James Islington - The Shadow Of What Was Lost

Wirr’s heart sank, and he gave a heavy sigh. “I understand,” he admitted, “ and you’re being very generous with your offer. But I’m afraid I must refuse.”

Karaliene blinked. “Pardon?” she said in disbelief.

Wirr grimaced. “Call me irresponsible if you want, Kara, but there is something about Caeden I trust. I believe him.” As he was saying it, he was surprised to find it was true. “I know he’s not making it up. I won’t abandon him to be executed.”

Karaliene took a second to compose herself. “You don’t have a choice,” she said abruptly. “You’re too important. You’ll come back with me if I have to bind you and drag you there myself.”

Wirr laughed. “Do that, and I’ll just come forward and tell everyone that I’m Torin Wirrander Andras, Prince of Andarra. Then I’ll grant asylum for Davian, Taeris and Caeden myself.”

Karaliene scowled. “You wouldn’t. Otherwise you would have done so long ago.”

Wirr grinned. “I was trying to find a better way. Prevent a war and all that. But if you leave me no choice….”

For a moment it looked like Karaliene was going to argue further; then her face fell and she gestured in disgust. “Very well,” she said in exasperation. “Though I think you’re a fool for doing this.”

“Goes without saying,” said Wirr.

Karaliene glared at him for a moment longer, but eventually couldn’t stop the corners of her mouth creeping upward.

“You used to be so serious,” she said with a wondering shake of her head. “What happened?”

Wirr shrugged. “I think… you get a different perspective when people treat you as an equal. It changes the way you look at things,” he said, a pang of guilt and sorrow running through him as he thought about the school again.

Karaliene watched him, her gaze appraising. “I like you better this way,” she admitted. “Just don’t tell anyone I said that. There are going to be some very, very angry people once I get word of this back to Andarra.”

“Which will be when?”

Karaliene considered. “I can’t trust this sort of thing to a pigeon or a rider - I’ll have to deliver it myself. So… a few weeks, maybe a little more?” She grimaced. "I know I gave you my word, Tor, but I have to tell our fathers something. And once they know you’re alive, they’re going to want a full explanation."

"Then tell them I’m here because I think the Boundary may be weakening - but that I’m heading home, and I promise to explain everything to them when I arrive. They don’t need to know about Davian, or Caeden, or Taeris for now." He held up his hand as Karaliene made to protest. "If you tell them, the only thing it will do is worry them more. Having that information won’t help them in the slightest."

"What if you don’t make it back?"

"If I’m not home in six weeks, you can tell them everything."

Karaliene scowled, but after a few seconds gave a reluctant nod. "On one condition."

"Which is?"

"That you let me send some protection with you." Karaliene brushed a loose strand of hair from her eyes. "Your father will skin me alive if I don’t do that much. And at least this way, I can give him some sort of reassurance."

Wirr hesitated, then nodded. "Done."

"Good." Karaliene released a deep breath. “I think I can manage that much without raising any suspicion. None of the Gifted, mind you – the Desrielites might be a little unhappy if we go back one or two short.” She smirked at the thought. “I can organise someone to be at the northern gate of Thrindar at dawn tomorrow. I assume you won’t be staying longer than necessary.”

“I think that’s a fair guess,” admitted Wirr. “Thank-you.”

Karaliene inclined her head. “You know that if you’re caught, you won’t be able to claim any ties to the throne without starting a war?”

“I know.”

They both stood, signalling the end of their conversation. “What should I tell the others?” Wirr wondered aloud.

“That’s the least of your worries.” Karaliene watched him for a moment, then abruptly stepped forward, giving Wirr a long, tight hug. “Be safe, Tor.”

Wirr smiled affectionately. “Thanks, Kara,” he said, returning the embrace.

At that moment the creaking of the door indicated someone had entered. Wirr and Karaliene leapt apart, turning to face the entrance.

The swordsman who had fought in the contest earlier stood in the doorway, hand frozen on the door frame as he stared at them. There was an awkward silence.

“I apologise, Your Highness,” said the young man stiffly, giving a slight bow in Karaliene’s direction. “I should have knocked.”

He spun and vanished, shutting the door behind him.

“Aelric!” The princess’ call came too late; he was gone. She turned to Wirr. “I am going to have to do some explaining later,” she sighed, an exasperated look on her face.

Wirr hesitated. “Is that safe?”

“What?” Karaliene had been staring at the closed door; she waved him away distractedly. “Don’t worry, Aelric is trustworthy. A bit full of himself at times, but eminently trustworthy.” She saw Wirr’s expression. “Oh, very well. I won’t tell him who you are.”

Wirr felt his eyebrows raise a little. “Are you two….”

“No.” Karaliene made a face. “Friends, but not suited to each other like that. I just wish he felt the same.”

They began to walk back through the corridors. “So do any of your friends know who you really are?” asked Karaliene, her tone curious.

Wirr grunted. “If there was one thing father was exceptionally clear on before I left, it was that no-one else was to know.” He saw her surprised expression and scowled. “He said that anyone I told would have to be killed.”

Karaliene grinned, though Wirr didn’t see the humour. “I’m not judging,” she said. They made the last turn, coming back in sight of the guards outside the room where Taeris and the others were waiting.

Karaliene put her hand on Wirr’s shoulder, holding him back for a moment. She looked him in the eye.

“Do you even want to go back to Ilin Illan?” she asked quietly.

Wirr held her gaze for a moment, then glanced away.

“They must be wondering where we are,” he said, gesturing to the door ahead.

Karaliene nodded thoughtfully. “Of course.”

They walked the rest of the way in silence.

Davian stirred as the door opened and the princess walked in, trailed by a drained, sombre-looking Wirr.

The room had been uncomfortably quiet since they’d left, with only Dras and the other members of the princess’ entourage occasionally chatting amongst themselves, and that at a whisper so that Davian and the others could not overhear. Taeris had made a few polite efforts at conversation, but had been bluntly ignored. He’d stopped trying after the first few minutes.

Everyone rose as Karaliene entered. She looked around to make sure she had everyone’s attention, then spoke directly to Taeris.

“There will be no asylum,” she said in a clear voice. From the corner of his eye, Davian could see Dras beginning to smirk. “Andarra will have nothing to do with helping a murderer, or one who has been accused of such ” – she looked with disdain at Caeden as she said the words, who flushed beneath her gaze – “ but neither will we act to turn you over to the mercies of the Gil’shar. Tonight you will stay at The Juggler, an inn near the northern gate. I will send word you are coming; we have friends there and you should be safe. At first light tomorrow, you are to leave Thrindar and not return. You will receive no further aid, and any claim you make to have met with us here today will be denied.”