Page 11 of Breaking Briar

As I turn, about to greet my old trainer, my jaw goes slack. A sword pierces through his armor from behind, coming out from his abdomen. With a feral scream, I pull Master Balcom toward me, shielding him with my body as I run the soldier through.

I cannot even take time to draw out the bastard’s death properly. Master Balcom is worth far more than retribution. With a loud grunt, I pluck the spear from his back before helping him shuffle toward the castle. After just a few moments of searching, I find an alcove hidden behind some brush. Thankfully, no traitors wait for us.

His breath rattles in his chest as he limps over, groaning as I help him to the ground. With another glance behind me, I prop him up against a wall and turn, prepared to defend him with my life.

“Philip,” he rasps, his words nearly drowned out by the clanking of metal.

Turning, I watch as he struggles to pull off his armor. For the first time since coming home, the few tears I’ve kept at bay slide down my face, burning my skin in their wake. Before me sits a shell of a man, an apparition of the man who once taught me everything I knew.

“I’m sorry, Philip. I tried. I tried to warn them. I-”

“Shhh, old friend,” I mutter, taking in the scars of old and the wounds from the current battle.

They crisscross over his body, telling a dark story of his life. Each mark tells a tale of bravery and passion. But none of that matters. The only injury that needs my attention is the bloom of blood from his abdomen. Frantic, I look about, spying some old rags hanging from the side of the castle walls—Godwin banners by the look of them.

Fitting that the heraldic signs and colors he fought so hard to protect are the one thing that might help save him. Wadding them up, I hunch down and press them against his wound. I grab his hand to hold them, but it just falls limp by his side.

His face takes on a gray, ashen color as his breathing slows. Until now, I never thought we could lose. How is it that the House of Godwin would have its greatest ally ripped from them?

Choking back a sob, I sit next to him, holding firm pressure with one hand while the other keeps a firm grip on my sword. No one will hurt him further. Not while I’m here to keep him safe.

“Philip.”

That one word. My name on his lips as blood stains the delicate skin of his mouth. It hurts far worse than any pain I’ve felt thus far.

“I’m here, Master Balcom.”

Beside me, I feel his hand shifting, as if he wants to reach out and hold mine. But to give him this wish, I’d have to either drop my sword, thus leaving us defenseless. Or, I’d have to drop the fabric staunching his wounds, causing him to bleed out far faster.

Neither is a good option for me.

As if he can sense my dilemma, his lips quirk up into a soft grin. “It’s okay. My time was never promised to me to begin with. Grab my necklace and lift it off of me.”

My heart wrenches in two as I let the bloody rags fall away to do as he asks. From beyond the trees, the fight still rages on, but somehow, it doesn’t breach the barrier. Time is ours for the moment.

The chain is cool against my fevered hands as I help ease it from around his neck. A large ring with a seal etched into it dangles down. At first, I think it’s my father’s, but the longer I look at it, I know it’s something far different.

Instead of a graceful deer and peaceful laurels, a dragon stands out in stark relief. Flames drift from behind the ferocious beast, and I cannot tell if he’s the one causing them or if they’re attacking him. One thing’s for certain, however. It also doesn’t belong to the House of Kendrick.

Their seal is that of a crow, its talons outstretched and menacing. Such a stark difference between the two houses, and yet, neither will stand after today is done. We will become something new, a beast rising from the flames of victory. Much like the dragon on the seal.

Did Master Balcom know? Was he somehow able to see into the future and predict this day? I search the older man’s eyes, looking for something to reveal what he knows, but he merely smiles at me like he used to when wanting me to puzzle something out on my own.

Soon, his smile droops as a cough brings more blood welling to his lips. “Philip, my time grows short. I was hoping to have this talk a long time ago, but it never seemed right. The man you call father is that in name only. It was not his seed that gave you life. I am that man.”

CHAPTER 5

PHILIP

Shock freezes my limbs as I take in the words he just said. All this time. All this fucking time. How often did I wish for this man to be my father? How often did I prefer his company over that of my own? And to find out my life has been a lie the entire time?

My brain clicks along at a slow pace, processing everything and filing it away. So much makes sense. Far more than it ever did as I was growing up. It’s as if my life passes before my eyes, filling in the odd gaps with this new knowledge.

It would also explain the odd absences of them both. Did Father know? Did he even suspect? Part of me sneers in thought of the fallen man, a cuckold to the very end, raising a bastard son as if he hadn’t a clue wasn’t his. He probably didn’t know.

Honestly, that’s better than thinking him so weak and ineffectual as to raise me as his son, the prince and heir of the Godwin name. Unless they were all in this together? Planning and plotting, making the strongest son they could. But even that doesn’t sit well with me.

Nothing is right. Nothing is correct. Who I am as a man, as a king, no longer fits. My gut cramps as I do my best to understand and comprehend what this means for the future. If anyone ever found out…