The tree was a constant reminder of the loss that Lordach experienced. The reason why Arawn was not given chances to havefriends,because, as his father said,friends die.And a king was unwise to surround himself with an opening to such a terrible weakness.
It would only make his sacrifice harder someday.
To his surprise, they left the Citadel behind, through the gates and down the sweeping white steps that led to thenomagebarracks.
It was a different world entirely, down here.
Arawn could hear the roar of wear bears, the clanging of swords that echoed through the snow-laden valley. Soldiers milled about, tending to various duties, and campfires spat tendrils of smoke into the sky between white tents.
Arawn had to run to keep up with his father’s footsteps, his practice sword bouncing against his hip. He couldn’t wait for a real one, but of course, he’d have to earn it first, by marching into battle with these very men and women that surrounded him. By proving he could hold his own alongside thenomagesbefore he was ever granted the honor of fighting alongside a true Sacred.
How many of these people would be dead by tonight?
How many of them wouldneverreturn home?
They paused at the entrance to a white tent, the flaps held open. Arawn’s stomach gave a terrible twist.
There were bodies on the tables inside.
Bodies and blood.
“Go on,” the king said softly, and Arawn flinched as he realized his father had knelt to his level. His lips were inches from his ear. “Go inside, Crown Prince.”
His feet felt frozen. He didn’t want to move, but his father gave him a nudge, and suddenly he was stepping forwards, into the tent...where men and women died right in front of him.
Table after table, the soldiers that had been brought back from last night’s battle were utterly shredded by the enemy. By darksoul magic and stinking, spoiled wounds that he knew they had no hope of coming back from.
He’d heard of it, this kind of war-earned death.
But to see it with his own eyes?
Soldiers groaned, and others shouted prayers to the gods as the Ehvermages worked on them, and the smell reeked with the burn of cleaning alcohol, and someone nearly knocked him over as they carried a bucket of bloody rags out the door of the tent,and?—
It sloshed onto his boots.
He’d cleaned them for what felt like hours this morning, never satisfied with the work of the servants, and now there was blood on them. There was blood on his toes, and his heart did a little nervoustwitch,and...
He was going to be sick.
He spun around, ready to release the contents of his stomach. But he came face to face with his father instead, who still knelt on one knee, the tip of his sword digging into the frozen earth as if he’d been waiting.
As if heknewArawn would be too weak to handle what he saw inside the tent.
“Boys without crowns? Boys who are not fated by the gods to rule? They end up here, Arawn,” the king whispered, looking down at him sadly. “But they have no power to fight with, so they wield a borrowed sword instead. But what good is a sword against a creature that seeps shadows, a beast that boasts unpillared magic? What good is a sword...against creatures who ride the Acolyte’s raphons? Their claws are built for shredding, dismembering, beheading. Their fangs are meant for ripping out throats, and there is no invocation, Crown Prince, that can bring a man back from a wound such asthat.”
Arawn was trembling now, and not from the cold.
No, it was because he could still hear soldiers dying behind him. Gulping, shuddering breaths as the Ehvermages worked to close their wounds...but ultimately, they met their ends.
“But you, Arawn Laroux, are notjust a boy,”his father said. “And thank the gods that you will never be.”
His voice was an anchor. It was strength and it was a promise as solid as gold. He wanted to have such strength for himself. He wanted to be older and stronger thanthis,as he forced himself not to stare at the blood splatters on his boots. “You were born with the kiss of the Five on your brow, the promise of being a Crown Prince...and there is no greater gift.”
He rose back to standing, so Arawn was looking up at him. So the snow blurred his edges and Arawn noticed, slowly, the way the sea ofpassing soldiers parted around his father, as if they feared him every bit as much as they respected him.
Will they ever do that for me?he wondered.Will they ever look at me like I’m something great?
“Someday, you will be in this fight,” the king continued. “Leading these very men and women. But you will not die like they do down here, helpless and hopeless on the battlefield. No, you will be in thesky,because you carry my blood, and with it, you will someday become an Eagle Rider.You will soar on the wind and wield a glorious, pillared magic, the kind that only the gods can give, so long as you are pious enough to earn it. You willleadthese people. Not to death, but to victory. And someday when you pass on, when the Five welcome you into the Ehver...they will decide if you are worthy enough to enter through their gates.” He reached out and took Arawn’s hand in his.
