Chapter Thirty-Two: Under the Ward Tree

“Heavily does the price lay for victory upon this day. No person deserves such a fate, yet she shoulders it without complaint. You have my gratitude and my respect, Aedrasil.

“If only this were the end. Unfortunately, I have seen your fate. I am loathe to admit it, but someday you will wither and fade, and when that day comes, the world will be stricken with war once more. I cannot see how it will unfold, but I know that yours will be a tragic end.”

—Morene Revaengur, Prophecies of the Crow

“Why do you want to become a Hero of Faengard?” Alend asked.

They were in the woods outside of Felhaven, two days deep on the trail of a wounded deer. The afternoon sun cast long shadows through the trees. Alend had put Ein in charge, allowing him to take the lead.

It was an easy trail to follow. Their quarry walked with a limp, dripping thick, red blood across the ground wherever it went. Even without the trail of blood, the prints themselves were heavy and sluggish in the soft dirt. It was Ein’s first hunt at the age of ten, and he couldn’t wait to return and tell Bran and Evaine about it.

“Why do I want to become a Hero of Faengard?” Ein said to himself. “I suppose… it just sounds really cool. I imagine it would be an exciting life to live.”

“What makes you think that?” Alend forced his way through a stubborn thicket.

“They’re always looked up to and admired by people, and remembered through stories. I want to become a person like that, someone who uses his strength to save those in need, someone who fights monsters and finds treasure.”

“You’ve been listening to Garax again, haven’t you?”

Ein nodded sheepishly.

“What stories did he tell you this time?”

“Well,” Ein said, “there was the tale of Reuben Cowl, Ranger of the East, who stole from the rich and gave to the poor. There was the tale of Lady Reyalin the Stormdancer, who guarded Gerard Carandar and the Weatherwing from vicious sea monsters across the Blue Divide. There was also Cu’Lahn the Lightborn, who single handedly defeated the armies of Levios in the Second Age.”

“And these are the figures you want to be like?”

“Yes,” said Ein. “Someday, I want people to sing songs and stories of Ein Thoren from Felhaven. I want to slay a dragon and find treasure, and live the rest my of life in luxury.”

Alend chuckled. “So, glory and wealth. That’s your reason.”

“Not just that,” Ein pouted. “I want to be a good person, too. If you’re a bad person, you’ll just be killed in your sleep.”

“And if you’re a good person, you’ll be called every time someone is in need.”

“Then I suppose I’ll just have to help them.”

Alend nodded. “It’s good to think that way. Heroes and villains are but separated by a single line—though I’d rather you became neither.”

He suddenly grabbed Ein’s shoulder, bringing them to a halt. Alend brought a finger to his lips and jerked his head to the side. Ein stared through the trees and saw a shape in the distance, hobbling across the grass with the weakness of a crippled animal. He looked down and realized they’d caught up to the deer. He’d been so lost in his thoughts that he’d almost given away their position.

“Go,” Alend whispered. “Take the shot.”

They’d strung their bows a few hours earlier in anticipation, so there was nothing left to do but shoot. Ein nocked an arrow and stood upright, drawing the string back until the feather touched his chin. He closed one eye and traced the deer as it limped through the forest.

Breathing deeply, he slowed his pulse by counting the seconds in his head. His arm began to fatigue as the string took its toll on his young body. There were about twenty metres between them, a clear line of sight, no wind, and the deer had just stopped to rest against a trunk…

Ein released. The arrow whipped through the air and buried itself into the deer’s neck, killing it instantly. The bowstring continued to thrum.

“Good shot,” Alend said. “Let’s take it back to the village.”

#

Later, as they marched back through the woods with the carcass slung across Alend’s shoulders, Ein voiced his thoughts.

“Why?” he asked.

“Hm?” Alend looked up.

“Why don’t you like heroes? What’s so bad about being one?”

Alend regarded his son with a stoney gaze. “It’s not that I don’t like them,” he said. “Like you, I respect and admire them greatly for the things they do. But the fact of the matter is, no Hero of Faengard lives a fulfilling life.”

“What do you mean?” Ein frowned.

“Of all those stories Garax told you, did he ever tell you how they died?”

“I… no, he didn’t.”

“Let me tell you now—no hero dies of old age, in the comfort of their own home, surrounded by friends and family. Reuben Cowl was captured and executed to set an example to vagabonds everywhere. Lady Reyalin was murdered in her sleep by a rival, and Cu’Lahn died buying time for his country when he tried to fight an army while deathly ill. I personally knew people who you would call ‘heroes’, and their lives were not happy ones.”

“Surely there are exceptions to the rule?”

Alend shrugged. “None that I know of, not in all the stories amassed over the ages. I’ll say it now and I’ll say it again—the life of a hero is not one you envisage it to be.”

#

Ein finished the sequence and sheathed his sword. The blade he’d picked up from the Faceless all the way back in Caerlon was smaller and lighter than what he was used to, but over the past few hours he’d grown accustomed to the weight.

He sat down before a basin of water and began wiping himself down, cleaning the sweat from his body. At first, he’d persuaded his father to teach him because he wanted to be a Hero of Faengard. Like all the village children, he’d dreamed of slaying dragons and rescuing Princesses, fighting for mankind, becoming a person everyone looked up to.

But as time passed and his horizons broadened, he realized just what that entailed. Never in the history of Faengard had a hero died of old age, surrounded by friends and family. They shouldered incredible responsibilities, unimaginable burdens, the fates of countless other people. For each tale of a successful hero, there were ten more tales of unknowns, people who had failed in their duties and let down those who looked up to them.

Ein had no desire to be such a person. He practiced the blade now so he could protect his way of life, the tranquil every-day he’d come to appreciate and look forward to each morning. He constantly refreshed his knowledge of survival and tracking, herbs and medicine, so he could help his father carry their family through the Great Winter.

Unfortunately, the wind had other plans in store for him.

Evaine would have loved to be in his position. She was already leagues ahead of him in terms of Songweaving. Ein had barely practiced—he almost hoped the ability would go away if he ignored it. After all, he hadn’t dreamed of Lady Reyalin or Astreal for a while now. Surely that meant something?

He’d just finished slipping on his shirt when he heard footsteps running up the stairs. They stopped outside the door, followed by two knocks.

“Ein, it’s us,” called Evaine’s voice. She sounded breathless.

He opened the door and found her and Bran with their hands on their knees, gasping for air. “What happened to you two?”

“Ein,” gulped Bran. “You won’t believe this. It’s really bad.”

“We came as quickly as we could,” Evaine continued. “Promise us you won’t do anything rash—”

“What are you talking about?” Ein asked. “What’s bad? What did you see?”

Evaine caught her breath and stood upright, brushing her hair out of her face. “It’s your father,” she said. “He’s been captured… and his execution is tomorrow.”

#

As night fell across Aldoran, Ein, Bran and Evaine left the inn, cloaks wrapped tightly about them. Ein had wasted no time in making his decision. Left with no choice but to either accompany him or wait, Bran and Evaine had followed suit.

Ein continued to simmer all the way through the city, a look of cold determination on his face. The fact that the High King had left but a single day between Alend’s capture and his execution told him one thing—the grudge Aedon held for Ein’s father was real.

He scanned the skies every few steps, hoping to see the shadow of a sparrow fly into view, but the only thing he saw was a half-moon, bright and silver. The streets were near empty, the majority of people fast asleep in their homes or drinking in the taverns. Guards with torches patrolled the roads, but they paid the three no heed.

“Shouldn’t we plan this out better?” Bran asked. “I doubt we’ll have much success without knowing what the layout of the Keep is.”

“We don’t have time,” Ein said. They’d waited until the last possible moment for Garax to return, without success. “They’re sending him out to die tomorrow, Bran. We can figure it out when we get into the castle.”

“And how are we going to do that? The King sees few people in person, and the Silent Council shuts its doors two hours past sundown.”

“What do you suggest we do then?” Ein snapped.

“Why not see the Council tomorrow morning? We could explain the situation and hopefully seek an audience with the King.”

The Silent Council was a council of ministers and powerful men, most of them Songweavers, that saw to the minor matters brought before Aedon. Ein had no doubt any attempt to bypass them would be rebuffed.

“What makes you think negotiation will do anything?” he questioned. “I’m sure my father would have tried that already. He even had Druid Talberon’s ring, for Wyd’s sake.”

“And what are you going to do when you reach him?” Bran continued. “There’s a difference between bravery and recklessness, Ein.”

Ein blinked. It was the first time Bran had argued so intensively with him. Quiet, timid Bran.

“There’s also a difference between recklessness and indecisiveness,” Ein said softly. “You don’t have to come with us if you don’t want to, Bran. I understand your concern… but there’s really no other way. If what you saw was true, then my father will be killed tomorrow. We have to at least try something—if not for his sake, then for the sake of Aedrasil and the rest of the world.”

“There might be something I can do,” Evaine interrupted them.

“What’s that?”

She raised her waterskin. “Depending on the type of lock they’re keeping him under, I could try picking it. I’ve been practicing a lot with my Songweaving and I’m pretty confident with moving little things. A lock is just a series of pins and tumblers, after all. If I can move those, I should be able to bust it open.”

“Where’d you find the time to do that?” Ein asked.

Evaine shrugged. “On the Royal Road. I wanted to do more, but Alend told me not to Songweave in front of Marc. So I just made sure to practice when everyone wasn’t watching.” She smiled smugly.

“But what about the guards?” Bran pressed. “How will we get past them all?”

“Stop worrying,” Evaine said. “We’ll think about that when the time comes.”

“If worst comes to worse, I’ll fight them,” Ein said.

Bran shut his mouth and looked between them both. Then he sighed.

“Alright,” he finally said. “I wasn’t saying we shouldn’t attempt the rescue or anything. I just… I was just hoping we had a better plan.”

Evaine placed a hand on his arm. “It’s okay, Bran. Everything will be alright.”

They approached Uldan Keep from the shadows. There was a moat directly in front of the wall, one that ran around the castle and down into the canals of the city proper. A single bridge spanned from one side to the other, two torch-bearing guards keeping watch on either side.

“Blast,” Ein swore. There wasn’t a chance they’d be able to get through the gate without the two soldiers noticing. “What do we do now?”

They circled around the moat, following it all the way until the bridge came into view once more. There were no other ways across. Even if they swam, it would be impossible to climb out of the water and onto solid land due to how steep the edges were.

“I guess that does it,” Bran said. “I think we should wait until the guards turn over for their shifts.”

“Hang on,” Evaine said. “Let me try something.”

She drew close to the edge of the moat, as far as she could without slipping into the water itself. She stayed there for a moment, eyes open and unmoving, staring in fixation. Then she turned around.

“I might be able to use the Soulsong to get us across,” she said.

“I didn’t think of that. Are you sure you can do it?” Ein’s tone was hopeful.

“No. But it’s better than not doing anything.”

She closed her eyes and hummed. The strip of water before her grew still at once, as if it had frozen to ice. She increased the intensity of her voice, taking ahold of the water, willing it to rise. It obeyed her, hovering above the moat like a glass panel, sparkling droplets dripping down on either side.

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“Go,” she said through clenched teeth. Sweat beaded on her forehead.

Ein took Bran’s arm and rushed onto the bridge. The strip of water was solid beneath him, though it slowly began to sink once they’d made it on. The two scrambled forward, crossing the gap, landing on the other side.

“Evaine,” Ein called. “Are you coming?”

Evaine opened her eyes. A tremor crept into her song, matching the quivering of the water-bridge she’d created. She bolted forward, still singing, her tune waning as if she were running out of breath. The strip of water shook as she passed the halfway point.

Then, without warning, it collapsed.

Evaine let out a small yelp as her foot landed on water droplets held together by nothing. She tried to reassemble the bridge but her voice was too weak and strained. Ein stepped forward and grabbed her outstretched arm, nearly losing his footing, but Bran held him in place. With a groan of effort, the two managed to pull her up from the edge of the moat and onto the grass.

“That was close,” Evaine said, panting. “It’s hard work lifting the weight of three people.”

Ein dusted off his trousers and stood up. “We made it, though. Somehow.”

“It’s too soon to relax,” she said, managing a smile. “We’re not even in the castle yet.” She stood up and gave Bran a friendly punch in the arm. “I guess that makes things even now, eh?”

“What do you mean?” Bran cocked his head.

“Remember that time you fell into the river and it was Ein and I who saved you? This time, it’s you two who saved me.”

“It was nothing,” he said, scratching his cheek. “I almost drowned back then. You were in nowhere near as much trouble as I was.”

“Don’t be silly. You give yourself too little credit, Bran.” Evaine looked around at the walls and then rushed off before he could answer, already scoping their surroundings for alternate entrances to the castle.

“I can’t believe she remembered,” Bran said after a while. “That happened years ago.”

“I remember it too,” Ein said. “It was the day we first met. You don’t forget those types of things.”

They made another lap of the inner wall, gathering as much information as they could. There was a single gateway that led to the courtyard but it was directly in front of the bridge, watched by the same guards from before. There were also drainage holes dotting the bottom of the walls, but they were barred and far too small to crawl through.

“You’d think there’d be a secret passageway or something,” Evaine said. “There usually are in the stories.”

“It wouldn’t be secret if was in plain view,” Ein said.

“We could try getting in through the sewers perhaps?” Bran offered.

Ein shook his head. “The entrance would either be underwater or somewhere in the city below.”

He ran his hand along one of the stone bricks that made up the wall. The gaps between each brick were quite large, and in several places the mortar had been worn away to form a stable foothold. Ein wedged his foot into one of them and tested his weight against it. It didn’t budge.

“I think we can climb these walls,” he said.

Bran arched his head upwards. “You’re not serious, are you?”

“They don’t seem that high,” Evaine agreed. “We’ve climbed higher trees before, back in the Sleeping Twins.”

“You can wait here if you want,” Ein said.

Without waiting for a response, he launched himself up and onto the stone, feeling for hand and footholds, small roots jutting out of the wall, places where the brick was uneven and cracked. He was about halfway up when he looked down and realized Bran and Evaine hadn’t moved.

“Are you two coming?” he asked.

Bran looked at Evaine.

“I’m not wearing anything underneath,” she said.

Bran flushed and hastened towards the wall. Ein didn’t think he’d ever seen his friend climb so quickly and deftly.

All three of them reached the top of the wall safely, hauling themselves over the parapets and onto the walkway. They were on one of the ramparts between two sentry towers. Behind them was a clear view of the whole of Aldoran, rows and rows of tiled rooftops streaming down the hill, separated by each of the three Walls. Lampposts and glowing windows lit up the city like fireflies in the night.

“What a view,” Evaine murmured.

“Let’s not forget what we’re here for,” Ein said. He turned around and surveyed the other side of the wall.

The courtyard lay before him, a garden of crisp greenery that painted a patchwork of bent elderbark trees, straight hedges and paved paths running at right angles to each other. Lanterns hung at equally spaced intervals next to wooden benches. Ein took a good few minutes to calculate the best route through the hedges, the one that would expose him for the shortest amount of time, before turning back in to Bran and Evaine. A quick glance to the watchtowers on either side of him revealed sleepy or bored sentries who were more interested in idle chatter and games of dice than watching for intruders.

“We’ll go this way,” he began, tracing the path out with his index finger. Bran and Evaine listened without interruption as he outlined the plan of attack. Their destination was the back door to the main hall, which as far as they could tell, was unwatched.

“I’ll go first,” he finished. “If the guards catch wind of us, don’t worry about me. Just run.”

The two nodded. Ein took one last look around him and then vaulted over the wall.

He took his time descending, feeling around in the dark with his hands and feet for each foothold. Descending proved to be much harder than ascending, for the simple fact that it was easier to look up than down. Despite this he made good time, curving around smooth sections of the wall, stopping about halfway at a point where one of the elderbarks met the stone. Ein strained his neck and reached for it, taking care to always keep at least three points of contact to the brick. His hands found the bark and he prepared to jump. It would be much easier to shimmy down a tree than to scale the rest of the wall.

With a firm grip on the branch, he tested it and nodded to himself. It was shaky, but shakier branches had held his weight before. Evaine and Bran watched from above, their faces small and distant.

Ein tensed himself and kicked off, reaching out with his other hand, using the momentum to propel his legs to where they’d hopefully land on the trunk and give him some footing.

They landed on the trunk—and then immediately slid. A loud crack echoed across the walls as the branch broke cleanly in two, sending crimson leaves raining down. The sickening sensation of freefall took over him.

Shit, he thought. He’d forgotten how brittle elderbarks were compared to the evergreens of the Sleeping Twins.

The night sky spun before him as he fell straight to the ground, landing waist-deep in one of the hedges, his brain rattling in his skull, the wind knocked out of his ribs. Voices rose from the walls and around the courtyard. There was no way he hadn’t been heard.

Flying into a panic, Ein peeled himself from the broken hedge and ran. Thoughts of Bran and Evaine escaped his mind, replaced by the base need to flee. He fumbled through the darkness, turning blindly around the corners, leaping and charging over sections of hedge. The guards were everywhere around him, closing in, their harsh cries unmistakeable. There was an intruder in the Keep, they called. Find them at any cost.

Ein vaguely recalled leaping over a bench before landing in a body of water. It had appeared out of nowhere, the icy coldness shocking him to his senses. He tried to wade across the stream but it swept him off his feet, throwing him under the surface. It wasn’t very deep, only reaching up to his waist, but as he touched the bottom and took a step forward, his foot landed in nothing but empty space. Ein let out a cry as the current sucked him under, pulling the rest of his body into the hole.

The water dragged him through and out the other side along a dirt chute, a groove in a wall that slanted downwards. Air, fresh and sweet greeted him. He continued to fall, tumbling and turning along the groove, scrabbling desperately for a handhold, water gushing around him. At last, the gutter spat him out and he landed in a knee-deep puddle, coughing and spluttering and shivering.

He was in a cavern of some sort, several holes in the ceiling leaking water and moonlight. He must have fallen through one of them during his escapade. The sound of guards grew faint above him.

He splashed out of the puddle and fell to his knees, panting. A dim glow lit the place, a fluid kaleidoscope of reds, greens and blues. The ground was soft and lush, the grass cool beneath his fingers. Fireflies wafted lazily in the air.

As his head stopped swimming and the wind came back to his lungs, he stood up. Trees sprouted everywhere around him, evergreens and moonglades, elderbarks and oaks with twisting ivy creeping up their sides. It struck him as odd that there was such lush vegetation in a place so deep beneath the earth. He began to walk, weaving his way through the trees to the source of light. There were flowers too, blooming lilacs and daisies, violets and dandelions. The shifting glow gave the place a mystical feel, almost dreamlike in quality.

Ein found himself drifting off, his mind losing focus, his thoughts scattering like a flock of birds. There was only the trickle of water and the rustle of the wind as it stroked the leaves. He thought of nothing in particular as he walked, drawn to the source of the glow.

“Protector of man, how fair your leaves doth bloom,

Red and gold and violet against the gloom.

A little bird once said this puzzling thing,

Related we are, both you and me and my King.

A strange and addling idea, I do believe,

That a tree could be my mother, I cannot conceive.

Yet here you are, our Mother Aedrasil,

Hope within us all you do instil.”

Ein blinked. He’d stopped by the edge of the trees, in front of a large pool of shimmering light. Flowers sprouted where it lapped against the earth, white lilies and patches of nightshade, red tulips, orange posies. Wisps of steam drifted from the surface like rainbow ribbons, snaking up to the ceiling above. He somehow felt intoxicated by the sight, yet his mind was as sharp as a blade. Energy buzzed through his veins. He felt like he could sing down the entire cavern if he wanted to.

In the centre of the pool, upon a raised patch of land was a tree. It was nothing like Ein had ever seen before. He’d seen taller trees and wider ones, yet this one held such a presence that it put all the others to shame. It had a canopy of red-gold, violet, mauve and scarlet, all the colours of twilight and sunset and flickering flames. Its trunk was strong and robust, each of its roots as thick as an arm. It was wizened, and it was regal—like a witch-queen on a throne of fire.

Yet the more Ein stared at it, the more faults he noticed. The dull sheen that covered the leaves. The way they all pointed towards the ground, like the drooping heads of defeated soldiers. The splotches of rot and wilt upon its once proud bark, creeping outwards like a black stain. Signs of sickness and death.

“What would it feel like to outlive your children?”

The voice belonged to the same girl who’d been singing. It was soft and yet lively, like a pipe on a bright morning.

“I… imagine it would be quite sad. And painful.”

Ein answered without thinking. The girl sat with her legs folded beneath her under the great tree, looking out towards him. He thought of her as a girl, though she was probably older than he was—a young woman. She wore a plain white frock that reached down to her knees, her liquid-gold hair cascading across naked shoulders. She had a sprinkling of freckles across her nose, beneath a pair of wide blue eyes that reminded him of melting frost.

“What if you had so many children you lost count of them?” she continued, as if Ein’s presence were the most natural thing in the world. “Would it still hurt then? Wouldn’t you grow numb to the pain?”

“I’m no mother,” he replied, “but I think no matter how many children a woman has, she would still care for each and every one of them, feel their pain, their joys and sorrows. I’ve heard that a mother’s love for her children is unconditional.”

“An interesting answer,” she said. “Now consider grandchildren, and great-grandchildren, and great-great-grandchildren after that. Would the mother still feel their losses, each and every one of them? Assuming she were everlasting?”

Ein considered the thought. “I suppose not,” he said. “Each generation would be a further degree removed from the mother, until eventually she would no longer recognize or see herself in them.”

“Aha!” the girl clapped her hands together and stood up. “So a mother who outlived her children would eventually stop feeling once all her direct children passed away.” She looked up at the tree. “I imagine it would be quite lonely to live such a life.”

Ein scratched his head. He had no idea what the girl was trying to say.

“How do I get out of here?” he asked. No—there was a better question to be asked. “Where am I?”

The girl stepped across the narrow stretch of raised land that spanned the pool. “Good questions,” she said. “I do agree that knowing where you are would make it easier for me to tell you the way out. But I think there’s a more important question to be asked.”

“Who are you?”

“That’s it!” she smiled, and Ein’s heart skipped a beat. Despite her whimsical nature, there was no denying the girl’s beauty. If he were to give his honest opinion, she was probably the most beautiful thing he’d seen. Then again, his experience was limited to village girls and barmaids from places too unimportant to be featured on the map.

“So, who are you?” she asked, parroting his question.

“I thought I was the one asking you.”

“You thought right. But it would be good manners to introduce yourself first. Maybe then I might be inclined to tell you where you are, and therefore how to get out.”

Ein sighed inwardly. As pleasant as she was to look at, he was growing tired of her antics. The guards are still looking for you, he reminded himself. You still have to rescue Alend. And what about Bran and Evaine? He hoped the two were alright.

“My name is Ein,” he said.

She waited. “Ein…? Ein who? From where?”

“Ein… Thoren.” He decided to tell the truth. “From the Sleeping Twins. I doubt you’ve heard of the place.”

“Thoren…” she looked off to one side, lost in thought. “I used to know a Thoren. His name was Edric, I think.” She passed a quick glance over him. “He was prettier than you, though. It’s a shame he’s not here anymore.”

“Anyway,” Ein said, “can you show me the way out?”

“All in due time,” the girl said, raising a finger. “There’s an order to these things. Let me introduce myself—I am Celianna Uldan, Grove Tender, second-born of Aedon, High King of Faengard—the Shining Spear of Aldoran.”

Second-born… High King… Ein blanched. Gods, a Princess!

“Wh-where are we?” he stammered, his mouth suddenly dry. He didn’t know much about Aedon, but being found alone with the Princess of Faengard couldn’t end well for him.

“You’re learning!” she turned around and gestured at the cavern. “That pool of light over there is the Worldspring, and this cave is what we call the Spirit Garden—a little place I like to come to when I want to be alone.” She eyed him. “Though I can’t say I don’t enjoy your company. Mother Aedrasil rarely speaks, you see. It gets a little boring sometimes.”

Spirit Garden. Mother Aedrasil. Ein realized with a shock that the great tree in front of him was the single thing keeping the relicts at bay. The reason he and his father had left. The destination to their journey.

“I wonder why they gave it a name,” Celianna continued, speaking to herself. “It’s not as if things aren’t confusing enough with everything having a name…”

“Cel—Your Highness,” Ein said. “Do you… has Aedrasil told you yet? About what she needs?”

“I thought you wanted to know the way out,” she said. “Or are you having fun talking to me?” Her face brightened. “I’m so glad! And don’t call me Your Highness, it makes me feel like an old lady.”

“Celianna, this is really important. Has Aedrasil asked anything of you?” The Princess had mentioned she was the Grove Tenders. That meant she was the main person the Ward Tree spoke to about its troubles.

“She has,” Celianna replied, taking on a more sombre tone. “She’s not faring well, as you can see. Things have been like this for a while now.” She looked back towards the tree. “She told me she was dying, and that only with the blood of the Three Kings could she survive. I told Father, but it’s been a while and nothing’s happened yet.”

“Celianna,” Ein said, urgency creeping into his voice. “My father, Alend, has the blood of one of those Kings. He’s been arrested by your father and is scheduled to be executed come tomorrow. I need to go and find him.”

Celianna frowned. “Why would my father arrest yours? Especially if he’s so important as you’ve told me?”

“I’ve no idea. But I have to get out of here. I have to save him.”

“He’ll probably be in the dungeons.” Celianna looked around them and frowned. “How did you even get here in the first place?”

Damn it, I don’t have time for this. He’d wasted too much time already. Before long, the Keep would be swarming with guards. Frustration welled within him.

“Please,” he said again. “I have to go. How do I get out of here? How do I get to the dungeons?” He grabbed her shoulders without thinking. A small yelp escaped her lips.

“Cel?” another voice called out. “Cel, where are you? There’s trouble in the castle and Father wants you back in your room.”

Ein gave a start and jerked his head around. A young man emerged from the trees, dressed in a lavish tunic of red and gold with a flowing cape swishing by his feet. He had a head full of stark white curls that were unruly and yet somehow orderly, and his eyes were a deep violet. Ein had never seen anything like it before, and in the heat of the moment, he thought of one thing.

Demon!

And so he drew his sword.

The man’s expression clouded. He saw Ein, saw the blade, saw Celianna. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Realizing his mistake, Ein sheathed his sword and stepped back. “You’ve got it all wrong! I’m not here to fight!”

“Celianna, get away from him! He’s one of the intruders everyone is looking for!” The man’s eyes were livid.

“Wait!” the Princess cried, stepping in front of Ein. “He hasn’t hurt anyone! Aeos, stop!”

Aeos stalked towards them, drawing a slim blade of silver from under his cloak. Ein took a step back, but there was nowhere to go. The Worldspring lay behind him, blasting waves of tingling warmth across his skin. He heard shouts and cries and rattling armour in the distance, boots storming across grass. Aeos, it seemed, had not come alone.

In that moment, several things passed through his mind. He could push Celianna aside and try to run, but he didn’t know the way. He could try and wield the Spirit Font behind him, but he had no idea if it would work or not, and if by some chance he ended up hurting either of the royals, he would probably be looking at the death penalty. The thought of grabbing the Princess as hostage flitted through his mind, but he stomped it into the ground before it could take root.

Besides, the Prince was armed. Fleeing would require turning his back on the enemy, and that was one of the first things Alend had taught him never to do. Celianna was also in the way.

So instead he stood still and did nothing.

Aeos approached his sister. “Step aside.”

“There’s no need to have your sword out,” she said. “Ein and I were just talking. In fact, I was the one who invited him here.”

“What do you take me for, an idiot? I assure you, being different doesn’t mean I have rot for brains.” He shoved Celianna aside and stood in Ein’s face. Ein raised his hands in a gesture of peace.

“Listen,” Ein began. “I have a reason for being here. You have to—”

“I don’t have to do anything,” he spat. “Guards! Hurry up and arrest this man!”

Moments later, four breathless soldiers stumbled through the bushes. Aeos sheathed his sword and grabbed Celianna. “You’re going back to your room, Cel.”

“Wait!” she cried, looking back towards Ein. “Don’t hurt him, he hasn’t done anything wrong!”

Ein gave himself to the guards, allowing them to shackle his wrists. One of them grabbed him by the arm and began escorting him away from the clearing.

“Karn,” Aeos directed. “Take Celianna back to her chambers.”

The guard named Karn nodded and gripped the Princess gently but firmly. “Yes, sire.”

“Colm, Jared, San. Take this one to the Council. I’ll go look for the other intruders.”

“The Council? But aren’t they adjourned at this hour?”

Aeos flung his cloak back over his sword. “Not tonight they aren’t. Not when the place is teeming with trespassers.”

Ein kept silent as the guards towed him away, the manacles rubbing raw against his skin. The only thing he could do now was hope—that Evaine and Bran were safe, and that he’d be able to talk himself and his father out of this mess.