Chapter XLV - Decision

Hey Everyone!

Michelle: I can understand what you're saying about Tancred being over-protective. He is being so. But I think his reasons for being that way are perhaps more logical then you might think. (And, having an older brother of my own--Charissa has a few good ones too, though she is older than they--I was able to write Tancred's emotions in a way I think is pretty believable.) He has not seen Kristalyn for well over a year now. He is safe, but has no indication that she is truly safe herself, despite Egan's message. He has heard tidbits from said pseudo-dragon that makes him believe Kris is in the company of an as-of-yet unnamed male, which really is frustrating Tray. All in all, I think that if you break it down, he's reacting in a normal way considering the circumstances over the last year+ with him and his family. Oh, and sorry if the story is dragging! There is definitely a lot I'm am trying to finish up.

Libby: so glad you enjoyed the last chapter! Yeah, EVERYONE seems to love Egan. He's developed into quite the character, for sure! Even though the truth won't come out this chapter between Zoe and Tancred, two other characters do learn some interesting relational tidbits at the beginning of the chapter posted below. Hopefully you be satisfied with that conclusion of a part of the story. :-)

Kim: thank you very much! I am glad you enjoyed Egan too. And the wait for the next chapter is over so, please let me know what you think of this next one.

Twin: YAY! You read it all! I'm so glad you caught up on it, now I can talk to you all about the new stuff when you come over this weekend. I'm glad you liked some of my lines between Tray and Zoe. They are so much fun to write. (And annoying, as Charissa has I'm sure related to you with many laughs over my demise...) I love you too! Can't wait to see you in THREE DAYS!!! *hug*

Ashley: haha, thanks for your fun comment! Please let me know what you think of this next one too! I love reading your comments. Honest opinion now, remember!

Anonymous: yeah, Egan and I have a pretty good relationship going too... :-)

Now, without further ado, the new chapter of Zoe. Enjoy!

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Brysa stood at the top of the lone tower of the palace in Ruma, which was positioned at the castle’s northwestern corner. It had no roof; merely an encircling stone wall that came to her waist. There was no guard, and that pleased her. She had sought the isolated place with the intention of being alone.

The sun was setting, casting a reddish glow across the city. Beyond the rows and rows of rooftops, and the gray outer city wall, she could just barely see the plains to the north—long and flat with small copses of trees scattered at random. A wind, cool but insistent, blew around Brysa, ruffling the hem of her fur-lined cloak and the fringe of the thick braid that hung down her back. Little wisps of black hair framed her face, and she felt the weight of her crown, which she slowly was becoming accustomed to, where the heavy band encircled her temples. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply.

It had been a week since Zoe, the Hunter, and the Aerilyan contingent left Elangsia. Thankfully it had been a busy week, so Brysa had scarcely had time to mourn their departure. As of yet she had not traveled very far outside of Ruma’s walls yet, though just two days before she had personally ridden out to the small, northern village of Ranev, accompanied by a heavy guard and Garrick Jaeger.

The villagers had greeted her cautiously. They still were not sure what to expect from their new ruler. Some had been angry, having lost their slaves due to her edict within the last two weeks. Brysa had ordered the dissenters to be publicly disciplined, something which her men carried out with gusto. Most of the villagers had warmed to her, however, and she had received a friendly farewell when she mounted her palfrey and rode back toward Ruma. She was hopefully than her later visits to other villages would be as successful.

It was difficult to strike a balance between harshly punishing wrongdoers, like the disgruntled ex-slave holders of Ranev, and being ever soft and kindhearted to her people. She could not appear either as a cruel dictatress or a meek pushover. Deep within her she wanted to see Elangsia built up and flourishing anew. This desire alternately provoked her anger when she came across people who did not share her lofty vision, and exhilaration when she met those who did.

She had wised up over the last week. Some of those lords and councilmen whom she thought would encourage her vision for a new Elangsia had scorned her and withdrawn their support. Alternately, some of those whom she doubted would ever see eye-to-eye with her seemed to understand her very heartbeat and pledged their allegiance to her.

“Enjoying the view?”

A smile flitted across Brysa’s face at the familiar masculine voice. Garrick Jaeger was a perfect example of the latter: a man whom she naturally assumed would not support her ideas and dreams, but who had proven her completely wrong and stood by her every decision in the last week.

She turned and met Garrick’s eyes. “Hello,” she greeted him softly.

Not for the first time she thought how handsome he looked; his earthy green tunic made him seem human, while the unadorned yet still noticeable crown on his head asserted his royal status. Brysa reached up and brushed several wayward strands of hair out of her face. “And, yes, the view is absolutely breathtaking.” She cocked her head. “I didn’t even hear you coming up.”

He smiled as he walked over beside her. He gazed out over the city, the fiery light washing over his face, and did not look at her when he responded, “I don’t like to let everyone know where I am all the time. But, it seems that even after a week and a half of being queen, you have learned solitude is a precious commodity not easily attained.”

She also turned and joined him in looking over the city, though her attention was not on the beauty of the sunset any longer. “Yes I have. I thought it was bad when I was just the princess, but I never realized how sheltered I really was.” A slight frown crossed her face as she added in a low voice, “Of course, I was even more sheltered than most, thanks to my father.”

Garrick turned, leaned a hip against the stone wall, and looked at her thoughtfully. “He was domineering and cruel. No honorable man would pledge his daughter to a life that would only produce heartache and pain.”

Brysa shivered. “Jaquin was a beast,” she muttered, wrapping her arms tightly around her midsection. After a short pause, she continued speaking, telling Garrick something she had planned to never share with anyone else. “I was going to kill myself before we were wedded, to save myself from marriage to him.”

A long pause followed. When she risked looking up at Garrick again, she was met with his steady brown gaze, which held no incrimination in them. His next question was uttered in a calm voice: “What stopped you?”

“Deus.” She took a deep breath and squinted as the sun cast its last very bright rays across Elangsia. “Without Him I would have given up.”

Companionable silence fell over them. The sunlight gradually dispersed and was replaced by blue-gray dusk. The wind still blew, tousling Brysa’s loose hair strands and chilling her exposed skin.

Finally Garrick spoke. “The task of finding and freeing the Aerilyan slaves will go on for a long time. You have made a great deal of progress this last week, but there are many slavers who will continue their vile trade.”

“Yes,” she murmured. “Already I foresee that eliminating slave trafficking will be my primary challenge now that I’ve assumed the throne. The traders hate me and what I’ve done.”

“Darkness cannot abide with light. The slavers and their kind are repulsed by the good you are bringing to the land.”

“There is so much to do, to repair. Not just the ties that have been broken between Elangsia and Aerilya, but the mistrust that fairly radiates from within this country. Backbiting and betrayal are normal here, among nobility and peasantry alike. I have my work cut out for me.” She paused, considered how her last sentence had sounded, and quickly added, “I am not afraid of what will come.”

Garrick’s mouth quirked up into a small smile as he met her half-defiant gaze. “I can truthfully say that I have never feared that you lack courage, Brysa. You are stronger than most people—yourself included—give you credit for.”

She simply stared at him, quieted by his straightforward statement.

“Now, as I was saying, stopping the slave traders will take a long time, perhaps even years. I stayed in Ruma with the intention of finding and stopping those traders, as many as I could at least, in a month. However, the length of time—”

“Garrick, wait,” she interrupted, seeing where he was taking the conversation. “Please, feel no obligation to me or my country. We appreciate everything you have done, but there is no need for you to remain indefinitely.” The words were harder to say that she thought they would be, but she kept talking in a quick, level voice. “You are more than free to leave whenever you wish to. I would not keep you from your country any longer than you wish.”

He laughed softly and shook his head. “Brysa, hold on. You’re rushing ahead too fast.” He turned so that he was facing her fully and asked, “Are you really that eager to get rid of me?”

“No!” she said defensively. Her brow furrowed a little and she added, “I merely wanted to let you know that you are under no obligation to us. It was your decision to stay here and we all appreciate it but—”

“Brysa!” Garrick’s firm voice stopped her cold, and she took a deep, steadying breath. She had also turned and was facing him. The wind gusted behind her and tendrils of her hair blew wildly forward and into her face.

“You’re not listening to me,” he told her after a moment. “I did not come here to inform you that I’m leaving Elangsia. I’m not a man who will dump a problem, especially such a large one as the elimination of the slave trade is, into somebody else’s lap and leave.” His eyes connected with her blue gaze. “I’m not going to leave you to fight this alone.”

Disbelief flooded Brysa, along with an elusive spurt of warmth that touched her heart. She stood straight and remained cool, unable to take in Garrick’s words. He wanted to stay? To help her fight the slavers? He wasn’t going to just leave? She said nothing for a long time as she just looked up at Garrick with eyes narrowed and lips tight. She tasted a strand of hair that had blown into her mouth before she closed it, but did not reach up to pull it out.

Garrick did, however. His fingers brushed her cold cheeks as he gently pulled the hair away from her face. Then to her surprise, instead of dropping his hands, Garrick’s palms cupped her cheeks and did not move. A jolt raced down her spine at his touch, thrilling her senses.

“Why do you doubt my promise?” he asked quietly. “I’ll not leave you.”

Brysa’s eyes closed, and her heart clenched. “Garrick, so many people have abandoned me and broken their promises,” she whispered. She turned her face aside and felt his hands drop away. “It’s almost impossible to trust another.”

“Look at me.” Garrick’s tone was grave and insistent, and she obeyed after only the slightest hesitation. “Listen closely. As Deus is my witness and on my word of honor, I will not break my oath to you, Brysa Alustate. And I swear today that I will not leave you to fight the injustice that plagues our lands by yourself. You will never be alone.”

A glistening tear broke free from Brysa’s inner restraints and trailed down her cheek. She could feel more swimming in her eyes, ready to spill out in a torrent of emotion, but by some miracle she restrained them. Her throat was tight. She had never heard anyone pledge their support and devotion to her in such a powerful way, and she hardly knew what to do now.

“Garrick...” she finally choked out, “th-thank you. I don’t know what—”

Her words were cut off as he lowered his head without warning and touched his lips to hers. His left arm was wrapped around her, holding her gently in place, and his right hand came up and rested against her cheek. Their kiss was over almost too quickly for Brysa to realize what was happening; the next thing she knew, she was staring up at Garrick with wide, startled eyes.

He grinned faintly, but his gaze was serious. “Do you believe me now?”

“Uh...” she blinked, still feeling dazed. He was still holding her close and she found it difficult to concentrate. “I think so. Yes.”

“Good. Because I’m not planning on leaving anytime soon,” he told her, still smiling a little.

At that moment, Brysa realized that he spoke truthfully. He means it. He really does. He would stay and help her. Aerilya was his homeland, but he would not return there while she still required his aid. The gallantry and selflessness of his commitment was almost beyond belief.

She slipped her hands up and laced them behind his neck, struggling to keep them from trembling. The moon was rising and its light illuminated Garrick’s face. Brysa’s heart beat quickly as she gazed up at him with soulful intensity and whispered, “Thank you. Should I live to be a thousand, I would never forget your kindness.”

“That is well, for I neither could I ever forget your courageous heart and spirit, lady,” he murmured in reply. “You are a treasure of unspeakable worth.”

And as the winds blew and the moon beamed and the stars danced high above, Garrick Jaeger of Aerilya kissed Brysa Alustate of Elangsia as they both stood atop the highest tower in Ruma.

Brysa felt the coldness in her heart melt. The winter of her soul and its accompanying darkness passed away and made way for the arrival of warm, fresh spring. The song that erupted from deep within her refused to be silenced, and she thought she could never know more joy.

She laid her head on Garrick’s chest and relished the feeling of her hand enclosed in his. Her crown pressed against her temples but she welcomed its weight and the responsibility it signified. She was ready now. For after all the storms, all the pain, all the turmoil—Deus had given her above and beyond anything she ever could have ever thought to ask for. In the face of such blessing, all Brysa could feel unutterable thankfulness to the Creator God. She had given Him her heart, and now He gave it back to her: whole and restored. Thank you, Father.

Garrick pulled her closer and pressed a kiss into her wind-tossed hair. A smile curved her lips and Brysa felt peace flood every part of her.

Thank You with all that is within me.

è è è è è è è è è

“You’re sure?”

Zoe looked up at Lady Shyla Ralyn from where she sat, fingering the edge of her gray-green tunic. It was two days since the two of them had arrived in Bryndor, Aerilya’s capital. Now they were both seated on a bench in one of Trildur’s quiet halls. “Yes,” she replied at length. “It’s what I need to do.”

Shyla appraised her with her calm blue-gray gaze. “You care for this Grace a great deal, don’t you?” she asked softly.

“I would give my life for that little girl.”

“Your devotion is incredible, especially since in my understanding of the situation, you never spent much time with her.”

“Only a week,” Zoe sighed. “She must look so much older now.”

“Tell me about her.”

Zoe stared down at the stone floor, trying to assimilate a picture of Grace in her mind and describe her to Shyla. “She’s eleven or so by now; she has this gorgeous curly brown hair and huge brown eyes. Her parents were killed by Elangsians. Her older sister is named Riana; she’s married and lives in Bristol. Jaedon took Grace back there before he joined you prior to the battle.”

Shyla’s eyes grew sad at the mention of Jaedon, but she said nothing about him. “Do you know the way to Bristol?”

“I looked on a map earlier this afternoon that a servant was kind enough to get for me.”

Shyla sighed deeply and said nothing. Zoe risked a glance up at the lady. Shyla’s hair was worn loose for once, and looked like a shining silver and golden waterfall cascading over her shoulders and back. She was clad in a cream-colored gown with a pale blue kirtle over it that brought out the vibrant color of her eyes. How does she manage to pull off such poised elegance not even two weeks after she was helping run a war camp? wondered Zoe. Zoe herself was dressed in her old clothes once more: trousers, tunic, and worn leather boots. Her pouch hung from her belt, and the gray cloak—that gift from Tancred so long ago—rested on her lap.

Shyla met Zoe’s eyes. “Have you told Tancred yet?”

Zoe swallowed. Not trusting herself to speak, she merely shook her head. No, she had not told Tancred. And she really wasn’t sure how to go about doing that when the time came.

“You must tell him before you go. You know that, don’t you?” Shyla’s question was gentle but firm.

“Yes,” Zoe murmured. I don’t want to. I’d rather slip away unnoticed. She had been successful enough in avoiding him the last two days, after all, and she was sure it had spared her a world of trouble.

“If you left without telling him, it would be a cruel blow,” added Tancred’s mother in the same soft voice.

Zoe smiled weakly. “How did you know what I was thinking?”

“I didn’t. I merely judged by how you’ve acted in the past.”

“I usually leave without letting anybody know?”

“No, you usually leave without letting Tancred know.”

Zoe’s jaw clenched and she jerked her eyes from Shyla’s shrewd gaze. “I will tell him,” she managed to get out in a low voice. “I won’t leave before I see him.”

Shyla’s gaze remained heavy on Zoe, though Zoe continued avoiding it. “Tell me, Zoe,” she said in a kind tone, “are you leaving Trildur so suddenly in order to find young Grace...or to flee from something else?”

Apprehension tightened around Zoe’s chest like bands of iron. She knows! She knows of my feelings for Tancred. Striving for calm, Zoe managed to meet Shyla’s eyes and replied, “What do you mean?”

“I think you know, Zoe.”

“I am going to find Grace and to give myself some closure on her behalf. That is all.”

The words seemed wooden and false even in Zoe’s ears. The truth was, after her conversation with Egan two days earlier, Zoe had made the quick decision to leave Trildur in search of Grace as soon as she could get away. Her rationale for the sudden departure might hold up to scrutiny by others, but deep down, Zoe knew the real reason she was leaving was indeed Tancred, and Tancred alone. Maybe after being on her own again, taking a journey by herself, just her and Brac, she would forget these strange feelings she had for the Hunter, and life could resume as usual.

Either Shyla did not see through Zoe’s ambiguity or she did not want to contend the point. She merely said, “Then may your journey be successful,” and leaned forward to wrap her arms around Zoe in a warm embrace.

Zoe did not hesitate, but returned the hug with a sort of desperate emotion. It was a farewell hug; a farewell to the life she might have had once. Her eyes clenched shut. Sorrow clogged Zoe’s throat, but she valiantly pushed it down as she drew back and offered a brave smile to Shyla.

The lady smiled back, but tears glittered in her eyes as Zoe rose to her feet. “I will pray that Deus guides you,” she told Zoe. “May His face shine upon you and give you peace.”

“Thank you,” Zoe whispered. She flung the cloak over her shoulders and reached down for the leather bag she had packed earlier, and her sword and daggers. Her eyes locked with Shyla’s again, just before Zoe turned away and strode down the hall. “Goodbye, Shyla.”

è è è è è è è è è

Trildur’s private stable was deserted when Zoe entered it ten minutes after her parting with Shyla. The floor, which was paved with large, irregularly-shaped stone slabs, was dusted with dirt and stray pieces of straw. Brac was waiting for her, his head leaning out over the thick wooden bar that blocked the entrance to his stall. He whinnied, his breath frosting in the cool air. Zoe smiled a little at him but could not muster up a cheerful greeting. She let herself into his stall, carrying his old saddle and bridle over her left arm.

“You ready to go on another journey?” Zoe whispered in her stallion’s ear as she slipped the bridle over his ears and he eagerly rolled the bit around in his mouth.

She threw a saddle blanket over his back and smoothed it down. Her movements were instinctive and without hesitation, but still there was a sort of sad heaviness that hung over her and slowed her down. This scene; this scenario in the stable with Brac, saddling up to depart: it seemed familiar. Why?

Zoe lifted the saddle, placed it on his broad back, and tightened the girth. And then, as she finished buckling the leather straps and looping Brac’s knotted reins over his head, realization hit: her departure now felt eerily like the day she had left Braedoch. Then, Aiden had helped her get Brac ready to go; they had been in the stable together, talking little and holding back their emotions with some type of extraordinary strength. Zoe’s emotions now were strangely similar to the ones she had felt when she mounted Brac two and a half years earlier and left Braedoch.

Exhaling hard, Zoe kept a tight hold on Brac’s reins and leaned her head forward against her horse’s shoulder. Her dark auburn hair was tied back with a leather strap at the nape of her neck, but strands had escaped and now rested against Brac’s fuzzy, reddish-brown coat. His black mane tickled her cheeks as he swung his head around and bumped her left hip with his nose, obviously concerned for her.

C’mon Zoe. It’ll be okay. You’ll be fine. This isn’t like the day you left Braedoch. You’re not an untried eighteen-year-old anymore. You’re twenty years old, battle-hardened, and much more experienced. You serve Deus now. You can do this.

Yes. She took strength from her inner pep talk and inhaled slowly, drawing in the calming horse-scent that wafted up from Brac’s coat. It was time. She had to find Tancred first, but then she would leave. After finding Grace and seeing to it that she was taken care of and safe, it would be over. She could depart Aerilya, perhaps travel back up into the mountains; find a new land to explore.... Her eyes clenched shut and she fought back a wave of despair. Why did that all sound so empty? Just over a year ago it was enough for her.

Brac nickered. A rustle of straw came from her left. Zoe raised her head and opened her eyes, dully staring over Brac’s withers at the stall wall.

“Running again?”

Slowly, she turned to face Tancred. He stood at the door, clad in a smoky blue tunic and dark brown trousers. His arms were crossed over his chest. A long cloak hung down from his shoulders, simply cut but adorned with tasteful embroidery that spoke of his status as a lord and knight of Aerilya. He had now officially stepped into his father’s position as Lord Ralyn, and King Jaeger had knighted him the day before. Sir Tancred Ralyn. It fit him.

She cleared her throat. “Not running,” she contradicted. “Just leaving.”

“Why?”

“I’m going to find Grace. I haven’t seen her since we were separated and wanted to make sure all is well with her.”

“Bristol is two days from here. You know the way?”

“Of course. I did look at a map,” she said a little defensively.

His mouth quirked faintly, as if into a smile, but almost immediately turned reverted to an even slash across his face. “Excuse me. It’s not often your habit to plan ahead, so I thought I’d better check.”

She said nothing.

“You were also going to slip off without notifying anyone, weren’t you,” he stated coolly. “Very Zoe-esque.”

She stiffened. “I wasn’t going to leave without first saying my farewells.”

“Oh, so you’re spoken with Warrick, Geoffrey, Richard, and the rest?”

His tone was incriminating, and rightly so. Zoe forced herself to remain brave and softly replied, “I spoke with them all yesterday and the day before. They know I’m safe and was glad to see them again.”

“Yet you don’t even honor them with a simple goodbye.” His tone was a mixture of cynicism and reproof. “Unless, of course, you’re planning to return soon.”

Judging by the sarcastic strain in Tancred’s voice, Zoe knew he was well aware she wasn’t planning on coming back. Ever. Her eyes burned but she allowed no tears to fall.

He stepped forward, his arms falling to hang at his sides. “Why?” he finally asked again, huskily.

“I cannot stay here forever,” she whispered.

“Did Deus tell you that?”

She closed her eyes and clenched Brac’s reins tighter. “Tancred, I don’t want to turn this into an interrogation or a fight. I promised your mother I wouldn’t go without bidding you goodbye. I’m trying to do that but you’re making it rather difficult!”

“I’m not one to let you walk away without giving a fight.”

“Why do we need to fight?” she demanded, opening her eyes and staring incredulously at him.

His brows arched and mocking amusement glinted in his eyes. “Now this is a first: Zoe does not want to fight, while Tancred is more than willing. Whatever shall we do?”

“Just let me pass, Tancred,” she said in an unsteady voice, tugging Brac forward.

Tancred stepped aside at the last second, allowing Zoe and the stallion to pass through the stall opening. She checked the bridle straps and Brac’s bit to make sure it was comfortably positioned, and then began to lead her horse from the stable. To her frustration, Tancred fell in step with her, following her like a shadow.

Pale sunlight spilled down into the courtyard in front of the royal stables. Zoe shrugged out of her pack and was about to fling it over Brac’s back when Tancred grabbed it from her and strapped it on behind her saddle without a word. Her sword was next; after she unbuckled it, he silently lashed it on over the pack. His movements were quick and tense, revealing the amount of emotion he was restraining. She wondered what he wanted to say to her; what he was thinking.

His quiet help when separation was so imminent brought a huge lump to Zoe’s throat that she fought with desperation. No matter what she told herself, this situation was too much like when she left Braedoch. She well remembered Aiden’s sure movements as he helped strap her supplies unto Brac’s back so long ago. Of all her siblings, her separation from Aiden had been the hardest. It had taken all the strength within her to ride away from him without looking back. And now, she faced another parting that was just as painful.

No. She blinked, her hand resting on Brac’s neck and her face averted. Not as painful...

More painful.

Tancred’s hand touched her shoulder, then his other reached around and raised her chin, turning her face toward his. The cool anger that had marked his face in the stable had disappeared, leaving behind only brutal honesty.

“If you must go, then go,” he said in a too quiet voice. “I will not keep you if Deus truly calls you away.”

That’s just it, she thought. Is this Deus calling me? Or is it just me leaving, trying to escape?

As if he could read her thoughts, Tancred continued. “But whatever you say or do or think, I know a truth that will not diminish over time. No matter where you run, you cannot run from your destiny.” He stared down into her eyes, intensity smoldering in his dark blue gaze. “What has Deus told you in your heart? What vision has He placed in your mind?”

One single tear overflowed and trailed down her cheek. Why does he have to make this so much harder? Her heart ached at the thought of leaving this man. And yet, she could not fathom staying. Loving somebody opened too many doors for pain and agony to enter. She could not live through that again. She could not. No matter how much it hurt to leave now, that pain was nothing compared to what she would feel if she allowed herself to love—and then lost everything.

“I don’t know, Tancred,” she replied honestly to his question, her voice raspy with suppressed emotion.

“Turn your ear to Him and listen.”

“I’ve tried.”

“Have you really? Are you hearing what He’s telling you? Or are you pushing away reality because you’re afraid?”

He was far too close to the truth. Zoe stared at him through a shimmering veil of unshed tears. “Don’t do this, Tancred.”

“Do what? Make your departure hard on you?” He chuckled without humor. “Zoe, if you think I want you to leave, you’re sorely mistaken. But neither would I want to keep you here if Deus truly is calling you away. What I want to know is if I must let you go now...or fight for you to stay.”

“You wouldn’t win this fight.”

“Wouldn’t I?”

Mute, she just shook her head. Her mind was full of words that she would never utter. Don’t fight me. Don’t fight me. I have to go. I have to get away from you, and the things you do to me. I don’t want my heart ripped out again, and leaving you is the only way to avoid that reality!

Tancred appraised her, looking more rugged and strong than Zoe had ever remembered him to be. Unlike her confident words of a moment before, Zoe very much doubted she would win if he threw down the gauntlet and demanded that they battle this out. She took a deep breath, knowing she couldn’t let that happen.

“I have to go, Tancred.”

He stepped closer, much closer than she was comfortable with. His hands were suddenly at her waist, keeping her from pulling away, and his head came down. She felt dizzy for a moment, wondering what was happening. Her chin tipped up and she felt the strangest pull toward him...

Then her feet left the ground as Tancred set her in Brac’s saddle. Off kilter, Zoe grabbed at the saddle convulsively, trying to regain her balance and retain her seat. A little breathless, she looked down at him as she flung her right leg over the saddle-horn and gathered up the reins.

“I guess this is goodbye, then,” she said, recovering her wits as quickly as possible. It was hard to do so, especially since his hand was resting on her left knee, just above the top of her boot, sending tingles up and down her whole body.

“Perhaps,” he said in a low timbre that drove shivers down her spine. “You will be sorely missed by everyone here, Zoe.”

You too, Tancred? Will you miss me?

“And remember this well,” he continued in the same resolute, quiet voice. “Wherever you go and whatever task Deus gives you, Zoe Romany, know that I will be watching and remembering.”

Watching and remembering? I know he’ll remember me—I’ll remember him too, I couldn’t forget him in a thousand lifetimes—but he’ll be ‘watching’? Watching for what? My return? It didn’t make sense, but Zoe didn’t stop to analyze it. She had to leave before she lost her nerve. “Fine,” she replied in a brusque tone she didn’t inwardly feel.

Lifting her chin, she wheeled Brac around. This was it. Time to leave.

Just before urging her stallion out of the stable courtyard, she looked over her shoulder and met the Hunter’s burning gaze. Her heart throbbed. “Goodbye,” she whispered in a voice that threatened to crack.

Then she touched her heels to Brac’s sides and he burst forward into a quick canter. They pounded out beneath the portcullis without slowing, maiden and steed appearing as one: strong, united, and proud. Anyone who saw them ride out of Bryndor would have said the bay stallion’s rider was a young woman who possessed an undaunted spirit, judging by the proud tilt of her head and the confident set of her shoulders.

But it was all a facade, hiding the reality of Zoe’s heart and mind. The only thing that hinted of this incongruity, this inconsistence of outward appearance and inward torment, were the glistening, almost invisible tears that poured out of her murky green eyes in a silent display of agony.

And for once, Zoe did not try to stop them.

Chapter XLIV - Egan

Hello All!

Ashley: Wow, thank you for that very high praise! I really appreciate it. Yes, for Zoe, being open and vulnerable is the thing she least wants to do, but Deus is forcing her in that direction. I'm glad it came off okay because I assure you I was quite nervous about the whole chapter (actually I rewrote part of it that I will not be posting here, but I think Tancred's emotions/feelings come off a lot better in the rewritten version).

TaedonsGirl: Hey Beautiful! :) Okay, I'll work on that sentence, I can see what you mean about it being a little awkward. I try to churn out the chapters quickly (obviously sometimes I fail), but that means sometimes I completely overlook grammar and such. I'm glad you like Garrick, too! He's kinda fun to write. Hmm...Tancred seems stiff? I can see that. Like I noted to Ashley, I did some rewriting, and I think he comes off better in it. Thanks for the input though. And yes, Zoe is definitely stubborn like me. :-D Why do you think I love her so much?!

Britt: LOL, you SWOONED?? :-D That just makes my day.

Kirk: Thanks!

Michelle: You weren't satisfied with this section between Zoe and Tancred? Haha, that's good because their relationship isn't over yet! It's got quite a ways left to go. The reason Tancred did not reveal his love to Zoe is because he knows she's not ready for it yet. He's biding his time just a little longer, for she needs to discover a few things first (like, hopefully--if all goes according to plan, which it never does--that she loves him too? PLEASE, ZOE, cooperate!).

Anonymous: You're welcome!

Starr: Thank you very much! I appreciate your input.

Libby: I'm very glad you liked how Tancred thinks (not clouded by much emotion) because that's exactly how he's supposed to think and that means I'm doing my job well. He's very logical and can be quite unemotional. Meaning, he won't admit he loves Zoe until he figures out that no matter how long he thinks about it and tries to get around it--he'll still get the same conclusion: he loves her. Oh, and I'll work on describing Zoe a little more, too. Thanks! :)

Anonymous: Here you go! More Zoe! Enjoy. :)

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Final negotiations with Brysa were concluded the next day. A formal peace treaty was signed and general goodwill was being tentatively extended between the peoples of Elangsia and Aerilya. When Zoe, Tancred, and King Jaeger left Ruma, they were accompanied by droves of newly freed slaves who were returning to their homeland and families.

Saying goodbye to Brysa was harder than Zoe had anticipated. The young queen had stood at the end of a formal line of well-wishers as the Aerilyan men-at-arms and royal delegation took their leave from Ruma. Prince Garrick stood with her, and Zoe noted with no small amusement the glances that passed between him and Brysa. Garrick would stay for at least another month. After that.... Zoe smiled faintly. In the space of a month, anything could happen, she thought.

Tancred preceded Zoe and he courteously bent over Brysa’s hand when he said goodbye. “I wish you well, my lady.”

“Thank you. Go with Deus, Sir Hunter.”

Tancred moved on and fell into conversation with Garrick, leaving Zoe face-to-face with Brysa. They stared at each other for a long moment. Zoe’s heart was full and Brysa’s eyes brimmed with similar emotions.

“I’ll miss you more than you know,” the queen said at length, her voice soft.

Zoe smiled, but it was a cheerless smile. “Me too. Maybe it won’t be forever, though.”

“You’ll come back to visit?”

“That depends on where Deus plans to take me next,” Zoe replied noncommittally. At the same time her chest constricted as she realized she might never see the woman in front of her again.

“Will you stay in Aerilya?”

Zoe gnawed her lip and her gaze flicked away from Brysa’s for a moment. “I don’t know.”

“I can think of at least one good reason you should stay.” Brysa cleared her throat gently and pointedly looked over at Tancred.

Heat flared up Zoe’s neck and continued rising until her whole face was engulfed. “Wha—” she furiously started to whisper at Brysa, but the queen stepped closer, pulled Zoe into a close embrace, and interrupted her.

“Come now, you cannot be so blind as to miss the fact that Tancred cares for you.”

Zoe’s heart thundered and her grip around Brysa tightened convulsively. “Brysa, stop,” she whispered fiercely. “There’s more to the situation than anybody could possibly understand.”

Brysa pulled back and looked at Zoe knowingly. “I understand that he is a good man,” she murmured emphatically. “And that you would be a fool to throw him away.”

Disbelieving, Zoe just stared at her. Where in Aerilya had all this come from? “Brysa! I can’t—”

“Just promise me one thing,” Brysa interrupted again, speaking in a quick, low voice. “I’ve shut off my heart and emotions before and I suffered terribly for it. I am just now learning how to have a life of freedom in Deus. I hate seeing you continue down a path that you need not tread on any longer.” Her bright blue eyes searched Zoe’s face intently. “Now swear to me that you will never settle for anything less than Deus’ best.”

“I swear it,” murmured Zoe. Her hands shook a little as she dropped her arms to her sides and finished in an undertone, “I just have no reason to believe that Tancred fits into Deus’ best.”

Brysa stepped back, a small smile on her face. “Stay safe, my friend. I will be praying for you.”

“And I for you,” Zoe replied softly. She looked long at Brysa, memorizing the queen’s face, and then turned away and strode out of the castle to the courtyard where Brac was already saddled and waiting for her. She swung up and gripped the leather reins tightly.

“You ready?”

She looked over at Tancred who had ridden up on Chale and was looking at her quizzically. Remembering Brysa’s words of just a moment earlier, Zoe felt the second blush in as many minutes climbing up her neck. Since when did you start blushing? she silently berated herself, feeling humiliated.

“Of course,” she replied roughly, trying to hide her embarrassment. She did not even look up at Tancred. In her mind’s eye she could already see the amused twinkle in his gaze, and right then she did not care to view it in actuality.

Before aught else could be said, she heeled Brac on and rode to the head of the contingent. They reached the open portcullis and she hesitated. Stopping Brac, who chomped his bit and pranced in place as the other riders passed him, she twisted around and took a long look at the castle behind her. What had once been her prison had become a haven of rest during the last week. Where grim darkness had once had a stronghold, now the light of peace was beginning to shine.

Standing at the door was Brysa, a slender figure swathed in pale blue and shadowed by Garrick’s broader form. Her black hair blew in the breeze and one hand was lifted in a gesture of farewell. Zoe’s eyes burned. Silently, she raised her right hand in a motion similar to the queen’s.

Goodbye, Brysa.

Then she dropped her hand, turned forward again, and rode out from the palace courtyard. Tancred had waited for her and Chale fell into step with Brac. Zoe said nothing to Tancred and he did not initiate conversation either. Within the hour, they exited the capital city of Elangsia.

At long last, Ruma was behind them.

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It took a week to reach Aerilya’s capital, Bryndor. Along the way Lady Shyla had met up with them, bringing with her the remainder of the Hunter’s band. She and the men had emptied the Hunter’s camp and came along to join in the festivities at Bryndor. Zoe was glad to be among the men again, though there were achingly noticeable missing faces. Jaedon was gone forever, as were York, Jortyn, Kylle and so many others. Geoffrey, Richard, Warrick, and Jerome were still gone with Kristalyn. Zoe prayed they would return soon. She missed the younger boys’ enthusiasm and Warrick’s firm yet gentle leadership.

Zoe was given a room of her own in the Aerilyan castle-palace, called Trildur. It was huge; boasting a large feather bed, a washstand, a wardrobe, and a balcony that faced northward. Their whole company arrived at Bryndor late at night, so Zoe scarcely remembered Tancred’s firm hand on her elbow as they walked down the labyrinth of torch-lit halls, or her bleary thanks to the maidservant who showed her the room and her subsequent collapse into the warm, soft bed.

When she woke the next day, it was to the sound of a slightly metallic wheezing sound. Blinking a couple times, she stretched and sat up, looking around to locate the source of the odd sound. Her gaze landed on a small figure curled up at the end of her bed and her brows shot up with surprise. Egan, his scales a mellow reddish-golden color, lay in a tight little ball atop her thick coverlet. He had definitely not been there the night before. After Egan had arrived in Ruma the week before and given Tancred the message from Kristalyn, Tancred had sent him back to his sister. As far as Zoe knew, the pseudo-dragon was still supposed to be with Kristalyn.

Maybe Kristalyn arrived in Bryndor last night, after us, Zoe mused doubtfully. But why would Egan come to sleep in Zoe’s room rather than Tancred’s? She gazed down at the sleeping creature with interest. The last time she had seen Egan, the oddest thing had happened: she could almost swear she had understood the creature’s strange clicking, hissing words when he spoke with Tancred. Ever since then she had been curious to test her theory out; to see if she really could understand the language of the little pseudo-dragon.

Finally she moved closer and bent over Egan. “Hey little guy,” she murmured. “What are you doing here?”

Egan’s eyelids twitched open and his unfocused golden gaze stared blankly forward for a moment. Then realization of where he was seemed to come over him and he uncurled himself and began hissing something indiscernible at Zoe.

“Why aren’t you with Tancred?” she asked, reaching forward and lightly petting his head and neck. “Did you come to Bryndor with Kristalyn?”

He arched beneath her touch, much like a contented cat, seeming more than happy to sit there and let her stroke him. He clicked out a short sentence in reply to Zoe’s question.

To her astonishment, words seemed to materialize in her brain directly after he finished clacking: You. Sleep.

“W-what?” stuttered Zoe, astonished. She dropped her hand from Egan’s head, trying to assimilate what was happening.

Egan huffed. Like you.

The words were distinct and impossible to misunderstand. Excitement and bewilderment swirled together in Zoe’s brain. “You like me?”

He nodded happily, then continued speaking, too quickly for Zoe to catch his words. “Wait, slow down,” she said faintly. “You’re talking to fast for me to keep up. What did you just say?”

With an exaggerated roll of his golden eyes, Egan began clicking and hissing with affected slowness. This time Zoe caught every word.

Like. You. Want. To. Sleep. Here.

“You...you wanted to sleep in my room because you like me?” she repeated slowly.

He nodded his head. Tray be mad.

Confused, both by the words she heard and the fact that she could hear words, Zoe repeated dimly, “Tray?”

Tancred.

It still did not make sense. “Huh?”

Egan curled his lip and appeared to be laughing silently at her as he repeated his words. Tancred nickname.

“Oh! Tancred’s nickname is Tray?”

Kris...that.

“Kris what?” she asked, trying to keep up with rapid-fire pace of the exchange between her and the little creature.

He snorted, clacked out a long sentence that Zoe guessed was a tirade about what a sluggish learner she was, and then slowed down again, enunciated everything perfectly for her.

Kris...

“Kris—” she repeated.

...say...

“—say—”

...that.

“—that,” Zoe finished with satisfaction. “Kris say that.” She paused and then added playfully, “You need to work on your grammar, by the way.”

He hissed loudly, his eyes wide with resentment.

Zoe just laughed and focused back on the topic of conversation. So Tancred’s little sister called him Tray. Must be a nickname from their childhood, she thought. But, that still did not answer why Egan was sleeping in Zoe’s room, rather then staying with Kris or going to Tancred. She mused for a moment, staring at Egan who was licking his scales to polish them up.

“So...Tancred is mad at you?” she guessed.

Egan’s gaze shot back up to her and he hissed something out too quickly for her to catch. She opened her mouth to tell him she had not understood him when he fixed on an annoying glare and slowed down his speech pattern again so that she could pick up his quick, guttural syllables.

Will be.

“Will be...” repeated Zoe quickly. “Um, Tancred will be? Tancred will be mad at you?”

Yes.

“Why will he be mad at you?”

Kris.

“Isn’t Kristalyn here with you?” asked Zoe. “You were with her, right?”

Not here. Go far away.

Zoe leaned back for a moment, her brow furrowed. She was not as up-to-date as Tancred about Kristalyn’s whereabouts and plans, but she was pretty sure Kris was supposed to be on her way home, not going far away again. Cautiously, she inquired, “Where is she going?”

Help friend.

“If she’s going to help a friend, there’s no reason Tancred would be mad at you. You’re just the messenger, not the cause of her departure.”

Egan’s eyes darkened and he sniffed out a quick reply. Zoe could not catch all of his words and, a trifle apologetically, asked him say it again. He growled once, loudly, but acquiesced easily enough immediately afterward.

Always say I lie. About Kris.

After a moment of silence, in which she sorted out what Egan had just said, she replied, “Well, do you? Lie to him, I mean.”

The creature’s gaze narrowed. A sharp, offended snarl came from deep within him.

“I didn’t say that I agreed with him,” she argued, sitting cross-legged on the bed and glaring down at him. “I asked a simple question.”

Doubt me too?

“Should I doubt you?”

The pseudo-dragon’s tongue flicked out and he looked away, his posture rigid. At last he glanced over at her again, his look screaming self-righteous superiority. Zoe was not sure whether she wanted to strangle the creature or laugh at him.

She folded her arms over her chest. “If you’re keeping something back from Tancred, I’ll figure it out eventually, you know. Or he will personally extract the information from you, and I think you’re aware of the fact that it’s really unpleasant facing him when he’s upset.”

Egan clicked a few times, his tones defiant.

“You’re not afraid of him?” she laughed, amused. “Well I hate to tell you this but you probably should be.”

Hunter good. Not kill Egan.

“Where his sister is concerned he’d do much more than just kill,” Zoe warned Egan, only half-jokingly. An odd feeling wended its way through her heart, leaving a trail of wistfulness in its wake. How long had it been since she had an older brother around who would do anything to protect her?

Aiden’s face drifted through her mind’s eye. Zoe twisted around, picked up a pillow and turned back around, hugging it to her chest. She rested her chin on the soft material. Aiden, I know I saw you. She knew beyond a shred of uncertainty that he had been in the battle between Aerilya and Elangsia. It was surreal remembering the scene, and still excruciatingly painful. We were so close, Aiden. There had to have been a way for her to reach him. She should have tried harder to reach him, to get his attention.

What purpose had there been in letting her get so close to reuniting with one of her siblings, and then ripping him away? Deus? Please, I don’t understand. I miss him so badly. Why couldn’t I have my big brother back? It’s been two and half years. I had given up on seeing any of them again, and then You tease me with a glimpse of Aiden. Why, if I cannot have them back, did You torture me with that glimpse?

Egan huffed softly and pulled Zoe back into the present. He was watching her with an unusually attentive look marking his small face.

Anxious?

She sighed a little. “No, I’m not anxious,” she murmured. “But maybe a little wistful.”

He uttered a strange, dragonish laugh and hissed out a sly-sounding sentence.

Zoe’s lashes narrowed. “Excuse me? Do not misconstrue what I’m saying! I was not speaking of Tancred, you little dimwit.”

Not dimwit!

Zoe tossed the pillow away and rolled off the bed, her expression moody. She arched her back as she raised her hands toward the ceiling, stretching her whole body. She glanced over at Egan and continued, “Besides, I fail to see how what I say is any of your business.”

Carry messages. Words important.

“Yes, but you’re not employed to carry messages from me. That being said, you can and will keep what you’ve heard here under strict confidence, got it?”

Egan snickered softly.

She stopped stock still in the middle of the room whirled on him. “What exactly do you find so humorous?” she demanded.

The pseudo-dragon eyed her closely and then took flight, his wings humming as he moved closer and settled down on her shoulders. His tail flicked around her shoulders, the barbed end carefully positioned away from her. Zoe twisted her neck and was met with a pair of glowing eyes.

Like him.

“Like whom?” she replied guardedly, enunciated both words slowly.

Hunter.

Though she and the dragon were alone in the room, Zoe’s heart dropped at the pronouncement. “I do not!” she exclaimed indignantly, her eyes widening.

He yelped triumphantly. You lie too!

“I’m not lying!”

Like him, I know. Egan glowered at her. His scales flushed bright crimson as he jumped off her shoulders to glide down to the floor. Why deny?

“You are by far the most frustrating creature I’ve ever—oh, why do I ever bother,” she growled, propping her hands up on her hips and glaring down at him.

He hissed at her, turned away, and slithered along the floor away from her. He stopped and reared his head back, his eyes flashing with spite as he clacked out an angry answer. Terror fell over Zoe, and her arms dropped to her sides.

“What? You can’t tell Tancred anything! There’s nothing to tell!”

Still lie.

Egan looked ready to take flight out the partially opened door that led to a castle hallway. In desperation Zoe dove for him and seized him around the belly. “Don’t you dare fly off and start telling things you have no business talking about,” she ordered threateningly.

He snapped at her, nipping her fingers. Zoe winced but did not let go. There was no way in all Aerilya she would let the perverse little creature go until she had exacted a promise from him that he would be silent.

Egan sized her up, his ribcage expanding and collapsing rapidly as he heaved out aggravated breaths. A malicious glint entered his eyes, however, as he clacked out a quick question.

Why worry you?

She almost replied “I’m not worried” but the words tasted so false on her tongue she could not utter them. The truth was: she was very worried that Egan would actually go to Tancred and spin some wild tale that was completely and utterly unfounded. She bit her lip as an accusing question whizzed through her brain: Ah, but Zoe, is it really ‘completely and utterly unfounded’ as you so confidently put it? Really?

Her fingers loosened around Egan and he slipped from her grip with a satisfied smirk. She sank to her knees and watched the pseudo-dragon settle down into a comfortable position, watching her the whole time. He clacked a couple times but she blocked him out. Her mind raced, but she feared it was just running in circles, for no coherent answers or thoughts were forthcoming.

Egan chirped out something that sounded like advice, but Zoe continued ignoring him. A sinking feeling settled into the pit of her stomach. The pseudo-dragon’s accusations held an unmistakable ring of truth that alarmed her. Was she really as indifferent to Tancred as she tried convincing herself she was?

She imagined his dusky blue eyes and how they had the ability to flare with amusement or darken with ruthless intensity. She could count on one hand the times she had been in his arms, but her acute awareness of his strength had not faded in the least. Remembering the missions they had participated in—raiding enemy battalions in Mairbrac, spying together in Ruma, fighting Elangsia’s overpowering forces—brought a feeling of warmth and satisfaction to her that was both deep-rooted and very strong.

When she wanted to run away, he stepped in her path. Though she had often fought him every step of the way, she slowly recognized that he had never once let that stop him. He had alternately pushed her out of her comfort zone and forced her to be better than she thought she could be. He had driven her out of her mind and, as a result, into the arms of Deus.

The truth was obvious, and yet it still struck her without warning. Zoe realized that the idea of having fought alongside a man, who not only confronted her deepest fears and uncovered her insecurities, but had also repeatedly gone the extra mile to protect her—was exhilarating.

“Oh, Zoe,” she moaned faintly. Her eyes closed and she took a deep breath; then exhaled slowly. What should she do? What could she do?

“You’re in way over your head,” she finally whispered to herself.

A quiet whirr of leathery wings was all that signaled Egan’s departure. Zoe’s eyes snapped open and she lunged forward “Egan! Wait a second...!”

But all she saw was a glimpse of the pseudo-dragon’s long spiked tail whipping around the doorframe. She was too late. Zoe groaned and smacked herself in the forehead with her palm.

Great.

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Tancred had not expected Egan for at least another week, so when the little creature flew through the open window into his chambers at midmorning, the first emotion he felt was wariness. It was quickly followed by a spurt of hope—could Kris have actually made it here that fast?—which swiftly died and was replaced by cold, iron-like dread. He laid aside his broadsword, which he had been cleaning and inspecting along with his many other weapons, and turning to fully face the pseudo-dragon.

“Egan?” The single word was laden with both expectance and command.

Egan grunted as he landed on the floor at Tancred’s feet. Tancred crouched down, his eyes trained on the creature, but Egan skittered away out of his reach.

Kris sends love!

Tancred hesitated. He remained where he was, simply gazing at Egan. When he spoke, his voice was cool. “Where is she?”

Egan seemed to cringe as he paused, then clacked once, very quietly.

Tancred’s blood seemed to freeze. “She’s what?” he asked in a hard tone.

Gone.

“Gone where? What is she doing? Is she okay?”

Friend. Need help.

“What friend?” exclaimed Tancred, his brow lowering and mood darkening. “How long will she be gone?”

Until friend good.

Tancred rose to his feet in one quick movement and began to pace the room with long strides. His mind whirled. Kris wasn’t coming back to Aerilya yet? It had been months since he’d seen her. Months! What was she thinking? He ran a hand through his hair as he turned to Egan and gritted out a question: “Who’s the friend?”

Egan said nothing.

“Who’s the friend she’s going to help? Tell me, Egan!”

Egan’s scales paled and he hissed but still did not reply. Tancred gazed at the creature unmercifully, aggravated to a point almost beyond bearing. But the longer he stared into Egan’s golden eyes, the more surprised Tancred became; for he could see that the creature’s gaze was marked with a sort of resignation that was unusual for the feisty pseudo-dragon.

Tancred felt helpless, a feeling he did not relish. “What aren’t you telling me, Egan?”

Egan sighed deeply, seeming almost...regretful. Tancred had see Egan angry, conceited, happy, determined, furious...but never regretful.

No tell.

Tancred’s frustration and anger spiked. “If you don’t tell me right now exactly where my sister is, so help me you will wish you had never been hatched. Understand?”

A pitiful whine emitted from the creature. No can say! Kris order.

Tancred’s eyes closed and his jaw set. Restraining himself by some force that was beyond his physical capabilities, he slowly clenched his hands into fists and crossed his arms tightly over his chest. It was the only thing that was keeping him from seizing Egan and attempting to threaten the truth out of him. He loved the little creature and didn’t want to harm him...but he loved his sister more.

Kris, what are you doing? he thought, agonizing. What are you keeping from me? This is getting really old—what don’t you trust me with?

A knock sounded at the door. Tancred opened his eyes and looked over at the closed door for a long, measured moment. Clenching his jaw a couple times, he called in a low voice, “Who is it?”

“’Tis Warrick, lad.”

The familiar voice of Warrick, the war leader he had sent with the twenty-five men to help Kris hold back the Wild Men, served both to fortify and further trouble Tancred. If Warrick were here, that meant that he wasn’t helping Kristalyn anymore. Crossing the room, he flung open the door.

Warrick’s scar, his most prominent facial feature, glowed white in the dim light of the hallway. “Good to see you in one piece,” he said as the two men grasped each other’s forearms, warrior-style.

“Same to you. Come in.” Tancred stepped back and allowed the other man to pass. Closing the door again, he pivoted around and leveled his even gaze on Warrick’s face. Silence fell as the men surveyed each other for several long moments. At last Tancred spoke, his voice deceptively soft.

“Where is my sister, Warrick?”

The older warrior did not flinch. “Unfortunately, I cannot tell you, Hunter.”

Tancred took a deep breath, attempting to calm himself. It didn’t help much. “Why not?”

“She told me not to.”

Of all the pigheaded things to... For a moment, he couldn’t even think, he was so upset. “All right. Maybe I’ve been away from my sister too long,” he said at length, pleased that his voice was steady and cool, “but the Kristalyn Ralyn that I know would never make plans to come home and then just change those plans on a whim.”

“A...friend needed her assistance.”

“Yes, that’s exactly the helpful, clear-cut message that Egan gave to me. Warrick, she has friends, that I know, but most of them are the men in our camp.”

“You doubt that your sister has acquaintances outside of the Hunter’s camp? She has been on many spying missions, as many or more than you.”

“And she doesn’t attach herself to friends that easily,” Tancred replied, exasperated. “Remember Mertala? Ever since that, Kris has kept her emotions under lock and key.”

Mertala was an Aerilyan girl who had once been a good friend of Kristalyn’s. She had been taken as a slave years earlier. Kris had been completely distraught and Tancred had made finding and rescuing Mertala his number one priority for quite some time. But by the time he found the girl, she was a shell of the person she had once been. Something deep within Tancred still burned with anger and sorrow when he remembered the vacant look in Mertala’s eyes; the bruises that covered her skeletal frame; the way she recoiled at Tancred’s touch. She had never recovered from her enslavement. The entire situation had deeply impacted Kris as well.

Warrick remembered. He shifted on his feet, looking troubled, but still he said nothing.

“Nothing about this adds up,” Tancred continued after a lengthy silence. “Everything about this is out-of-character for Kris. Is she in trouble?”

“I don’t believe so,” Warrick replied quietly.

“You don’t ‘believe’ so? Meaning she could be in trouble?”

“Trouble lurks everywhere, Tancred, especially in a country that has just ended a decade and a half long war.”

“You’re avoiding my question.”

“Lad, don’t you think that if I could tell you the truth, I would?” Warrick raised his head, his gruff exterior cracking unexpectedly. Tancred could pick out the man’s conflicted emotions with stark clarity, something that was very unusual with Warrick. “But I gave Lady Kristalyn my word and I must stand by it.”

Despair smote Tancred. “Why won’t she trust me, Warrick?”

Warrick’s countenance softened a little. “It’s not that she doesn’t trust you, lad. She merely wants to tell you some things herself; when she next sees you.”

“At this rate we’ll never see each other.” Tancred sighed and crossed his arms over his chest again, as if his arms could provide a sort of buffer for the dire news being thrown at him. He strove for calm, but the turmoil within him would not abate. “It’s been well over a year.”

“If it helps to know, she misses you as much as you miss her.”

Egan clicked a couple times, speaking for the first time since Warrick came into the room. Remember. She love you.

Yes, she loved him. She missed him. Then what in Deus’ name could have induced her to not come home? Over the last few months Tancred had worried about Kris, but he had been able to push his worry into the back of his mind because of his many distractions: the war, spying in Ruma, Zoe, planning a battle. Now the pressures on him were much lessened, yet still Kris was not safely home. His job was not complete. It never would be until his whole family—all that remained of it—was safe and accounted for.

He turned, strode to the table that held his weapons, and calmly slipped on his wrist dagger’s sheath. “I have to go after her.”

Warrick cocked his head, considering that for a moment. A kindly light came to his eye as he replied, “Nay, lad. You can’t do that.”

Tancred did not stay his hand for a moment. He flicked the long leather baldric over his shoulder and began to fasten its straps, the weight of his heavy broadsword resting familiarly on his back. “And why not? She is my sister. No matter how capable she is, I am responsible to protect her and I would fight to the death if anyone tried to stand in my way.”

“I don’t doubt your devotion to Lady Kristalyn,” amended Warrick in the same quiet voice. “But you cannot go, Tancred. Trust me when I tell you that she made a definite choice. Her fate rests with Deus now. You must not interfere.”

“But how can you expect me to stay here, not knowing what has happened to her? I am not so dishonorable!”

“It is not dishonorable to give your sister into Deus’ hands. It is what she would want. And you won’t need to remain oblivious to her actions. Send Egan after her again. She may or may not send him back to you, but at least she would have a mode of communication if she needed help.”

The man’s reasoning was sound, and yet Tancred still balked. Slowly, he finished shoving a long dagger into its special sheath in his boot. He remained crouched down, avoiding Warrick’s gaze.

Of all the things Deus had asked of him, this was the hardest. Part of him wanted to give in, to let Deus take over and trust Him to guard Kristalyn’s life. The other part rebelled and wanted to shove away Warrick and Deus’ urgings; that part goaded him to finish strapping on his weapons and track his sister until he found her and made sure she was safe.

One was the way of cold, hard reasoning. The other was a way of faith.

One was a course of action inbred to his nature. The other was a sacrifice, something he could scarcely stand to submit to.

Deus, I need your strength! How can you expect me to sit back and let my sister go like this?

Nothing profound happened, but Tancred did feel the barest glimmer of hope wash over his soul. It was not much, but it was enough.

“Very well,” he murmured. He stood up and slowly began unfastening the baldric’s straps. “I’ll send Egan to her. And I’ll pray for her unceasingly.”

“There is nothing better you could do for you, lad,” said Warrick, his voice gruff but tinged with pride.

Tancred laid his sword down and turned to Egan. “She’s going to have a lot of explaining to do when I next see her,” he muttered, glaring down at the pseudo-dragon.

“Aye,” Warrick chuckled silently. A gleam of humor appeared in his eye and did not quickly vanish. “Aye, I’m afraid you both do, lad.”