The King's Scrolls

  “Thank you,” her voice broke, “for telling us.”

  Rayad nodded and squeezed her shoulder, then Kaden’s. As he walked away, Kyrin stood for a moment to recover. She touched her coat where the letter rested close to her father’s necklace. Kaden put his arm around her shoulders. She sighed, regaining her composure, and looked up at him. “Can I ride with you? I don’t want to be alone.”

  He nodded, and they walked toward the dragons.

  There, Jace met them. He glanced at Kaden, but his focus rested on Kyrin. The gentle remorse and sympathy in his eyes nearly overwhelmed her. How could anyone believe someone who cared so deeply could ever be a monster?

  “It’ll be cold flying today. Why don’t you wear this over your coat?”

  He gave her one of his wool shirts. She sank her fingers into it and pulled it over her head, pushing her arms through the sleeves. It added a comfortable layer of warmth, not only to her body, but also to her battered heart. She looked up at him, achieving the smallest hint of a smile. “Thank you.”

  He gave a nod, and his eyes lingered in a moment of shared sadness before the three of them turned to their dragons. Kaden offered Kyrin a hand and pulled her up behind him on Exsis. Settling in, she looked over at her dragon. “Ivy, réma.”

  The dragon perked up, ready to follow. Kyrin pulled on her gloves and wrapped her arms around Kaden.

  From his dragon, Darq commanded, “Glynn, Leetra, take the rear and follow at a distance. I want to make sure Falcor doesn’t try to follow us.”

  The two cretes nodded, and Darq’s dragon took to the air. The rest followed.

  Once they reached their desired altitude and turned east toward Landale, Kyrin looked back at Valcré. From this height, she could see the entire city, and her gaze stopped where the central square lay. Her stomach nearly turned itself inside out. She closed her eyes tightly and rested her forehead against Kaden’s back until the city was well out of sight.

  The snow-covered forest of Landale drew a deep sigh from Kyrin. After all day in flight, she longed to get down, get inside, and get warm. Even with Jace’s shirt, the cold seeped in and sank into her core. Her whole body ached, as if it had taken a terrible beating. The still-throbbing pain in her head was the worst. She had spent much of the flight with her eyes scrunched closed against the sunlight.

  When they set down in camp, Kaden slid off first and turned to help her down. She gripped his strong arms until her legs felt steady, and then she let go.

  “I’ll be back in a minute,” he murmured, and turned to help the other men with Talas.

  Kyrin wrapped her arms around herself, looking toward the cabin, but didn’t move. Others from camp had begun to gather to meet them. Kyrin ducked her head, afraid to face them and answer their questions. Speaking of what had happened would destroy her weak resolve.

  When the men had everything handled, Kaden returned to Kyrin and, together, they walked toward Lenae’s cabin. The thud of Kyrin’s pulse echoed painfully in her head. As they drew near, the cabin door opened and Lenae stepped into the doorway. A warm smile lit her face, but it died the moment she witnessed their expressions. She put her hand to her throat and came out to meet them.

  “What’s wrong? What happened?”

  Kyrin attempted to rally herself, but the emotion flooded in too quickly. She managed an unintelligible syllable, but the rest of her voice halted, snatched away by the crushing sorrow. She couldn’t say it, but it didn’t matter. Kaden said it for her.

  “The emperor executed our father.”

  There was no hope for stopping the tears now. They spilled down Kyrin’s cheeks. Lenae had to let this sink in a moment, but then gathered Kyrin into her arms. Kyrin laid her head on her shoulder and cried softly as the woman rubbed her back. After a few moments, Lenae pulled away gently, slipping one arm around Kyrin’s shoulders and the other around Kaden.

  “Come inside and get warm. Both of you.”

  She guided them toward the open door. Inside, she helped Kyrin slip out of Jace’s shirt and then set two chairs near the fireplace, while Kyrin and Kaden removed their coats. When they sat down, Lenae bent next to Kyrin and, with the tender care of a mother, she felt Kyrin’s cheek and forehead.

  “You’re a little warm. Are you hurt anywhere?”

  “My head,” Kyrin whispered weakly. Right now, it was so painful and heavy it felt ready to fall right off her shoulders.

  “I’ll make you some tea.” Lenae rose for a kettle and herbs to help the pain.

  Kyrin stared into the fireplace, losing herself in the flames. She let her mind numb and tried not to think of anything. Not the pain. Not the loss. She flinched when Lenae placed a warm mug in her hands. Kyrin glanced at her and took a sip that she swallowed down hard. Her throat ached with the tightness of a new wave of grief.

  A few minutes later, someone knocked lightly on the door, and Lenae let Jace in. His eyes immediately sought Kyrin. “I brought your things.”

  She noted the roughness of his voice and watched him set her supplies on the table. He’d been so kind and helpful. Kyrin appreciated it immensely. If only she were more capable of expressing it beyond a murmured “thank you.”

  He glanced at Kaden. “We brought your things to the shelter, and both Exsis and Ivy have been taken care of.”

  Kaden echoed Kyrin’s thanks. Jace shifted his eyes back to Kyrin’s, where they held, his concern and sorrow for her completely unguarded. She wanted to assure him that she would be all right, but would she?

  Timothy rested his forehead on his fingertips, staring down at the words he’d just finished writing. He willed more words to come, but he was mentally spent. Leaning back in his chair, he laid the quill pen aside and closed his eyes in a fight against the despair that threatened to rise up. He refused to let it consume him.

  It was difficult, though. Josan’s death left behind a painful, gaping void inside him. His uncle had been such a powerful spiritual influence in his life. Timothy would sorely miss his prayers, as well as his comforting and nurturing strength and wisdom. Tears clogged his throat. He rejoiced that Josan was now eternally free from burdens and pain, but a more selfish part of him still wanted his uncle here to help him with all that lay ahead.

  When the cabin door opened, Timothy blinked. Aaron stepped in. His brother closed the door quietly with a glance at Talas, who rested on a bed in the corner—the bed Trask had given up for him. Rayad and Warin had offered their beds to Timothy and Aaron, but they declined and laid out bedding on the floor instead. Still, their kindness touched Timothy. He hadn’t known many people who would do what the men and women of this camp had done for them.

  Aaron pulled out a chair next to Timothy and sat down. “How’s it coming?”

  Timothy glanced back down at the pages of parchment and despair lurked again. For many hours the night before, he’d written down all the Scripture he could remember. He hadn’t known what else to do. Amidst the sorrow surrounding them, he felt lost without the Scrolls. They’d been available to him all his life, but now he had nothing. Not even his own letters, which had been with the copies of the Scrolls that Falcor had also taken.

  He sighed again. “I think I’ve done all I can remember.”

  Aaron picked up the stack of parchment near him, about fifty pages’ worth, and flipped through them. “This is a lot.”

  His tone held encouragement, but Timothy shook his head. “It’s nothing compared to what we had.”

  Aaron looked him in the eyes. “But it is something.”

  Letting his brother’s words have their effect, Timothy nodded. “You’re right.”

  Aaron gave him a small smile. Though it didn’t hide the weariness and sadness his brother also felt at the loss they’d suffered, the gesture gave him the boost of hope he needed.

  “Come on.” Aaron pushed up from the table. “You need to get out.”

  Timothy didn’t dispute that. With quiet steps, the two of them crossed the cabin, and Timothy grabbed his c
oat as they headed outdoors. He breathed deeply as he pulled it on, the crisp air refreshing his fatigued mind. He scanned the campsite. It hadn’t snowed as heavily here, and the temperature was warmer. If it held, the few inches of snow would disappear in a day or two with how warmly the sun shone down.

  They stepped away from the cabin, angling toward the edge of camp, and Timothy glanced back at the cabin Kyrin and Lenae shared. His heart hurt deeply over what had happened to Captain Altair. He prayed for Kyrin, Kaden, and the rest of their family—for their healing and comfort through the sorrow that never faded completely.

  At the camp’s perimeter, Aaron stopped and stared into the forest. Timothy paused beside him.

  “All my life, I’ve never seen trees until the last couple of days,” Aaron said.

  Timothy shook his head, taking in the sight of one dark tree trunk after another as far as he could see. He tried to imagine what their bare limbs and the forest floor would look like covered in greenery. It was surprisingly difficult without a single memory to aid him. Spring would be a wondrous time.

  Pondering this, he looked at his brother. “What do you think we’ll do now?”

  Aaron stuck his hands in his pockets and shrugged. “Captain Darq mentioned something about taking us to Dorland to meet our grandfather. I suppose they won’t make any plans until Talas has recovered.”

  Timothy considered this in silence. He wanted to meet their grandfather. Since their mother had been an orphan, he’d never had family outside of his brother, father, and uncle. Still, something inside him hesitated at leaving. Maybe it was the unknown of entering into the cretes’ dramatically-different lifestyle. What would they expect of him and Aaron? He shrugged these questions off for the time he would actually face them. If he had learned anything from the last week, it was that it only took one small event for everything to change.

  He glanced over his shoulder for another look around the camp that could possibly be their new home, and his eyes caught near the dragons. One lone person stood among them. Leetra. Her small size gave her away. She rested against her dragon with her head bowed. Though her back was to him, the jerking of her shoulders told him one thing—she was crying. Odd. She seemed so strong and stoic yet, with the loss of two good men and the Scrolls, it was easy to forget that the one who’d caused it all had been Leetra’s betrothed. The pain of his betrayal must be excruciating.

  Knowing what little he did of her, she probably wouldn’t welcome an intrusion, but his heart urged him to help her. Maybe it was the crete way to suffer silently and alone, but he didn’t believe it was necessary.

  “Excuse me a minute,” he told Aaron, and walked toward her.

  Her soft cries drifted toward him as he drew near. Suddenly, she spun around. Her eyes shimmered lavender and spilled tears down her cheeks. For that split-second, all her walls were gone, leaving her deepest vulnerability laid bare. But the moment she registered his face, her own hardened. She swiped her fingers across her cheeks as if the tears were toxic and glared at him.

  Timothy held up his hands. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you . . . I just came to see if there was any way I could help.”

  “There isn’t,” she snapped and turned away from him.

  Timothy stood lost for a second or two, but he wouldn’t give up that easily. “There’s no shame in tears. You have every right to cry.” His voice dropped a little. “I can’t imagine how difficult it must be for you to have been betrayed by Falcor.”

  Her whole body tensed, and she turned back to him. This time her eyes flashed in anger, but not for him, he realized. She took a step forward, her voice low and cold.

  “He’s responsible for the murder of two men, he nearly killed my cousin, and he would have killed you had he known who you are. Given half a chance, he probably would have killed Captain Darq too. And I . . .” She placed her hand on her chest before curling it into a tight fist. “I was going to marry him.”

  Her jaw clenched, and she shook her head as she spoke bitterly. “I should’ve been able to see, but no. I was just stupid enough to fall for his act and his lies.” Tears glimmered once more in her eyes.

  Her pain and anger only intensified Timothy’s desire to help her. He wanted to reach out with a comforting hand, but he held back and merely spoke instead. “He hid his intentions well, from all of us. It’s not your fault.”

  For just an instant, as she looked into his eyes, her defenses dropped again to reveal a desperate longing, but it was just a flash. She looked away, muttering through her teeth, “Easy for you to say,” and strode past him.

  Timothy’s gaze followed her, but he could no more make her accept his words than he could change the past. One thing was certain, though—he didn’t think he’d ever forget the sight of her lavender eyes when she’d first turned to him. He’d never seen such eyes.

  Kyrin buried her head under the blankets to capture every bit of warmth from the covers and block out the light. She didn’t know what time it was, but she had slept most of the night. How could she not when her body needed it so? Her muscles still felt stiff and achy, but at least the headache had subsided to a dull throb between her eyes. Another cup of tea or coffee would probably take it away completely.

  For several minutes, she lay still and searched for the will to get up. It was easier to lie there and try to block everything out. To rise and face the day would require composure and an acceptance of change. I don’t want change. She focused on Lenae’s quiet footsteps below her instead of the tightening in her chest. A moment later, someone knocked on the door and Lenae opened it.

  “I came to see if Kyrin was up yet.”

  Kyrin rolled onto her stomach and pushed herself up on her elbows, brushing hair out of her eyes. Reaching out, she parted the curtain of the loft. “Kaden?”

  He looked up at her. His eyes were clearer today. Determined.

  “I’ll be down in a minute,” she told him.

  Letting the curtain fall back into place, she pushed back the covers and slid out of bed with a sigh. Below, Lenae asked Kaden if he had eaten lunch yet. When he said no, she invited him to sit down while she made something for him and Kyrin before taking food over to Trask’s cabin for their guests.

  Kyrin rubbed the grittiness out of her eyes and grabbed her clothes—a pair of woolen leggings, a wool shirt, and sleeveless suede overdress that fell just past her knees. She reached inside her collar to tug on the cord around her neck and bring the stone into reach. Squeezing it against her palm, her eyes settled on the folded parchment resting on top of her dresser. She and Kaden had been too weak and exhausted to read it the night before. Slowly, she picked it up and left the loft.

  Downstairs, she washed her face and sat down across from Kaden. She laid the parchment on the table between them. Kaden glanced at it, but said nothing. A couple of minutes later, Lenae set a bowl of soup before each of them. Kyrin stared at the food, and then glanced hesitantly at Kaden. Their eyes met in understanding. Gathering her resolve, Kyrin closed her eyes, bowing her head as they each said a silent prayer. It was difficult, at first, to form any words. I know I have so much to be thankful for, but it’s hard to see when things seem so bleak. Help us to see and make it through this. She peeked at her brother. Thank You so much that I still have Kaden and all my friends.

  She picked up her spoon and stirred it through the soup as she tried to find an appetite. Kaden didn’t dive in either. Finally, she forced herself to take a bite. Despite her lack of appetite, her stomach accepted the food hungrily, and she managed to finish the entire bowl right after Kaden finished his.

  Now they sat for a moment in silence. Lenae had gone to the other cabin, so it was just the two of them. Kyrin looked from the parchment to Kaden, and back again. At last, she reached for it, gingerly unfolding the message and placing it where she and Kaden could both read it. She swallowed hard and scanned the words.

  By the end, she could barely see the parchment. She pressed her palms to her eyes, th
ough the tears leaked through anyway. She fought to keep the grief and longing for her father at bay, but it wore her down.

  “Are you all right?”

  At Kaden’s husky voice, she pulled her hands away from her face, looking into his teary eyes. “I don’t know.” She choked a little and fought not to break down into sobs. Wiping her cheeks, she asked, “Are you?”

  His answer wasn’t immediate. Quietly, he said, “I will be . . . eventually.”

  Kyrin nodded. Eventually.

  Kaden looked down, battling his own tears. “He would want us to keep going; to keep fighting.”

  She nodded again, more firmly this time. That was just what their father would want. Using her sleeves, she wiped away the remaining tears and drew deep breaths to calm herself. Once in control of her emotions, she looked determinedly at Kaden.

  “I know one thing we must do. We have to get to Liam, somehow. Now, especially. He needs us.”

  They couldn’t reach the fort fast enough for Liam. Traveling through the snow had been difficult, but since it had nearly melted, it turned the road to a bed of ankle-deep mud that sucked at his boots and drained his energy. On top of it, a cold drizzle fell from the gloomy sky. By now, his cloak was nearly soaked through. Thankfully, they had only another two miles to go. Then he and the rest of the foot soldiers could seek warm shelter and change out of their wet, mud-spattered uniforms.

  He glanced toward the head of the column, where Marcus led the way on horseback with his lieutenant, Parker. They hadn’t spoken much on their return journey—even less so when they drew near to the fort. He didn’t have to be a genius to guess that his brother’s somber mood was on account of having to report their failure in Dunlow to the General. Liam hung his head. The discomfort Marcus suffered was his fault. He could have turned the crete in. Yet he still believed he’d done the right thing in letting him escape. Even so, he hoped his father had arrived ahead of them to offer more reassurance. He’d been questioning everything since they left Dunlow, particularly concerning the things his father wanted to tell him.