“What?” I rear back in surprise. “Why?”
“Darius will be vital in the war to come. I had to keep him safe until that time neared.”
Panic trembles my limbs, quaking through my chest and lungs, rattling my voice. “What will his role in the war be?”
Lips thinning, she shakes her head. “I cannot tell you any more than that. This is one of those things that you must discover for yourself, but I will give you one last breadcrumb, as you like to call them.”
Those familiar, yet unfamiliar brown eyes pass over my face, touching on the markings beneath my brow, on my eyelids, coiling around my arms, then dropping to my vambraced hands. The sight of the leather hide does something to her, and an anger I’m unaccustomed to seeing from her hardens her features. Sharpening her cheekbones. Hollowing out her cheeks. Illuminating her eyes. Making her appear ethereal, yet eerie, unnatural.
“Darius must be protected at all costs,” she says in a booming voice, a thousand ancient voices lacing her own. “If he does not live to see the war, if he does not survive the battle, blood will spill and the realms will fall, washing away all that you hold dear.”
Chapter 21Lena
Rounding my lips, I blow out a breath on the parchment. A cloud of charcoal dust plumes above, speckling the air before falling to fuse with the film already coating the wooden tables. Lifting the parchment, I ignore Lottie eyeballing me from behind the counter and instead scrutinize the sketch.
It’s a basic design of a short sword and dagger. Not even a very good one. It’s clumsily drawn across vellum and appears to be sketched by a child. But I'm not concerned with that. I've never claimed to be an artist, and I'm not really designing it, per se. I’ll leave those stylistic decisions up to Aurora. This was just the only way I could think of that would guarantee there was no miscommunication on my part as to where I need the gems to be placed. I doubt many people request a blacksmith to embed jewels along the center of a steel blade.
A leather pouch drops on the table, round cut emeralds and sapphires tumbling out as Amara seats herself beside me.
“Zander blessed these, but he still needs to do the others.” Reaching for my mug, she tosses back the last remnants of coffee, then sighs contentedly. “How can Lottie make such terrible food, but amazing coffee? It’s baffling.”
“I've never seen her eat the food she serves, but she does drink the coffee.” Stacking the drawing on top of the others, I pass the stack to Amara. “I suspect her standards for what she ingests are higher than what she serves.”
“I bet you're right,” she mumbles, flipping through the pages. “There’s what, five here? One for Kace, Griffin, Aurora …You’re commissioning weapons for all of them?”
I nod. “I can’t guarantee we won't have to pick up and leave without a moment's notice. If that’s the case, I can't leave Darius unprotected. Not after speaking with…Zenith.” I stumble over my words, almost forgetting I can’t use my aunt’s real name. “If I'm going to order one for him, I might as well for all of them.”
“I still can’t believe she's been coming here all these years.” Amara laughs and shakes her head. “That old bat’s such a sneaky bitch.”
Hearing someone noisily clear their throat, I look up to find Lottie standing at the edge of the table, staring us down with a disapproving frown. “You should not speak of the Seer that way. She’s a well-loved member of our society and highly respected.” She sneers. “Unlike some people.”
Snorting, Amara ducks her head towards mine, whispering, “That female doesn't have a respectable bone in her body.” She chuckles, then whips her gaze toward Lottie. “Shut it, you nosy cow!”
Not as easily startled as she once was, Lottie takes a frightened hop back, but quickly recovers to meet Amara’s glare with a scowl of her own. They eyeball each other for another moment, but no matter how familiar Lottie has become with us, she can’t hold that menacing stare for long. Lifting her nose with an indignant huff, she marches away, passing through the swinging doors to the kitchen.
Chuckling at Amara’s smug smirk, I gesture toward the sketches. “Do you think they’ll like them?”
“Who wouldn't?” Amara replies, picking up the drawing of a broadsword I made for Griffin. “But these blades are still useless against the Breccans.”
“I know, but at least it will help against the Soulless.” Frowning, I fold my arms on top of the table, drumming my fingers against my forearms. “Did you find anything in the armory?”
“No,” she says with a grim slash to her lips, tossing the stack onto the table. “Every blade was made from steel or iron.”
I shrug. “Then this is the best I can do at the moment.”
Scrubbing her face with a weary sigh, she glances at the sketch of a short sword and dagger. “Do you think Darius will train Trip with these? Or will he continue with the broadsword?”
“He’ll train with them,” I reply confidently. Darius is as stubborn as a mule, but he knows I'm right. Once he gets over his wounded pride from being corrected by a human woman, he’ll see that.
“I still don't understand why he didn’t in the first place. Or why he trains his guards the way he does,” Amara says, lounging in her chair with a baffled expression. “Their methods are outdated.”
“Because it's how it's always been done,” I answer simply. “Besides the Battle of Brecca, this realm hasn't experienced a war in centuries. They haven’t been tested in battle for so long, they don't realize how ill-equipped they truly are.”
“They will soon though, won't they?” Amara says with a tight smile.
Groaning, I brush my fingers through my hair, sweeping through the wavy locks and trailing downward to clasp my hands on the back of my nape. Fear and guilt are a solid presence within my mind as I debate which step to take. I could either continue on my path to search for my quarries throughout Vanyimar and leave Darius, Aurora, and all my friends to battle the unknown alone, or I could help them first, losing valuable time in the process, and possibly condemning them all to an even worse fate.
Either way seems cruel, but until I find who I've been searching for, there's not much else I can do. I'm stuck between a bad choice and an even worse one. But even as I say this to myself, I know it's not true. There is another way, one where I can guarantee the safety of every Seboian citizen. But it's risky, dangerous. If I were to do it and I was captured or killed, which is more probable than not, it could destroy everything I spent my whole life preparing for. Everything I've sacrificed for.
Shaking my head, I shove the thought aside, unwilling to entertain such a perilous venture. I know what I need to do. I should pretend I never met any of them and focus on my own search. Zenith said I had to protect Darius, but I'm sure I could figure out a way to get him to leave with me. No matter how gruff he may appear, he's a good soul. All I would have to do is threaten Aurora or his brother, and he'll do whatever I asked. He would hate me for it, but I suspect he already will when he learns the truth.
Mind made up, I attempt to form a plan, debating which kingdom to target next and the best route to take. But even as I do, knowing this is the only logical path to take, I also know that in truth, I could never abandon these people I've come to care about, even in the face of my quest.
“We can’t abandon Seboia,” I whisper to myself. But Amara answers all the same.
“Of course we’re not,” she replies, grabbing a charcoal stick and adding her own contributions to the sketch for Trip’s blade.
Feeling as if a weight has lifted off my shoulders, I fold one leg over the other, repositioning myself to face Amara. “What I mean is, we’re going to do whatever we can to help them.”
Pausing with the charcoal stick hovering above the parchment, she eyes me with a puzzled expression. “I know.”
That was easier than I thought it would be.
Shrugging internally at her odd behavior, I slouch in my chair while fiddling with my lip. “Alright, then. I need to figure out a way to tell Tristan and Zander. Zander shouldn't be an issue, but Tristan won't be pleased.”
“They already know.”
Focusing on the best way to present this deviation to Tristan, it takes a moment to realize what she said. “How can they? I just figured it out for myself.”
