Page 6 of Fate of Echoes and Embers (Heirs of Elydor #3)

MAREK

I turned in my saddle, just having passed the gatehouse but sensing someone was following me. Waiting for him to join me, I greeted the commander.

“Sir Warren.”

“Navarch,” he said, stiffly.

“Captain will do. Or Marek, if you prefer.”

We rode in silence, our horses’ hooves kicking up gravel.

“You’ve had little rain, of late?”

“Very little. Lady Isolde has considered sending for Aetherian aid.”

Issa disliked asking anyone for aid. “I could summon water from the tide pools near the cliffs.”

Sir Warren stiffened, skeptical. “Seawater?”

“It can be purified. Or…” I hesitated, feeling mischievous. “If your need is urgent, I can call upon the mists themselves to fill your reservoirs.”

The man blinked. “You are serious?”

“As serious as a Thalassarian drought.”

He wanted to smile but it seemed Sir Warren Calder had caught Issa’s affliction for hating me. “A rather impractical, dare I say, theatrical, display of your abilities.”

“Perhaps,” I admitted, “it might be simpler, especially given my short stay here, to send an emissary from Aetheria. I head there straightaway and will see to it since I know Issa won’t ask.”

“Thank you.” He sped up alongside me.

Sir Warren appeared so much older than when we first met. There were times I envied humans for their mortality, but others when I felt poorly for the frailty that came with such rapid aging, though I would never hint of that to the commander.

“Do you have a destination?” he asked.

“No,” I admitted. “It just seemed prudent to step away from the manor until mid-day.”

“When my lady will join you and your companions?”

“She briefed you?” I asked, moving to the side of the road as a wagon came toward us with what appeared to be a shipment of fruits and vegetables.

“Aye. Said only that she was needed for an important mission relating to King Galfrid’s attempt at reopening the Gate. Lord Draven was not pleased she refused to reveal the exact nature of her mission.”

“And you are not displeased by the lack of information?”

Sir Warren greeted the wagon rider as our road opened up once again. “No. But then, I have no ambitions beyond my current station.”

“But Draven does?”

He made a sound of disgust. “He will not be content until he’s named King of Estmere.”

“There is no king of Estmere,” I pointed out.

“Precisely.”

We rode in silence until a stream, where I slowed, unable to resist. Coming to a stop, I raised both hands and manipulated the water into the air, allowing it to fall on the plants and flowers along its banks.

“Braggart.”

Because he said it with the faintest hint of a smile, I didn’t take offense. Not that I would do so anyway, since he was right.

“Perhaps, but those flowers will be thankful for it. I’m surprised we’ve heard little about your lack of rain in the region.”

Neither of us rode away. I, for one, was content to remain along the river, never fond of being long without seeing water.

“You broke her heart. Devastated her.”

His words were so unexpected from the stalwart commander, I had no response. Instead, I watched the current, allowing it to sync with the beating of my heart. When I looked up, Sir Warren was watching me.

“I devastated myself in leaving.”

“Maybe so, but you had a choice in the matter. My lady did not.”

I hadn’t expected to have this conversation, but since we were doing it, I’d lean into it.

“I was a coward and have regretted it since. Aye, we need Lady Isolde’s abilities for this mission, but I also wanted the opportunity to see her.

To apologize. But she’s made me promise not to mention our past.”

“Then do not.”

“Thank you,” I said sarcastically, “for the advice.”

“If your intentions are to find forgiveness with Lady Isolde, then I would suggest taking her lead. And consider not breaking her heart again.”

Though his words were casual, his tone was not.

“I’ve no intention of doing so.”

His response was a deeper scowl than he’d already been giving me.

Though I did have one more question, since the commander was being more loquacious than expected. “Is she happy?”

His eyes met mine. “It is not my place to discuss such a thing,” he said finally.

And there was my answer.

It had been only a sennight, my previous stay at Hawthorne Manor. But it had been enough, Issa and I spending every waking moment together during that time, to have guessed the answer without having Sir Warren confirm it.

She craved adventure. Issa’s parents’ untimely death forced her into a life not of her choosing and she sacrificed herself to keep Hawthorne’s people safe. I didn’t need her commander’s answer to know the truth of it.

“Shall we return?” he asked, likely uncomfortable with my line of questioning.

If your intentions are to find forgiveness with Lady Isolde…

Of course I wanted her forgiveness, and if I wasn’t headed to my likely death, I’d want much, much more. But that would have to suffice.

“Tell me,” I asked as we turned back toward Hawthorne Manor, “why you mistrust Draven. And why Issa does not.”

I thought the commander might not answer.

“Draven was born a farmer’s son. He rose through the ranks and was knighted by my lady’s father, who was not much older than him at the time. He was given the title of Warden of the Borderlands, tasked with defending Hawthorne’s southern territories against Gyorian raids.”

Our slow trot allowed Sir Warren and I easy conversation. “Has he been effective in this role?”

Sir Warren’s expression gave me my answer. “Just this morn, we were hunting when a herd of sheep was reported stolen by Gyorian reivers. So nay, he has not. To my mind, at least.”

“A dangerous proposition, to tangle with them.”

“These are dangerous times,” he said. “As for Lord Draven, he was fiercely loyal to Lord Hawthorne when they were boys. But power changes men. Over time, whispers grew. The taxes he collected from the border towns never seemed to match what was recorded in the ledgers. And more than one who spoke too openly against him… disappeared.”

I raised an eyebrow. “You think he betrayed her father?”

“No. But he walked the line too closely for my liking. Lord Draven is an opportunist but has always been clever enough to hide behind loyalty and duty. Issa trusts him because her father did and because he saved her once when a band of Gyorian raiders breached the southern pass. He rode through the night to warn her father.”

“And yet you mistrust him?”

“I was there that night. He was the hero, aye. But he didn’t issue the warning until the last possible moment. When I confronted him, he had an excuse for the lapse, but I think he wanted the breach to happen so he could be the one to save her.”

The silence stretched between us.

“And now?” I pressed.

Sir Warren looked up toward Hawthorne Manor, which now appeared in the distance, its walls imposing to other humans but less so to any Gyorian who truly wished to breach it.

“He waits. Bides his time, playing the loyal knight, and whispering in Issa’s ear. But men like Lord Draven don’t serve forever.”