“Tomorrow morning. First thing,” Aden insisted.
Isa tried to follow what was happening as Aden made the decision without her. “I don’t know that I should go. He can take the Floutast. He’d travel faster by himself.”
“You are going home to see your father,” Aden yelled at her, his voice bellowing.
Erich jumped backward in surprise, but Isa stamped closer to the raging beast.
“I will do what I think is right!” She pointed at her chest.
Aden exhaled. “Yes, of course. This is your decision to make. Please believe me, though, when I say you will regret this. If you do not return now, to see your father a final time and be with your family, you will regret it for the rest of your life. That is a burden you do not want to carry.” His voice was much quieter, but the emotion it imparted was far more impactful than his bellows had been.
Isa crossed her arms. “Just as you regret leaving your own family?” she asked.
Aden took a step closer to her, peering down at her with his customary blink. “I loved them too much to stay.”
“I will not leave on the eve of battle!”
“You must love them enough to leave me now.” His voice rumbled so deeply she could feel it reverberate in the hollow of her own chest.
“They’ve been falling faster, though,” she replied, referring to the rose petals. “How many are left?”
“Stay here.” Aden turned, striding quickly down the western hallway.
“Some things never change,” Erich said, shaking his head.
Isa looked at him, confused. She had forgotten he was there.
“Don’t take it personally. He’s always had a testy temper,” Erich whispered to her conspiratorially.
“I heard that,” Aden growled from the hallway. He reappeared a moment later carrying the rose, which he handed to Isa.
She gingerly examined the blossom, blinking away the tears that had started to seep into her eyes. The leaves looked more wilted than they had the last time she had seen it, and the edges were starting to turn brown. Even the scent had lost its initial clarity. Eight petals stubbornly clung to the base of the pistil. She counted them again to be sure. “There are still eight,” she said.
Aden nodded. “You do the math,” he said, using the same words she had thrown at him two weeks ago. He reached out for the flower.
She handed it back to him. “Two weeks?”
“Easily,” he responded. “Go tomorrow. Take the Floutast. Do not let your father die in a dungeon cell. Spend time with him. If you wish, come back in ten days’ time. The bridge will be done.”
“You will wait here for that long?” she asked. “Promise me ten days. I’ll return in seven.”
“Promise me you will stay with your father as long as he needs you,” Aden replied.
Isa nodded. Her heart had never felt so mangled.
He was looking down at her so intently. He clearly wished he had not needed to leave his family, and he did not want her to suffer that pain.
She shook her head. “What if this is the wrong decision? I don’t want to be a hero. I don’t want them to write legends about us. I don’t want to leave you now if it means leaving you forever!”
“I know,” Aden responded. “It is a cruel decision to make.”
“We never know what tomorrow will bring,” Erich said dramatically, “it could be victory; it could be death.”
Isa turned to him, confused. She had once again forgotten he was there.
“The last line ofThe Queen of Silverreign,” Erich explained, seemingly offended at their questioning glances. “And I thought you were supposed to be the bookish one,” he said to Aden, shaking his head in disappointment. The feather danced in response.
“You’ve read it, too?” she asked. “Do you think Andrew might have been a Majis?”
