Epilogue
Illian watched silently from the window of his room as the carriage left with the woman he loved inside. He leaned against the sill with a bitter little smile on his face.
It is better this way. She had to find out sooner or later. He would find a way to explain her sudden departure. If anything, it signalled that she had no intention of remaining to take vengeance for her brother.
How could he blame her if she wanted nothing to do with him or the smell of blood that followed him wherever he went? “Goodbye, Trista,” he said softly. “I hope you find happiness.” He turned resolutely away from the window. The one thing holding him back was gone. Now, he could begin to reshape the kingdom as he was meant to do.
Brenin normally enjoyed traveling alone. Yet this time, every step he took further away from the cursed capital of Tephraya weighed more heavily on his heart.
Perhaps that was why he traveled so slowly, even though he wanted nothing more than to get away from this slaver-infested land. He found himself at a small oasis village with a tranquil atmosphere and stayed at the inn for longer than necessary, grateful for a warm bed and a chance to collect his thoughts.
He was playing a game of Paxel with a Tephrayan villager when a familiar voice behind him said, “Here you are, old man.”
It was that annoying brat who tagged along after the princess all the time. Brenin fixed a scowl on his face, although the feeling the voice evoked was surprisingly pleasant, like the sound of an old friend. “How did you find me?” he demanded, turning to glare at the door.
Chance’s appearance startled him. His face was even paler than usual, coated with dust and scratches. His hands and arms bore similar scratches, as though he’d fallen multiple times, and Brenin had to rush to catch him as his legs gave away.
“You hid yourself too well, old man,” Chance mumbled through cracked lips. “It took me a while to find this place.”
“What on earth are you doing here?” Brenin was about to scold him when realization hit him like a hailstorm. He grasped Chance’s shoulders. “Is it Ren?” he said sharply. “Tell me, is Ren alright?!”
Chance’s grim expression confirmed his worst fears. “Lady Kathryn begs you to return at once, General.”
“What happened? Where is Ren?” Brenin’s heart pounded so hard he thought it was going to explode.
“The king took him…he will force him to fight against the rebels. But it is worse than that. The man who has taken charge of him is a demon.” Chance looked up at him, struggling for breath. “We must return, or Ren may not survive what comes next.”
“You need to rest. I will leave now. Sleep here and follow me in the morning.” Brenin pushed Chance into a chair and called to the woman behind the bar, “Get him some water!” Then he left, his boots ringing against the floorboards.
As he mounted his horse and galloped away from the little town back towards the cursed city, his mind roared and fear clutched at his heart. He muttered, “Ren will not die. There are too many people who need him.” He couldn’t have known that Kathryn, standing at the window of her home in the capital, was saying the exact same thing.
– The end of Book 2: The Desert Crossing
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