of us attended boarding school for brats.”
“Brats? I can’t believe you’d fit in that group,” I said.
Belen’s deep laugh vibrated in my chest. “I didn’t.” He jabbed a finger at Kerrick. “Even though I’m four years older than him, his father insisted I go along so I could keep him out of trouble.” Belen huffed. “Didn’t work. And every time he caused problems, I’d be sucked in and we’d both be punished.”
“You’d have been bored otherwise,” Kerrick said.
“Are you two related?” I asked Belen.
“No. My parents worked for his family for years. We grew up together.” Then Belen sobered. “The plague took my mother and my older sister. But my younger sister survived, and Izak, one of Kerrick’s brothers, lived.”
Quiet descended over the campsite.
“As far as I know, my great-aunt Yasmin is still alive,” Kerrick added. “Which doesn’t make sense since she’s ancient and has been ill for as long as I can remember.”
Nothing about the plague made sense. The healers had tried every herb and tonic they knew to heal the victims to no avail.
“Where is your sister now?” I asked Belen.
“Sayen is guarding Prince Ryne. He has many loyal supporters. We were expanding our reach and bringing order to the chaos, but once he sickened, everything stopped. There’s no one else like him.”
“You’re right. No other Realm leader has executed as many prisoners as Prince Ryne.” The words popped from my mouth before I could stop them. I glanced at Kerrick, but he kept his relaxed position by the fire.
“His father ordered all those executions,” Belen said.
“Come on. Everyone knows King Micah was just a figurehead during the six years after his accident. And he died before the plague struck.”
“A figurehead who still had loyal generals despite his erratic behavior. When Micah decided to clean out the dungeons, they followed his orders. By the time word reached Ryne, it was too late.”
Flea started throwing stones to practice juggling. I joined him, glad for an excuse to end the conversation about Ryne.
Except it picked up where we had left off the next night and the following three nights. I had made a mistake in directing my questions to Belen on that first night. He had a sincere honesty that was hard to ignore, and, after getting the topic steered to Ryne, Kerrick let Belen take over the reminiscing.
However, on the fifth night Kerrick took first watch. Belen paced around the campfire and even Flea remained quiet. During the day, I had noticed the strain in Quain’s face and witnessed a couple intense, but private discussions between the men.
“What’s going on?” I finally asked Loren.
He heated water over the tiny fire—all that Kerrick would allow. Loren exchanged a glance with Belen.
“If you’re trying to protect me from bad news, stop it right now. I don’t like secrets,” I said to both of them. “I can’t help if you keep me in the dark.”
“We’ve a couple bands of mercs on our tail,” Belen said.
Having already warned Kerrick of this possibility, I wasn’t surprised. We then played hide-and-seek with the three different groups of mercenaries for the next two days. Our rest breaks shortened until we skipped them altogether. Cold food and a scant few hours of sleep during the day became our new routine.
Kerrick didn’t have to say that the mercs were closing in. I knew from the others. No one smiled. No one spoke more than a few words. No one put their weapons down.
When the sun rose on the third day, Kerrick stopped. We were at the edge of the forest. Spread before us was an abandoned village. A carpet of thick thorny vines had grown over all the wooden structures, obscuring the streets. White, man-size Lilys dotted the greenery. Peace or Death Lilys—it was impossible for anyone to tell them apart.
“Damn. They’ve been herding us like cattle to the slaughterhouse,” Kerrick said.
Belen noticed my confusion. “The mercs
“Brats? I can’t believe you’d fit in that group,” I said.
Belen’s deep laugh vibrated in my chest. “I didn’t.” He jabbed a finger at Kerrick. “Even though I’m four years older than him, his father insisted I go along so I could keep him out of trouble.” Belen huffed. “Didn’t work. And every time he caused problems, I’d be sucked in and we’d both be punished.”
“You’d have been bored otherwise,” Kerrick said.
“Are you two related?” I asked Belen.
“No. My parents worked for his family for years. We grew up together.” Then Belen sobered. “The plague took my mother and my older sister. But my younger sister survived, and Izak, one of Kerrick’s brothers, lived.”
Quiet descended over the campsite.
“As far as I know, my great-aunt Yasmin is still alive,” Kerrick added. “Which doesn’t make sense since she’s ancient and has been ill for as long as I can remember.”
Nothing about the plague made sense. The healers had tried every herb and tonic they knew to heal the victims to no avail.
“Where is your sister now?” I asked Belen.
“Sayen is guarding Prince Ryne. He has many loyal supporters. We were expanding our reach and bringing order to the chaos, but once he sickened, everything stopped. There’s no one else like him.”
“You’re right. No other Realm leader has executed as many prisoners as Prince Ryne.” The words popped from my mouth before I could stop them. I glanced at Kerrick, but he kept his relaxed position by the fire.
“His father ordered all those executions,” Belen said.
“Come on. Everyone knows King Micah was just a figurehead during the six years after his accident. And he died before the plague struck.”
“A figurehead who still had loyal generals despite his erratic behavior. When Micah decided to clean out the dungeons, they followed his orders. By the time word reached Ryne, it was too late.”
Flea started throwing stones to practice juggling. I joined him, glad for an excuse to end the conversation about Ryne.
Except it picked up where we had left off the next night and the following three nights. I had made a mistake in directing my questions to Belen on that first night. He had a sincere honesty that was hard to ignore, and, after getting the topic steered to Ryne, Kerrick let Belen take over the reminiscing.
However, on the fifth night Kerrick took first watch. Belen paced around the campfire and even Flea remained quiet. During the day, I had noticed the strain in Quain’s face and witnessed a couple intense, but private discussions between the men.
“What’s going on?” I finally asked Loren.
He heated water over the tiny fire—all that Kerrick would allow. Loren exchanged a glance with Belen.
“If you’re trying to protect me from bad news, stop it right now. I don’t like secrets,” I said to both of them. “I can’t help if you keep me in the dark.”
“We’ve a couple bands of mercs on our tail,” Belen said.
Having already warned Kerrick of this possibility, I wasn’t surprised. We then played hide-and-seek with the three different groups of mercenaries for the next two days. Our rest breaks shortened until we skipped them altogether. Cold food and a scant few hours of sleep during the day became our new routine.
Kerrick didn’t have to say that the mercs were closing in. I knew from the others. No one smiled. No one spoke more than a few words. No one put their weapons down.
When the sun rose on the third day, Kerrick stopped. We were at the edge of the forest. Spread before us was an abandoned village. A carpet of thick thorny vines had grown over all the wooden structures, obscuring the streets. White, man-size Lilys dotted the greenery. Peace or Death Lilys—it was impossible for anyone to tell them apart.
“Damn. They’ve been herding us like cattle to the slaughterhouse,” Kerrick said.
Belen noticed my confusion. “The mercs
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