eyes. They were eyes that felt the same tearing pain Sim was now experiencing. They were eyes that revealed a tormented soul.
Before Sim lost his senses he tumbled to the ground, desperate to tell Aidan what he knew.
For he knew the truth. He knew.
Ren lied.
If only Aidan would realize that in time.
Chapter 7
They had ridden hard, stopping only briefly in the night to rest their horses and catch a few moons’ clicks of sleep. They barely talked. They barely ate. They were on a mission.
When Bentzen had first relayed the story Quinton had jumped into action, thinking what men of war were trained to think - kill.
Now, after riding for days he had been through every emotion he could possibly feel: anger, hatred, pain, desperation, anxiety, worry, and fear. The fear came whenever he thought about the one possibility he didn’t want to consider. He may never see Marva again. The thought always left him off balance. He didn’t know what he would do without his wife: her smile, her bravery, her stubbornness, and her ice-blue fiery eyes. Those same passionate eyes now haunted his dreams.
Quinton felt like he was on the spiral of fate, descending to the point of no return. He knew this could be his last ride. He just wished he had been able to tell Ren goodbye.
But if this was his last ride he would take as many as he could down with him, especially the man who had taken Marva and Renee. He would suffer a thousand times over for what he had done. Quinton had no doubt he would recognize him. He had memorized Bentzen’s description of the man called Ickba. Marva’s captor also plagued his dreams, but in every dream Ickba died screaming.
They had just crossed the Sierras where they had ridden through a storm of dust and Quinton silently welcomed the dense forests of Zier. He steered his horse to a small cave he used to frequent as a child. It would be a perfect place to rest. Stardom was only a day’s ride away. They needed to gather their strength before they attacked.
As he broke through the small clearing containing the hidden hollow, he reined his horse to a skidding halt and waited for Michel.
Michel’s horse bolted through the clearing heartbeats later. Since leaving the others Quinton hadn’t seen Michel in the bright of day. Although they had stopped briefly every night to catch a little sleep, Michel appeared to have slept little, if at all. He looked years older. Quinton had fallen asleep immediately every night. He was trained to do so. Sleep was necessary for strength, and if he had no strength, Marva had no chance.
“In the midst of battle ,” his father used to say, “ you must rest .” And it was true. The first night had been difficult but he had managed to do what his father had trained him to do: clear his mind and delve into a dream state.
As Quinton watched, Michel’s eyes fluctuated between sanity and insanity, and every few heartbeats he trembled with the force of the ten winds. Quinton stepped forward, concerned, but when Michel drew a breath the trembling stopped. Quinton relaxed, realizing Michel’s movements could have been from tears. Michel hit his horse’s flank and stepped aside as the horse trotted off to graze. Quinton marveled at how Michel could communicate with animals. The horses he rode were never fettered but were always there the next morning, nickering for his hand.
Over the past weeks Quinton had surprised himself by feeling the same loyalty toward Michel as he did his prince. Although he had many he called friends he had precious few he felt close to. He was, after all, the captain of Ren’s guard. He needed men to admire him, call him friend, but he also needed to remain objective and slightly distant from each. He didn’t mind. He had always been friend to many but close to few. There was something different about Michel, however, something special. Ren took after Michel more than he did his own father. Quinton supposed that could be the reason he felt an
Before Sim lost his senses he tumbled to the ground, desperate to tell Aidan what he knew.
For he knew the truth. He knew.
Ren lied.
If only Aidan would realize that in time.
Chapter 7
They had ridden hard, stopping only briefly in the night to rest their horses and catch a few moons’ clicks of sleep. They barely talked. They barely ate. They were on a mission.
When Bentzen had first relayed the story Quinton had jumped into action, thinking what men of war were trained to think - kill.
Now, after riding for days he had been through every emotion he could possibly feel: anger, hatred, pain, desperation, anxiety, worry, and fear. The fear came whenever he thought about the one possibility he didn’t want to consider. He may never see Marva again. The thought always left him off balance. He didn’t know what he would do without his wife: her smile, her bravery, her stubbornness, and her ice-blue fiery eyes. Those same passionate eyes now haunted his dreams.
Quinton felt like he was on the spiral of fate, descending to the point of no return. He knew this could be his last ride. He just wished he had been able to tell Ren goodbye.
But if this was his last ride he would take as many as he could down with him, especially the man who had taken Marva and Renee. He would suffer a thousand times over for what he had done. Quinton had no doubt he would recognize him. He had memorized Bentzen’s description of the man called Ickba. Marva’s captor also plagued his dreams, but in every dream Ickba died screaming.
They had just crossed the Sierras where they had ridden through a storm of dust and Quinton silently welcomed the dense forests of Zier. He steered his horse to a small cave he used to frequent as a child. It would be a perfect place to rest. Stardom was only a day’s ride away. They needed to gather their strength before they attacked.
As he broke through the small clearing containing the hidden hollow, he reined his horse to a skidding halt and waited for Michel.
Michel’s horse bolted through the clearing heartbeats later. Since leaving the others Quinton hadn’t seen Michel in the bright of day. Although they had stopped briefly every night to catch a little sleep, Michel appeared to have slept little, if at all. He looked years older. Quinton had fallen asleep immediately every night. He was trained to do so. Sleep was necessary for strength, and if he had no strength, Marva had no chance.
“In the midst of battle ,” his father used to say, “ you must rest .” And it was true. The first night had been difficult but he had managed to do what his father had trained him to do: clear his mind and delve into a dream state.
As Quinton watched, Michel’s eyes fluctuated between sanity and insanity, and every few heartbeats he trembled with the force of the ten winds. Quinton stepped forward, concerned, but when Michel drew a breath the trembling stopped. Quinton relaxed, realizing Michel’s movements could have been from tears. Michel hit his horse’s flank and stepped aside as the horse trotted off to graze. Quinton marveled at how Michel could communicate with animals. The horses he rode were never fettered but were always there the next morning, nickering for his hand.
Over the past weeks Quinton had surprised himself by feeling the same loyalty toward Michel as he did his prince. Although he had many he called friends he had precious few he felt close to. He was, after all, the captain of Ren’s guard. He needed men to admire him, call him friend, but he also needed to remain objective and slightly distant from each. He didn’t mind. He had always been friend to many but close to few. There was something different about Michel, however, something special. Ren took after Michel more than he did his own father. Quinton supposed that could be the reason he felt an
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