Zoe

An Official Facebook Page

2011-09-24T09:30:00.001-07:00

You can now connect to the Romany Epistles on Facebook. Talk to the writers (some of them) and see what they have been doing over the years. You can encourage those who are still finishing their stories. Also, you can discuss your favorite characters or fun bits from different siblings' stories. Come, stop by, and join in.

2009-02-04T07:38:00.000-08:00

Hey Everyone!!

Wow, it feel like it has been forever since I've posted on here. It was only November--but that feels like at least a year ago. :) I just wanted to let you all know that I am starting a new blog that will be chronicling my real life adventures. For those of you who may not know, God has called me to be a full-time missionary over in North Africa after college. I'm eagerly anticipating the day when I live there and wake up to see the sun rise over a foreign horizon!

I have enjoyed corresponding with all of my lovely readers on this blog and would like to keep up our relationships. If you're interested, check out my new blog. I will not be posting on there very regularly--only when there's a new update on my missions status--but I would welcome your prayers, friendship, and support! Here's the link: http://africanfirebrand.blogspot.com/

Thank you all!

Emily

Epilogue - Home

2008-09-29T05:26:00.000-07:00

Well.

We made it.

Here is the end.

I hope you've enjoyed this journey with me. It has been a time of learning and growing for me--in my writing, my faith, and my maturity. Zoe has grown right along with me and it has been a pleasure to bring her adventure to you all. The editing process will begin anytime now and I will begin readying the story to come to you guys in a properly bound book form. :) I can't wait! It'll be so cool but surreal to see my work as a published book.

Thank you again. Blessings on you all.

Au revoir-
Not-so-Little Firebrand

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

SIX MONTHS LATER

The sun filtered down through the trees in Braedoch Forest, creating soft patterns of light and shadow on the forest floor. Leaves, decomposed from their long sabbatical beneath winter snow, provided rich nutrients for the eager spring foliage that had sprung up in recent weeks and was making its presence known. Birds twittered in the trees, breaking the monastic, almost reverent hush in the air of the ancient forest.

Brac’s stride never faltered as he wove his way through the trees a half-length ahead of Chale. Zoe did not guide him; the stallion sensed the familiarity of the place they were in and he now traveled eagerly onward without her needing to command or direct him. Silence had fallen between her and Tancred since yesterday, when they had descended from the slopes of the mountains and entered the outer fringe of Braedoch. He knew how important this place was to Zoe and respected her feelings as she took it all in after three years away.

Three years. Had it truly been that long? And yet, hadn’t it been decades longer? Time seemed relative to Zoe, occasionally feeling much lengthened, at other times seeming to have hurtled by.

Since the previous autumn, Zoe had kept herself quite busy. Queen Brysa, recently married to Prince Garrick of Aerilya, had contacted Tancred at the end of the previous year with a proposal. Despite the official abolition of the slave trade in Elangsia, she and her new husband were having difficulties eradicating illegal trafficking of human flesh. A black market had sprung up and countless Aerilyans were still kept in bondage in remote parts of Elangsia. King Garrick and Queen Brysa had asked Tancred to investigate the situation and work on ferreting out the slavers.

Tancred had of course disbanded his men by that time, but many of the Hunter’s followers were more than willing to return to help find and bring the remainder of the slave traders to justice. The men with families had declined to join Tancred again; the rest had been at the Ralyn manor before the beginning of the new year.

Shyla had offered to let Zoe stay with her at the manor while Tancred went back into Elangsia, but Zoe had politely refused. She had already talked with Tancred at length and told him in no uncertain terms she wanted to be part of the movement to free the slaves. The excitement that came at the notion of another adventure, another challenge, was powerful incentive...not to mention it meant she would be at Tancred’s side too. The more she prayed and thought about it, the more she felt a gentle urge to go. Had it been Deus giving her a new assignment? Zoe was convinced it was.

That was perhaps one of the best decisions I’ve made yet, she thought privately. From December to April she and Tancred had gone throughout Elangsia with the remains of his band. Their tactics varied with each village, city, and slaver’s rendezvous point they visited. Sometimes they went in undercover, their weapons and intentions hidden. Other times they brashly walked into midnight slave auctions, which were always held in well-hidden areas—and announced that all the slaves were free in the name of the King and Queen of Elangsia.

The task brought a sense of satisfaction and accomplishment to Zoe. To see the hopelessness on the faces of the slaves changed to joy when they were freed, and to watch hundreds returned to their homes in Aerilya, was a pleasure like none other.
More than that, though, Zoe and Tancred’s relationship had deepened and expanded. They had learned to work together in a multitude of situations, most of them complicated or unpleasant. When raiding a heavily guarded cache of slaves in late March, the two of them had fought together so seamlessly they might have rehearsed it. Tancred trusted Zoe to watch his back; and she likewise knew he and his sword stood between her and whatever foes tried to hurt her.

But beyond the fighting aspects of their relationship, their spiritual depth had increased drastically. Tancred was far deeper than Zoe had ever imagined. His spiritual insight had grown invaluable to her. Every night they sat in the camp with the men around a fire and discussed Deus and His ways. Zoe’s faith seemed to grow stronger with each passing day. She was in the center of His will for her and it brought of feeling of contentment like nothing else could.

Then the letter had come.

When Zoe received Taerith’s missive by way of a falcon some months ago, it had taken her a whole day to get over the shock of it all. It had been short and to the point: “Dear brothers and sisters, come home.”

She did not know how many times she had devoured those six short words, struggling to grasp their meaning. Does he really mean home? As in, Braedoch Forest? All of us? Who will come? Who yet lives? What has happened to them all? What changes have occurred?

So many questions. And now here she was at long last; back at Braedoch; and answers were within her reach.

A forked birch, its main limbs twisted oddly, grabbed Zoe’s attention and dragged her back to the present. “We’re close,” she told Tancred, her heart seizing with excitement.

Tancred glanced over at her. “You recognize this place?”

“That tree. I could never forget it.” She slipped off Brac and grabbed his reins. Eyes sparkling, she glanced up at Tancred. “I’m going to walk in from here. It’s but a twenty minute hike, if my memory serves me well.”

He nodded his assent. Before he could even dismount, Zoe had plunged on, leading Brac as she jogged further into the depths of the forest. The stallion snorted and broke into a trot to keep up with her. The ground was slightly squishy from late spring downpours and her boots squelched as she hurried up a rise that was covered with pines. As she struggled to the top, Zoe released Brac’s reins and grabbed hold of a pine bough to help her keep her balance. She reached the top a moment later, panting slightly, and gazed down.

Her heart stopped.

Grip tightening on the branch she clutched, Zoe’s eyes fastened unto the flash of achingly familiar dark red hair she had fleetingly glimpsed. It had to be... Is it? Could it... It could not be anyone else. Sam! Twin!

“Tancred,” gasped Zoe, whirling and looked down. “Take Brac, please....”

“Just go,” he said mildly, reaching out and grabbing Brac’s reins as he came up.

She needed no more encouragement. Spinning around again, Zoe tore down the slope toward the spot she had seen the reddish glint. Sam, Sam, Sam... his name thundered through her brain, shooting adrenaline into her veins and giving her strength to pump her limbs faster as she sprinted on. She topped a little hillock and there he was, sitting in the hollow with his back to her, holding a bow and wearing a leather quiver.

“Ahhh!” she yelled, flinging herself at him. He leapt to his feet and whirled, a startled look on his face as she hurtled toward him in a blur of motion. “Sam!”

Before he could react she rammed into him, throwing them both off-balance and toppling them to the ground. Rolling around a couple times, Zoe ended up on top, grinning down at him. Her eyes connected with his startled gray-green gaze. “Zoe?”

“Yeah! It’s me!” She jumped off him and grabbed his hand to pull him up too. With a cry of delight he leapt up and engulfed her in a tight hug, his arms swallowing her completely. With a half-laugh, half-gasp, Zoe managed, “You’ve certainly gotten stronger!”

“You’re stronger too,” he said, pulling back. “Let me look at you. You’re so...different.”

Zoe’s eyes ran over her twin’s face and she slowly sobered, though her heart still pounded with exhilaration. “You’re changed as well,” she said, trying to calm down.
Sam was twenty-one now, like her. They were still roughly the same height as each other, but he was broader and stronger than before. His hair had darkened a little, and his eyes held much more than they once had back in the old, innocent days. Like her, Sam had been faced with hardship and pain. His face had matured as well, giving him the look of a man, rather than a boy.

Reaching forward she gently touched a lock of his hair and said, “You grew up.”

“Me?” he shot back, his tone reminiscent of the years of teasing she had taken from him. “What about you? You look...like...” he searched for words and then his gaze dropped to the daggers she had in her belt and the sword strapped to her back. A faint smile touched his lips. “You look like a warrior. What have you been up to, Twin?”

She smiled ruefully. “I’ve been in a war,” she admitted. “I’m proficient with these weapons, so watch yourself.”

“As if you weren’t proficient before.”

“Hey, you and I both know that three years ago, I had a lot to work on,” she grinned.

“Sam?”

Surprised, Zoe turned around at the sound of a feminine voice. For a second she assumed it must be one of her sisters, but one glance at the figure standing in front of her made her discard that thought immediately. A young woman of medium height and slender build had appeared behind them. She wore a dress made of pale, soft green material that was belted around her hips with a wide, bright sash.

“Who are you?” asked Zoe bluntly and without thinking.

The girl smiled slightly, not appearing taken aback in the least by Zoe’s cool greeting. “I am (not going to tell you her name because it would ruin part of Sam's story--we'll call her "G" as a code name),” she said simply. “You must be Zoe.”

“Yes,” Zoe replied, surprised. “But how—”

“I’ve told G a lot about you,” Sam said, stepping around Zoe and walking toward the young woman. He slipped his arm around her waist and looked back at his twin, a strange light in his eyes. “She comes from the region of Rimera, the place where I began my journeys three years ago. She came back with me.”

Zoe’s eyebrows rose by increments as he talked. Understanding slowly dawned and her mouth dropped slightly ajar. “You mean to say you two are...” she paused, her gaze dropping to the hold Sam had on G’s waist, “I mean you’re...that is...?”

G laughed outright as Sam answered, “Yeah.”

“Oh,” Zoe said, fighting her astonishment. Why are you so surprised? You have Tancred; why can’t Sam have this G? Walking forward she addressed the young woman,
“It’s a pleasure to meet you. I hope...we’ll be...good friends.”

“If you live up to the stories your brother has told me, I’m sure we’ll get along wonderfully,” G assured Zoe with a merry smile.

“What has he been telling you?” Zoe asked, shooting a suspicious glance at Sam, who suddenly looked all too innocent.

“Oh, nothing much,” he interjected hastily.

“Sure...” she muttered, eyes narrowed. “I’ll let that pass this once. Come on, sit down, tell me about what has happened to you.”

They sat down and Sam said curiously, “Did you walk all the way back? Where did you travel from?”

“Over the mountains from a country called Aerilya—” Zoe stopped abruptly and then glanced back the way she had come. Tancred. “I, um, rode Brac, actually.”

“Where is he?”

“Over...there.” She motioned slowly toward the hill she had run down.

“You just left him?” Sam stared at her, clearly disbelieving. “What aren’t you telling me?”

Now it was her turn to smile innocently. “Well, little brother, you’re not the only one who has brought back companions from foreign lands,” she began, her stomach twisting strangely.

“Companions...” Sam repeated quietly, his eyes still trained on her face.
Without warning he reached forward and grabbed her left hand. Shock shot across his features. On her finger glimmered a ring fashioned from two gold strands woven together and inset with a fiery red gem. Tancred had given it to her just the month before. They were not yet formally betrothed, but Tancred had made it more than clear that the ring was a symbol of his claim on her. The two of them were not quite ready for marriage, though Zoe knew it was only a matter of time.
Sam shook his head disbelievingly. “No. Zoe, who in the world did you dig up...who did you find who managed to...?”

Her grin simultaneously grew wider and much more hesitant. “His name’s Tancred.”
“Where in the world is he? I must congratulate him,” Sam exclaimed, releasing her fingers and jumping up. “He must be a man of exceptional valor,” he added in a mutter.

Zoe rose to her feet too and punched Sam lightly in the shoulder. “Hey! I’m not that bad, am I?”

“Do you want me to answer that?”

G laughed as Zoe shot Sam a mutinous look. “Yes, you’re exactly as he described you,” she told Zoe.

Zoe smiled back. “I’ve changed some but not a whole lot. Now you two hang on. I’ll get Brac and...Tancred.”

“Make it fast,” Sam ordered.

“Bossy, bossy,” she teased, jogging away. She topped the hill and looked down. Tancred stood halfway down the slope on the other side, stroking Chale’s muzzle. He glanced up, his eyes connecting with hers. “You all right?” he asked as she hurried down toward him.

“Oh, Tancred,” she exclaimed under her breath. Impetuously she threw her arms around him. He laughed and hugged her back, his grip firm and reassuring. “Sam is right over that hill. My brother. My twin! And,” she pulled back and looked up at Tancred, “a girl.”

He chuckled at the tone in her voice. “You begrudge him finding a girl when you bring me back with you?” he challenged, holding up her hand so that her ring shimmered just in front of her eyes.

She smirked at him. “I never said logic was my strongest suit. I’m just surprised. Besides, last time I checked, this ring wasn’t a marriage proposal.”

“You’re right; it’s insurance,” Tancred said, an amused twinkle entering his gaze.

“Insurance?” she asked, feeling suddenly suspicious.

He squeezed her hand and then released it. “So no other man would get ideas about trying to take what’s mine.”

Zoe just laughed.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if most of your siblings have someone with them,” Tancred continued, tossing Brac’s reins at her. “You and Sam are the youngest and you both apparently have brought a significant other with you.”

“I’ll have to ask him if the rest of them are back yet, and, if so, if they brought someone with them.” She hesitated. “It will certainly be different with so many new faces....”

“It’s not like it wouldn’t have happened one day anyway.”

“But it’s so sudden. You can joke about it now, but wait until Kristalyn finds out about you and me. And one day, you’ll have to deal with her meeting a guy.”

“That will be the day,” Tancred replied, his lips twisting wryly as they started up the hill with Brac and Chale.

Sam and G were walking toward them by the time Zoe and Tancred reached the base of the hill together. Zoe studied G carefully and privately decided they made a fine looking couple—though she would withhold that opinion until she had seen more of what this girl with the easy grin was made of, she thought decisively.

Sam and Tancred appeared to be sizing each other up. Zoe glanced from one to the other, surprised at how Tancred seemed to dwarf her twin. He had to be four or five inches taller than Sam.

Slowly, Sam said, “So. You’re Tancred.”

“Aye.” Tancred extended a hand and the two locked forearms in a solid handclasp. “And you are Zoe’s twin—Sam?”

“Yes. This is G, my fiancée,” Sam introduced his companion and she curtsied in a graceful but distinctly foreign manner.

“Good day, sir,” she said to Tancred.

“Greetings, lady,” he replied cordially, inclining his head respectfully at her.

“All right, enough of the awkwardness,” Zoe broke in. “Sam, first: what has happened to Duard?”

“Aiden battled him,” Sam said seriously, finally taking his gaze off Tancred and settling it back to Zoe. “Almost killed him, too.”

“I wondered if that might have happened,” Zoe nodded slowly. “But he didn’t kill him?”

“No.” Sam said nothing for a long time. “I don’t think I should say anything more. You need to ask Aiden—and Taerith—yourself.”

“Taerith is home too?” exclaimed Zoe. “That’s great! But, Sam, you must tell me this at least: is Duard dead?”

Again, Sam hesitated tellingly. “Yes.” He cleared his throat and continued, “Believe me, there’s more to the story than you know. Aiden and Taerith did not share very much about what transpired with Duard, and I did not ask. All I know is that before Duard passed on, he gave his blessing on our clan.” Sam sent G a glance that was laden with meaning. “Which actually does make sense if you know a little of the backstory,” he added quietly.

It was all very hard to believe. The man who had so callously dismissed her family had on his deathbed blessed them? I’ll have to talk to Taerith about it sometime soon, she thought, her brow wrinkled.

“What backstory?” asked Tancred.

“I’ve found out a lot about our parents that you might like to hear,” Sam told them, his expression more wise and weary than Zoe had ever seen it.

“What is it, Sam?” Zoe cocked her head in confusion.

“I thought they were murdered,” Tancred inserted, leaning forward and focusing on Sam.

“Oh, they were,” Sam told him. “But G and I worked on tracking their history and finding out why they were killed in the first place. And by whom. It’s a very…interesting story.”

“By whom?” asked Zoe. “Who else but Duard?”

Sam smiled tightly, but his expression was completely devoid of humor. “Before I left Braedoch, Aiden challenged me to find out about our past, our parents, and why we were targeted. I found it; but the answers I found are more than a little surprising.”

“And it’s a long tale,” G added quietly. Her eyes were filled with soberness that struck Zoe. What had Sam and this girl been put through? “But it really was quite a journey and a story worth telling.”

“I cannot wait to hear it,” Zoe replied. “And I would stay and listen now but...” she shrugged and finished in a low tone, “I need to go see the others too. Is anyone other than Aiden and Taerith home yet?”

“Everyone except you and Arnan. I was beginning to worry you weren’t coming, or that you couldn’t come for some reason.” Sam’s expression grew somber, but he seemed to shake of the cloak of sobriety after a moment. “Anyway, I was impatient for your arrival and went hunting this morning, hoping you might come this way since I was told that when you left it was toward the mountains.”

“I’m glad you were out here,” Zoe said warmly. “Your face is one of those I most wished to see again. But tell me, have the rest of the gang brought...um...friends with them too?”

Sam chuckled and was joined by Tancred and G’s laughter. “Friends? You mean friends like G and your Tancred, right?”

She shrugged, grinning impishly. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“So far everyone has brought somebody back with them,” G inserted, looping her arm through Sam’s and smiling.

Zoe’s jaw dropped. “Really?” she breathed. “Everyone?”

“Aiden was home first,” Sam said at last, looking at Zoe knowingly. He knew she would want to see their oldest brother next. “He’s greeting everyone. I think he’s viewing this as his last assignment and duty. He saw us all off; now he is seeing us all back home.”

Heart full, Zoe bit her lip. It was on the tip of her tongue to ask “And did he bring a girl with him?” but she found she could not get the words out. He can tell me himself, she decided. If Sam said everyone had brought somebody back, Aiden must have too...but Zoe did not want to think of that yet. It was too weird thinking of all the new men and women she would have to associate with and accept as part of her family without considering the fact that her big brother, her inspiration and guide, had fallen in love with a girl. It would change so much.

“I have to go see him,” she said, standing up abruptly. “You two going to come back with us?”

G and Sam exchanged a glance. “We’re walking back,” G said. “You both have horses, so go ahead and ride on.”

With a shrug, Zoe agreed. She swept Sam into another close embrace and murmured, “I’ll see you back at home, Twin.” The word home caught in her throat, but she pushed past the emotion and forced her voice to be calm.

She could hear the smile in his words as he replied, “Aye, Zoe. Love you.”

“I love you too,” she murmured, pulling back and swinging up on Brac simultaneously. She looked down at G and half-smiled. “It was good meeting you, G. I hope we find time to spend together soon.”

“I would like that,” G nodded, a smile lighting up her face.

Zoe and Tancred turned their stallions around and Zoe took of at a canter, cutting around trees with ease. Brac was pleased to be going again and he went onward at a brisk clip. Zoe’s hair, worn loose, blew back in the wind like a fiery curtain. Happiness surged through her veins, but it was not yet complete. Nay, before contentment could truly settle over her, she had to first see one more person.
And Deus willing, she thought, I’m on my way to him right now.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ten minutes later, Tancred swung off Chale and moved past Zoe to take the lead for a moment. Zoe was too enthralled with her surroundings to notice or really care. Tancred led the stallion around a sharp corner in the twisting forest path, so that Zoe and Brac were out of view behind thick bushes and trees. High spirited even after another day spent journeying, Chale butted Tancred’s shoulder playfully.
Movement on the path up ahead caught Tancred’s eye and he stopped. Two figures stood on the path facing him, perhaps twenty feet away. A second later Tancred recognized them both, but the shock that the recognition brought with it immobilized him for a long moment.

One was a young woman with sunny hair, sparkling green eyes, and golden-brown skin. Kristalyn! What was she doing there? This is Braedoch Forest, not Mairbrac. We’re not in Aerilya anymore. Why is she here? What had he missed? And as swiftly as his joy arose at seeing his sister safe and looking well, when Tancred’s gaze shifted to the tall figure standing beside Kris, it evaporated and his nerves resonated with deep, raw shock.

The man was tall and strong of build, with a thatch of almost black hair that overshadowed a deeply tanned face. Dressed in the simple clothes of a woodsman but standing erect and poised as any capable warrior, his dark blue gaze pierced the distance and met Tancred’s. Recognition, shock, wariness, and more flashed through those eyes, matching Tancred’s inward thoughts perfectly.

For they had met before, and each man remembered the encounters.

They had parted months ago, and each man thought they’d never see each other again.

Tancred knew the man who stood beside Kristalyn only as “Assassin.” There must be more to him and his past but at the point Tancred didn’t care, couldn’t think, wouldn’t wait. The only thing he knew was that Kristalyn was in danger as long as she was near this killer. And Tancred would die before he allowed anyone, much less a mercenary from Elangsia, harm his sister.

Dropping Chale’s reins, Tancred’s hand shot up and he had wrenched his broadsword out of its sheath almost before he knew what he was doing. Almost simultaneously, the assassin’s sword was out as well, its familiar steel blade glinting in the sunlight. Tancred took three strides forward when Kristalyn moved quickly to stand in front of the assassin.

“Tancred, wait!” Kristalyn commanded, her voice calm but forceful.

Before he could decide how to respond, a footfall was heard on the path behind him. Without turning, Tancred knew that Zoe had rounded the bend.

What he hadn’t expected was what she said when she came into view. “Aiden!”

Aiden.

Aiden?

Aiden was Zoe’s brother. Zoe’s oldest brother. The one who had given her Brac. The one she longed to see the most. But…this man, this assassin—he was Aiden? The man who had been sent to kill Tancred in Ruma? This was Zoe’s brother?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Zoe struggled to take in everything before her. She had recognized Aiden the second she rounded the bend, but immediately after the first rush of joy she had abruptly seen that something had gone very wrong. Tancred was not looking at her; his gaze was trained instead on Aiden and the person who stood halfway in front of him—a golden-haired young woman who seemed strangely familiar though Zoe hardly spared her a glance. But more than that, Tancred’s broadsword was out and his body was tense as it was only just before he engaged in battle. Aiden stood in a stance that matched Tancred’s exactly, down to the drawn weapon.

But what was the most shocking was the hostility that shone from Aiden’s eyes as his gaze transferred from Zoe back to Tancred. Confusion racked Zoe, spinning her thoughts as though they were an eddy in a river. What was the matter with Aiden—or Tancred for that matter? Why did they look like they were ready to charge at each other and begin hacking away until one of them was the victor? There was no time for her to demand answers from either of them, though Tancred’s name was forming on her lips, for at that moment Aiden reached out, shoved the golden-haired girl out of his way, and stepped forward, his intentions clear by his antagonistic demeanor.

Tancred, never one to back away from a fight, began to advance too. Zoe didn’t understand what was happening, but she knew she had no time; she simply had to act. Dropping Brac’s reins to the ground, she sprinted forward, drawing her sword as she went. Darting in front of Tancred, her chin lifted defiantly, she threw herself between the two men and brandished her sword. Aiden was being unreasonable, and she would not let him hurt Tancred if it meant she had to fight her big brother herself.

Aiden’s shock at her bold move was impossible to miss. Zoe struggled to know what to say, what to do at this point. Nothing came to mind, so she just stayed where she was: her sword remaining upright, a tangible barrier between Aiden and Tancred.

A slight movement to Zoe’s right was picked out by her peripheral vision and caught her attention, though her gaze remained trained on Aiden. It was soon followed by an unfamiliar feminine voice.

“They won’t move, Zoe. You’ve stopped them for now.” A pause followed, and Zoe struggled to concentrate on the meaning of the woman’s words. “My name is Kristalyn. I realize you don’t know me, but I know quite a lot about you. The man you are with is my brother, Tray.”

Zoe lowered her sword a fraction, and turned her head slightly so that her eyes met the calm green gaze of the young woman who was with Aiden. Kristalyn. This was Kristalyn; the one Zoe had wanted to meet. Tancred’s beloved little sister.

“Why do you call him Tray?” The inane question was out before Zoe could stop it.

Kristalyn only laughed. “It’s my childhood nickname for him. When we were young, his name was just too hard to say.”

Just then Aiden’s sword sank and he stepped forward, coming to a stop just beside Kristalyn. At the same time Tancred moved up to Zoe’s side. But this time Aiden’s gaze was not on Tancred; it was completely focused on Zoe.

“Zoe? Kristalyn?” Aiden’s voice was quiet and unsure. His eyes burned into Zoe’s as he repeated in a near whisper, “Zoe?”

Zoe’s sword blade dropped all the way this time and she stepped toward Aiden, compassion rising. Reaching out her left hand, she rested it lightly on his shoulder. She might not understand everything that was going on, but the fact remained that this was Aiden, and she had long desired to see him. The circumstances weren’t ideal, but still…. Forcing reassurance into her voice she said, “I’m here, Aiden.”

Tancred’s fingers dug into Zoe’s shoulder and he pulled her away from Aiden in a none-to-gentle way, simultaneously stepping in front of her she that she was mostly behind him. “Stay away from her, Assassin,” he said, his words ringing out in a cold, hard manner Zoe had rarely heard from him.

She twisted out from beneath Tancred’s hand and stared at him, confused and touched with anger. “Assassin? What are you talking about, Tancred? This is my brother.”
“How dare you tell her of that!” Aiden sounded completely enraged, which drew Zoe’s attention back to him. Aiden glared at Tancred, fairly glowing with fury. “You’re trying to turn her against me,” he accused Tancred. “What else have you done to her?”

Before Tancred or Zoe could respond, Kristalyn broke in, her voice softer than before. “It is her.”

Zoe turned toward Kristalyn, as did Aiden and Tancred. Utter confusion blanketing Zoe’s mind, dulling her thoughts just when she needed them to be sharp. What was going on?! Deus, help me!

“You are the girl from Ruma,” Kristalyn stated, clearly addressing Zoe.

“Ruma? When were you ever in Ruma?” demanded Tancred of his sister, incredulity highlighted by his words.

“I was trying to save your life, Tray, but Aiden decided to spare it anyway,” said Kristalyn.

Zoe’s head spun. “Wait—what?” she demanded, completely lost.

Ruma? Kristalyn had been in Ruma? More importantly, Aiden had been in Ruma. Had she been so close to her big brother and oblivious to his presence? Zoe might have been upset about that fact had not Kristalyn’s last words been so odd. What did she mean about Aiden decided to spare Tancred’s life? What am I missing? She was about to ask Kristalyn just that when Tancred’s sister began a much-needed explanation.

“Aiden was sent to kill the Hunter. I found out and went after him. We landed in Ruma where we watched Tray and a mystery girl who must have been you, Zoe.”

Zoe was still stuck on “Aiden was sent to kill the Hunter” so she just nodded mindlessly to confirm that she was in fact the girl Kris had seen.

Kristalyn continued: “Anyway, Aiden made more than one attempt on Tray’s life; however, I was able to stop him. Until Aiden himself saw what he had missed before.” Kristalyn stopped for a moment and looked Tancred. “Tray, you and Aiden are a lot alike, and you both know it. It is the reason Aiden spared your life when he could have killed you.” Zoe was so intent on listened to Kristalyn that she almost missed the glance that passed between Tancred and Aiden. “But what you don’t know is that Aiden is the one who helped me to stop the Wild Men. Without him, they would have entered the battle, and we would have lost.”

“The battle,” Zoe murmured, trying to assimilate all the information Kristalyn was presenting. She looked at Aiden, her eyes narrowing slightly. “I saw you there, or at least I thought I did.”

Aiden glared over at Tancred and challenged, “You let her join the battle?”

“I’d have liked to see you stop her,” Tancred replied immediately, his tone still touched with anger, but not as much as before.

Aiden didn’t say anything for a moment, but finally he glanced at Zoe and said, “Still my Firebrand, I see.” He glared back at Tancred and added firmly, “But that gives you no right to endanger her.”

“I chose to go to battle, Aiden,” Zoe said decisively. She paused and then added in a quieter voice, “I’m not just your Firebrand anymore. I’ve grown up. I made my own choice.”

Shock at her declaration shot across Aiden’s features. And with good reason. Three years ago Zoe would have never said something like that. Aiden was her first allegiance back then, the one she would have always rallied behind. Now, it was crystal clear to Aiden that Tancred held that position.

“Aiden.” Kristalyn’s voice was soft and drew Aiden’s once-more shocked gaze from Zoe’s face. Zoe watched as something was communicated between the two of them, something Zoe couldn’t decipher.

Aiden finally looked back at Zoe and said very quietly, “Very well, Zoe, you’ve made your choice as only you can.”

“Belittling her choices won’t bring her back to depending on you again,” inserted Tancred, almost warningly. Zoe inwardly groaned. She knew Aiden had not been putting her down, though she also understood how Tancred might see Aiden’s words as disparagement.

“I would never belittle my sister,” Aiden replied hotly. “Can you say the same?”

“Aiden! Tancred!” Zoe said sharply, stepping forward so that she was again positioned at Tancred’s side but facing Aiden directly. “That’s enough from both of you. First of all, Tancred, Aiden would never belittle me. Second of all, you have to calm down, Aiden. Tancred is not replacing you. You are still, and always will be, my big brother.”

At that moment, the sound of clear laughter rang out in the air, sounding completely foreign after the heated emotions that still hung in the air. Zoe looked over at Kristylan in disbelief. Was she mocking them?

“You should listen to yourselves,” she said. “Face it; neither one of you has to like this, but you’re both going to accept it. Tray, I’m in love with Aiden. And Aiden, unless I miss my guess, Zoe is in love with Tancred.”

“You’re in love with him?” demanded Tancred. “Kris, he tried to kill me in Ruma!”
“Yes, but then he saved your life and mine. Besides, we’ve covered this already. Aiden is a good man, Tray. If you’d give him a chance and stop being so stubborn, you’d know that.”

Zoe glanced from Kris to Tancred to Aiden…and then back to Kristalyn. “You’re in love with Aiden?” she asked bluntly.

“I am,” Kris replied firmly. “And I’m going to be living here from now on.”

Zoe blinked at the assurance in Kristalyn’s words. Tancred didn’t take it so calmly. “Living here from now on?” he repeated, quiet but incredulous. “You’re just leaving your life, your friends, and your family without a glance back? Were you planning on ever telling me this, Kristalyn? Or were you just going to disappear without a trace or a simple goodbye?”

Sorrow passed over Kristalyn’s face. “Is that what you think of me now, Tray? That I would tell you nothing and never return? I’ve hated being away from you for so long. But, just as Zoe is now your first alliegiance, so is Aiden mine. And though I would hope to return home often, his place is here and mine at his side. Surely now you can understand that.” Gently Kristalyn tipped her head toward Zoe, making her point impossible to miss.

She spoke the truth, and Zoe knew it. Aiden and Tancred looked less convinced.

Moving slowly but with purpose, Zoe lifted her sword and slid it back into its scabbard on her back. She turned her head to Tancred and said simply, “She’s right.” Clearing her throat, Zoe gently laid her hand on Tancred’s right forearm, which was taut from gripping his sword’s hilt for so long. “My place is beside you, and your sister’s is to be by my brother. And while it will take some getting used to, I know in the end it will be better than any other outcome. Deus’s hand is in this.”

Kristalyn agreed, “This is the best way.” She smiled at Aiden—an expression that revealed even more of her deep, unique beauty—and then turned to include Zoe and Tancred. “We now have two homes that we will live in, and our paths, rather than being split, have been joined.”

Aiden sheathed his sword. “Kristalyn is right. But for this moment, you are at our old home, and it is once again ours. Come on, Zoe, let’s find our siblings and enjoy it all together.”

He raised his right arm in invitation and Zoe stepped forward to give him a side hug that brought back hundreds of childhood memories all at once. Though she relished the security of his arm around her, one worrisome thought still plagued her: what did Tancred think of all this? He still had not said anything.

Drawing back from Aiden, Zoe glanced at Tancred and met his eyes. He stood there: tall, strong, and capable; his sword still unsheathed and face unsmiling. What was he thinking? Would he remain stubborn and unyielding? Please, Tancred, Zoe silently asked him with her gaze.

After another long moment, Tancred lifted his sword and sheathed with a rasp of steel that rang with finality. “Sounds like a plan,” he said at last, a grin breaking through his impassive features as he relaxed. Kristalyn laughed, and then walked forward to be embraced by her brother.

After they pulled apart, Zoe smiled first at Aiden, the one who had freed her to become Firebrand, and then at Tancred, the man who held her heart. “Let’s go home.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Zoe struggled up the steep, forested hill that rose a quartermile behind the Romany home. It had been a favorite haunt of hers during her growing up years and she had yet to visit it, though she had been home for close to two weeks now. It had been a marvelous time of sharing, remembering, learning, and reaching out. There were many new faces and names to learn and tales to tell. Some siblings were married; children and animals overran the house and stables; and all nine of the Romanys had been vastly changed by their years away.

The sun was setting and cast its crimson and orange rays across the green boughs of Braedoch. Zoe reached the crest of the hill and stopped, awed to stillness by the sight before her. The hilltop was curiously bare of trees, providing a breathtaking view of the setting sun. The skyline was filled with clouds tinged gold, pink, orange, pale green, and cobalt. The sun itself was a dazzling orb of fire that slowly began sliding out of sight behind the distant Cirthian Mountains. Zoe wrapped her arms around her midsection and watched, her loose hair blowing back as a sweet breeze drifted by.

A twig snapped in the woods behind her, and then grass rustled as Tancred walked up the hill to join her. He stopped beside her and stared at the sunset for a long moment. “Deus’s gift for us tonight,” he stated in a low tone.

“Aye.” Zoe sighed and continued softly, “Sometimes I wish it would never end; that I could preserve nights like this and make them last forever. This beauty is so perfect—and so fleeting.”

Tancred wrapped an arm around her shoulders and she gratefully leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder. They stood together companionably for another long silence as the sky changed infinitesimally with each passing moment.

“It’s almost time to return,” Tancred said at length.

Zoe’s arms crept around Tancred and she held unto him as though he were an anchor. “I know,” she whispered, knowing full well Tancred spoke of their pending return to Aerilya. “I’m sure it’s right, and that I will be happy because I will be in the center of Deus’s will. It’s just going to be hard to say goodbye.”

Tancred’s grip tightened. “Believe me, I know.”

“You have to leave Kristalyn,” murmured Zoe, empathizing.

He just nodded.

“We’ll make it through,” she told him, tilting her head up to look at him. “You know we’ll be back to visit her and Aiden, and they’ve already promised to visit us whenever they can. It’s like Kristalyn said—we have two homes now.”

“Aye.” Tancred looked down at her and smiled slightly. He shifted so that she stood in front of him, her arms still wrapped around him. “It is strange how things worked out, isn’t it? You come back here, only to leave once more for Kris’s homeland. Kristalyn leaves Aerilya, just to settle down and live in the same place you were raised.”

Zoe laughed. “I still find it hard to believe,” she admitted. “Deus is incredible.”

“That He is.” Tancred reached a hand up and ran his finger down her cheek. “I’m especially glad He saw fit to give you to me, Zoe Romany.”

Zoe’s lips curved up into a smile. “No, I’m the grateful one. For I, who wanted adventure and purpose, have found both in the Hunter of Mairbrac and the God he professes. There are still hundreds of slaves hidden throughout Elangsia who need to be rescued, bought, purloined, and otherwise snatched from the hands of those who would use dishonorably.” Zoe’s smile grew softer even as her eyes shone with conviction. “And who but the Hunter will do the rescuing, buying, purloining and snatching?”

“I see only one problem with this picture,” Tancred said, resting both his hands on Zoe’s shoulders. “You mention this Hunter as if he were a lone operative. You failed to mention his secret weapon—the fiery lady who fights at his side.”
Zoe laughed. “Ah, you’re right,” she said, tilting her head. “The Hunter and his Lady. I like the sound of that.”

Tancred’s eyes were lit with intensity as he looked down at her. The sun’s last rays burnished their features; the melodic summer wind whispered through the grass atop the hill. Tancred’s head came down; Zoe’s chin came up; and as the sun slipped behind the edge of the mountains, casting purple dusk across the land, the Hunter kissed his Lady.

And the harmony of two hearts joined to one by the hand and purpose of Deus Himself could be heard as it wended its way up into the velvety heavens while night fell over Braedoch Forest.

THE END

brace yourselves

2008-09-13T19:10:00.000-07:00

The end is coming.

Just to let you know, Zoe's end has been written. She died. So did Tancred. Bloody, horrible deaths.

Haha.
Just kidding.

C'mon--laugh...BREATHE!! :)

I'm completely kidding, they are both alive and well to the best of my knowledge. I will be posting the end of their story here within the next couple days. I probably will not be posting the entire epilogue, simply because it discusses other characters' stories that we don't want disclosed here yet. Plus, I'm not even sure this version will be the final edited version. Anyway, hold on, get ready, and I promise it will be up soon.

You've all been a great bunch of readers/critiquers, and I've enjoyed the journey. I hope you're satisfied with my--uh, Zoe's--finale. Funny, I feel like it's my finale. I guess if I'm Zoe, it kinda is. (Too bad Tancred doesn't exist...JUST KIDDING!!!! *grin*) It's been quite a ride the last two years and I'm both happy and sad to see it end. On to a new tale, eh?

But for now, before I move on, I'm just going to relish the feeling of victory that comes after finishing such a story. It's a great feeling, and one I don't often get.

Until next time, my fine readers-

Zoe

Hello All

2008-08-25T18:12:00.000-07:00

First of all...I'm very sorry for my lack of communication this past month. I haven't meant to ignore you all or leave you waiting on pins and needles. My work schedule (yeah, I do have a normal life...I have a job and all that) really sped up in August. In fact, two weeks ago I worked every single day without any time off! Ahh!

Then, last week I was given a wonderful reprieve--Family Vacation. Oh, what a wonderful time. I was out of normal life for a whole blissful week of beach volleyball, swimming, canoeing, running, back- and front-flipping (off a diving board) and general fun-having. It was amazing and just what I needed. I was pretty burnt out and didn't exactly want to start my freshman year of college in such a state.

On that note, it's pretty weird that I'm a college student now. I'm so used to thinking of myself as a highschooler. Huh.

Anyway, to update you on Zoe. Firstly, in response to something "Mouse" wrote the other day, I have not been offended by the comments left here. Well, that's not strictly true...I have been in the past, but I hope I'm mature enough to have gotten over it, lol. And that is certainly not the reason there has been no movement in the story.

There will be no more chapters of Zoe. At least not if I'm not completely surprised by a burst of inspiration and write something that I have no idea about. Before you all start wailing and dying and complaining, hear me out. I will be writing an epilogue, a rather lengthy one that will probably appear as a "part something-or-other" in the final draft. I'm planning on dividing Zoe into parts and the epilogue will become one of those. The point is, I'm pretty sure everything you want to be resolved yet will be resolved in the epilogue. Aiden/Kristalyn/Zoe/Tancred will meet. Zoe and her twin will be reunited. Zoe will be home again, at least for a little while.

But, I'm afraid I can't promise how soon that will all be written and posted. Aiden and Zoe need to be on the same page (literally) before the epilogue can be properly written. I'm waiting on Charissa to some extent, to get Aiden to where he needs to be. Don't groan too loudly, he's actually almost there. :-) Once we're both ready, we can finish our stories at the same time. And then, I promise, we'll post it here. I'm hoping it will be worthy of all your patience and devotion. I've really enjoyed getting to know all of you through this story. So again, thanks for your patience and I will post more as soon as is feasible.

Thank you,
Emily

time out!!

2008-07-17T07:43:00.000-07:00

Okay.

First of all, I want to thank those of you who left comments on Zoe's latest chapter--and, for that matter, on many, many chapters in the past. I appreciate your thoughts and honesty. Half of the reason we started the Romany Epistles project was so that we writers could grow in our art, and your feedback helps us do just that. I'm eager to grow in my abilities as a writer, and for that reason I have opened myself, and my work, up to criticism and encouragement both.

That being said, I'd like to reply to a few of the comments left for me here. There are quite a few "anonymous" comments, so hopefully you'll be able to sort through which ones are addressed to whom. :)

Anonymous #1: I completely understand what you are saying about me drawing out the ending. Many comments have been left to that effect, actually. Allow me to make it very clear to everyone out there--I KNOW THE ENDING IS TOO LONG AND DRAWN OUT. There. Was that loud and clear enough? I am not, and never have tried to, set myself up as the next Tolkien, who can write thousand-page books with long endings and multiple character stories to conclude. Nor, for that matter, have I written along the same lines as C. S. Lewis. Though I write Christian Fantasy, as did those two illustrious authors, I believe my style is quite different from theirs, and therefore any comparison is a little premature. Regardless of that, though--let me get back to the too-long ending of Zoe.

Something that I have not shared with many of you is that I have tried ending Zoe three different times, at different points earlier in the story. Each time, it came out so wrong, it would have been a disfavor to me and to my characters to post it. Therefore, I continued writing until I was able to write some sort of conclusion that was satisfying to me and Zoe and Tancred. Keep in mind that this is a First Draft of the story, and much of what you have read here over the last months will inevitably be cut in the final edition. I realize that I will have to shorten it a lot in order to get a decent Second Draft. I'm prepared to do that. But also give me a little grace, for though you may find the ending of my First Draft drawn-out, ridiculous, or just boring, it has been very difficult to pen (or...type). Not just because my characters are stubborn, but because this is my time to say goodbye to two very wonderful people who have become exceedingly real to me. Tancred is just as real to me as Zoe; and Zoe technically IS real because she's me. :) So, though you might be sick of them and their lengthy conclusion, and Zoe's stubbornness, please understand that 1) the Second Draft will cut a lot of the ending, and 2) I need time to say my goodbyes and right now, I'm doing that through a longer ending.

Anonymous #2: You wanted Aiden to be the one saving Zoe? LOL, I never would have thought of that. It WOULD have been an interesting, I'll give you that, but it would also break the rules we laid out at the beginning of the Romany Epistles project. One of the first rules was that the characters must never meet during the three years they are separated. Obviously you see Charissa and I walked a very, verrrry thin line with Aiden and Zoe--I mean, they practically DO meet, but in the end, it's still not a proper reunion. Zoe sees Aiden in the battle; Aiden's sent to assassinate Tancred. The whole story they're so close...but we never broke the rules laid out. So I'm sorry to disappoint, if you were hoping for Aiden, but that would have been blatantly violating some rules laid out early on.

I'm sorry that you're finding the ending boring. As I wrote above, the ending will be worked on. Right now I must say that my top priority is bidding my characters farewell. Then, I will go back and begin dissecting the story and making it better than it is now. Although, I must say you're making me a little nervous how you're writing to me-- "I know you will make the conclusion special just for Tancred and Zoe, not your typical hero/saviour idea." Hmm...well, okay! Hope your confidence is adequately placed it me.

Michelle: Thanks. I know you're all trying to help. I'm simply trying to make my point of view clear too. I appreciate everyone's input, though.

solagratiasolafide: I will definitely let Brittany know you want Sam! We're working on it. Slowly. But working on it. :)

Thank you all again for you input on Zoe. I've been very grateful for it. I'm sorry to those of you who have not been satisfied with it--but please remember this is only a First Draft.

Later and God Bless,
Emily

Chapter XLVII - Confrontation

2008-07-15T07:58:00.000-07:00

Hey Everyone!

Shocking, I know: two chapters in less than a week? I had to work hard at editing this next chapter, but it's ready now. It is not the last chapter, but it is the second to the last. I think. :-) I have to really think about the next chapter and what I want to put in it. So it may be a while before it's up. Orrr, inspiration might hit, you never know, and it might be up here for your perusal in a few days. With me, you just never know, haha.

Usually I'd reply to all of you who so kindly commented on my last chapter, but I have to work today and so I'd best not! I'm interested in your comments on this chapter. I rather think it's the one you've all been pestering me for for the last year (lol!), but I suppose I will find that out through the comments you leave. :-)

Until next time, then!
Emily

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Zoe traveled north. The nights were cold and one morning she had to break a thin layer of crystal ice on the surface of a little creek for Brac to be able to drink. She filled her water jerkin and slung it over the horn of Brac’s saddle before mounting and beginning their journey anew.

Two long silent days passed in a similar manner. By the evening of the second one, Zoe couldn’t deny it anymore. She was lonely.

“It will fade,” she muttered under her breath as she worked on starting a fire to keep her warm. “It will fade. It will.”

Brac snorted and Zoe looked fiercely up at him. “You can be quiet,” she ordered. “It has to go away eventually.”

Her horse just stared at her evenly before dropping his head to crop a little patch of grass that looked to recently have been badly frostbitten. Brac would have to start searching harder for nourishment, especially if they continued trekking toward the Cirthian Mountains, as she had been doing thus far.

“You’re a lot of help,” Zoe continued muttering at Brac, disgruntled. “You just glare incriminatingly at me and then calmly go back to eating your dinner. Some companion you are.”

A twig snapped behind her and instantly Zoe snapped out of the rather juvenile tirade she had begun. Brac’s head shot up and his ears were pricked attentively. A couple brown, wilted grass stalks dangled from the corners of his mouth. Slowly Zoe turned her head to scan the terrain behind her. Was she truly as alone as she had assumed?

Thick bushes surrounded three of the four sides where she had elected to make her bivouac. Dusk was thickening with every passing moment, making it difficult to see much. The breeze rustled the leaves of the bushes. The last golden rays of the sun darkened to orange, then crimson, and finally followed the sun as it slipped away behind the curve of the world. Still Zoe remained in place, her muscles tight and ears attuned for anything that would alert her to the presence of an intruder. Brac was still tense as well, telling Zoe all was not well.

Slowly she moved her left hand to reach for her sword, which lay on the ground a short distance away. “Who’s out there?” she called into the growing gloom. “Show yourself.”

Silence followed, broken only by the stirring wind.

Zoe’s hand found the hilt of her sword and she pulled it closer.

Another little noise sounded—perhaps a stealthy footstep in the brush before her?—and Zoe’s head whipped around to the front. Switching her sword to her right hand, her eyes darted back and forth; scanning the bushes for signs of the intruder. Brac stamped his hooves. His ears twitched back and forth frenetically as he tried to pick up sounds around them.

Zoe rose to her feet. “Show yourself!” she called in as confident a voice as she could muster.

A low chuckle sounded behind Zoe and she whirled, unsheathing her sword in a second and brandishing the silver blade at the figure of a tall man. “What do you want?” she demanded, her gaze narrowed.

The man smiled at her, his teeth gleaming in the firelight. From what she could discern of him he was a couple inches taller than her and possessed a head full of blonde hair.

He was also armed, and his sword was out. She swiftly noted the easy way he held his long broadsword and guessed he was well used to combat. Careful, Zoe.

“Why, we saw your campfire, my lady,” he said in a smooth tone Zoe didn’t much care for. “And we thought we’d see if we could stay at another traveler’s fire for the night.”

“We?” she questioned bluntly.

“Aye.” The man motioned with his right hand and six other men stepped out of the bushes at various points around the small clearing. Brac whuffed loudly, stamping his front hooves uneasily. “Just a small group of us. The name’s Orin, little lady.”

“You’re not welcome here. I camp alone.”

The man’s smile broadened, but the result was an unpleasant expression that resembled a twisted grimace more than a smile. He stepped closer, backing Zoe up toward the fire. The heat of the flames washed over the back of her legs, but she did not flinch. Her mind was running at a frantic pace even as she kept a carefully schooled expression of disdain on her face. I could turn, grab my pack and swing unto Brac’s back if I had five seconds, she thought.

Five seconds. It was all she needed but she doubted she’d get it.

“Alone, my lady?” asked Orin with a little chuckle. “These are dangerous times to be without a protector.”

“I’m not holding this sword just to look pretty,” she retorted. “I can and certainly will use it on you and your men if you don’t leave immediately.”

One of the men behind her laughed but Zoe ignored him. “Surely you would not question one who has fought at the side of the Hunter,” she added, emphasizing Tancred’s well-known title.

Scorn flickered through Orin’s eyes. “You’ve been with the Hunter, have you little lady? Since when did that legendary benefactor start recruiting maidens to fight his battles?”

“Since never,” she shot back, refusing to let Tancred appear like a coward. “I volunteered.”

He cocked a brow. “Idealist, are you?”

“I prefer defender of justice.”

“I’m intrigued,” Orin said, stepping closer yet again. Zoe’s grip tightened on her sword hilt and she raised it a notch higher. He seemed to ignore the move and added, “Though I doubt your assets were used by the Hunter on the battlefield.”

“What exactly is that supposed to mean?” gritted Zoe. If only she could get to Brac. This conversation had moved far past uncomfortable, having long since entered the realm of dangerous.

“If what I’ve heard of the Hunter is true, he’s a wise fellow, if a trifle too heroic for my taste.” Orin glanced over at one of his companions and chuckled unpleasantly. “You’re a comely girl and I’m sure he enjoyed you while you were his.”

The color in Zoe’s cheeks drained away, leaving her face white with anger as the stranger’s insinuations became suddenly crystal clear to her. Her thoughts tumbled over each other in rapid succession, none of them making much sense. He was implying Tancred had—no, that Zoe’s honor and reputation were—that she was nothing more than a thing, an object of pleasure for the Hunter? As if she was! As if Tancred would...!

Sharp, cold anger surged through her, catching her up in a wave of emotion and impulse. Her sword swung up and connected with Orin’s before he had a chance to react. Pushing with all her strength, she managed to knock him off balance. Whipping around, she grabbed her pack from the ground and ran for Brac.

Before she could vault unto her stallion’s back, she was intercepted by one of Orin’s minions. “Not so fast,” he grunted as she tried to jerk away from him.

“Let…me…go!” she hissed. She brought her knee up hard into his groin and the man’s grip loosened immediately. A second later he fell to one knee with a moan. Zoe slammed the flat of her sword into the side of his head and he dropped the rest of the way to the ground without another sound.

A second later her blade was engaged with two others as a couple of the other men jumped in to fight her. Zoe parried and slashed as quickly as she could while searching for Brac. At some point in the confrontation with the man she just knocked out she had lost track of her horse. “Brac! Here boy!” she yelled into the air.

One of the men smirked at her. “That’s not going to work,” he taunted.

Zoe grunted as she swung at him. He jumped back out of her range but she pursued him, her sword blows coming faster and faster. Her training over the last year and a half had served her very well...and she was fueled by anger and adrenaline, so she was fighting even harder and faster than usual.

Just when she had the perfect blow lined up to take him out, another sword intercepted hers and distracted her from her target. Zoe wrenched around and found herself face to face with her original attacker, Orin.

“Didn’t your mother ever teach you not to travel alone?” he sneered as he expertly parried each of her furious attacks.

She did not reply as she concentrated on defeating him.

“You might not hold the sword just to look pretty, but you are,” he continued in the same oily tone that originally had put her on guard with him. “Pretty, I mean. The Hunter has good taste in his women.”

“I don’t care to hear your opinion on my physical appearance!” she gritted out, absolutely livid. “And I...” she grunted, as their swords swung off each other. “And I am not, and never was, the Hunter’s woman!”

She whirled under his swinging blade, escaping being wounded by a small margin. Though, something deep within warned her that this man was not looking to wound her. Rather he was looking to disarm her.

“Quite the independent one, aren’t you? You camp alone, fight alone, won’t accept honestly given compliments—”

“Not from you I don’t!” she responded in an explosive tone. Still, she noted with a trace of very real fear that her muscles were weakening as she continued her full fledged fighting. And even if I killed or disabled him, there would be five more to go through, she thought despairingly. She glimpsed the other men standing around her and Orin, their swords at the ready but stances casual. They weren’t concerned enough to help their leader fight her. Obviously they had already decided who would be the victor of this confrontation, and it was not Zoe. Two of them were busy restraining Brac, and therefore were distracted, but still Zoe was well aware she couldn’t take all of them on at once.

Deus? Help?!

“Ready to give up yet?” her attacker goaded.

Again Zoe didn’t reply, keeping her eyes trained on the flashing blade that snaked in and out of her own sword, threatening to disarm her any second. She held out for fifteen seconds more, but then the moment came. With a deft twist and sickening shriek of steel on steel, Zoe’s sword flew out of her hands to land two paces to her right. Panting hard, she just stood there for a moment, staring at Orin, who was smirking.

His sword lowered and he chuckled, though he was breathing hard as well. “You put up a good fight, better than I expected, little fire-maid—”

Thud.

The dagger whipped through the air so swiftly and silently that for a moment all Zoe could do was stare at the handle that protruded from the blonde man’s neck. Who had thrown it? Orin’s eyes had gone wide with shock. His broadsword clattered to the ground and his hands rose halfway up to his neck as if he would pull out the weapon. A moment later he had collapsed forward to land face first in the dust.

A shadowy figure exploded out of the bushes to Zoe’s right, where the dagger had flown from. Moving with swift, catlike grace, the dagger-thrower yanked his weapon out of Orin’s neck and threw it without warning into another man’s chest. Without pausing to look at Zoe or explain his actions, the dark-clad figure drew a huge broadsword and advanced toward the first of the remaining men.

A surge of powerful, impossible hope overtook Zoe’s senses for a moment. Could it…had it been…?

“Are you going to stand there and watch or help me?” Tancred’s familiar voice rang out in the glade. He turned his head for a split second to glance over at her, his steel blue eyes connecting with her wide green ones; then he twisted back to focus on the man he fought.

Zoe needed no more encouragement. Bursting forward and to the left, she hit the ground in a roll and grabbed her sword again. She thrust herself to her feet and raised her sword into a ready position, facing the four men who yet remained. Tancred dispatched the one he engaged with a swift shove of his blade between the man’s ribs. Zoe sprang on the two men who were beside agitated Brac. Both of their swords were drawn but they had definitely been caught unaware; their expressions were a mixture of alarm and bewilderment at their swiftly changed circumstances.

She crossed blades with the first man, who swung his up to block her attack at the last second. The second man got involved very soon after; seeming to snap out of his apathetic state of shock fairly quickly once the action reached him. They were both skilled fighters, just like all the rest of the men. Who are they, anyway? wondered Zoe. Had Orin been a rogue Aerilyan, one who did not care for his country or its people? He and his small band of followers certainly had all the markings of being lawless brigands who preyed on lone travelers.

Zoe faltered for a second under the crushing blow of the dark-haired, well-muscled man she faced. Her arms trembled as she twisted out from beneath his blade and jumped to the side. The man’s sword slammed a few inches down into the dirt. He cursed as he wrenched his sword back up just in time to meet Zoe’s swiftly following attack.

“I swear…” he spat out as he parried her blows, “I’ll see you dead before I myself fall under your companion’s blade!”

Zoe’s eyes flashed but she didn’t say anything to him as she spun and blocked a blow from the second man that came from her left. The second man was not as good as his dark-haired companion and she disarmed him with a quick, instinctive move that her muscles remembered and performed without any extra effort on her part. The man’s sword flew across the glade, through the leaping flames of the fire, to land on the other side of the glowing coals. The man she’d just disarmed simply stared at her with wide eyes and mouth agape for a moment, and then fell to his knees to plead for his life.

Panting from the exertion, Zoe was about to knock him out so she could deal with him later when her peripheral vision warned her she was about to be attacked from the side. Whirling, she lifted her blade to deflect the attack of the fast-approaching dark-haired man.

It never came. Before she or her attacker could do anything, Tancred appeared, planting himself firmly between her and her target. Zoe pulled to a quick stop, surprised; and watched mutely, wondering what Tancred would do.

She didn’t have to wonder for very long. Tancred batted aside the man’s blade with one ringing blow. It hit the ground with a dull metallic clank and skidded a short distance. Flipping his own broadsword around, Tancred slammed it point-first into the soft, broken-up dirt, and had a knife at the man’s throat before Zoe could even blink. Silence fell over the glade, broken only by the raspy, panicked breathing of the man Tancred had at knifepoint. For all his bravado of a moment before, the man look completely terrified now that he was faced with an opponent somewhat more intimidating that Zoe.

“What was that you said?” Tancred asked in a low, deceptively cool voice.
“I…I don’t know…” the man started, but stopped abruptly as Tancred’s knife dug deeper and a trail of blood ran down his neck.

“Allow me to refresh your memory. You promised to see her dead before you fell by my hand, did you not?”

A moment of silence followed, in which the man’s eyes darted from Tancred to Zoe and back again, and Zoe kept careful watch on the other man she had disarmed but not knocked out.

“Am I correct?” Tancred’s tone was colder than ice.

“Y-yes,” the man managed in a pitiful whisper. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed convulsively, which only made the pressure on his throat worse. He gazed at Zoe again, this time for longer.

“Stop looking at her,” Tancred ordered harshly, jerking the man’s tunic so that his frightening gaze flew back to Tancred. Tancred’s knife ground even harder against the man’s unshaven throat, making the brigand convulse in fear. “If your pathetic mind assumed for one second you could kill her before I reached you, you were sorely mistaken.”

“Please…don’t kill me,” the man rasped out. “Please, for the love of all that’s right…”

Tancred shook the man, tension emanating from every line of his body. Zoe could see his bicep muscles bulging as he strained to keep from taking out all his frustration on the man in front of him.

“The love of all that is right?” mocked Tancred. “You’re telling me that you came to assault this woman tonight while thinking of ‘all that is right’? Why, you’re just one noble specimen of manhood, aren’t you.”

“Tancred…” Zoe said softly. Her voice was level, to her astonishment. She was still in shock that Tancred was there, much less defending her with such emotion and gusto. It was so good to see him again. Something deep within her cringed, though, for a reunion with him was but the foreshadowing of yet another painful separation.

After another long moment that fairly crackled with tension, Tancred shoved the man away from him. The dark-haired man stumbled back and fell to the ground, gasping with relief. “Get out of here,” Tancred ordered him in a tone that brooked no argument. “You too,” he added to the mute man Zoe had disarmed earlier.

Without another word to them, Tancred sheathed his knife and pulled his sword out of the ground. Sliding it into its sheath on his back, he turned and grabbed Zoe’s arm and Brac’s reins to lead them away. The four of them made their way through the bushes, stopping once to collect Tancred’s golden-bay, Chale, and the leather pack that was on the ground by the stallion’s hooves. A minute later, they emerged from the scrub trees and bushes into the clear moonlight, the silence between them still not broken. A roadway stretched out before them like a ribbon of silver. Tancred, having again gripped Zoe’s arm, led them down it with a quick, confident stride.

Zoe said nothing as they walked together. Part of her was thrilled by Tancred’s firm but gentle touch at her elbow, guiding her beside him in a way that felt surprisingly natural. The other part of her wanted answers. Why was Tancred here? How had he known where she was? She was grateful for his assistance—he had saved her life, not to mention her honor—but she had to know why he was there.
She halted.

Tancred stopped too and turned to face her. Light from the twinkling stars accentuated his handsome features as he towered above her. His eyes, highlighted with moonsilver, shone down at her.

“What is it?”

She surveyed him for a long moment. “What are you doing here?” she whispered at last, her most pressing inquiry spilling out.

“I should think it’s obvious,” he replied, a faint but oh-so-familiar smirk appearing on his lips. “I’m rescuing you, of course.”

She shook her head, backing up a step. “Tancred, why are you here?” she repeated, her voice becoming tight with tension. “How did you know I was here? Your timing was better than impeccable but...why? How?”

He smiled softly, looking amused. “Zoe, you’re so quick to doubt. When you left, I told you I would be remembering and watching you. Did you forget?”

Zoe just stared at him for a full thirty seconds, her mind working. No, of course she had not forgotten his parting words. They were all she had dwelled on for the last two weeks. Just whenever she thought the pain of being apart from him was lessening, she would remember the look in his eyes when they parted, or the tone of his voice when he bade her farewell, and all the pain and hurt erupted anew.
“You’ve been following me?” she questioned incredulously.

He nodded once. “You couldn’t possibly think me the type of man to let you just walk away from me.”

Frustration and joy vied for top position. “You’ve been close by this whole time?” she demanded.

He merely gave her an amused smile.

Frustration won. “Why didn’t you ever show yourself?!”

“You never appeared to need my help.”

“You know how to judge when I need help,” she stated flatly, crossing her arms.

“Aye. And I’m always right too. You couldn’t have taken on all those men by yourself.”

“You’re always right?” she inserted in disbelief, finding it almost impossible to grasp Tancred’s unapologetic audacity—though she probably should have been used to it by then. “That’s just a little bit of an arrogant comment!”

“No worse than the arrogant life you’ve been living in front of me for the last year and a half,” he shot back coolly.

Shocked, she just stared at him. “What do you mean?”

“Telling me you’re strong enough to handle everything on your own, refusing my help for anything since the day we met, leaving the Aerilyan palace to be on your own again because you’re terrified of your feelings—”

“I am not terrified of anything, Tancred Ralyn,” she cried hotly.

“You’re terrified right now.”

“I am not!”

He smiled gently and shook his head. “You forget your eyes tell me all I need to know, Zoe.”

She glared at him, wishing he wasn’t so infuriatingly correct. “I am not terrified,” she told him a moment later in a calmer voice.

“Oh really,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest. “Why don’t you tell me exactly what you are, then, Zoe.”

Taken aback, she stepped closer to Brac’s shoulder and tried to assimilate what he’d just asked her. “Fine,” she said at last, lifting her chin and rising to the challenge. “I’m…frustrated; angry; upset; annoyed. Not terrified.”

“That’s quite a volatile concoction of emotion,” he observed, not looking at all concerned. “Sure you listed them all?”

She nodded once, curtly.

“Ah, but it’s there you’re wrong.” Tancred uncrossed his arms and advanced one step closer, his voice lowering and expression losing all signs of humor. “You forgot a few.”

“And just which ones did I supposedly forget?” she replied, struggling to stand her ground without appearing cowed. It was hard, for he loomed several inches above her, forcing her to tilt her chin up to meet his gaze.

“You forgot pigheaded. Stubborn beyond reason. Cursedly willful, even when faced with a reality that is obvious.”

Anger and pain converged on Zoe. How...how dare he! How dare he attack her like that, uncaring of how he was shamelessly hurting her? The heartless, arrogant, infuriating—!

With a cry of frustration, she reached up without thinking and wrenched her sword from its sheath. Tancred drew his in time to meet her furious first blow. Reason abandoned Zoe and blind emotion drove her on. Her sword flashed back and forth, up and down, in and out. Everywhere she thrust, he met her blade. Every time she thought she had slipped past his defenses, he deflected her sword and drove her back.

Their swords clashed and ground together, each of them fighting for the upper hand. Zoe strained with all that was within her, trying to overcome him. Simultaneously she instinctively knew that there was no way she could ever overpower him. While she was putting out all her energy and emotion, he was holding her off with a cool strength that did not wane or fail him.

Gasping with fury and on the verge of angry tears, Zoe locked her blade against his and just pushed as hard as she could. Her eyes, swimming with moisture that she fervently wished was not there, rose and met his where he gazed at her between the ‘V’ formed by their crossed swords.

What could she do? She couldn’t give up. She wouldn’t give up, for all that remained by that was to be further humiliated by her weakness and inability. Why was he so much more in control than her? I hate it!

“This is stupid, Zoe,” Tancred said loudly, breathing hard. “Don’t do this.”
She heaved out a grunt and tried to wrench her sword free and swing at him again. He merely followed her a step back, keeping the pressure on their blades so she couldn’t yank away.

“Don’t pull away from me. You’ve done that for the last year and a half, Zoe and I’m sick of it.”

“Sick of me pulling away?” she exclaimed indignantly, trying again—unsuccessfully—to disengage their swords.

“Yes. Especially since you know the truth.”

“What truth?” she cried on the brink of desperation. “You’re not making sense!”

“You love me,” he replied in a simple, suddenly quiet voice.

Zoe froze.

Their swords still remained in place. She stared wide eyed between their slender steel lengths in Tancred’s face. His expression was firm and steady. Her arms, so strong a moment before, began to shake. They were small shudders at first, but then grew into increasingly harder tremors that caused her sword to sweep downward off his with a metallic whisper. Her arms fell loosely to her sides, and her grip on the sword hilt was so lax she was almost surprised it didn’t fall down to land on the roadside.

“What did you say?” she finally managed to ask in a tone several octaves lower than a whisper.

“You love me,” he said again. After another long moment in which she just stood there, he raised his sword and sheathed it slowly. “And, just as importantly,” he added softly, “I love you, Zoe.”

What? He loved her? He…loved her?

She closed her eyes, blocking him out. No. This wasn’t possible.

“Look at me, Zoe.” She did not obey at first, keeping her lashes tightly clenched together as if not looking at him would keep her from the truth.

“Look at me.”

She shuddered involuntarily. She was not afraid, merely overwhelmed. His voice was patient, thankfully. He was giving her time.

At last she raised her gaze again and met his eyes. They were the same as always: blue, cool, and marked with typical Tancred-like control. But deep within them there was something different. Beyond the coolness, the control…there was warmth. Honesty. And…love.

He felt all that for her?

How was that even feasible?

Strength, Zoe. You’ve faced a horde of Elangsian knights, been a slave twice over, and learned so much since Braedoch. If you could do all that, you can face this man and look in his eyes and hear the truth.

Clearing her throat, she asked hoarsely, “Wh-why, Tancred?” She cursed the break in her voice. Now was not the time to show any sign of insecurity! And yet it was impossible to hide it for she was nearly overcome by uncertainty. “I mean, why me?” she added a moment later, her voice a little stronger.

Tancred gazed down at her with a deep, immeasurable look in his eyes. One of his hands came up and took the sword from her loose fingers. He flipped it around, stepped closer, and slid it into the sheath strapped to her back. Zoe’s breath shortened at their close proximity but she did not move away.

Neither did Tancred.

His knuckles brushed her cheek. “Why you?” he responded huskily. “How could I not love you, Zoe?”

Her stomach flip-flopped. “I don’t understand,” she said slowly.

“It wasn’t part of the plan. Your fire, your loyalty, your dedication—all that captured my attention from the start, Zoe.”

“You mean back when you bought me?” she said in a weak stab at humor.

“Yeah, back when I bought you.” His mouth turned up at the corners and Zoe felt completely off kilter again. There was no doubt this man held large sway over her emotions and was able to read her like a book, but did that constitute love?

“The question now, Zoe,” Tancred said slowly, “is not whether or not you love me.”
It wasn’t? Then what was it?

Tancred’s smile had faded away and his expression grew serious as he continued gazing down directly into her eyes. A slight wind whispered between and around them, seeming wild and lonely. At last Tancred spoke in a deep timbre: “The real question is whether or not you trust me, Zoe.”

She swallowed hard. “What...what do you mean?” she asked in a whisper.

“You’re only twenty now but you’ve lived a life full of pain—more pain that most individuals have had to deal with over the course of their entire lives. You have been wounded by so many people…but naturally the worst was when Duard split up your family.”

Emotions swirling just beneath the surface sprang up within Zoe. Everything Tancred said was true. Excruciatingly so. How could he so effortlessly see through her? It wasn’t right, or fair.

Tancred continued in the same low, measured tone. “Because of all that pain, you’ve made a habit of blocking people out of your life. You don’t want them too near your affections because you’re afraid of what will happen if you get close enough to really care about them. Your heart was almost ripped out when you left your family. You can’t fathom that happening to you again.”

She sighed deeply. “I’m not even going to be surprised when you read me correctly anymore,” she said dully.

He tucked a strand of hair behind her left ear. “And so,” he continued, “in order to protect yourself, you have stopped trusting people. You do everything by yourself because you can do it the best way. You don’t want to depend on anybody else because you’re afraid of them failing you—or worse, you failing them.”

One single tear overflowed from her eyes. Tancred caught the tear with his thumb while it was on her way down her cheek. “The problem for you, therefore, is not that you do not, or cannot, love others. It’s that you refuse to trust them. And without trust, there is no basis for any meaningful relationship.

“So, Zoe Romany,” he murmured, cupping her cheeks in both his hands. “Do you trust me?”

Time itself seemed to stop.

Trust?

Not love—trust. It was vastly different. Trust spoke of commitment and the baring of one’s soul and undying loyalty.

Did she trust this man?

His touch was like fire on her face. Heat washed down her body and she resisted the urge to tremble. Tancred Ralyn. The man who had fought her, bought her, challenged her, helped her, saved her life, and waited patiently for her for the last year and a half. She’d cried with him; sweated, laughed, and clashed with him. He knew her as well, or better, than she knew herself.

She struggled to think of a time that he had failed her. Hard as she tried, she could not think of anything. Even back when they were on bad terms, he had made her a high priority. Despite their numerous combative conversations and various confrontations, he had always been chivalrous and never threatened her. The only times she had felt actually endangered by him was when she was getting closer to him and feared that her emotions were in jeopardy. Oh if only I had known….

Now, the gentle way he cradled her face was breaking down her barriers. The blunt honesty of his confession washed away her pain. She glanced up at him, forcing herself to meet his eyes without looking away.

Do I trust him? Do I believe that he is capable of taking care of me? That I can fight alongside him, knowing his sword will be there when I need its protection, that his arm will be around me when I’m ready to collapse under the trials of life, that his shoulder will be there to hold my tears?

There was really no choice to be made. At least, not anymore. She had already made her decision a long time ago. She simply had not realized it. She had already felt the effects of his protection, the strength of his arm, and his ability to help her with the deep-seated anguish that remained from past hurt. She had already subconsciously made the decision to trust him. The only thing left to do was speak it into existence.

She took a deep breath. “Of course I trust you,” she said in a subdued voice. “How could I do anything but trust you, seeing as you have proven yourself trustworthy time after time?”

His eyes flared with dark blue fire and he searched her face. A million thoughts raced through Zoe’s mind, accompanied by a deluge of different things to say at that moment. Nothing seemed right, however, and so she remained silent. Finally, she leaned forward a little and wrapped her arms around his waist. Her cheek rested against his chest and she exhaled slowly. It felt right. Finally.

Tancred’s hold on her tightened and he pressed a kiss to the crown of her head. “Thank you,” he murmured.

She merely smiled softly and nodded her head once, feeling a sense of freedom that she had not felt for years. And the truth will set you free. She did not know what was ahead of her, but she knew she could count on this man staying beside her through it all.

And at last, Zoe knew joy.

Chapter XLVI - Bristol

2008-07-09T17:37:00.000-07:00

Hey All!

I'm sorry about the long delay between chapters here! Back in mid-June my vacation began when my best friend Jamie came to visit me with the rest of her family (fyi: Jamie is the younger sister of Charissa, Aiden's author)!!! It was a truly amazing visit, one of the best of my life! After a week here in MI, I drove down to PA with Kristy and Jamie and spent nine amazing days at their house, and at Creation Festival. It was a great time of fun, side-splitting laughter, tears, cornbread misadventures, music, thunder/lightning storms, and couch-tipping, among other things. :-) I returned to MI on the 30th and have since been crazy busy with work and the birth of my newest little sister, Livia Joy. So, is that a sufficient enough excuse for not having posted a new chapter? Hopefully so. :-)

ANYWAY...I have a new one but I don't like it. So you are going to have to suffer through a badly written chapter to get your satisfaction. I like the one after it, though it too needs some polishing. Basically I have to rough draft edition down pat--it's just sorely lacking a refined feeling. I apologize for this but I cannot seem to focus on rewrites right now. I will just post the rough draft here and accept your comments and criticisms. Please feel free to let me know what you do or do not like, as always.

That being said...

Michelle: THANK YOU! I'm so glad this chapter touched you. Emotions from the reader are always a good sign, right? This chapter doesn't have too much of that in it, but I can promise the one following this one has plenty. ;-)

solagratiasolafide: wow. Thank you. I'm so glad you have been blessed by my writing. As a writer that is the absolute best thing to hear. I strive to present my own feelings, thoughts, and beliefs to my readers through the eyes of my characters. I'm honored you have felt my efforts, to some extent, at least. I just pray that God breathes over my work and makes it so much more than it is so that it has the power not just to entertain, but to transform. I don't believe that's too lofty a goal, even for fiction.

Libby: sorry you feel there hasn't been much between Tancred and Zoe in the last few chapters! They're both feeling the tension in their relationship and their way of dealing with it is to avoid each other. (Though, Zoe likes that approach rather much more than Tancred.) As I mentioned to Michelle, you might not like this chapter because it lacks a certain amount of emotion. But just hold out to the next one!! Please!! :-)

Hosanna: little sister, you are a trooper! Reading all these chapters, wow! I'm proud of you! :-) Here's a little reward for your patience.

Anonymous: that has to be the most inventive plea for another chapter that I have ever read. Kudos! For your creativity I am rewarding you with this mediocre chapter. Sorry it's not a better prize, but hey. Be happy for what you get. LOL! ;-)

Now that you've gotten through all THAT...here's the chapter.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A swift wind whispered across the ground, stirring dried leaves and caressing brittle grass stalks in a wild yet beautiful melody. Brac’s hooves clopped on the hardened dirt roadway that wended its way through the Aerilyan countryside. He shook his mane and exhaled loudly as he clambered up yet another hill.

“That’s my boy,” Zoe murmured, leaning forward to help her stallion out as much as possible.

The sound of her voice almost startled her. It had been three days since she left Bryndor, and while she had kept up a pretty good running commentary with Brac on the first day, her talkativeness had quickly waned and she had fallen into silence. Other travelers were not scarce along the well cleared road, but she never stopped to talk with them long. Her evenings had likewise been quiet, the silence broken only by the hissing and cracking of the fire and Brac’s occasional sigh. It had been like the old days: Zoe fell asleep by the glowing orange embers, curled up beneath her cloak; her sword nearby and Brac standing over her as he dozed. She kept telling herself that it was nice to be on her own again, independent and not tied down to anything.

Brac reached the top of the hill and Zoe squinted ahead, against the bright midmorning sunlight. A small but pleased smile curved her lips upward. A village lay spread out beneath her, smoke rising from almost all the stone chimneys of the dwellings. Bristol, she thought as she urged Brac on. The thatched roofs and rough construction of the little houses was obvious to Zoe even from the distance, but Bristol still strangely appealed to her, for it exuded an aura of warmth and friendliness that practically drew Zoe forward.

By the time she reached the outskirts of the village she had been spotted and there were two children standing at the side of the road, eyeing her with frank curiosity. The younger one, a black haired boy who looked to be about seven or eight, could hardly take his eyes off Brac. Zoe smiled slightly as Brac slowed his stride and arched his neck; he had always liked attention. You conceited big guy, she thought affectionately. A moment later she pulled Brac to a halt and dismounted.

Looping the reins over her arm, she walked over to the children. Smiling reassuringly at them, she said, “Hello. Is this the village called Bristol?”

A slender girl of about twelve, who appeared to be the older sister of the black haired boy, nodded. “Aye, mistress.” The girl was holding an empty bucket in her hands. Her fingers fiddled with the handle as she stood still and watched Zoe with her enormous dark eyes.

Zoe glanced up and noticed an older woman coming down the road toward them, her brows raised and expression guarded. Probably wondering who the stranger talking to her children is, Zoe realized. Looking back at the girl, she asked, “I’m looking for somebody who lives here, or at least used to live here.”

“I know everyone in the whole village,” the boy boasted, lifting his chin high. He seemed to lack none of his older sister’s reticence around strangers.

“Then you’ll be a big help to me,” Zoe said with a laugh. “Does a girl named Grace live here? She probably is residing with her older sister Riana.”

Before either of the children could respond, the older woman arrived and stopped right beside the two little ones. Her brown eyes pinned Zoe with a keen, but not unfriendly stare. “Good day, mistress,” she said, her eyes dropping to pointedly look at Zoe’s trousers, travel-worn boots, and the sword she boldly wore strapped across her back. The woman finally met Zoe’s eyes and added, “You’re not from these parts, I see.”

“No. My name is Zoe Romany. I’ve come to find a friend of mine.”

“And who might that friend be?”

“She’s looking for Grace, Mama,” the boy informed the woman quickly.

“Riddic, that question wasn’t directed to you,” the woman said, looking down at Riddic with a trace of exasperation. Riddic’s cheeks colored and he dropped his gaze. The girl simply continued staring mutely at Zoe; but her eyes were now alight with new, very apparent excitement.

“Then Grace does live here?” asked Zoe, pouncing on the fact that Riddic knew who Grace was.

“Aye, she does, Mistress Romany,” the woman admitted, drawing her cloak closer around her shoulders. “How do you know young Grace?”

“Please just call me Zoe. I was enslaved in Elangsia with her about a year ago. I know she was freed long ago, but I merely wanted to see her and make sure she’s all right.”

The woman’s eyes grew softer. “That’s very kind of you, lass.”

Feeling a little self-conscious, Zoe shrugged. “It’s really nothing. I feel responsible for her. I haven’t seen her for so long.”

“And see her you shall,” the woman nodded approvingly. “She lives on the other side of Bristol.”

Relief flooded Zoe. “Thank you. I appreciate your help.”

The woman nodded. “My name is Cora Haveron, by the way. This is my daughter Evie, and my son Riddic. I apologize for my cool greeting; we don’t have many visitors come through our small town, and especially none inquiring after our children.”

“That’s all right,” Zoe said, falling into step with Cora and her children as they turned and began walking further into Bristol.

Riddic peered around his mother’s skirts at Zoe and asked enthusiastically, “Are you the Zoe who worked with the Hunter?”

Surprise shot through Zoe. “Well...yes, I am. But how did you know?”

“Grace told us about you and when the Hunter rescued her, he told Grace that he knew you.”

“Yes, and Grace said you had red hair,” Evie added, seeming to come out of her shell more with each passing moment. “So I knew you had to be Zoe when you told us you were looking for her.”

Tancred had mentioned her, then, when he freed Grace. That was probably how he had gotten Grace to trust him in the first place.

“Well, I suppose my hair has preceded me,” she told the children in a lighthearted tone.

“What was it like?” murmured Riddic with wide eyes.

Zoe cocked her head. “What was what like?”

“Working with the Hunter.” The little boy’s voice fairly dripped with awe.

“Was he perfectly wonderful, like Grace told us?” added Evie in an eager tone.

“She said he was strong and had black hair, like me,” Riddic continued.

A pang hit Zoe’s heart as she thought of Tancred. Hiding her feelings, she forced a smile and said softly, “The Hunter is just as great as Grace has told you he is.”

Cora glanced over at Zoe, appearing impressed. “That was a great privilege, to work so closely with him. He’s done such a service to this country.”

Zoe just nodded.

“Why did you leave him?” Riddic asked curiously.

Zoe’s heart squeezed again. “I had to come find Grace,” she forced out, her voice sounding queer and unnatural. Pull yourself together! she ordered herself fiercely. You need to be able to talk about him without getting all out of sorts.

Five minutes later, Cora pointed to a house that stood at the northernmost end of the village, a little apart from the rest of the dwellings. “That is Grace’s home. She lives with Riana and her husband, Gervaise Thatcher. Ger is Bristol’s blacksmith. He’s well known and liked for many villages around as well. I once knew a man to bring his horse from the little hamlet Wyndon, clear six miles north of us, just for Ger.” The pride in Cora’s voice was unmistakable.

“Thank you for your help,” Zoe told her politely before hurrying on toward Grace’s house. Flutters of excitement stirred in her midsection. She could hardly wait a moment longer to see Grace. It had been too long, far too long....

As she drew closer, she could discern the sharp ping-ping-ping of a hammer striking metal. It appeared to be coming from an outbuilding to the right of the small house. Zoe assumed it was Gervaise Thatcher’s blacksmith shop.

The house’s front door opened and a slim woman a few years older than Zoe herself stepped out. Her long, thick brown hair was plaited into a braid that hung down her back, and she was garbed in a simple dark blue kirtle. She dumped a bucket of dirty water out and looked like she was ready to go back in when she spotted Zoe and stopped.

“Hello,” Zoe greeted her. “Are you Riana Thatcher?”

“Aye,” Riana answered guardedly. “And you are...?”

“My name is Zoe Romany. I met Grace when—”

She couldn’t finish for Riana gasped and hurried toward Zoe, her eyes suddenly lighting up. “You’re Zoe? Oh, Grace will be so overjoyed! She’s done nothing but tell us all about you since she was returned to us two months ago.”

Astonished by the fact that Grace still talked about her so much, Zoe managed to reply, “Grace is a special girl. I’ve missed her a great deal and hoped I might see her.”

“Of course!” Turning toward the blacksmith shop, Riana called loudly, “Gervaise! Ger, come here!”

After a few more ringing blows, the drumming hammer ceased. A moment later a tall young man with broad shoulders emerged from the shop. He wiped his sweaty brow and walked over to his wife with long, purposeful strides.

“Good day, mistress,” he nodded politely at Zoe, his warm hazel eyes mildly inquisitive. Turning to look at Riana he asked, “What is it?”

“This is Zoe,” Riana said excitedly. “You remember—Grace’s friend?”

Understanding dawned on Ger’s face. He smiled fully at Zoe, and she thought him a pleasant looking man, even when covered with grime from the smith. “Well met then, Mistress Zoe,” he said. “You’re welcome to stay here as long as you like. Riana and I cannot thank you enough for what you did for Grace.”

Feeling a little embarrassed Zoe protested, “I didn’t do very much. I didn’t even free her. That was the Hunter—”

Just then a small, lithe figure emerged from the smithy and Zoe’s words trailed off. Grace!

Grace looked up and her eyes narrowed a little as she peered closer at Zoe and Brac. Then, a little cry of joy broke from her throat and she darted forward at a dead run. Zoe laughed, dropping Brac’s reins, and ran for the younger girl. They met in the middle, and Grace launched herself into Zoe’s outstretched arms with all her might. Zoe staggered, still laughing, as she squeezed Grace tightly in her arms.

“You’re here, you’re here, you’re here!” squealed Grace with excitement and happiness. “I’m so glad. I’ve missed you ever so much, Zoe!”

“I’ve missed you a lot too,” Zoe replied, setting Grace back on her feet and looking down at her with excitement. “It’s been way too long!”

“You can say that again,” Grace stated emphatically. She eyed Zoe closer and added, “You’re really tan. And you have a sword!”

“Well look at you! You’ve had to have grown four inches since the last time I saw you. And your hair is so much longer.”

Grace’s hair was a tangle of long brown curls that framed her oval face. Reaching up to touch a strand, she shrugged and said, “I still wish it was straight. It’s a pain to brush it out every morning, let me tell you!”

Zoe grinned and pulled Grace into a side-hug. “It’s so good to see you.”

Grace nestled her head against Zoe’s chest and sighed contentedly. A moment later, however, she abruptly pulled away and glanced around Zoe in the direction of Brac, Riana, and Ger. A wrinkle of confusion marred her smooth brow. “But, Zoe...” she began, and then her voice trailed off.

“What? What’s the matter?”

Grace looked up, her large brown eyes swimming with questions. “Where’s the Hunter?”

“Oh. Well,” Zoe began, caught off guard. “Um...he’s not here.”

“Why not?” Grace’s voice was mellifluous but overlaid with quiet insistence. She grasped Zoe’s sleeve and tugged on it a couple times. “Why didn’t he come?”

“Uh, was he supposed to be here or something?” Zoe asked confusedly.

“He promised me that if it was in his power, I would see you again.”

Zoe gently stroked the girl’s hair, pulling her close again. “And I’m here, right? You’re seeing me again.”

“But I always thought...” Grace started again, uncertainty softening her tone, “I always thought he’d come with you.”

“I’m sorry,” Zoe said quietly. “Truly I am. But I came alone. The Hunter is not with me. We never made plans to come here together.”

Grace sighed and nodded her head, her cheek rubbing against Zoe’s tunic. Pressing a kiss against the top of her head, Zoe released the girl and turned toward Riana. Ger was leading Brac toward the barn and gave both Zoe and Grace a kind smile as he silently passed them. Zoe managed a smile back at him though she was all too aware it was a wobbly attempt at best. Grace’s questions about Tancred had shaken her more than she cared to acknowledge. She sighed, smiled politely as Riana invited her inside, and followed the woman and Grace into the house. I will stop thinking of him. I must stop. It’s just going to cause me unnecessary pain.

She lowered her chin a notch. Tancred Ralyn, the Hunter, was part of her past now. And that was how life would remain if Zoe had anything to say or do about it.

è è è è è è è è è

The rest of the week was spent with Grace and her family. Riana and Ger were gracious hosts. Zoe enjoyed the evenings spent talking with the two of them, while cuddling Grace in her lap. The young girl often fell asleep in Zoe’s arms; her head nestled in the crook of Zoe’s elbow. It was a week of pleasant days, good conversation, and sweet moments with Grace. But a shadow hung over it all, always distracting Zoe, though the distraction was often subconscious. It was a shadow of…sorrow? Pain? Wistfulness? Zoe couldn’t place her finger on it. But when Grace ran off to do her chores, leaving Zoe alone, the sensation intensified and left her feeling raw and emotional. Something Zoe did not relish.

It will pass once I’m traveling again, she told herself firmly as she brushed Brac’s coat until it gleamed with a healthy copper sheen. She slid his blanket unto his back, then grabbed his saddle and tightened the girth around him. Reaching forward, she patted the stallion’s neck. “We’ve had a week of rest,” she murmured. “It’s time to move on.”

Brac turned his head and stared at her with his huge, liquid eyes. A couple straggly pieces of hay stuck out of the corners of his mouth. Zoe gently pulled them out before picking up the bridle and advancing toward his head. With a muffled snort, Brac shook his mane and then lowered his head to accept the bit.

“You’re leaving us, Zoe?”

Zoe glanced over at Grace, who had quietly crept into the stable and was now standing at the opening of Brac’s stall. “Hey,” Zoe said softly, smiling at her. “We talked about this last night, remember?”

“I fell asleep before the end of the conversation,” Grace pointed out, her face doleful.

“Riana told you that I was leaving soon, though. You knew it was coming.”

“Why can’t you stay longer?” Grace’s voice was plaintive. “I like having you here.”

“Me, or Brac?” teased Zoe. She motioned for Grace to join them in the stall, and the slim girl slipped under the wood slab that barred the entrance. “I think you’ve spent more time total with him than with me.”

“It’s been nice having him here,” Grace said with a little smile. “Most of the horses that Ger shoes are gone within a day. And Brac is so cute.”

“That’s likely on account of the multitude of carrots you’ve snuck out to him.” Zoe pulled Grace into a hug. They stood in silence for a long time, neither of them wanting to break the moment. Deus, thank You for keeping her safe thus far. I ask that You guide her as she grows up. Keep her strong. Thank You for her sweet personality and kindness.

“Come on,” Zoe said at length. “Want to lead Brac out for me?”

Grace nodded eagerly. Zoe handed the reins to Grace and the girl proudly led the stallion out of the stall after Zoe took down the wooden bar.

Riana was standing at the front of the house, her cloak wrapped tightly around her slender figure as she waited for the two of them. Grace walked Brac, who was docile as a kitten with the little girl, toward the house and grinned at her older sister.

Zoe stopped beside Grace and Brac and looked at Riana. “Thank you for everything,” she said meaningfully. “This has been a good week for me.”

“We’ve loved having you. We can never repay you for what you did for Grace.”

Zoe shook her head. “What must I say or do to convince you I did nothing? It was all the work of the Hunter.”

“But without you being in Ruma the Hunter wouldn’t have even known I was there to be rescued,” Grace pointed out after pulling away from hugging Brac’s neck.

Zoe shrugged. Tancred was the last person she wanted to talk about at this point, so she stifled any response and settled for a small smile at Grace.

Ger exited from the house, dressed in his dark brown, leather work clothes. He was carrying Zoe’s pack, which she had packed the night before. Riana had given her fresh bread and several apples to get her through the first few days or so. Ger handed the pack to Zoe, who smiled her thanks.

“Stay to the main roadways,” Ger told her quietly. “Do you have an idea of where you’re heading now?”

“No,” Zoe said simply. “Brac and I will be fine, though. We’ve done this before.”

Riana still looked concerned. “I don’t like the idea of you going by yourself.”

“I’m armed, Riana.” Zoe touched the hilt of her sword, which was securely strapped to her back. “I’ll be careful.”

“There are always those who would try to take advantage of a woman alone,” Riana continued seriously. “Whether she is armed or not.”

“Zoe can fight really good,” Grace stated confidently, slipping her arms around Zoe’s waist again.

Zoe smiled down at the little girl. “I’ll be careful though,” she promised. “I’ll never forget your kindness this week. You’ve all been so helpful. Thank you.”

“No need to thank us,” Riana murmured as Ger stepped forward to take Brac’s head as Zoe mounted. The blacksmith stroked Brac’s cheek to calm the prancing horse while Zoe gained her seat.

“Take care, Zoe,” Ger said gently.

“Thank you, Ger.”

“Like I said, stay to the main roadways. The war may be over, but there is still hostility between Elangsia and Aerilya that has yet to work itself out.”

“Aye. I will keep my eyes sharp.”

“Goodbye, Zoe,” Grace said quietly from where she stood beside Riana. “I love you!”

“Love you too.” Zoe turned Brac around and took in the little family that stood together. Ger stood tall and strong beside his wife; Grace was nestled comfortably in between them. They’ll be happy. Deus will take care of them. Despite that knowledge, the farewell was proving to be more painful than Zoe had anticipated. Is this what she could expect from the rest of her life? Achingly difficult goodbyes and shadowy memories that plagued her until her dying day?

“Goodbye,” she whispered.

She pulled Brac around and the stallion broke into a smooth, loping canter. Zoe moved effortlessly with the movements of the horse, refusing to look back. Just like with Lady Shyla, the Hunter’s men, Rebekka, Tryna, her family, Tancred…she had to deal with the goodbyes. The pain would fade. And life would go on.

She hoped.

Chapter XLV - Decision

2008-06-11T12:22:00.000-07:00

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!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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

2008-06-03T05:29:00.000-07:00

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. :)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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.

è è è è è è è è è

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.

è è è è è è è è è

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.”

Chapter XLIII - Confusion

2008-05-15T05:32:00.000-07:00

Hello Everyone!
First of all, I'm sorry for the long wait between chapters (though your responses and obvious anticipation of another chapter was pretty awesome to see *grin*). Thank you for that.
solagratiasolafide: Thank you! I'm glad you liked the dialogue in that chapter, because I really enjoyed writing it! The scene with Tancred and Grant is one of my favorites. It's like Tancred is able to be the Hunter for the last time. It made that scene rather bittersweet to write. I will work on making Grant easier to remember, as well, so that his appearance isn't so much of a oddity.
Britt : Well, the Brysa/Garrick thing WAS completely unintentional! I never, ever planned on Brysa falling in love with anybody (she was supposed to remain single) and then Garrick just took matters into his own hands and became a viable character. *sigh*
Michelle: Yeah, as I told Britt, you may have called the Brysa/Garrick thing but I must tell you that when you did call it, it was not planned. So, um, good job for calling something that just kinda happened!! Now that is true talent. :-) As for Tancred and Grant, I understand what you're saying about Tancred being "harder," and the scene perhaps being inconsistent. I think that since the scene is from Grant's point of view, Tancred looks different. He would appear harder, more cynical, and cold. Especially if you take into account who Grant was: he ruined the lives of hundreds of Aerilyans, kidnapped and enslaved Zoe, and Zoe's friends. Tancred isn't feeling very warm and fuzzy toward him. :-) Still, thanks for the heads-up and I'll continue striving to stay true to my characters.
Ashley: Thanks! I'm glad you liked the chapter. Comment on this one too, okay?
Libby: Wow, thanks for some high praise on my story! I'm glad you're enjoying it; that's the point of writing it! It has been fun--okay, more than fun, let's try AMAZING--to write Zoe and Aiden's stories intertwined like they are. I hope you like how we both tie things up near the end too.
Anonymous, Katie, and Ashley again: Wish granted. Here's more Zoe. ;-)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tancred skirted the dance floor, his head up and eyes scouring the inhabitants of the room. Zoe was gone. Again. It is so like her to leave without a word to me or anyone else, he thought with both wry amusement and a twinge of cynicism.

He had noticed her apathy during the main meal but had been unable to ascertain why she was so withdrawn, mostly because there were too many people around, all of whom wanted to talk to the Hunter of Mairbrac. For once Tancred wished his name did not precede him. At the moment all he wanted was a bit of anonymity, enough so that he could steal off for a while and not be noticed missing. He had Zoe’s pouch with him and wanted to give it to her.

A slight sigh escaped from him. Obscurity will come after returning to Aerilya, he reminded himself. No longer was the Hunter needed to stop the Elangsians. His life might actually return to normal—whatever normal was. He and his family had not experienced normal since before the war began, when he was twelve.

“Sir Hunter, please wait.”

Tancred stopped with a feeling of resignation. Finding Zoe would have to wait now. Turning, he was a little surprised to see that Queen Brysa had called his name and now wove through the crowd to draw near to him. He bowed slightly as she drew close. “My lady,” he said.

She dipped her head at him and as he had done many times before, Tancred was forced to acknowledge her stunning natural beauty. Her blue-black hair shone glossily in the light of the chandeliers and candles, and the burgundy crushed-velvet fabric of her elaborate gown was a perfect foil against the creamy color of the white rose that she held. She was young and fair and full of life: a most excellent mixture for the new ruler of Elangsia.

“King Jaeger and his men will be leaving the city soon,” she began without preamble, her voice smooth. “You will go too. I wished to speak to you before you left.”

“What would you to say to me, my lady?”

“How did you manage to spy in this city so many times without being caught?” Her expression was honestly curious. “None but you came here, for it was too deep in enemy territory. My father was too well known for killing spies at Execution Square.”

He appraised her. Aye, he knew all too well about her late father’s killing tactics. “I created the persona of Cormac Alstair just for my spying trips here in Ruma,” he eventually told her in a quiet voice. “Alstair was so deeply ingrained in me while I was here that it was not difficult to act, think, and deal as he would. Thus, no one noticed anything wrong with my actions.”

“Why Ruma?”

“What better place to collect information on our enemy? Ruma is the capital of Elangsia; your father the king reigned here. This was a hotbed of intrigue and information.”

“And so you repeatedly risked all for Aerilya to come here,” she stated in a soft voice.

He merely inclined his head in reply.

She cocked her head. “Your actions were knightly and brave, which lines up with your identity as the famed Hunter. But there is something amiss with your account, and I must hear the truth before you leave Ruma.”

What? Inherent wariness set in, and Tancred frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Your age,” she replied quietly. The rose slowly rotated as she rolled the stem between her fingers. “You cannot be but a few years older than me, putting you as a pre-teen when the war started. Do not mock me and tell me that as a beardless youth you commanded grown men and executed brilliant tactical decisions such as the Hunter has always done.”

He hesitated. How much should he reveal to Brysa? The war was over, yes; and the Hunter’s identity had no need for secrecy anymore. Nevertheless, after so many years of silence it was difficult to speak the truth to strangers. He glanced at the crowd that milled around them, then took the queen’s arm with a firm hand and pulled her toward a wall that provided some sort of shelter from listening ears.

“What I now tell you must remain in strict confidence,” he said, his voice turning cool and unfeeling. “It cannot pass beyond you, my lady.”

“I understand,” she breathed, seeming surprised but not perturbed by his swift change in demeanor.

“My father, Liam Ralyn, was the original Hunter of Mairbrac. He was killed by order of your father, in this very city. I was seventeen at the time, and picked up the mantle of my father so seamlessly that none other than my men and family knew the difference. To outsiders who never even knew the true name of the Hunter, it appears as if the Hunter has lived through the entire war without injury or harm.”

Her eyes were swimming with empathy. “My father...killed yours?” she whispered huskily.

He nodded once, sharply.

“I’m so sorry.”

“It happens during war,” he replied, struggling to bury his own emotions. How he wished his father could have lived to see this day of peace between Aerilya and Elangsia...

She sighed deeply, her eyes closed. At last she opened them and evenly met his gaze. “I wish you the very best fortunes in this life, Tancred Ralyn,” she whispered emphatically. “May Deus richly bless you.”

Touched by her words, he smiled down at her. “I wish the same to you, my lady. You have a bright future before you.”

She dropped her gaze to the rose and nodded slowly. “Thank you.”

With another bow, Tancred turned and strode away. Ducking out through one of the huge open doors, he left the Hall of Kings.

During the last week, though he had not spent much time with Zoe, he had noticed it was her wont to retire to the slowly withering gardens that were situated just outside the castle, within the courtyard’s walls. Now he was willing to bet that was where she was at that very moment. She preferred solitude to festivities and purposeful action to elongated revelry.

After traversing the length of the castle, Tancred reached the door he sought. It was partially ajar and he was able to open all the way without any sound. Stepping through it, he entered the moonlit gardens.

His guess had been right: Zoe sat on a stone bench not fifteen paces in front of him, her back to him and her head tilted up to the starry heavens. Her hair, which had been brushed smooth and twined into a couple small braids that crisscrossed over the crown of her head, shone amber in the moonlight. A chill was in the mid-autumn air, but he did not heed it as he drew close to her.

She did not turn, but she apparently sensed his presence for when he reached the bench she murmured, “The stars are glorious tonight. What a display from Deus.”

He glanced up at them. The sky was especially brilliant that night, likely because of the clear, cold air. The stars twinkled and blazed and danced while the moon slowly rose and glowed stronger like a pearl of purest white that shone with light from the inside.

Zoe moved over and, still not looking at him, motioned to the empty space beside her. “Go ahead and sit.”

A little surprised by her invitation, Tancred silently accepted. Dropping his gaze from the heavens, he looked over at her. Her profile was starkly apparent in the contrasting light and darkness.

“Why did you leave?”

Finally she glanced over at him. “The feast? It was long and I did not care to dance. I’m not at all good at it.”

He smiled a little. “You missed Garrick and Brysa’s dance, though.”

“He asked her?” asked Zoe with a slight chuckle.

Tancred nodded.

“I cannot say I am surprised. It was not difficult to see that he fancies her,” she said. “I think she cares for him too.”

“Listen to you, the wise woman of love,” he teased, amused.

She shrugged his words off. His smile faded as she looked back up at the stars and sighed deeply. What’s troubling you, Zoe? He wished she would just tell him but was smart enough to know he would have to ferret it out. She was such an odd contradiction. In some ways her emotions were worn right on her sleeve, for he could always tell when something was wrong. Yet at the same time, she kept them hidden away, like a sword in a sheath of iron.

“You’re leaving Ruma soon, aren’t you.” Her statement was quiet but cracked the stillness with a hint of abruptness.

“Aye,” he nodded slowly. “I have things to deal with back in Aerilya. My allegiance to King Jaeger will never diminish, of course. But my role is changing.”

“Will you miss it all?”

He knew she meant his life as the Hunter of Mairbrac. Shifting a little, he leaned forward so that his forearms rested on his knees and his hands were loosely clasped together. He studied his fingers: long, lean, and nicked with scars, they were hands that had served him well in what seemed a lifetime full of danger and difficulty. Eventually he stirred and replied, “I will miss it to some extent. But there will be other challenges that I’ll face. Life will go on.”

She sighed, a long breathy sound. “Yeah, I guess.”

Sitting up again, Tancred said, “I have something for you.”

Curiosity laced her tone as she asked, “What?”

Reaching down to his thick leather belt that rested comfortably around his hips, he pulled out the pouch he had extracted from Terrance Grant. “I believe this is yours.”

Her gaze dropped to the pouch, and he watched as her expression shifted drastically. Her eyes widened, flashed up to his face, and then down to the pouch again. A moment later she reached forward and took it from him, then fumbled to open it with fingers that were suddenly clumsy. “Tancred, how did you get it?” she breathed as she finally opened it and pulled out a beautifully carved horse token. Cupping it in her hand she looked up at him with shining eyes and a tiny, but still disbelieving smile. “How...?”

“I found Grant’s house last night,” he explained. Quiet satisfaction shot through him as he saw her gratification. “I retrieved that this morning.”

“But why?” she questioned, still stroking the little horse figurine with her fingertips. “I would have done it myself.”

“I know.” He shrugged easily. “I just decided not to let you.”

Gently she replaced the figurine and closed the pouch. She clasped it between her hands, her fingers running up and down the soft leather as if she could hardly believe it was really there with her. “My thanks,” she finally whispered. “This means...a lot to me.

“Sam, my twin, he carved that horse for me,” she continued. “It was for my sixteenth birthday. It’s Brac. And the pouch is exactly the same as one that he owns. We liked to wear them all the time because it reminded us of each other even when we were apart for a little while. It was terrible when I lost it. I felt as if I were being parted from Sam all over again, as unreasonable as that might seem, seeing as it is just a pouch.”

Tancred shook his head. “It’s not unreasonable.” He stared off for a long moment and finished in a low, strained tone, “I fully understand the pain of being apart from a sibling, though naturally not to the same extent as you.”

Her eyes flew to his and her expression grew understanding. “Kristalyn.”

“Yeah.” His chest tightened and his exhaled slowly, trying to stay calm. He was really getting worried about his sister. Kris had not contacted him once since he had sent her the extra men for attacking the Wild Men. What had happened to her? What if she was...?

No. He would not go there. He could not.

Forcing his mind away from Kris with a huge effort, he looked over at Zoe and changed the subject. “What are your plans now?” he inquired.

Her face, so soft and open just a moment before, was replaced by a tense expression. She looked away. “Finding Grant was the next thing on my to-do list,” she said slowly. “Now you’ve taken care of that. I was just thinking today that I don’t really have much reason to stay here anymore. The war is over and peace is coming. I could stay and help free slaves throughout Elangsia, but Garrick and Brysa will do that. And I don’t feel as if that is my calling. I don’t feel that I...” she paused and took a deep breath.

Tancred waited, keeping his face blank and hiding the dart of pain he felt at the thought of her leaving the region for good.

Exhaling, she finished, “I have no place here. I don’t think I fit in.”

“How can you think you don’t fit in?”

She turned her eyes on him. They were large and luminous, shining from her face with indescribable emotion. “I’m not Aerilyan, Tancred. This is not my home.”

“You fought for Aerilya. You’ve lived here over a year. You’ve cried and sweated and bled in Aerilya. For all practical purposes, Aerilya is your home.”

“But how can home be home without family?” she asked faintly.

Ah. That was the crux of it all then. Now that she was not distracted by being enslaved, fighting in a battle, or making war plans, her thoughts had naturally turned back to her family. The scattered Romanys. The one thing Tancred had absolutely no chance of fixing for her.

“You want to leave, then?” he questioned calmly, slightly amazed at how difficult it was to ask the simple question. And despite his even tone, he felt anything but calm.

“I don’t know,” she burst out, her voice still low but full of frustration and weariness. “I just don’t know anymore. Why should I stay? There is nothing for me to accomplish here. Why should I go? There is little chance I could find my siblings, so scattered have we become. There is no choice that has a positive outcome.”

“Why don’t you come back to Aerilya with my mother and me? You don’t need to remain with us for long if you don’t want to, but at least you would have a place to stay while you figure out what you want your next step to be. We are planning on returning to our old manor, which is certain to be rundown by now.” He spoke in a slow, even tone. “I’m going to repair it and restore my father’s lands.”

Zoe looked at him intently. Silence fell, broken only by the cool breeze that rustled through the brittle leaves on the plants. Her lashes narrowed slightly and she inquired guardedly, “Why would you want me there?”

The question caught him broadsided and for a moment, he just stared at her. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“I just see no reason for me to come with you if we’re not fighting a war anymore—”

“Zoe, how do you think I view you?” he interrupted. His mouth twisted cynically. “You make it sound as if I wouldn’t want you around if you weren’t doing something to aid me.”

She stood up quickly. “Tancred, I don’t know what to think anymore, okay? I’m sorry—it’s just confusing and...frustrating. I don’t want to talk about it.”

As if he would let the subject drop just like that. Tancred stood too. “I’m not condemning you. I’m offering you an alternative to aimless wandering and telling you that I value your friendship. Understand: Aerilya is not disowning you, Zoe. None of us are demanding that you leave.”

“Aye, but what would I do should I stay?” she asked. A sad smile flitted across her face but her tone was firm as she said, “I will not remain in a place where I am not doing something meaningful, both for me and for Deus. I would go crazy.”

He shook his head slowly. She still did not get it. “If you think I would ask you to do something against Deus’ urging, you don’t know me, Zoe.”

Her lips squeezed tightly together and her arms crossed over her chest in a familiar barrier between them. You’re always running, always defensive, he thought. What exactly are you scared of, Zoe? That you might actually get close to somebody? That you might grow to care? His chest tightened. That somebody might actually care for you?

And just where had that come from? His thoughts had followed a natural progression, yet still Tancred felt as if he had been physically punched in the gut.

It was not that he had been unaware of his feelings toward Zoe. He had known since before he first went back to Ruma with her and Jaedon that he was attracted to her. But he had definitely not counted on his attraction staying...and getting stronger.

He was the Hunter. He might be twenty-five, fully of marriageable age, but he had never had time for girls before, nor did he care about making time for them. With a life like his had been for the last thirteen years, growing close to somebody was far too dangerous to even be contemplated. When the war started, Tancred had been twelve, a mere youth who had never experienced real pain and loss. At seventeen, when his father was murdered, something had drastically changed. He grew hardened and cynical; he once had longed for vengeance to be heaped on the heads of his father’s killers and for years, he had sought to dole out that retaliation. Despite help from Jaedon and Warrick, his transition from boy into man had been completely bereft of guidance from his father.

Because of this, he had grown accustomed to binding thick plates of armor over his heart and emotions. It was better that way, shielding himself from feeling too much. If he did not have that protection, he would have turned into a raving lunatic after the first raid he participated in, when he and his comrades attacked a passing Elangsian regiment, or after seeing the scattered bodies of women and children, bloody and mutilated after an enemy battalion razed their village to the ground.

War created a harsh reality, and because of that the only women Tancred’s life revolved around were his mother and his sister. He had developed into a toughened war leader; a man, who though deeply ingrained with honor, was also ruthless when on the field of battle. He was the one the Elangsians cursed, the Aerilyans loved, and his men lauded.

There was no place in such a life for attraction to a woman. Regardless of the fact that the Hunter’s days were almost over—he prayed his days of witnessing carnage and innocent death were finished—Tancred’s personality and the traits that he had developed over the years would not disappear. He was the same man and nothing could change that fact; a warrior who had lived and occasionally almost died by the sword.

Even though his reasoning was faultless, as he stared down at Zoe, one inescapable fact overpowered his logic like a tidal wave rushing over land at a breakneck speed. It was impossible to escape it or deny it any longer, despite how many times he had done so in the past.

He loved her.

He loved Zoe Anala Romany. Everything from her sparkling deep green eyes and fiery hair to her firm convictions and ironclad spirit—he loved it all. It did not matter that he was a man of war, that he had played many different roles over the course of the war and learned to close himself off from his emotions. He loved her, and nothing could change that.

And he had absolutely no clue what to do about it.

He could think the words I love you but not utter them. After all their time together, after everything they had accomplished side-by-side, she still was not ready to hear the truth. In some ways she was still like a little girl: preferring to run away and hide when reality grew too frightening. And to Zoe, the notion of loving somebody was terrifying; an understandable feeling after what she had been through with her family.

Understandable, but also incredibly frustrating.

Deus, he prayed, still looking at Zoe. She still stood tall and silent, her face averted. She could have no idea what was going on in his head, nor what he had just realized. Tancred’s eyes closed and he exhaled deeply. Father, guide me here, please. I’m not sure exactly what You want me to do. This is territory I’m not familiar with. Show me what Your plan is.

He opened his eyes. “Zoe.”

She slowly lifted her head and met his gaze. “What, Tancred?”

Before Tancred could say anything else, a soft humming sound drifted toward them on the breeze. With each passing moment it grew steadily stronger. Recognition of the distinctive whirr immediately flooded Tancred and his form stiffened as he unconsciously braced himself. Egan.

His heart dropped, than began pounding. Hard. The only reason that Egan would come was if Kris had sent him. That or he had come of his own accord if Kris was dead...

All this flew through his brain in less than a second. In the meantime, Zoe had cocked her head and appeared to be listening. Her brows rose infinitesimally as she looked at him and murmured, “Is that...Egan?”

“Yeah.” Tancred scanned the sky, trying to suppress the dread that clamped down on his mind. He searched for the figure of the pseudo-dragon in the darkness. “Egan,” he called, raising his right arm. “I’m over here.”

A sharp clack sounded and then the long, lithe creature appeared out of the night and alighted on Tancred’s forearm. Scampering up, the pseudo-dragon’s eyes glowed at Tancred and he seemed more affectionate than usual as he hurried to rub his scaly face against Tancred’s ear and cheek.

Distracted, Tancred hardly registered the little creature’s warm greeting. “Is Kris all right?” he demanded. “Egan, is she safe?”

Egan hesitated, rearing his head back to look full in Tancred’s face. His chameleon-like properties kicked in and his scales faded from reddish-brown to a dull gray-green hue. The creature blinked twice, and then dropped his head to rest it by Tancred’s neck. He clacked once, slowly. The single word hardly registered in Tancred’s brain, so tense did he feel.

Yes.

“Thank Deus,” Tancred said, the words more part of a huge sigh than actual words. Drawing in a ragged breath, he closed his eyes and unclenched his hands. Thank You, Abba, for protecting her. Thank You.

“What happened? Tell me everything,” he said, sitting down on the bench again. Zoe quickly followed suit, her gaze trained on Egan and expression expectant.

Egan huffed and began to speak in a series of rapid clicks and hisses. Tancred fell into translating for Zoe’s benefit. “Kris and the others traveled for several days, and then found the Wild Men with their...” Tancred paused, chuckled beneath his breath, and then continued, “with their ‘nasty prince’ Jaquin. Kris led the men and they worked on undermining their defenses.”

Egan blew out a breath between his teeth, creating a funny whistling sound, and then plunged back into his narrative.

“When Ricald and his troops joined the Wild Men, Kris and Warrick continued attacking and started to turn the Elangsians against the Wild Men. Not long after that, Kris found...Travon?” Tancred stopped, bemused. “Who’s he, Egan?”

The pseudo-dragon hesitated, and then hurried to snap out an answer.

“He’s not important, and yet Kris and the men rescued him from Ricald’s camp?” asked Tancred, skeptical.

Egan nodded affirmatively.

“You know, I’m getting sick of you lying every time you report to me,” Tancred told the creature in a severe tone.

The pseudo-dragon drew back as if Tancred has struck him, his air suddenly offended. His scales were suffused with dark blue color and he growled throatily. He scampered down Tancred’s arm and slithered unto the bench in between Tancred and Zoe. Arching his neck to look up at Tancred, he sniffed out a reply.

“Yes, you are lying! What I can’t figure out is why. What did Kristalyn order you not to reveal to me?”

Egan clicked twice.

“Nothing, huh? That’s not at all believable and I swear to you I will get to the bottom of this.”

Tancred and Egan locked eyes and glared at each other, both equally stubborn. Finally Egan clacked out a quick answer.

“Travon was an Aerilyan boy captured and enslaved by Ricald?” Tancred repeated. One of his brows arched and he surveyed the dragon with a harsh, suspicious eye. “Very well, I’ll believe that,” he said at last. “Continue with the story.”

The dragon kept up a running commentary for the next few minutes, and Tancred was relatively sure that the creature stuck to the truth from then on. Zoe said nothing as she listened intently. Tancred did not think she understood what Egan was saying, but she hung unto Tancred’s translation and nodded every once in a while to show she was keeping up with the conversation.

The Wild Men had been sounded defeated. Kristalyn had faced off with Captain Ricald and now the captain was dead. That fact definitely surprised Tancred, but again, he could detect no hint of guile in Egan’s tone or appearance. Kris was tough and had participated in her share of battles and skirmishes. But killing a man like Ricald in what sounded like a move motivated by revenge was atypical for her. Nevertheless, the remainder of the Wild Men had been turned back and would not trouble Elangsia or Aerilya for quite some time, if at all. Kris and the rest of the men would follow them for a time to make sure they returned to Rulaan, and then she planned on coming back home.

By the time Egan finished relaying the news, he had climbed up Zoe’s arm and was draped around her neck and shoulders in a comfortable position that amused Tancred. Not so many months before, Egan had despised Zoe, mostly because she had taken a great deal of attention away from Egan himself, which offended the creature’s delicate sense of pride.

Zoe did not seem to mind the pseudo-dragon’s presence as she looked over at Tancred and quipped, “You happy now?”

“That my sister’s safe?” he replied with an amused and relieved chuckle. “Yeah.”

“I wish I could have met her at some point it this whole crazy war.” She smiled faintly. “From everything I’ve heard, we would probably get along great.”

He did not remember making a decision to move his hand, but the next thing Tancred knew, he was reaching forward and lightly placing his hand over Zoe’s. She froze, her eyes locked on their touching fingers. A strange, crazy thrill ran up Tancred’s arm from the contact and he struggled to keep his voice even as he spoke.

“Maybe you can meet her. Come back to Aerilya with my mother and me. Just stay at the manor until you decide what to do next. You can leave whenever you want. You’d be more than free to come and go.”

Don’t push away again, Zoe, he thought. Don’t do it.

She still looked cautious, her head bowed and her fingers tense beneath his own. At last she lifted her head and met his eyes. Her familiar green gaze looked murky in the night’s darkness, giving her a brooding appearance. Egan looked at Tancred as well, his golden eyes narrowed.

Something deep within him stirred as he looked at this girl who had challenged, frustrated, and aided him so much over the last year. They had both come a long way since their first, extremely hostile encounter. But had they come far enough?

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She could not breathe. It was something that should be simple, seeing as she had done it her entire life. And yet when his hand had covered hers, a jolt had raced through her heart and seemingly incapacitated her lungs and her tongue. It was a feeling absolutely, utterly foreign to Zoe and she felt like she was flying. Or drowning. Or both.

Deus? What is this? she cried out with desperation.

Why did she feel like this around him? Why did she feel as if she wanted to know him better, to know his thoughts? Who exactly was this complex man who had worn so many faces over the course of this war? She had always been just Zoe when around him—nothing more and nothing less. But he, on the other hand, had been Cormac Alstair, the cool, calculating merchantman; then he turned into the Hunter of Mairbrac, Aerilya’s noble benefactor; and finally, he also was Tancred Ralyn, an enigmatic puzzle that still served to confuse her at every turn despite the months she had spent with him.

Which one was he today? Cormac? Tancred? The Hunter? Would she ever know?

It was so much more comfortable irritating him, or sword fighting with him, or staying far away and detached while around him. Remaining close like this, with emotions roiling just beneath the surface, screamed of danger.

Why are you doing this to me? Why can’t you remain unreadable and arrogant, like when I met you? She could fight with Cormac all day, but she did not know how long she could withstand Tancred’s steady, alluring compassion.

It was all too confusing. Somehow she knew the answers she needed were lurking, right there for her to discover if she just opened her mouth and asked him. But she could not ask. Whenever she opened herself up to others, they were hurt; like Lance and his foolish infatuation with her. Or taken away; like her family. Or killed; like Jaedon. I can’t do that to you or to me, Tancred. I won’t. She would rather die than to suffer through the soul-searing pain that she had already experienced all over again.

His hand still touched hers. It felt like his fingers were alight with hot fire that was branding her skin. The sensation took her breath away.

She slid her hand out from beneath his. No. She could not go back to Aerilya with him. Definitely not. She had to get out of here. Away from him.

Just as she opened her mouth to refuse Tancred’s invitation, Deus’ familiar prodding fell on her, stifling her words and taking her breath away with the force of the heavenly command.

No, Little One.

The command was gentle, but final. Zoe knew deep in her heart that she could not argue with it. With Him.

Stop running, Daughter. Go to Aerilya. Stay. Rest. Draw near to me and I will draw near to you.

“All right,” she murmured, half to Deus and half to Tancred. She looked up and met the still steady gaze of the tall man sitting beside her.

The second their eyes connected, fresh doubts and fears rose up and washed over her. Deus, you’re killing me, she inwardly moaned. Why must I submit to this? Can’t I rest and draw near to you somewhere far away from him? Nevertheless, she silenced her inner voice and managed to tell Tancred in a semi-level voice, “I’ll come to Aerilya with you and Lady Shyla. But just until I know what Deus wants me to do next.”

“When the time is right,” he told her in a low tone, “He will tell you exactly what to do.”

His expression was impossible to decipher. Zoe held his gaze bravely, though she had a sinking feeling that he was assessing all her turmoil and agony through her eyes, as usual. Or maybe, by some blessing from Deus, he was just confused by the mass of emotions he saw. She was terrified. She was hopeful. She was confused. She was oddly thrilled.

In fact, she had no idea what she was anymore.

Swallowing hard, she reached up and stroked Egan gently. Her lashes closed and she tried to get a handle on her emotions. She sighed.

Deus, I hope you know what you’re doing.

Chapter XLII - Freedom

2008-04-29T04:35:00.000-07:00

TWO YEARS, SIX MONTHS SINCE BANISHMENT

Terrance Grant hurried down the streets of Ruma, his head ducked as he wove through the crowd of peasants and nobility alike. It had been five days since the emissaries arrived at the city, announcing that the war was over. The strangest mixture of chaos and excitement had swept over the whole of the country, but it was intensified in Ruma.

Not even an hour after the criers spread the word through the streets and rode on to notify some of the outer villages, Queen Maurelle Alustate was found dead by way of poison. She had committed suicide after hearing of her country’s defeat and husband’s death. The Aerilyans in the city demanded to be freed and were released in great numbers, according to Princess—now, Queen—Brysa Alustate’s command.

Grant cursed under his breath. The young queen will be the death of us all, he thought angrily. She gave up too soon and bowed to the demands of the piggish Aerilyans. Now the livelihood of many has been destroyed by the naiveté of one misguided woman. Without the slave trade, half of Elangsia will be bereft of laborers and the other half will be impoverished from lack of business.

When the order that proclaimed the freedom of Aerilyans had come, Grant had acted quickly and resolutely. He had just brought a group of nineteen Aerilyan slaves into Ruma to sell. Fourteen were women in their late teens and early twenties who would bring an excellent price. One was a strong man, and the rest were children who could be quickly trained into whatever tasks might be required of them. It was a perfect lot—perfect!—and Grant was not about to throw away all the money he was determined to get from them.

He had hidden them. The slaves were bound and gagged in a back room of Grant’s own house. That night he planned to smuggle them out of the city and take them to villages far removed from the city. Preferably some place where people had money and the authorities rarely visited. Then he would be able to sell the Aerilyans and the people buying them would not fear being uncovered as lawbreakers.

Grant reached his house and raised his head. He pushed the door open and walked through the short hallway that ended in a large room with two shuttered windows. Grant untied his cloak and tossed it unto a nearby chair as he entered the room.

“Hello, Grant.”

Grant froze at the voice that sounded to his far left. Slowly turned his head, he was astonished to see a tall, dark-haired man standing in the shadows.

“Who are you?” he demanded, regaining his tongue. “What is your business here? Speak quickly!”

“I am one with many names,” the man stated in a cool voice. “My business is to protect the defenseless and free those in bondage. And I will speak at my own pace.”

Unnerved by the man’s confident reply, Grant turned to face him squarely, wishing he held a torch and was wearing a weapon of some sort. Anything to make him feel less vulnerable. The mystery man stepped forward into a slightly better lit area and the gray light highlighted the contours of his face. The longer Grant looked at the man, the more convinced he was that he had met him before. He was familiar, but Grant could not remember where he had seen him.

“Well,” he said at length, “what would you do to me?”

“I would have had you release the slaves you had illegally hidden in your back room, if I had not already done so.”

Anger flared through Grant’s veins and he took a half-step forward, forgetting he was completely defenseless. “How dare you intrude into my private business affairs—”

He did not even finish his sentence before the tall man unexpectedly leapt forward and drove his entire form back against the wall. Hands of steel pressed against Grant’s shoulders, keeping him firmly in his helpless position. “How dare you disobey the orders of Queen Brysa Alustate,” the man replied angrily. “Do not try to reprimand me, Grant. You would sorely regret your foolishness.”

Real fear streaked through Grant. “My apologies!” he cried hastily. “What do you want?”

“I want to see you punished for your misdeeds.”

“What grudge do you hold against me? Who are you, really?”

“My grudge against you is because of the many lives you have destroyed by your greed for money.” The man’s hands ground into Grant’s shoulders. “And you know me best, perhaps, as the Hunter of Mairbrac.”

Grant’s eyes widened. “T-the Hunter?”

“And Cormac Alstair,” the Hunter added in a seemingly offhanded manner. A humorless smile spread over his face as he glared down at Grant and stepped back, releasing the slave trader abruptly.

“Alstair?” Wheels began spinning in Grant’s mind. He had done business with this man, which was why he was familiar! “You’re an Aerilyan? A spy!”

“You catch on so quickly,” replied the Hunter, his tone faintly mocking.

“Why...how...?” The questions churned around but Grant could not get any of them out in a coherent fashion. He paused and drew in a ragged breath, striving for calmness.

“I am here not only for my own satisfaction but on behalf of another,” the Hunter said at length. “For me, ruining your business as you ruined the existences of so many Aerilyans is enough. But for another, a physical token must be extracted from you.”

Physical token? Grant did not like the sound of that. “And...and who desires such a token?” he managed to ask in a hoarse voice.

“A former slave of yours whom I bought a year ago.”

Grant swallowed. What slave did Alstair buy? He could not remember; he had participated in so many transactions of human flesh over the years, they all blended together for the most part. “I don’t recall the situation exactly,” he said slowly.

“I’m sure you recall the young woman who struck you on the cheek,” the Hunter smiled slightly. “Knocked you to the ground, too.”

His throat tightened with anger. It was her? Yes, remembrance now flooded back with a vengeance; he merely wished it did not. He would have preferred to utterly forget about the hotheaded foreign girl who had humiliated him before a crowd.

“Remember her now, I see,” the Hunter noted.

“Aye,” he growled, his hands clenching into fists.

“You took something from her, didn’t you?”

How did the Hunter know about that? Grant had taken the girl’s leather pouch a full day before Cormac Alstair had come on the scene and bought her. There was no way this man should be aware of the situation—unless the girl had told him of the grievance at some point.

Grant still had her pouch. Twice he had almost thrown it away, but he had always refrained because it gave him pride to think of his “victory” over the insolent slave girl. He hesitated.

The Hunter shifted on his feet, like a great cat about to pouch. Given the situation, Grant could not help but feel like prey.

“Where’s her pouch, Grant?”

“I don’t have it anymore,” he began, but he could not finish for then the Hunter stepped forward. It was an intimidating move. Grant was no small man but he felt surprisingly frail when in such close quarters with the powerful warrior.

“You’re a bad liar, Grant.”

“I sold it.”

“Your defiance taxes my patience.”

Despite the ever-dying light, Grant clearly saw one of the Hunter’s hands dropped to finger the handle of a dagger at his waist. Dismay fell over him, mixing with a strong inherent self-preservation urge.

“I tell you I don’t have it,” he insisted, but his voice was weak even in his ears.

Immediately he knew that his final lie had been a grave mistake. The Hunter pulled his dagger so quickly Grant could hardly blink before it was pointed at his midsection. The point jabbed his soft belly, piercing his richly woven tunic but stopping just short of severing his skin.

The Hunter’s intense blue eyes held Grant’s and his voice was deceptively soft as he murmured, “Do not toy with me any longer, Grant. Where,” he enunciated each word slowly but firmly, “is the pouch?”

Grant’s resolve crumbled. Miserably he whispered, “I have it, I swear I still have it. Put the knife away.”

The hard eyes never left his face as the Hunter stepped back just a little and dropped the knifepoint. One of his dark brows rose in silent question.

Swallowing hard once again, Grant stepped down the hallway and timidly motioned to an adjoining room. “Please. I have it in the other room. Please.”

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“Zoe! Zoe!”

Zoe stopped and looked around herself in the crowd, wondering who had called for her. Her brow furrowed and she pivoted in place, scanning the many faces surrounding her. She was near the Elangsian palace, where she had been staying during the peace negotiations of the last week. She thought she never would have wanted to see the inside of the stone palace again, considering her lengthy imprisonment there, but the atmosphere was much different when she was free to come and go as she pleased.

“Zoe!” The cry came again; this time from Zoe’s far left.

Zoe turned and was almost knocked over as a dark-haired girl propelled herself into her arms. Instinctively Zoe wrapped her arms around the slender form and staggered back a couple steps to regain her balance. After she was steady again, she looked down at the young woman who had thrown herself at her.

Laughing brown eyes peered back up at her, set in a pretty face that was framed by long black hair. Zoe’s breath caught. “Marisa?”

“Yes! Oh I’m so happy to see you again,” the girl exclaimed, finally pulling back from Zoe. “I did not know you were still here in Ruma! Has your master kept you here all this time?”

“I escaped after a few months, actually,” Zoe grinned, knowing full well that the story was in truth much longer, but deciding against delving into all the details. “And I’ve just been here some of the time. What of you? Why aren’t you back home?”

“I’m leaving for Aerilya tomorrow,” Marisa said with a huge smile. “I gained my freedom immediately after the new queen’s edict. My mistress was a good woman, believe it or not. She gave me money after I was freed and I have been buying supplies for my trip home.”

“Who are you traveling with?” inquired Zoe with a trace of concern. Marisa had grown up over the last year, she could tell that just by looking at the younger woman’s face, but she could not travel by herself or she would almost certainly fall prey to something or someone.

“I’m traveling with a group of other freed Aerilyans,” Marisa replied.

“Any of you know how to defend yourselves?”

“Yes, silly,” Marisa giggled. “There are many capable men coming who will protect the women and children. You haven’t changed a bit, have you?”

Zoe smiled. “Not too much. But enough to count for something, I guess.”

“So where are you staying? Are you going back to Aerilya?”

“Actually...I’m staying at the palace.”

Marisa’s brows shot up. “The palace?”

“I know the prin—I mean, queen. It’s a long story,” explained Zoe. “Oh, but it should do you good to know that Rebekka and Tryna are free too. I saw them safely back to Aerilya just over a month ago.”

Marisa’s face expressed her relief and happiness. “That’s wonderful. And Grace? Have you news of her?”

“She was liberated too,” Zoe nodded. “By the Hunter of Mairbrac, no less.”

Marisa’s eyes went round. “The Hunter?” she murmured. “You found him?”

“I found him...he found me—or something,” smirked Zoe.

Before Marisa could reply, a deep voice came from their right, grabbing their attention. “Marisa! There you are.”

Zoe glanced over to see a young man of medium height with a thatch of light brown hair. His dark eyes were fastened on Marisa, but they flashed up to meet Zoe’s a moment later. He nodded his head at her. “Good day, mistress,” he said. “I’m Quentin of Aerilya.”

“Zoe Romany,” she replied cordially. She glanced at Marisa and noticed with amusement the flush that had overtaken the teen girl’s face. “You are traveling back to Aerilya with Marisa’s group?” she asked Quentin.

He nodded and gave her a crooked smile. “Aye. We’re leaving early tomorrow morning.”

“I wish you both a wonderful trip,” Zoe said warmly.

“Thank you,” Marisa said, her eyes shining happily as she stepped a little closer to Quentin.

“Stay out of harm’s way,” added Zoe as she started to walk away. She placed a hand on Quentin’s shoulder for a brief moment. “Keep her safe.”

“I will,” he replied sturdily.

Zoe smiled and then merged into the crowd as she made her way toward the palace. Thank you Deus, she prayed. Had she not met Marisa today, there was a good chance she never would have found her in Aerilya. Now I know that she is well and heading toward a good life. It was a blessing from Deus that Zoe had been able to see all her friends again, with the exception of Grace, and celebrate that they were rising from the ashes and moving forward with fresh strength and irrepressible spirit.

It is good, she thought with satisfaction.

Negotiations were almost completed between King Jaeger and Queen Brysa. Within the next couple days, the king of Aerilya would depart for his own country. As a sign of good faith, Prince Garrick Jaeger was remaining behind in Ruma for some time. He planned to work with Brysa on enforcing the massive task of the freeing the thousands of Aerilyan slaves that were sprinkled heavily across Elangsia.

During the week, there had still been no news from Kristalyn or her company who had gone after the Wild Men. Scouts had been sent out to find the small group of the Hunter’s men, but they had returned just that morning, unsuccessful. Zoe prayed that all was well with Tancred’s younger sister. Though he did not talk about it, she could sense the massive burden that still rested on his shoulders. Sometimes she caught him staring off into nothingness, his hands clenched and jaw tight. Relief would not come until he heard news.

Before long, the city of Ruma would be behind Zoe. After she found Terrance Grant and dealt with him—something she had been trying to do since the first day she had entered the capital—she would return to Aerilya with the king’s contingent...and then what?

She had not really thought past the battle. Aerilya had triumphed. Really, Zoe’s allegiance to the country and King Jaeger had no reason to continue. This was not her country. It was wonderful to see peace coming, but she was no sure where she fit into the picture. My home is far over the Cirthian Mountains, in a wooded forest called Braedoch, with eight siblings whose faces I have not seen for two and a half years.

And a guardian who likely still brooded and haunted the shadows of their home.

Zoe sighed. No, Braedoch was not home to her anymore. But neither is Aerilya, really. King Jaeger does not need my services. She paused. For that matter, nor does the Hunter.

Something about that last notion disturbed her. It was true: Tancred had never needed her, though he had accepted her help; but still it disturbed her. Her head lowered as she kept walking at a fast clip toward the palace, a chilly autumn breeze fingering through her hair and her thoughts stirring.

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The Hall of Kings was awash with luminous light from candles, torches, and the huge fire that flickered and crackled in the large stone hearth. Fresh rushes were layered on the floor, the doves cooed in their perches high above, and the rich scents of the feast that was laid out atop the long tables filled the air.

Quietly, Brysa surveyed it all from her vantage point at the head of the room. The meal had concluded some twenty minutes earlier, and now the noblemen and women were socializing all around her. She spotted King Jaeger in deep conversation with Lord Myron, an old councilman who had pledged his devotion to her as the new queen of Elangsia and backed up his words by giving her countless bits of advice and wise council even over the short space of the last week.

Across the room from King Jaeger and Lord Myron was the Hunter and several of his men, all of them also caught in lively discussion. Brysa’s brows rose when she noticed the conspicuous absence of a certain young woman whose habit was usually to stay close to the Hunter’s men. Zoe was gone.

She must have slipped away after the meal concluded. Brysa sighed but was not surprised. Zoe had appeared uncomfortable during the entirety of the feast, merely picking at her food and not entering into the conversations around her. Something had been bothering her. Brysa had no idea what, but prayed Zoe would find relief soon. Though Brysa suspected Zoe’s time in Ruma was almost ended, she wished only the best for the young woman. I fear she has much still to work through before she will find final peace and release, though, thought Brysa somberly. There was so much she knew that Zoe had not told her. That in and of itself spoke of the vast amount of finality Zoe would need to seek out.

A hand lightly tapped Brysa’s shoulder and she turned to see Rhys, her chief minstrel, standing there. “Yes?” she inquired in an undertone.

“Seeing as the meal has concluded,” Rhys said quietly, “might I suggest that now would be a good time to introduce some music and dancing?”

“Oh, yes. Indeed,” Brysa swiftly agreed. “Do whatever you think best.”

“As Lady of the Court, you are usually expected to lead the dancers,” the minstrel continued after a moment’s hesitation.

She had forgotten that. Her mother and father had always done the honors at affairs like this, though Brysa had always seen it was just another formality that they suffered through. There had never been any love lost between her parents.

“Ah,” she finally replied to the chief minstrel, for lack of anything better to say. She stood still for a moment, her brow furrowed. Her eyes scanned the crowd. Who in the world should she dance with? What would be the best tactical choice, considering she was not just the princess now, but in fact Queen Brysa Alustate?

Despite the fact it was merely a dance she was participating it, the partner she chose would be of huge importance, especially with such a multitude of Aerilyan and Elangsian nobility present. The Elangsians, especially, would want to see what she was made of. Who would the untried maiden queen pick for her partner? Brysa’s hands clasped tightly together and she swallowed. Should it be a lord, a councilman, a knight? What would present the best image to her people?

“Good evening, minstrel, Lady Brysa.” Prince Garrick Jaeger walked up beside Brysa at that precise moment and effortlessly included himself into the conversation, his dark eyes inquisitive. His gaze ran over her expression. “What is wrong?”

“Just a slight trouble with the order of dance,” she told him, collecting herself easily. She had finally reached the point where she was at least slightly used to the foreign prince’s forward ways.

“You’re leading the first dance,” Garrick said, more of a statement than a question.

She dipped her head in acknowledgment.

“Perfect. We’ll begin with a slow step and then follow it up with a quicker, more engaging dance. It’s the best way to start out a celebration.”

She tilted her head; her silky hair cascaded over one partially-bared shoulder as she pointed stared at him. “We?” she asked, placing heavy emphasis on the single word.

“We,” he replied with an audacious grin. “A word typically construed to encompass more than one individual; in this case, you and me. You and I—we—are otherwise recognized and heralded as Prince Garrick of Aerilya and Queen Brysa Alu—”

“Thank you, I know well the definition of the word we,” she said shortly. Still, she could not help the smile that tugged its way up her face.

Garrick glanced at the minstrel, who had backed up a pace and had his head respectfully bowed to give them some semblance of privacy. “Play the music, please.” He looked back at Brysa as Rhys scampered away and extended his hand. “My lady?”

Now that his hand was extended, Brysa was helpless to do anything about the situation. Half a dozen onlookers had seen the foreign prince’s bold move and she could not turn him down without making herself look like a fool and Garrick like a bigger one. Brysa placed her hand in Garrick’s and followed him past the tables to the large dance floor. Several courtiers and noblewomen stood around the outside, watching them and whispering behind their hands. Brysa kept a calm smile on her face as she turned to face Garrick with a graceful swish of her long skirt, but gritted out in a hard tone, “What are you doing?”

“Dancing with you,” he replied evenly, a roguish twinkle still lighting his earthy brown gaze. “You cannot think I am that repulsive of a partner, I trust.”

“No,” she murmured. The music started and she did not further elaborate.

Garrick released her hand and bowed deeply. Another beat passed and she dipped into a curtsey. The dance was slow but very graceful, requiring great precision and control. Brysa had been dancing since she was little, so she knew she could do the proper steps in her sleep. To her slight astonishment, Garrick appeared to be likewise skilled.

“You’re quite good,” she told him after a few moments.

He paused, clapped in time with the music, and then stepped back toward her. “Thank you,” he said. His voice was courteous but Brysa thought she discerned a teasing gleam in his eyes. “That is indeed high praise from you, my lady.”

The minstrel called for others to take to the dance floor, and out of the corner of her eyes, Brysa saw other ladies and lords filter out around her and Garrick. She disregarded them all, keeping her gaze fixed on Garrick. “You mock my praise, which was honestly given,” she stated at length.

“Nay,” he shook his head. “I value it for its sincerity.”

Her brows rose and she did not respond as she spun away and then came back to him after a few beats of the music.

“Why do you feel I am not to be trusted?” he asked her when they came back together.

“Have I said anything along those lines?”

“It’s impossible to miss, my lady,” he said kindly. “You possess a remarkable amount of poise. But you tend to abandon that when around me.”

“You are by far the most direct man I have ever encountered,” she said, speaking what she thought without considering the consequences.

He just laughed. “My mother used to call it tactlessness. I’ve tried to temper it over the years but apparently I have not worked hard enough.”

Reluctantly, she smiled back. Whatever else she might feel while around him, Garrick Jaeger was an amiable man, once she was used to his candor.

The music shifted, and the more lively strains that accompanied a faster paced dance filled the Hall of Kings. Laughter and shouts of excitement rose around Brysa as the tempo increased. Garrick faced Brysa and asked, “Do you want to do this one too?”

Lords and ladies were lining up with their partners all around; at this point, Brysa could easily snag a different partner if she wanted to. Instead of seeking out a different man, she merely slipped her hand into Garrick’s offered one and replied, “Let me assure you that I am never one to back away from a challenge, my lord. I promise I can and will match every step you take.”

“Oh really!” he laughed. “So be it, then.”

The minstrel and his fellow musicians were plucking out the lively tune with gusto; taking that as their cue, Garrick and Brysa fell into the steps of the athletic dance. It differed from the previous one by requiring less poise and more fleet-footedness. They rapidly stepped and whirled as they wove in and around each other and their fellow dancers. Deep, rich laughter rose in Brysa’s throat and escaped as she spun and her curtain of hair whipped around her face and shoulders. It was easy for her to lose herself in the music and this time she did so with abandon. She could not suppress the joy and freedom she felt as she effortlessly completely the difficult maneuvers. By the looks of Garrick’s wide grin, he was enjoying himself too.

At last they whirled off the floor and Brysa brushed strands of hair back from her face, still laughing as she gasped out, “I’m afraid I’m spent! I can take only so much of that dance.”

“Me too,” chuckled Garrick, who was also breathing hard.

After a few moments of silence in which they caught their breath, Garrick turned toward the table they stood beside—a scarred, heavy piece of oaken furniture—and surveyed the large floral display that was prominently positioned on its surface. An almost-black lock of hair had fallen over his forehead during the dance, and when he withdrew a flower from among the bright array of blossoms and turned to Brysa, she was struck by the way his dark hair brought out the deep brown of his eyes. His expression was full of strength and steadfastness, a mixture she thought suited him perfectly.

“For you, my lady,” he said quietly, extending the flower to her.

It was a white rose, creamy in hue and perfectly proportioned. At first Brysa just stared at it, uncertain of how to respond. Then, slowly, her hand came out and grasped the stem. Their fingers brushed just scarcely, then he let go.

Feeling uncommonly awkward, she looked down and murmured shyly, “Thank you.”

“Aye.”

When she looked up again, she flushed, for he was still staring intently at her. “What is it?” she murmured, completely self-conscious.

“Permission to speak frankly?”

She nodded. “Of course.”

“You look beautiful tonight,” he said simply.

Her breath caught. “Uh...th-thank you,” she stuttered out. Where have my wits gone? What kind of intelligent response was that?

“You’re welcome.”

Brysa smoothed her skirt with one hand, still clutching Garrick’s rose with the other, and said, “I...I must fulfill my responsibilities and properly mingle with my guests. Thank you for the dance, my lord—”

His warm hand on hers stopped her words and sent her wide blue gaze flying back up to his face. With an earnest look to his eyes and a half-smile, he told her in a low tone, “Please, it’s just Garrick.”

Breathless and not really sure why, Brysa just nodded and managed to say, “Very well...Garrick. You must call me Brysa, then.”

“Aye,” he murmured. “Now, go mingle. Enjoy tonight.” Unexpectedly bringing her hand up, Garrick brushed the barest kiss over her knuckles, still keeping eye contact with her. “Until next time, Brysa.” He released her hand, turned, and walked away with a flutter of his gray cloak.

Leaving Brysa wondering what exactly had just happened, and why her hand still tingled after being enclosed in his gentle touch.

Chapter XLI - Aftermath

2008-04-21T10:46:00.000-07:00

This is a nice long chapter to make up for the length of time between this and the last post. Hope you enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~~

The sweet, golden trill of the Aerilyan horns rang across the field. Tancred threaded his way through the lines of the Aerilyans, the afternoon sun casting everything in bright light, and called for order. “The horn is blown! Let them flee, unmolested!”

His voice grew hoarse as he galloped on and the trumpet continued to sound. The panicked Elangsians fled, and the Aerilyans reluctantly slowed their attack. They were loathe to lay down their arms when victory was so obviously won. But because it was already won, more bloodshed was unnecessary.

“Tancred!”

Prince Garrick’s cry came from Tancred’s right and Tancred turned his head to see the prince’s mare fall in stride with Chale. Tancred pulled the reins back slightly and Chale slowed to a trot, blowing noisily from his run.

The prince’s dark eyes were alight with emotion and he said, “We won! By the Almighty, Tancred—we won.”

“By the Almighty indeed; without Him it would have been unattainable. As it is, the price of victory is almost too great to pay.” His last words were uttered so quietly they were almost impossible to hear. His throat tightened as he remembered Jaedon’s death. The battle was over, yes; but there was so much that remained to be resolved.

Abruptly, Tancred pulled Chale to a sudden halt and cocked his head, listening. The terrified cries of the Elangsians had slowly lessened and now began to fade completely. What changed?

Garrick also stopped. “What is it?”

“I don’t know,” Tancred replied as he scanned the lines of Elangsian army tents, half of them overturned and trampled. He frowned as he noticed that the Elangsians had mostly stopped their retreat. Why? What had caused them to stop?

A glimmer of white caught his gaze. Tancred narrowed his eyes against the light of the sun and made out two distinct forms riding through the Elangsian army toward him. One bore a tall, hastily fashioned banner of white cloth. The other wore a long, green kirtle that fluttered in the breeze as they rode closer.

“Ach, it’s the princess of the filthy enemy,” growled a soldier to Tancred’s right.

Instantly Tancred knew the man was right—it was Brastus’s daughter, Princess Brysa Alustate. He had not seen her for a couple months, but the black-haired beauty was difficult to forget. And riding beside her was.... Tancred’s lips thinned with faint, cynical amusement. I should have known it would be Zoe. He was not sure he really wanted to know how she had gotten all the way to the other side of the Elangsians’ camp and contacted the princess.

But, on that subject, he thought abruptly, why is the princess here? She ought to be back at Ruma.

“Did you know the princess was present in their camp?” he asked Prince Garrick.

The prince shook his head. “No.” Squinting back toward the riders, he observed, “She is here to negotiate for terms, though. She must know her father has fallen.”

By way of my sword, thought Tancred. He wondered if Garrick was aware of how Brastus had died.

Brysa and Zoe rode closer and Tancred thought of what an odd pair they made. Zoe was streaked with dirt, dried blood, and battle-grime. Her weapons were sheathed and her right hand firmly grasped the long wooden shaft that held up the white banner. In contrast, Brysa looked clean and fair to the eye, dressed in a gown that was simple but finely cut, revealing her shapely form. A circlet of gold sat on her brow. The quick gleam of the sun upon a golden hilt at her waist told Tancred that the princess was not as helpless as she appeared. She wore a weapon of some sort.

“She’s armed,” he warned Garrick, heeling his horse forward.

“But she rides under the banner of peace,” the prince pointed out. Garrick glanced to their left and added, “There’s my father with Kane.”

Tancred and Garrick fell in line with King Jaeger and General Kane a moment later. Zoe and Brysa rode directly toward them, the men parting for them to ride through. Various expressions—ranging from awe, to disgust, to hostility—were written across the faces of the soldiers. Tancred’s eyes roved them, watching for raised weapons. Though the white banner signified parlay, a fool might take it into his head to try to strike down the princess, or the king, or the prince.

The Elangsian princess and Zoe stopped about ten paces in front of them. Tancred’s gaze ran over Brysa perfunctorily but zeroed in on Zoe. For a moment, their eyes locked; almost immediately, however, Zoe disengaged them and deliberately focused on the king, prince, and general.

Brysa dipped her head at them. “My lords of Aerilya,” she said in a strong but not abrasive voice, “I am Brysa Elain Alustate, Lady Maid of the Court, Servant of the Crown, and Princess of Elangsia. I bid you welcome.”

“Princess Alustate,” King Jaeger acknowledged her and then began his own formal address. “I am Trystallen Jaeger, Lord of the lands from Mairbrac to the Cirthian Mountains, King of Aerilya—and Servant of Deus. You have my most cordial welcome. You ride under the white flag, my lady. Do have authority to speak for your people?”

“My father has fallen and no general has come to fill the place of protector and leader. As princess of my people, I am here to advocate for their safety...” Brysa’s blue eyes shone as she paused and then finished, “even if it costs me my life.”

The king smiled. “I assure you, that is a cost I will not exact from you. Have you terms to propose?”

“I do, my lord.”

Tancred was impressed by the young woman’s poise in such a situation. Brysa’s gaze flicked from the king to him for a moment and she paused. He wondered if she recognized him. He had attended her engagement banquet, so his face might be familiar to her, though he rather doubted it. Still, the expression on her face caused him to speculate.

è è è è è è è è è

His face. I have seen him before.

Brysa looked long on the face of the broad-shouldered Aerilyan man, but could not place him. As they had ridden down to meet the Aerilyan lords, Zoe had murmured the names and ranks of all the men. This man was Tancred; sometimes known as Cormac Alstair but usually as the Hunter of Mairbrac. He was the one whom Brysa’s father had longed to kill, and whom Brysa had tried to find when he was in Ruma. As far as Brysa knew, she had never met the Hunter. But he looked so familiar she could not help but wonder.

Shaking her head a little, her long hair tangling in the wind, Brysa looked back at the Aerilyan king. He asked for terms. Answer him before your distraction causes a problem.

“I seek to end the war between Aerilya and Elangsia,” she said, her voice surprisingly calm. “As of today, the battles and turmoil must cease. My people and I will search for ways to live peaceably with the Aerilyans. I ask that you and your men return to your lands, and that mine be allowed the same courtesy.”

“What of the Aerilyans who are held as slaves in your land, my lady?”

The questioned was uttered by the prince of Aerilya, Garrick Jaeger. Prince Garrick sat firmly on his white mare beside the Hunter, his bearing noble but not stiff. His brown gaze locked challengingly with her own, prompting a quick, firm reply from Brysa.

“A proclamation will be sent through Elangsia, freeing all slaves and giving them leave to return to their homes.”

Those brown eyes did not release her. “You will see this done?”

A little surprised by his tone, Brysa lifted her chin. “I will see it done,” she responded coolly. Turning her head regally back to the king, she added, “I understand you hold a certain number of Elangsian prisoners of war in your country. I ask that they be released. In exchange, I will free what prisoners we have.”

He nodded. “Aye, my lady. Now I must know: what of the Wild Men? Were they not to join your forces on the battlefield?”

“To be quite honest, I do not know where they are,” she said quietly. “They were supposed to arrive to aid my people at the conclusion of the battle.”

“Do you wish they had come?” the prince spoke again.

Brysa looked at him, her forehead furrowing slightly. What sort of a question is that at a peace treaty? she wondered. The time of wishes is past, if it ever was truly here. Negotiating our current situation is the purpose of this meeting.

Lifting her chin slightly, she inquired, “What is your interest in that, my lord?”

He cocked one dark brow at her. “If they had made it here, you likely would have won today,” he pointed out. “My question is simple: do you wish the Wild Men had come?”

Why did she feel as if this outspoken young prince was testing her? Brysa clenched her steed’s reins tightly. “If they had come, Elangsia may have won, you are correct. But that victory would have been hollow indeed for me, seeing as I was to be sent back to Rulaan as the wife and war prize of their Prince Jaquin—a fate I would not wish upon any woman.” Her eyes flashed at Prince Garrick and she finished coldly, “Now, is my willingness to negotiate terms of peace acceptable in your eyes, my lord prince, or am I still to be regarded with mistrust even when I ride beneath the white banner?”

Something darted through his eyes—amusement? Respect? Both?—almost too quick for Brysa to identify it. “Nay, my lady,” he said softly. “I see that your motives are pure.”

Pleased at his admission but unwilling to show it, Brysa turned her face away from him again. “I will organize my camp, then, my lords, and request that you withdraw your own troops.” Weariness abruptly swept over her, but she finished strongly: “Further negotiations may be conducted upon your earliest convenience. I will remain here until everything is concluded to the satisfaction of all.”

“As you wish, princess,” assented King Jaeger. Without a further word he and the general dipped their heads at her, turned their steeds away, and rode off.

Brysa glanced over at Zoe and received a brilliant smile. “You did it,” Zoe murmured with fierce joy. “Everything is going to work out now.”

Now that the actual deed of meeting with the king was finished, Brysa felt weak in the knees at the thought of what she had just done. I conferred with the king of Aerilya. I ended the war.

“I ended the war,” she whispered her thoughts in a shaky voice.

“You did.” Zoe’s voice was warm and approving. “We must spread the word far and wide. Do you have emissaries that you can send throughout Elangsia?”

“Yes,” Brysa nodded, still in shock. “I will make sure that is done by this evening.”

Zoe nodded.

Brysa raised her head and caught the dark blue gaze of the Hunter. Curiosity grabbed hold of her. “Your Hunter is very young. Younger than I ever imagined him.”

“He is not ‘my’ Hunter.” Zoe cast a glance in the direction of Tancred and the Aerilyan prince. “And yes; he is young,” she added simply.

There was something about the undertones to Zoe’s voice that piqued Brysa’s interest. Tearing her gaze from Tancred, she studied Zoe’s face, which was a study of emotions that swirled together beneath a thin veneer of restraint. An old memory rose to the surface of Brysa’s mind, intriguing her anew. When Zoe had first been brought as a captive into the palace of Ruma, Brysa had inquired if she was the Hunter’s lover. Zoe had scoffed at the suggestion then, clearly considering the notion utter madness.

And yet....

Brysa’s shrewd eyes slid back to the Hunter. He was speaking to the prince in a quiet tone, but he seemed distracted. A moment later he turned his head away from Prince Garrick and met Zoe’s gaze head-on, seemingly oblivious to the armies and people around them.

He fancies her. Brysa knew little of love, at least not firsthand, but she had seen enough star-crossed lovers among Elangsia’s noblemen and women to recognize the look in Tancred Ralyn’s eyes. His affection was there, plain for anyone to see if they were willing to look for it. And judging by the way Zoe pointedly looked away from Tancred’s piercing blue gaze not half a moment later, Brysa guessed she was not yet willing to see it.

“I will be returning to my own camp this evening,” Zoe said, breaking into Brysa’s musings. “I’ll see you soon though. Finishing up negotiations will take a while. It could be a few days before we leave the plain here.”

The finality of it all hit Brysa with sudden clarity. Soon, she would return to Ruma, and of course Zoe would not go with her. Their reunion had been pleasant, but separation loomed once again.

It was as if Zoe read her thoughts. “You may not be traveling to Ruma alone,” she stated quietly.

Brysa swiftly looked up. “What do you mean?”

“I have certain...unresolved business in your city,” Zoe said vaguely, a cool light shining from her eyes.

“Unresolved business,” Brysa repeated questioningly, arching a brow.

“There is a man, a slaver I must find. He took something from me long ago that I swore I would regain.”

The soft thump of hooves sounded and Brysa noticed out of the corner of her eye that Prince Garrick Jaeger and Tancred Ralyn were riding closer. She did not turn toward them yet, however, wishing to get a straight answer out of Zoe. “What is his name? I shall see he is punished for whatever misdeeds he has done to you.”

“His livelihood shall be destroyed once you abolish the slave trade,” Zoe said with a slight smile. “That will be punishment enough, I think. No, my quarrel with him involves a personal matter.”

Brysa’s brow puckered. “But who is he?”

“His name is Terrance Grant,” Tancred answered before Zoe could reply. “He owns a residence in Ruma.”

Forced to acknowledge their presence now that they had entered the conversation, Brysa inclined her head toward the two men. “Terrance Grant? How do you know the name of the slaver, my lord?”

“I bought Zoe from him a year ago,” Tancred said quietly. “I remembered his name and dwelling place for my own purposes.”

A flicker of surprise ran over Zoe’s face, almost too quick for Brysa to catch it, but obviously the foreign girl was taken aback by Tancred’s statement. Curious about the story she felt lurked just beneath the surface of the conversation but intelligent enough to know that now was not the time or place to hear a tale even if they were willing to tell it, Brysa looked down. Vaguely she was aware that Zoe and Tancred nudged their horses a few steps away and starting a conversation in low tones, but she could not discern what they were saying.

When she glanced up again, she was met with Prince Garrick’s unswerving gaze. “Well met, Princess Alustate,” Garrick greeted her in a low tone. “Your countrymen fought well on the field of battle these last days.”

“As did yours,” she said a trifle reluctantly. “That is evidenced by the reality of which side ultimately won the conflict.”

“But I gather you realize that this is not about who won or lost anymore; it’s about ending a conflict that has spanned a generation.”

“Yes,” she assented quickly. She had a lot to learn about what to say during a conference between a former enemy and herself. With each of her words, she had the ability to graciously extend forgiveness and tenuous trust toward her new allies, or drive the years-old wedge of strife even deeper between them. “I trust our interactions with Aerilya will be strictly peaceful from now on. I will see to it that all Elangsia upholds our end of the bargain.”

“I’m sure you will, my lady.” The prince smiled at her, an easy expression that softened his features. “I must tell you, I was impressed by your cool judgment and quick wit while negotiating with my father.”

“Thank you,” she replied, keeping her tone appropriately cool though she felt pleased by his praise. “Your questions posed to me were very...direct.”

Garrick’s eyes flickered. “I wished to see if you were to be trusted.”

“And are you quite satisfied with what you found?” she asked, feeling unexpectedly tense as she waited for his reply.

“Quite,” he nodded. Another smile flitted across his face, larger than the first one, and Brysa was astonished by how striking he looked with the golden sun highlighting his dark curls and lending an extra twinkle to his deep brown eyes. His teeth were white and straight, contrasting with the tanned hue of his skin. He was a warrior-prince; yet even after the battle he seemed clean-cut and...appealing.

His grin deepened and she realized he was reading her like an open book. Furious with herself—and her treacherous thoughts—she pulled back on her horse’s reins abruptly, backing the mare up a few steps.

“Stay, lady,” he said swiftly, riding forward to make up for the distance she had put between them. His countenance was serious again. “I have one question more for you. This prince you are pledged to, the prince of the Wild Men: does he yet live?”

She scanned Garrick with her features schooled to reveal nothing of the revulsion and fear she felt each time she thought of Prince Jaquin. “I do not know,” she finally answered. “As you know, he and his people were supposed to arrive here to assist us in the battle. That is why I am here; my father promised me as Jaquin’s reward once the battle was finished.” She reached up to brush a long black strand of hair out of her eyes and shrugged. “They never came.”

“And you are glad,” he finished.

She just looked at him, one brow raised. I’m not about to confirm to him that he can not only see right through my face and words, but he accurately sees what is beneath them.

“I would be glad if I stood in your stead,” he said quietly. “You are too fair a treasure to be the prize of a man who would not truly value you, Lady Brysa.”

Shocked by his words, Brysa just stared at him. By heaven, this man was direct with his words! Unsure of how to respond, she merely looked away and felt a slow, hot flush begin to work its way up her face.

è è è è è è è è è

Not long after, Zoe, Tancred, and Prince Garrick parted ways with Brysa and turned back to the Aerilyan camp. Zoe and Tancred spent the remainder of the day there, staying close to the king and prince as messengers and scouts were sent throughout Aerilya. As the sun began to slip behind the edge of the world, Zoe glimpsed riders issuing out from the Elangsian camp in a similar manner. They would tell Elangsia of the battle’s outcome, along with the edict from Brysa that would free all the Aerilyan slaves. King Jaeger had also decided, after sending a couple messages back and forth to Brysa, that he and a contingent of Aerilyans would accompany the remainder of the Elangsian army to Ruma for a few days to finish solemnizing the peace treaty.

“I will come too,” Tancred stated after hearing the plan.

King Jaeger looked up at Tancred and raised his eyebrows. “You’ve earned your rest, Ralyn,” he said. “The war is over. Go home.” He did not say the words unkindly but gently, as if he were grateful that he could at last release the Hunter from his duties.

Tancred refused. “I’ll stay with you until this is finished. The trip to Ruma and back will take but two weeks. I can wait that much longer before leaving your side.”

Zoe noted that though Tancred’s attitude was respectful, his jaw was set with determination. Nothing the king says will sway him, she thought with the faintest touch of amusement.

Apparently Trystellan Jaeger realized that as well; he did not argue further, and the matter was settled.

Dusk fell over the land; slowly stars began to peep forth, shedding their light across the land below. The bodies of Aerilyan and Elangsian soldiers burned, smoke and flames wafting up toward the darkened sky from the countless pyres lit across the plain. The smell permeated everything, lacing the air with a tangible reminder of the death that surrounded those who remained.

Yet despite the sorrowful atmosphere that wrapped around them, commemorating those who had passed on, Zoe and Tancred had bid farewell to the king and Garrick and ridden almost all the way back to the Hunter’s camp before realization hit Zoe.

Pulling back on her horse’s reins, she sucked in a deep, painful breath. “Jaedon!” she breathed.

Tancred stopped Chale and looked back at her. The moonlight was strong and growing stronger, allowing her to see the hurt that flashed through his eyes. Horror washed over her, incapacitating her. Not Jaedon, please not Jaedon... Her body trembled as insight continued rolling over her like gigantic waves, the ebb and flow of emotion growing stronger with each surge. Shaking, she slid off her horse and laid her hands on its neck, her wide eyes seeking Tancred’s. How could she have been so stupid? How could she have missed the presence of the kindly older warrior for so long?

“Where’s Jaedon?” she asked in a croaking whisper. She knew the answer as well as Tancred’ but refused to believe it until he told her the truth plainly.

Tancred dismounted Chale and looped the stallion’s reins over his arm. He walked toward her, but Zoe backed away, clutching her own horse’s reins. “No,” she murmured. “No.”

He stopped. “Zoe.” He spoke her name in a tender voice that merely served to further confuse her already riotous emotions, uttering both syllables of Zoe with care, as if her name was a precious word to him.

“He’s not dead,” she whispered, on the verge of tears. “He’s too strong, too brave. He was a protector, a warrior, a fighter. He’s not dead.”

“Jaedon died fighting for his country,” Tancred said in the same quiet, calm voice.

How could he be so composed when his best friend had died that day? Abba, why? Why did you take him? Zoe wanted to scream the words aloud but desperately struggled for self-control. Tancred’s calm. You can do this too, Zoe. Be strong. Block it out. Block it out—

This time her inner monologue did not work. Tears sprang into her eyes without warning and began streaming down her cheeks. But no, she could not break down here, not with Tancred watching her. Zoe abruptly turned away. Silently she stood there, scalding tears blazing a path down her cheeks, fighting to keep her agony from his knowledge and scrutiny.

A strong hand touched her shoulder.

For a moment she fought Tancred’s touch, trying to wrench her shoulder free, but his firm yet simultaneously gentle grip did not release her. Inexorably he turned her back around, so that she was facing him. Stubbornly she glared at the ground, unwilling to lift her face to his. He’ll see the tears; my weakness. I will not let him...

His finger lifted her unwilling chin. Her eyes clenched shut, closing him out.

“Look at me, Zoe.”

She refused, trying to jerk her chin free from his grip. Again he was not dissuaded but continued to hold her in place in the same calm, almost gentle way.

“Open your eyes.”

Finally she obeyed. Her gaze was instantly captured by his. The moonlight glowed on his features: highlighting his cheekbones, the shadow of a beard dusting his firm jaw, and his piercing deep-set eyes.

“When will you see?” he asked her, his voice husky as he looked down at her with an unfathomable expression on his face.

She swallowed past the huge, painful lump in her throat. “See what?” she asked thinly.

“That you don’t have to do this alone.”

“I don’t think—” she began to protest in a ragged voice, but when he dropped his hand from her chin and shook his head at her, she cut herself off.

“Don’t try to hide your feelings,” he commanded softly. “Besides, your tears and pain are nothing to conceal. It’s good for you to mourn. Jaedon’s death is...” his voice caught for the barest moment, then regained its even tone, “it is a grievous blow to us all. For once, Zoe, don’t do this on your own.”

She just stared at him, her cheeks shimmering and throat painfully constricted.

Emotion flashed across his face, swift but intense. “You chose to trust me just a few days earlier. You told me about your family and your past. Blocking me out now is just going to throw up the wall that took years to tear down.”

I don’t want to block you out! she yearned to scream at him. But I don’t want to let you in, either. There’s too much uncertainty, too much I don’t understand. Who are you, Tancred Ralyn? What do you want of me? I feel like you’re asking me for something, but what is it?

Suddenly Lance’s words from the battlefield earlier that day flashed back to Zoe and she involuntarily quivered. “Ask him! Ask Tancred himself. He will tell you he cares for you.”

Stark terror fell over her like a thick, wet blanket. I cannot ask him that! He would laugh me to scorn.

Tancred saw her shudder and his hands came to rest on each of her armored shoulders. “What is it?”

“I...cannot tell you,” she whispered at last.

“Cannot, or will not?”

Closing her eyes, she deliberately stepped back. His hands fell away from her. “Cannot.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Zoe’s eyes snapped open. Tancred’s voice, still even, was nevertheless underscored with what sounded like cold, unyielding...fury. She drew herself up, her fingers tightening around her horse’s reins.

“I don’t lie, Tancred.”

“You’re lying right now,” he countered.

She looked away, calculating if she could duck around him and make a getaway without having to finish this conversation.

“Don’t even think about it. You wouldn’t make it ten steps.”

Angry, her gaze flew back to him. “I made it to the other side of the battlefield when I tried to get to Aiden yesterday, and you couldn’t stop me!”

“I didn’t stop you.”

“What’s the difference?” she snorted.

“You implied I was incapable of stopping you. I’m clarifying that I could have, but chose not to.”

“And why didn’t you?”

“Because I had a small hope that perhaps that man really was your brother and you could reunite with him.”

“Oh, you were looking about for my happiness, even in the middle of a battle?” She tossed the barb scornfully, feeling irrational anger taking over.

“Yes,” he growled, stepping closer without warning. He released Chale’s reins, and the stallion dropped his head and cropped at the grass, apparently unconcerned about the swelling argument. Before Zoe could back up to compensate for the space Tancred was invading, his arms shot out and grabbed her shoulders again.

Giving her a faint shake, he demanded, “I am a patient man, Zoe, but this borders on lunacy. How much more do you require? What do you want proven? Every time we grow closer and you start to trust me, you always try to run away. That’s what is so ironic to me. You run away from nothing and no one—no one!—except for me. Why?” His eyes blazed in the moonlight like iridescent sapphires. “Why is that?

In the face of his unexpected anger, Zoe rallied herself for a fight. Instead of feeling the heat of renewed anger rush through her, however, her emotions began to ebb away and fade, leaving cool remorse and quiet surprise in its place. She had never seen such a display from Tancred before.

“Because...” she began in a wavering voice and then stopped. Why did she run away from Tancred? He was right, she never backed down from anything if she could help it, but with him she had made a habit of taking the nearest escape route whenever he was close to her or her emotions. The one notable exception had been several nights ago when she told him about the banishment.

“Because why?” he said after an elongated pause. His strong fingers dug into her upper arms, despite the protection of her leather guards. “Finish your answer.”

“Fine,” she said, giving in. “It’s because you challenge me.”

He laughed harshly, still scrutinizing her ruthlessly. “So? You don’t let that stop you with anything else.”

“It’s true, anyway.” She drilled him with her green gaze and took a deep breath. “You’re strong and smart. Despite my training and expertise, I have to fight within an inch of my life to stay afloat. And usually despite my efforts, I lose control anyway.”

“Why must you control everything?”

“I don’t try to control everything!”

“No? Why then did you despise me when we first met?”

She hesitated and her coming words wedged in her throat. She had despised him because he bought her. While his action saved her from a different, worse fate, she nevertheless begrudged him because he had done something she could not be in charge of.

“You still carry vestiges of resentment towards me, don’t you?” he stated in a low tone. “That’s why you’re unwilling to trust me, to relinquish control.”

She wanted to refute him, but found she could not speak.

“It has to be that.” Tancred’s voice seemed dead, completely emotionless. “There is no other explanation. You say you run from me because I am strong and smart—yet Jaedon was strong and smart and you were completely comfortable with him.”

The thought of Jaedon, dead, swept over Zoe again. “Jaedon was different” was all she managed to breathe out. Again her throat tightened like a noose and she swallowed painfully.

“Why was he different?”

He was like the father I never had. You, on the other hand, are hardly a father figure to me. The answer was on the tip of her tongue but she held back, for she could almost hear the question Tancred would pose after she said it—“If I’m not a father figure, than what am I?”—and she did not want to have to deal with that. Not now. Maybe never.

“Zoe?”

Lance’s words floated back again, resonating mockingly in her head. “...ask Tancred yourself...he will tell you he cares for you.”

Extreme weariness and sorrow buffeted Zoe, and suddenly she could not take it any more. “I don’t know,” she moaned in reply. “I just don’t know anymore.”

Her hands came up and covered her face. She would have cried had she not already exhausted her supply of tears. Dry, empty pain pulsed through her with each beat of her heart. How could she feel so badly when the war was over and peace was coming? But peace without Jaedon? Peace when there’s this barrier between Tancred and me that I cannot understand and therefore cannot fix? when I’m hopelessly confused by myself? What peace is that?

His iron-like grip on her shoulders loosened and then dropped away. Almost immediately she sensed him stepping a little closer, and then his arms encircled her. For a long moment she resisted, standing stiffly in the haven of his embrace. Finally, however, she relented. Her hands slipped away from her face and around his back. Her cheek pressed against the embroidered fabric of his tabard; beneath the cloth she could feel the hard, linked chains of his mail shirt. How can I resist him so staunchly one moment, then accept his embrace the next? How can he be angry and frustrated with me, then brim with compassion? It made no sense, but his silent comfort felt so good to her bruised emotions that she could not move away.

As she stood there, images of Jaedon began flashing through her mind and again she began to tremble. Powerful, dry sobs shook her like a doll, weakening her to the point of despair. “I am going to miss him...so bad,” she managed to gasp out in the midst of her sorrow, clenching her eyes shut and balling her hands into fists where they laid against Tancred’s back.

She felt his cheek resting on the top of her head. “Zoe,” he sighed, his voice deep and reassuring. “It’s okay. We’re all mourning him. We all have to. It’s okay.”

He did not say anything more but simply stood there like a rock and sheltered her as she shuddered out her pain and sorrow. At any other time she would have drawn away soon after and returned to the camp. But now, with death and pain so near, she took what comfort was offered her. Though she could not pretend to understand everything about this man who held her—the Hunter of Mairbrac who relentlessly challenged yet calmed her—right now she knew that he was there to help her.

And it felt good to accept it.