“No,” I protest. “I need you here to take care of these people if things do not go as planned…”
“Which they won’t,” she mutters under her breath.
I pretend I didn’t hear. “I will take Arax.”
“And leave me with Princess Zyphoro?” Solena rolls her eyes. “If you want us all dead, I’d prefer you get it over with now and spare me being alone with her.”
“I’m trying to save lives,” I say, working to soothe Solena’s ire. “Before it’s too late.”
“I know,” she grumbles. “But if you don’t survive this, I’ll kill you.”
I nod. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”
I turn my back, heading towards the council hall, already planning what I will tell them.
“Amara,” Solena calls to me, and I look over my shoulder at her. “If the opportunity presents itself. Kill him.”
Her words slam into me, leaving me disorientated. But when my mind slips back into focus, I realize she is right. Without the Golden Son, the ranks of the Legion would fall into disarray, and The Grove would be safe, if even for a short while. Long enough for us to prepare for the next onslaught. I nod and Solena returns to her work while I tramp through the dirt to the council hall.
“You’re sure?” Enaria asks, her dark eyes wracked with uncertainty.
The council all have their chins against their chests, muttering amongst each other.
“I’m sure. If I am to lead The Tenders, then I must lead in a way fitting of our people. War is not our philosophy. We must strive to make peace first, avoid bloodshed at all costs.”
“That is what Keeper Tovar attempted to do, and look what came of it,” Enaria growls angrily.
Tovar’s actions still strike a pain in my chest. My outrage mingled with a lifetime’s worth of favored memories. I briefly wonder where in Valorne he is right now. If in his exile, he is lost or scared with no voices to comfort him in his darkest moments.
“We are outnumbered and barely have enough swords to put in hands. Even we sisters are not the warriors we once were. We are for mending and guiding now, not battle, and we have the aid of a handful of Fae, but they are no match for the share size of the Legion army.” I knew all this before I came to the council hall, but saying it out loud allows it to truly sink in, leaving my chest hollow and my blood cold. “I must try, Keeper Enaria.”
She nods. “Very well. We will continue preparations and if you return unsuccessful, Jewel, we will be ready to fight.” A half smile trembles on her mouth. “Just return, alright?”
As I leave the hall and walk through The Grove, watching the training sessions, the fortifications, the preparations that hum beneath every conversation, it’s a strange feeling—being surrounded by so much activity, so much focus—while knowing the storm that looms on the horizon.
I find Arax on the training field, and we go back and forth on my decision for far too long. He growls and scorns me like a child, but then immediately apologizes after each scathing remark.
“Are you coming with me or not?” I ask him with finality.
“Of course I bloody am,” he groans, as if my asking only infuriates him more. “I’m your bodyguard.”
“Have you forgotten? King Kaelus released you from that duty.” I say it almost jokingly, but the severity of his face hints he does not feel the same way.
“No one, not even a king, will keep me from protecting you, Es…” His voice cuts off, his breaths ragged with his realization and I feel it too, the pain and regret that scars him. “Princess,” he finishes.
I take a step towards him, reaching out and clasping my hand over his and when his weathered eyes meet mine, the understanding between us is more than words can convey.
“Let’s leave now,” I say.
He nods. “As you wish.”
I choose not to fly to the Legion camp.
I want to arrive on my own two feet, not in the arms of the Fae whom this rebel army despises. However, they are still two days' ride from The Grove. Arax's solution is simple in theory but complicated in execution. We will void walk there, but the distance is too great to cover in one leap. Instead, as he describes it, we will “leapfrog” through the void, jumping from portal to portal until we reach the Legion camp. He warns me that it will hurt and that even the oldest Mordorin Fae struggle not to get lost in the void. I tell him I trust him.
Arax's hands tighten over the reins as he leads the stag through the overgrowth. The creature is powerful beneath me, towering over Arax with its eight feet of earth-brown fur, patched with green and gold. Its antlers branch out before me, twisted like tree roots and adorned with glowing moss and vibrant flowers that bloom in a riot of color.
My green robes trail behind me, the gold stitching glinting in the afternoon sun as we emerge from The Grove and step onto a field of wildflowers—such beauty sewn with the blood of a battle long ago. A battle that not only took from me but from Arax as well. I can see it in the way he surveys the long grass swaying inthe breeze, recalling bodies falling as steel clashed and screams echoed through the air.
