He held Yarif for a long moment, soaking in the warmth. With great reluctance, dressed once more in the scale armor he’d brought to this camp, Draylon mounted Gryphon to take his place at the head of the line, his own weapons at his disposal.
Yarif mounted the mare Rufe had ridden from Renvalle. Draylon’s heart filled with pride for his husband.
Draylon urged Gryphon to the head of the line after a shared glance with Yarif. No words were said. None were needed.
A trumpet blast sounded, urging the vanguard forward. Draylon rode astride a true warhorse once more, the best soldiers of five kingdoms at his back. Not the entire force, which waited in reserve, but enough to take Renvalle if necessary.
They’d end in victory or defeat. Only the deities knew. Draylon sent up a prayer to the God of Righteous Causes. Then, for good measure, another to the God of War.
He asked the Goddess of Protection to shield Yarif.
Draylon and Vihaan lay on a hill overlooking Renvalle Castle. They’d spotted only minimal forces thus far, insufficient to even hope to repel the force Draylon brought. The only visible difference between now and when Draylon had left was a black banner fluttering from the gates—a sign of mourning.
For whom? The former king, or Draylon and Yarif?
“You know you’ll be arrested on sight, right?” Vihaan asked in a slow drawl.
“What choice do I have?”
A gentle voice came from behind them. “I can get you in unnoticed.” Yarif! Of course! The hidden passageways!
“I need to find my brother,” Draylon said, looking up with a sigh. Of course Yarif wouldn't stay safely hidden with his home and loved ones at stake. If Draylon hadn't been blinded by a protective streak, he'd have realized how much he needed Yarif's knowledge of the castle to make a stealthy entrance.
He silently vowed to stop underestimating his mate.
Yarif cocked his head to the side. “He’ll most likely be on the third floor. We can take the passageway that comes out in my old rooms.”
Vihaan lifted a questioning brow at Draylon. “Do I want to know?”
“No. And you’ll forget what you see,” Yarif cautioned.
“Understood.”
Two soldiers mounted their horses, making their way to the castle gates, which normally stood open at this time of day. Sentries had to have spotted them.
One, posing as Commander Vihaan of Glendor, rode by a man of the same height and build as Draylon. Father never paid attention to his military and would probably not recognize Vihaan even if they’d met, and from a distance, the other rider made a passable Draylon.
“Come with me.” Though he strode slowly, Yarif led them downhill to a wooded area. “I sent for some friends of mine. They’ve been in hiding.”
Two men stepped out from behind trees, swords drawn. Draylon reached for his weapon.
“Stand down!” Yarif ordered. “It’s okay.”
The two men cast suspicious glances at Vihaan and Draylon, eyes lighting momentarily after they fell on Yarif. Right. He looked so different due to his ordeal and shorn hair.
“Harrold. Tenus. It’s good to see you.” Yarif embraced the two men, hiding a wince when they squeezed too tightly. To Draylon and Vihaan, Yarif said, “This is Harrold, who was captain of the king’s guard before Father turned traitor, and his son, Tenus.”
Draylon nodded. Both appeared to be big, strapping men with darker hair and skin than most Renvallians he’d met.
“Your Highness! We saw the black banner,” Harrald said. “We were told you were dead.”
“Which you can see is a lie. I need your help.”
Both Tenus and Harrald leaned in. They didn’t question Yarif’s motives, which further convinced Draylon of Yarif’s integrity. “What can we do?”
“Does anyone at the castle know you’re here?”
The son remained quiet, letting his father do the talking. “No. We hid in caves after the castle fell and used the passageways to save those we could.”
