Page 62 of The King’s Man (The Kingdom of the Krow #3)
~ JANN ~
The further we traveled, the more time I was forced to spend with my feet firmly on earth.
My muscles strengthened over the weeks, but without time for true recovery, I never ceased feeling achy and exhausted, utterly spent at the end of the day.
And yet, even in that cage of pain, the hours with Diadre in my arms were precious.
Over those two weeks crossing the continent, her heart bloomed like a flower opening to the sun. And the joy of watching her lose her fear spurred me forward and made the difficult days worth the pain.
After debating for days which capital to visit, in the end the decision was taken from my hands when a storm blew up from the north, pushing us further and further south.
My choice was to exhaust myself further fighting the storm, and slow our progress, or let the winds carry us south, towards Braventhall and the Centaurs.
Even Diadre agreed that it was a very clear sign from God.
Of course, my mate was not a quiet travel companion. Especially when we landed in the mornings.
“You’re going to do yourself harm if we keep this pace up,” she muttered two weeks into our travels as she cleaned and gutted a creature she’d caught among the roots of the trees in the forests of Kyrion Vale. “And you know if you break a wing or strain a back or whatever, we’re both screwed.”
I grunted—we had this conversation every morning. I could feel the tense chill in her when she thought of my wellbeing, her very real concern that I would be hurt. But there was also the hot spark of a woman who knew her mind and was frustrated when I didn’t listen.
While I agreed with her that injury was a very definite risk, and rest would be needed before I crossed the Raven Peaks, I couldn’t see my way clear to slowing our progress to Braventhall.
We’d found only small villages or merchants since we left Skolrag. The news was patchy and—I prayed—unreliable.
Rumor was rife that the Golden-eyed King had killed his own father and taken control of the Fetch, marrying their princess and now returning, triumphant, to claim the throne in Ebonreach.
While I could swallow that the tales of Gall might have been exaggerated to include a political assassination and conquering of the Fetch, the same rumors claimed that Gall was a great orator, in possession of a warrior’s length to rival Melek’s.
For the first time I wondered if this was more than manipulation. If, perhaps, the Fallen had killed Gall and Istral and replaced them with willing imposters.
Gall, a great orator? And a warrior’s length to rival a General’s?
While I could understand how people who’d never met him before would accept it, there was no way the men who’d followed Melek into war would believe it for a moment.
It had to be the exaggeration of the rumor mill from ignorant parties.
Still, my heart was uneasy.
And then, to add to the burden of worry, the closer we drew to the Braventhall, and the border of Kyrion Vale and the Raven Peaks without any sign from Caelan, the more disturbed I became that something may have happened to my most loyal servant and ally.
I knew she would have sent messengers ahead to find me when I passed through and tell me where to meet her—or used that uncanny instinct of hers to simply show up where I was.
But even accepting that she’d have trouble finding a ride over the peaks, and be on horseback from there, there was no way it would take her over two weeks to reach Braventhall.
I spoke as little as possible with Diadre about it, but forced myself not to hide the concern from her. And while she always grew thoughtful at mention of Caelan, my beautiful mate showed very genuine concern for the woman’s well-being.
I prayed when they met—because they would meet, it could not be that Caelan had been killed—that it would be a show of iron sharpening iron, rather than cats fighting in an alleyway.
Both women were strong, intelligent, and accepted no shit. I knew enough of women to know they would either adore each other, or be driven mad by each other’s mere presence.
I prayed God’s mercy on me if the latter were true.
The day before we would reach Braventhall, the winds shifted again and pushed me west. The entire night was a battle on already weary limbs and wings, and when we landed, my legs trembled with weariness.
Diadre stood with me for a moment, turning in the straps and looking up at me worriedly. “Jann—”
“We’ll rest tomorrow after we reach the city,” I muttered, taking a moment to simply breathe and recover, reminding myself that it would be at least an hour before I could sleep.
Diadre gave me a look over her shoulder, but nodded and unbuckled before urging me to sit while she made camp.
I usually tried to help, but this morning, as the sun inched over the Raven Peaks in the distance and turned the sky pink, I only prayed that I wouldn’t fall face-first into my meal.
Diadre kept shooting me glances while she hurried through hunting, building a fire, and cooking the food. At one point, while the creature she’d found roasted over the fire, she brought me a waterskin and urged me to drink.
I sat with my back to a jagged tree-stump. The great sentry of the forest must have been struck by lightning—or perhaps a Centaur stallion seeking a mate—because the break in that massive trunk was splintered, and the beast of a tree had taken others down with it when it fell.
But I was grateful to settle my ass in the hollow between the roots and let my back rest against the dead stump.
My hand shook when I took the waterskin from Diadre. I prayed she didn’t notice.
Of course, she did.
“Jann—”
“One more night, Dee. We’ll reach Braventhall in a few hours from here. I’ll have to remain for at least a day, maybe two, to keep them happy—they have very strict etiquette. We’ll sleep in a proper bed and… it will get better.”
Her lips thinned and I felt a jolt of worry from her through the bond, but she nodded.
“Talk to me about Gall,” she said a few minutes later when I winced taking off my jacket because my back ached.
She’d obviously decided to distract me, and I was grateful for the thought.
“How could they say those things about him—he was with you all when you came through in the war, right? Wouldn’t people have seen him or met him?
Weren’t there rumors about his… limitations? ” she asked carefully.
I sighed. “Melek and I always kept Gall out of sight of outsiders where we could. He was easily wounded by ignorant words. And besides, it was always a dance with keeping him out of Gault’s way.
Gault knew who he was, but didn’t acknowledge him.
We didn’t want to give the King any reason to see him as a threat—or an annoyance.
In truth though, it wouldn’t have mattered if we’d paraded him at the front of the army in every city and town. ”
“Why not?”
“Because those outside the Neph wouldn’t know the truth of Gall’s heart or mind. He doesn’t look different. Imagine if you ran into him in a dark forest—without hearing the way his mind works, you’d find him terrifying.”
Diadre nodded slowly. “It’s true. All of you are intimidating in size and…” she glanced to the side and scanned me, “erm, stature.”
I snorted. But the humor passed quickly.
“In truth, a commander is always a legend. Even Melek—who earned his fame—was unknown to all but those closest to him. And when a land has been conquered and is submitted… well, most have little interest in challenging what they’re told by their new rulers.
They just want to stay alive.” I rubbed my temples and rolled my neck to loosen the tension in it.
“Haven’t you observed that during a monarch’s reign you’ll never hear that they were weak or sick—yet history will reveal those truths to later generations? ”
“I hadn’t thought about it that way.”
I shrugged. “While someone is in power you won’t hear of their flaws, only their strengths—and usually greatly inflated in order to intimidate.
We took the middle lands of the continent so quickly primarily because the legends of what Melek had done preceded us.
No one dares speak of a conqueror’s flaws while they’re still in power and could retaliate. ”
“So these rumors… they’re pure fiction?”
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “I do fear… but there’s no way to know.
Tomorrow, in Braventhall, I’ll gather what intelligence I can and send it back to Melek and Yilan, and another forward to…
to Caelan,” I said, shifting in my seat when Diadre’s brows pinched over her nose.
“In truth, I would have expected to meet her before now. I am worried,” I admitted.
Diadre blinked then turned to me. “You think she was hurt?”
The choice to say hurt rather than killed was a kindness.
I reached for her hand and squeezed it. “I pray not. I’ll admit, I worry.
Who knows what’s happened in Ebonreach while we’ve all been gone?
But there’s no point speculating. When we arrive in Ebonreach, I’ll have to secrete myself and find out if she remains in my household and what news is there before I reveal myself. ”
Diadre frowned deeply then. “Why would you hide in your own City?”
I managed a weak, but cocky grin. “Because, my dear, your mate is a… recognizable figure. And everyone knew I was allied to Melek when we left. While some will wait to see if my loyalties have shifted, at first glance, they’ll assume Melek sent me.
And it might be… unwise to have myself aligned with his bid for the crown.
How I deal with my return will determine everyone else’s assumptions and expectations.
It suits me to be seen as… working independently of both factions. At least, for now.”
“So… wait, you aren’t going into Ebonreach as Melek’s representative?”
I shook my head. “No. The Neph follow strength. When I return home, I will align myself with whomever is seen as winning that battle—and get word back to Melek as soon as I can.”
Which only conjured more worry for Caelan and where she might be.
But there was nothing to be gained by wasting energy on speculation. I ate the food my beautiful mate provided, then curled up in the furs and slept until the dark descended on the world and it was time to fly again.
I could no longer leap from the furs and fly. My body sore and joints aching meant I needed time to move and stretch and prepare my body for flight. Even the drag of my wings once they were manifested caused pain.
I was disoriented and frantic for half a breath when I first opened my eyes because she wasn’t in my arms—because Diadre had risen before I woke and found a place to bathe.
But it was a relief to strip off the sweaty leathers and dive into the pool, though the chill sucked the air from my lungs and shrunk my cock to rather dismal proportions.
While washing, I caught Diadre looking sly and smiling.
“Speak your mind,” I growled.
She giggled. “Just reminding myself that you are mortal,” she said, then snorted when I splashed her with the cold water.
But soon we were dry and dressed, fed and packed, and it was time to launch.
I buckled her to me and slid an arm around her stomach as I took a deep breath, bracing against the pain I would feel for those first few minutes. Taking off was the hardest work for my wings, and unfortunately the first work of every night.
As I was about to launch, Diadre put a hand back to take mine, and her voice bloomed in my mind.
‘I admire you, Jann. You’re very strong. And I love you.’
The words made my heart sing, and suddenly that launch into the air wasn’t quite as painful as it might have been. Which was a good thing, because the night to come was only going to hurt more.