To his left, Brela sprinted up the stairs of a partially collapsed cellar, arm thrown over her mouth and nose. She gagged and dunked her blood-stained hands in a puddle to clean them. “Those were not the first bodies tossed down there.”
Elias grimaced and began a series of well-placed, magic-backed stomps around the edges of the bunker. It only took a few minutes, but eventually the ground shook and caved in, burying the freshly dead bodies… and apparently any remains that had been thrown in there before.
Dawn barely visible beyond the city, they repacked the horses and ate while poring over the map of Valisea. To his relief, Brela was significantly more forthcoming with the details of what she remembered and what information she’d gathered since leaving. Veil Worshippers likely weren’t going to interfere until they were headed back to Rooke, but the army camps and patrols would be a bigger challenge. The one just north of the temple could be bypassed, but there was a chance they’d run into trouble when there weren’t good places to hide.
Brela offered up two options; give up their magic and risk being trapped against the wall versus a large number of soldiers even if there were less chances of encounters, or travel along the lake and still have their magic to work with in the event patrols wandered through abandoned towns.
Even more surprising than her willingness to share more details, she offered those options while looking at Serill. His choice.
The lake, the prince decided after a little debate. If they were caught walking through the towns, the Prince of Severina could play his role of convincing them they were looking to join the raids so he could add to his artifact collection. They were also close enough to the wall that anyone with perception magic likely wouldn’t pick up on Brela’s Veil shard. She’d grumbled at the order to stick to Cason’s side and keep her mouth shut and blades sheathed, but promised she’d stay on her best behavior.
Cason wasn’t sure if their definition of best behavior was the same, but he wanted to trust that she wouldn’t do something stupid. He’d offered her his hand, and she’d taken it. Revealed more about Valisea and been more cooperative with their strategies. He had to think that was a good sign.
He still didn’t want to think of what that meant for anything after this trip.
“Four hells,” Serill mumbled under his breath. He raked a hand through his dark hair as he leaned against a tree with Cason in the back of the destroyed manor. The prince looked exhausted. “I gathered that she’d been to Orhyrst, but it never occurred to me that she would havebeenthere during that raid.”
“Nine years old,” Cason replied. “My father was drunk for three days straight with all the parties. Ciethy basically threw a second Sun Festival that year, and even King Raff made an appearance.”
“The King of Anfroy has always struck me as a mysterious character,” Serill mused, picking at a loose thread on his shirt. “Didn’t you train with him for a bit?”
Cason grumbled. “I’d rather not relivethosememories.”
“He says casually, as if he wasn’t the youngest sun-blessed in history to train for the Elite,” Serill mocked.
The Elite were King Raff’s private and hand-selected group of Knights. Separate from his Guard, and performed the more… deadly, secretive tasks, versus just protecting their King. It was an honor to be selected, perhaps even the highest honor a sun-blessed could achieve if you weren’t born or married into royalty. Even his mother hadn’t been selected, and she’d been ahighlydecorated soldier.
“Technically, yes,” Cason sighed, “but that doesn’t really mean anything when you don’t accept the position.”
The prince snorted. “Should I mention you were also the only one with multiple gods-blessed magics to be asked to join?” Cason shrugged, much to the annoyance of his friend. “You and Brela and your gods-damned shrugging.”
“I could cross my arms instead. Your other options with her are fueling a swaggering ego or flashing an obscene gesture. I think shrugging is acceptable for the both of us.” Serill raised his brow. “What?”
A grin. “Nothing.”
“Serill.”
“Why didn’t you continue training?” the prince asked, ignoring him.
“Because I went to the moon temple to master my lightning,” he replied, clenching his burning fists.
“Yes, but you could have trained under the second strongest fire wielder in Anfroy. You were the first person to decline a position with the Elite, and would have—”
“I didn’t continue because I thought it would fix my relationship with Era,” Cason blurted, smoke seeping through his clenched fingers.
Serill flinched, not in fear but in guilt. Cason had never fully explained to the prince why he spent the early years of his time in Severina traveling to Rooke to meet up with Era. Trying to keep their relationship afloat. Trying to downplay all of his achievements while she slowly grew to hate him for his power that would always be stronger than hers. Sending vague letters and not telling her about his new friendship with the Prince of Severina and the almost guarantee that he’d be joining the Royal Guard in Severina, not returning to Ciethy.
He’d lied to Era that he had failed to pass the Elite training. The one thing she’d wanted her entire life, and he thought it would protect their relationship, her fragile pride. He’d never wanted the position anyway. He’d only continued training to appeal to his father’s ego, keep the man from suspecting how much Cason wanted to leave Anfroy.
That only meant once things burned to the ground with Era, the scars went deeper than they should have. Truths laid bare, masks shed, and the motivations fueled by bitterness revealed. He never realized the woman he’d fallen in love with hadn’t felt an ounce of that emotion toward him, and it didn’t help that her magic strength would always be a flicker compared to his roaring blaze. That didn’t include his other gods-blessed gift, of which she’dbeen willing to stomach, according to her final words.
Cason was pretty sure he hadn’t worn a genuine smile for years after that. Wasn’t sure there was a time he didn’t have his arms glued to his chest… until Brela.
“Sorry,” Cason mumbled. “It’s not important. The king likes to keep a tight leash on things that are more powerful than him. Possibly more superstitious than Gerrart, though it’s directed more at the people of Valisea than their myths. My mother said Raff used to be kind when he was younger. Said everyone believed he’d be the opposite of his father when he took the throne. Might even put a stop to the raids and slaughter.” He gestured vaguely in the direction of the Veil wall and then the destroyed city behind them. “Seems that being called weak or a coward can poison the mind just as much as stroking their pride.”
“Power can corrupt even the best of us,” Farrah said, eyeing Serill and Cason as she strode up the hill. She flipped her wet hair over a shoulder and wrung it out.
“That’s why we never let you win too many bets, Farr. You get all high-and-mighty on us,” Elias said from behind her. His smirk was wicked as he shook his wet hair out like a dog.
