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Your Primrose
As soon as I’m finished, I offer it to Alysia. “Make sure he gets that.”
She nods. “Travel safely.”
I turn to Shadow. “Can you do a short trip tonight, my friend? Just far enough to get us away from here?”
He stands, his gesture answering my question.
With one final look back at Lacrae and Fort at my side, I walk out into the storm.
Chapter 7
Fort
Carleah sits silently across from me, staring directly into the dancing flames of our fire. She hasn’t spoken much since we left her brother two days ago, not that I expected her to. What does one say once they’ve walked away from everything they once held so closely?
Bowman was her only tie back to the life she’d had, and while I know I am not the only reason she left, I would be a fool to not believe it played some part. After all, had she not been told that her feelings for me didn’t matter and she would have to marry Patrick regardless, she likely would have gone to Bowman with the answers rather than leaving in the dead of night.
“Once we get to the dwarves, we must do whatever we can to convince them to follow us.”
“We will,” I assure her.
She nods. “Bowman will have to see things our way. If Soreno hasn’t turned it’s back on him already.”
“You worry they will retaliate for you leaving?”
“I do.”
“Then why did you go?”
She meets my gaze. “Because the good of the realm outweighs the needs of Navalis. Without its security, there will never be a home for my brother to return to. Soreno may agree to support us—like Bowman believes they will—but they are just as likely to take what they want and leave Navalis to the wolves. And that is something Bowman would have seen before—well—everything.”
I doubt she realizes that she thinks more like a king than her father and brothers ever did. That they would have allowed the realm to burn if it meant saving their precious kingdom. Though I don’t say as much. Comparing her to them while she still grieves is like shoving salt in the wound.
“We will convince them,” I tell her. “Then we will return to Soreno with an army that cannot be turned away. Soreno will have no choice but to bend to the larger fighting force.”
“We can only hope so,” she replies. “Though, Patrick has never been one for strategic thinking.”
I grin, and she returns my smile. Just like that, the tension I’ve been carrying since we left fades away. “Bowman will forgive you, Carleah. He’s simply blinded by his own grief as he clings to what he’s always known in the only way he can.”
“He’s so blinded by his grief that he cannot see the picture clearly. He’s burdened by anger and regret. I only hope he’ll see the truth when it comes time.”
I push to my feet and cross over to her, then take a seat directly at her side. The trees behind us sway with a light breeze, and overhead, owls hoot. “It’s strange to not need to wear a heavy jacket,” I comment.
“Before Navalis fell, back when my father was pushing me to marry Patrick, I’d dreaded leaving the cold of our kingdom. The idea of warmth and green grass was intriguing, but it didn’t feel like home. Not truly.”
“How do you feel now?”
“Truthfully? I miss the cold, but the warmth is far more appealing than I thought it would be.” She rests her head on my shoulder, so I press a kiss to the top of her hair. “Tell me your happiest memory. A time when you felt the most peace—before the fall.”
I consider her question, my mind running through all possibilities. And then I settle on the one that I have never even considered sharing. It’s one of my last happy memories with my mother, but it’s also something I buried because it leads directly into what got her killed.
“When I was a child, a few months before my mother was killed, she and I were sitting quietly in our tent, staring up at the ceiling. My father was gone—off on some hunting trip with my older brothers—so it was just the two of us.” I wrap an arm around Carleah’s shoulders and lose myself in the story. “She told me that a daughter of Navalis had been born and that she was hope for a peaceful world. I didn’t understand what she meant. It seemed so trivial to me that a little girl would have such power, but my mother rarely had hope, and even at the age I was, I could sense it.” I look down at Carleah, who has pulled enough away from me that I can see her expression. “My mother believed you were who would save this realm even before any of us truly saw a problem.”
“Why didn’t you ever tell me that before?’
“Guilt,” I tell her honestly. “Because it was that story that made me refuse my father’s demands. And the story that—”
