected this before? She’d wanted children. Always. His children. And he had said he would kill them. For her, to be sure, but a woman such as Maeve would have found such an answer abhorrent.
So how ironic that he’d found out his father had not killed his elder brother. His father had simply exiled Marikoth. And then to save his people from that mistake, Thalanil had to raise the Wall. He had continued to try and reach Maeve after that, to bring her back to him, to, at least, have her stay safe with his people.
“No, Thalanil, I will not come to you,” she had written. “You can hide behind your Wall, but I think you should defend everyone, not just the Fae, against Marikoth. Or maybe you should reach out to your brother and right the terrible wrong your father did. See if you can’t break the ice around his heart.”
He stared at the Wall now, knowing that she no longer lived beyond it. She’d died soon after marrying. She’d married someone else.
Someone else...
He shook himself. The Wall had protected his people from his father’s mistake, but that protection might be ending. The theft of life from the Empire of the Eclipse Throne could only have been accomplished by a powerful Fae magic user. A Death Magic user.
Marikoth must have found a way through the Wall, but...
But the magic had felt different than that used against him, Cyrille and Alexandre on Twilgate Cliffs. Thalanil couldn’t have said how exactly. Was it cleaner somehow? Was it less corrupt? Plus, only a small amount of life had been taken. If his elder brother had found a way to take life from his side of the Wall, he would not have risked Thalanil noticing for such a sip. But the irony was that the overgrowth in the part of the forest that had been affected had been cured for the moment. Yet that might not have been the Death Mage’s intention. It was likely just a mistake.
So Thalanil remained on the top of his tower, wondering if Marikoth was finally at his gates, or if he had a new enemy who he knew nothing about.
NO CHOICE
King Rohan De Clare cradled Finn’s head in his lap. Rohan did not know the beautiful young man’s last name or where he lived, but he was certain down to his bones that if Finn did not recover, he would never forgive himself. Finn was a light that should not be snuffed out. Yet Finn was still unconscious. He had been since he was injured and hope for recovery was dimming.
He wasn’t just injured. I shot him with a silver bolt meant for that monster wolf, Tyreon! I’m the cause of this, Rohan reminded himself.
Not that he truly needed reminding. His hands were still stained with Finn’s blood. He’d managed to pull out the bolt and bind the wound. He saw that his fingernails were filthy with dark crusts as he drew a shaking hand across Finn’s fair brow. Finn’s blood was ground into his skin and sunk beneath his nails. If Finn died, he would never truly be able to wash himself clean.
Why did you try to protect that beast, Finn? Rohan wondered. Why sacrifice your life for a wolf’s? Not sacrifice! He quickly amended. You will be fine, I swear it, Finn. You will be more than that. If only we can get back to Rirea. Back beyond the Wall to a healer.
But night had already fallen on the Fae Empire of the Eclipse Throne. They were no nearer finding a way back to Rohan’s kingdom than they had been several hours ago when they had become trapped here, and Finn’s condition was getting worse.
After the fight with Tyreon and the closure of the Wall, they had discovered this hiding place, a massive tree that was hollow inside. Rapacious vines and blooms as large as his head covered the grave of this behemoth of the forest. They’d been able to slip between those vines and make a passable camp inside of it. They’d even chanced a small fire as Finn had begun to shiver uncontrollably. It was a risk as the smoke could have alerted the Fae to their presence, but Finn’s life was worth it.
Worth so much more than the danger of discovery.
He studied Finn’s face. The olive-toned skin that had looked sun-kissed when he’d first seen the young man just the other day--has it only been one day since I met him?--was now pale as milk. There was an unhealthy sheen of sweat covering Finn’s brow and upper lip. Finn’s green eyes were closed, and they moved restlessly under his now-shadowed lids. Finn was dreaming, but whatever his mind was showing him was not pleasant.
Rohan drew down the picnic blanket that he had draped over that lithe form and pulled up Finn’s tattered tunic to check the wound on his side. He’d used the linen napkins that Serxio had packed for his romantic picnic with Finn as bandages. There was a large, dark red stain already blooming atop them, but it had not increased in size for some time. So, hopefully, the bleeding had stopped, but he had no way of knowing if any of Finn’s internal organs had been damaged. They needed a healer for that.
“Any sign of Leonid, Serxio?” Rohan asked about his Captain of the Guard Leonid Blanchet.
He was questioning his companion, Lord Serxio Lemos, who stood by the opening into the tree, gazing out between the vines. He was nervously eating an apple. He’d been nervously eating since they’d camped. If he kept it up, the food would be all gone within a few more hours.
“None,” Serxio said with a wave of his silk-clad arm. “What if Leonid doesn’t find that wolf? I mean, assuming we’re right that the wolf was the one that opened the Wall and can--or will--do so again for us.”
“I do not believe that Tyreon has gone far,” Rohan said slowly.
He thought of his Uncle Hugues then and his love triangle with Lady Maeve Ashton and Fae King Thalanil Ravenspar. The wolf had a bone to pick with his family. It would not stray far. It would want to finish what it had begun.
Serxio glanced between him and the vine-covered entrance. Alarm flared in his handsome face. “You mean it could still be here?”
“Do not worry, Serxio. I will protect us if it comes this way.” Rohan patted his sword, Lightbringer, that was on the ground beside him. He thought he felt a spark of lightning from it and snapped his hand away.
“Why would such a beast stay nearby? To finish dragging Finn into its den for a snack?” Serxio turned his black, curly head fully towards Rohan in alarm.
“No, the wolf serves King Thalanil. I imagine it was reacting to me being near the Wall,” Rohan stated.
“But…” Serxio broke off and frowned.
“What is it, Serxio?”
“The wolf focused on Finn.” His companion’s hands twisted nervously together.
“You must be mistaken. He is a servant. A farm boy. Not anyone who would draw King Thalanil’s ire,” Rohan disagreed. “Except for, of course, his connection to me.”
“Yes, yes, you’re right. That must be why Tyreon tried to take Finn from you.” Serxio nodded vigorously as if that would dispel his concerns.