Chapter 22
Mentally and physically exhausted, Trystan pulled in a long, deep breath and let it out slowly. The battle had only lasted the day, but had been quite intense. Many lives had been lost, but many more had been saved. He wrapped his arms around Marc and leaned into him. As Marc’s arms closed tightly around him, Trystan closed his eyes.
It was over.
He could breathe a little easier and relax, knowing there would be no more interruptions. No more attacks. No more demons or evil sorcerers trying to kill him. The constant threat of danger that had followed him so closely was gone. Morgaine and the evil she’d unleashed were destroyed, removed from this world.
The surviving soldiers of the King’s army as well as the remaining elves slowly surrounded Marc and Trystan within the unfinished courtyard of the partially constructed castle.
Emrys approached them and placed a hand on each of their shoulders, a tired but wry grin playing on his lips. “It seems our Trystan’s healing ability was far stronger than I thought.”
Trystan tugged him into a tight but friendly hug. “We couldn’t have done it without you.”
“I will always be here for you.” Emrys squeezed Trystan hard before releasing him, and took a step back. Their gazes locked, and Emrys’ chest constricted, his emotions threatening to overtake him once again.
“I will hold you to that, my friend.”
Trystan may not have said it outright, but he still loved Emrys, quite possibly more than he loved Marc, but Emrys was a guardian, and Trystan had chosen Marc. Though Emrys had acknowledged his love for Trystan, to act on it was forbidden. Regardless, he and Marc had bonded, and according to Emrys, nothing could break the soul bond.
Marc clasped Trystan’s elbow and pulled him into his arms. He kissed Trystan firmly, and while only their lips touched, it was as passionate as any other, sending ripples of warmth cascading throughout Trystan’s body. Marc released his lips and eased away. Both he and Trystan looked around.
Humans. Elves. Guardians. All had bravely faced a common enemy together this very day. In the midst of battle, a bond of mutual respect and friendship had been struck.
From all sides, bruised and bloodied humans, elves, and guardians little by little gathered around the three of them. One of the guardians approached them. Trystan recognized him as the same one that helped to save him from the plague dragon.
“Trystan. I am Rivælen, Arthur’s brother.”
“I didn’t know I had an uncle,” Trystan said.
“And until recently, I did not know I had a nephew. Your protector has kept much to himself, it would seem.” Rivælen’s gaze flicked briefly to Emrys. “That aside, you have fought bravely this day and proven yourself worthy of the guardian blood within you.” Rivælen gave him a tight smile. “Your father would be proud.”
“Thank you, Rivælen. And thank you to all the guardians who fought heroically for our cause.”
“I am also here because you now have a choice to make. As half-guardian, you have the choice to become a guardian and live with us in Artiryn or stay on Earth and become human, sacrificing all that remains of your immortality.” His gaze flickered over both Marc and Emrys. “And your life here.”
Trystan glanced at Emrys. He’d told him some day he would be faced with this choice. He looked up at Marc. Trystan could never leave him.
“I believe you already know the choice I have made.” Trystan linked his fingers with Marc’s.
“You are your father’s son.” Rivælen turned and nodded to Marc. “You risked your life for him and have earned our respect.”
Marc nodded and Trystan smiled as Rivælen extended his hand toward Emrys. The two guardians clasped each other’s wrists. “And you, my friend. Rhe’lur expects you will go on protecting Trystan.” He leaned in close and whispered, “Apparently, you need each other.”
Emrys shifted his gaze to Trystan, and for half a heartbeat, his lungs ceased to function. Rivælen stepped away, a knowing smirk teasing his mouth, and mounted his silver dragon.
As the guardian ascended back into the clouds with the others, Emrys reflected on Rivælen’s words, wondering what Rhe’lur had meant.
Queen Mysel stepped forward and spoke so that all could hear. “Your Graces, my people and I are honored to have served you this day, and while we celebrate this great victory in preservation of life, let us not forget those we have lost.” The Queen paused as she looked around. Two of her council members, Nuadra and Firlorne, were not with them, having fallen during the battle. “In honor of their memory, let us foster the peace and friendship between our people that has been born this day.”
“We welcome with great honor your kindness and friendship,” Trystan replied. “Thank you for all you have done. Your sacrifices shall not be forgotten.”
A rustling along with a flurry of voices rippled throughout the ranks. Humans and elves parted ways, opening a path from which Noah and Brioc emerged bracing an injured man between them. Blood and dirt covered all three. A tattered, blood-soaked cloth served as a bandage around the knee of the middle man’s severed leg.
“Locryn,” Emrys said under his breath.
“Marc. Your father.”
The blood drained from Marc’s face, his skin going pale.
