Nesrin smiled at Rowan.His mouth was hanging open now, like he’d never heard such an outrageous tale.
“The history books all disagree about what happened next,” Bastion said, folding the cloth and wedging it into the acute angles of his saddle.“But some claim Queen Siya roused from her grief long enough to beg the Mirrorwood–once her home–for help.It swallowed the army whole, taking the Eastern Road with it.No one has come out of it alive ever since.”
Rowan scooted closer, eyes shining.“And Queen Siya?”
Bastion couldn’t help but glance at Ulla.Her gaze flitted away.
“There is a garden in the palace,” Bastion said, “where a tree bends over his grave like a lover.”His heart shuddered, and he dropped his eyes.“Some say it is her, still mourning the king.”
“The younger of their sons returned to Tynamara after the road disappeared and took up the crown,” Nesrin continued.“He spent the first several years of his reign fixing what had been done.That was King Halen, whom King Torvald and Prince Endre are descended from.And his brother… well, that is legend for another time.”
Rowan stared, and Bastion could see the wheels turning in his head.The boy blinked and turned to Ulla, eyes alight.“Ulla, Ulla!Teach me the signs from the story!”
An indulgent smile split her face.Rowan rattled off several words, including forest, king, crown, army, road, and palace.As he said them, she showed him the signs, waiting as he formed each one slowly.A sense of wonder lit up his face, and he grinned when the movements became familiar.
Bastion wanted to join them.After weeks of urgency and fear, he’d welcome the opportunity to try something new.To continue learning Ulla’s chosen language because it was important to her, and he could give her nothing else.
But he didn’t dare sit down with them.Every hum and hiss of the bond, however intermittent, whispered to him that she deserved better.
Any levity he’d felt evaporated.He got up and went to feed Finn.
__________
The rest of their journey, they followed the Silverway, skirting the outer edge of Tynamara to avoid the crush of the population.The road was mostly clear, if a bit muddy from lingering snow.They passed other carts laden with workers or supplies and the odd lone traveler.As the afternoon wore on, their shadows stretched before them like long fingers, as though signing that their journey’s end was nigh.
Unease wound through Bastion.The palace gleamed, as beautiful as a cluster of crystals jutting from the stone.Beyond it, across the waterfall, the university’s domed glass ceiling flashed in the setting sun.
When the road curved and rose towards the palace, Bastion steeled himself.He didn’t know what would greet them.
The prison and supply carts fell behind, along with half their party.The rest followed Lord Kyrith, their hooves thundering over the packed earth.Nesrin cast an unreadable glance back at Bastion.
Then, they were through the palace gates.
Memories hit Bastion like a rockslide.He’d left this place with Endre dozens of times, leisurely riding until they hit the Silverway and could race to the harbor unchecked.He returned just as often, thinking nothing of the grandeur of the palace.Now, the weight of his unknown future outweighed any familiarity or relief.
A wide swath of steps spanned the south side of the courtyard.Lord Kyrith slowed to a stop there and dismounted.Hostlers raced forwards to take the horses.
Bastion’s eyes rose to the top of the steps in horror.The full council flanked the king, queen, and Endre.Behind them, it looked like the entire court was assembled.A young woman broke away and raced down the stairs in a flash of magenta skirts, her mahogany skin and shrewd eyes a match to Nesrin's.
Talia.Nesrin’s sister, fourth in line for the throne and practically the crown princess in Aurelia’s absence.
Bastion guided Finn away from the fray, concerned that Rowan and Epona would be trampled.Stiff with nerves, he swung out of the saddle and helped Rowan wobble to the ground.By the time he handed off the horses to a terrified hostler, Talia had thrown herself into her father’s arms, her lips spread in a radiant smile.The royal family descended, their approach as inevitable as a tsunami.
The rest of their party arrived, and though he and Ulla hadn’t spoken the entire journey, a sense of nervousness bled into his chest.It almost felt… smothered.
He drifted towards the supply cart, Rowan clinging to his shadow.As it came to a stop, Bastion offered his hand to Ulla.She swatted it away, the gesture stinging in more than one way.
In a single swift motion, she jumped down by herself and threw her midnight hair over her shoulder.Immediately, her eyes scanned the crowd, leaving Bastion whiplashed.The emotions he sensed were at odds with her usual calm, confident behavior.
King Torvald greeted his brother-in-law with a smile, his teeth flashing through a thick beard.He had the bearing of a wall, solid and strong, but significantly more expressive.With her arm draped through his, Queen Thyra was sunlight incarnate.Her golden hair fell around her shoulders in a curtain of soft curls, and her countenance gleamed with joy.
She offered her hand to Kyrith and said, “It has been far too long since we’ve had the pleasure of your company.”
“My Queen,” he murmured and kissed her knuckles.
He greeted Endre next, who barely made it through the formalities before he engulfed his uncle in his long limbs.The prince moved to Nesrin next, and she endured a hug, begrudgingly.
When he stepped back, Endre immediately turned to Bastion.He should have known that the prince wouldn’t let him slink away.But, before Endre could tackle him, someone peeled away from the council.
