37. Gwyneira

37

GWYNEIRA

B yron was going to leave.

Every ounce of royal training kept my face still and my bearing straight. I smiled at Ignatius. At Byron too. Nothing in my manner would give anyone the slightest hint of how my heart was breaking.

Especially since I knew it shouldn’t be.

“How long will it take to reach Syloria?” I asked Ignatius, my voice held at the pleasant, neutral tone my tutors taught me to use for diplomatic functions.

“Half a day’s travel,” he answered, “assuming the path has stayed clear.”

After which, we’d probably see little of Byron or him.

I tried to ignore the thought. Byron had never offered to stay around forever. He’d never misled me about exactly what he could give. I liked to think we were friends, of course. But friendship didn’t need constant proximity. And I knew what Ignatius’s offer must mean to him, possibly more than anyone else here. To have the chance to rebuild the Order had to be beyond his wildest dreams. Gods, anyone could see he’d been too dumbstruck to even say yes.

So I would support him. Encourage him like a friend should.

And I’d never let him know how much it would hurt to see him leave.

I took a steadying breath, locking my eyes straight ahead on the rough terrain. A questioning feeling brushed across my mind from Ozias, the careful sensation tinged with concern. I sent back reassurance, praying he’d leave me be.

Because I was fine. Why wouldn’t I be? Honestly, it was silly to feel upset when I hadn’t actually lost anything. My friend had simply gotten something he’d always wanted. If anything, I should be happy.

A glint of discarded armor caught my eye, the dented chest plate nearly lost beneath the bushes.

Well, maybe not happy . Not here where every place I looked felt inhabited by ghosts. But I should be… something.

Clinging to that resolve, I strode onward, determined to exude calm, just as my tutors and my father would have wanted.

Gradually, the curve of the Wall of Erenelle faded into the distance. Silence reigned everywhere we went, with only the rare cries of distant birds and the rustling of small animals in the bushes to challenge its supremacy. Occasionally, stones would peek out from amid the snow or grass, each one too flat and regularly placed to be anything but the remains of a road beneath our feet.

But the remnants of the war were everywhere.

Armor and weapons lay scattered and abandoned, half-buried in dirt and snow. Lonely chimneys stood with no homes left to warm, while crumbling walls overgrown by moss lingered in forests where nothing remained to guard.

“The borders were the worst hit in the war,” Dex murmured as we passed the moldering ruins of a home. “Aneira and Erenelle had been at peace for years. No one expected an attack.”

“Folks in the capital didn’t believe it when they heard,” Lars added. “They thought it was some kind of mistake.”

I shivered, at a loss for what to say.

“We’ll rebuild.” Niko’s quiet voice made it sound like a certainty. “Or they will.” He twitched his chin at the larger giants up ahead. “The living always rebuild somehow.”

Byron shifted his shoulders. “Excuse me.” Not waiting for anyone to respond, he walked faster, going to join Ignatius ahead.

I exhaled slowly. The task ahead of him was immense. It had to be hard to even fathom how to rebuild the Order, on some level. But I’d find a way to help, either with resources or reparations or the gods knew what . Yes, Aneira was falling apart as well now, thanks to my stepmother. But somehow, I’d do it. The gods knew my people owed the Erenlians for this horror.

And he was my friend. That’s what friends should do.

Time slid by, and the terrain became rougher. Outcroppings of stone broke through the snow, gradually growing to enormous cliffs. Dried creek beds carved paths through the landscape, forming canyons overhung by icicles.

The giants followed the trail of a dried-up creek, eschewing the leafless forest that climbed over the sheer cliffs on either side. Far above us, trees clung by their roots to the rocky ledges, casting our path in shadow. Fewer signs of the war surrounded us here, the evidence likely washed away by a river that probably returned in springtime.

But the silence remained, and the feeling of being an intruder in the land of ghosts did too. A cluster of deer stood atop a cliff, staring down at us with no sign of knowing they should be afraid. Beneath a scraggly bush, a fox studied us without fear before spotting Ruhl and then disappearing quickly back into a rotting log.

The stone walls of the chasm drew in closer and closer as the hours went on, making our footsteps echo from cliffs rising several hundred feet high. The ground began to slope upward, until we were scaling the side of what might have once been a waterfall. There was no sign of the river, no hint of any water flow, but the snow still conspired to turn the rocks slippery.

Gripping a large stone for balance, I pulled myself up the slope. Our path seemed tiered in a way that reminded me of massive stairs. Occasionally, rotted stumps of wood stuck out from the rocks, their placement too regular to be natural, hinting that perhaps a banister had bordered this route in the past.

Yet even with that assistance, I couldn’t imagine how the giants could have used this as a reasonable access to Syloria—to say nothing of invading Aneirans. Even the larger giants were in danger of slipping, and that was without a waterfall soaking everything.

But then, maybe there was another access route elsewhere. Or maybe the rough path meant soldiers couldn’t have come this way.

Ahead, the other giants slowed as they reached the top. Murmurs passed among them of worry and wonder. Their eyes were locked on something beyond the edge of the cliff, and even Byron barely glanced at us when we climbed up to his side.

“Wow,” Clay whispered.

Beyond the missing waterfall, the ground turned into a massive basin surrounded by rough cliffs and rocky slopes. Nestled at the far end, an enormous building rested against the side of a mountain. Its gray walls merged into the landscape as if the structure was a natural outcropping of the stone slope. The central part of the structure rose at least a hundred feet high, with marble columns flanking where massive doors once stood. Twin wings of the building stretched away on either side, both of them three giant-sized stories tall with countless remnants of glass glinting in their windows.

But that was not what stole my breath.

Above the structure, stone had been fashioned into the shape of an enormous waterfall tumbling down hundreds of feet from the mountainside onto the temple. Metal tiles glinted along its length, creating an imitation of the shimmer of water, while veins of minerals in the stone did the same.

When the enormous sculpture reached the roof, the artistry continued. The stone and metal spread out and curved, pouring over the edges of the building. In shimmering rivulets, they threaded between the windows and columns, flowing down the walls and pooling at the base, until the temple appeared embraced by the water-like stone.

“Syloria,” Ignatius whispered like he’d come home.

I stared in wonder. Secluded as it was, the temple had not gone untouched by damage over the years. Patches of metal tiles seemed to be missing on the massive stone waterfall, creating dull spots in the glimmering cascade where time or the weather had torn them down. Likewise, the wall of one building wing had cracked and crumbled when boulders from a nearby cliff had fallen against them in an avalanche. Some of the windows were broken, letting rain and snow reach whatever lay inside.

But if the war had found Syloria, I could see no sign.

Dumbstruck, I followed the giants toward the temple. The ground of the basin was rough, with little evidence of grass or plant life at the deeper center, though where the terrain sloped upward to the edges of the valley, gnarled trees clung to the earth.

“This isn’t right,” Niko murmured.

I looked over at him. “What’s wrong?”

He blinked like he didn’t realize he’d spoken out loud. “No, sorry. Just… Clay?” He turned to the blond giant. “Is this what I think it is?”

“A lakebed,” Clay confirmed, eyeing our surroundings with a wary look. “Or it should be.”

Niko nodded like that was what he’d been thinking.

Oh no. “But if we’re supposed to be here because of the waters of Syloria…”

“Yup.” Clay scuffed his boot on the gravel that should have been at the bottom of a lake. “Where’s it gone?”

Dread sank over me. Whatever came of the fact Niko was currently in contention for a crown—gods help us—we’d traveled all this way because Ignatius thought Syloria could help against my stepmother.

But if the magic was gone…

Up ahead, Ignatius scanned our surroundings with a perturbed look. Every so often, he bent to scoop up a rock, turning it over in his hands before setting it back among its brethren. Walking on his own ahead of us, Byron seemed tense as well. His head twitched left and right like he was checking for a threat.

Even the duke was surveying the terrain with suspicion, and occasionally, he’d glance back from where he walked in the lead to give Ignatius or us an accusatory look.

What did he imagine we’d done? Raced ahead to do away with the magical resource he believed would confirm him as king?

The rest of the giants didn’t seem to catch onto the problem, though. His henchmen strutted along they were an honorary royal guard. Norbert only smirked at the terrain as if planning to use it for his advantage somehow.

Ozias’s hand slipped around my side. Comfort radiated through our connection. “Breathe, little mate,” he murmured so softly, most of the others wouldn’t hear. “And later, tell me what hurts you so I may destroy it.”

I hesitated, but he wouldn’t accept a no and I knew it. Nodding, I drew a breath as he asked.

“Good girl,” he murmured, making a frisson of heat twist in my insides.

Squeezing me briefly, he gave me a tiny smile and then let me go as we came closer to the temple. Broad marble steps led up to the massive door, and above its arch, the stone was engraved with words in a language that looked like Erenlian but not.

“Knowledge Above All,” Byron murmured, a twist of bitter irony in his tone.

“The credo of the Order of Berinlian.” Casimir gave him a sympathetic look. “It reads beautifully in the old Erenlian, does it not?”

Blinking, Byron seemed to pull himself from his thoughts. Nodding curtly to Casimir, he followed Ignatius up the steps, never looking back.

My heart ached.

“Scholar,” the duke called from the top of the steps. “Are there traps my people should expect within these walls?”

Furrows lined the older giant’s brow. “There were once many layers of magic on this place. It saturated the ground and the walls. But now…” He shook his head. “The residual effects have sunk into the earth, obscuring what lies beneath, but I cannot feel any magical traps. And any physical ones would likely have been tripped by animals long ago.”

“So the temple might be safe but the earth beneath it could be a giant trap?” Clay commented. “Fantastic.”

The duke ignored him, while Norbert just sneered.

“Good enough.” Duke Ensid gestured imperiously to his henchmen. “Open the doors.”

Dex cast a glance back at us, twitching his head slightly. In silence, my giants retreated down several steps, bringing me and Niko with them.

Putting distance between us and the temple… just in case.

Byron stayed where he was, barely seeming to notice we’d moved at all.

The double doors swung wide, revealing a mix of deep shadows and dim twilight, as if the sun had gained entrance to the temple somewhere up ahead too. Drawing himself up proudly, the duke gestured again, silently ordering his men to precede him through the door.

From the nervous looks that passed between the henchmen, it hadn’t escaped their notice they were his test subjects, proving it was safe.

“Move it, you fucking cowards,” Norbert spat, hanging back with his father.

“He’s one to talk,” Clay muttered.

The henchmen inched toward the opening. When they came close, two of those at the rear moved fast, shoving the pair ahead of them through the doorway. With a startled cry, the giants stumbled into the shadows and twilight.

Nothing happened.

Anxious chuckles left the pair, relief obvious on their faces. “Guess it’s good?” one offered with a shrug.

“Move, scum.” Norbert strode past them. “We’ve got a king to crown and a dwarf to handle.”

Niko tensed beside me, while I fought back a growl from my vampire side.

“Stay close,” Dex murmured. “If anything happens, you know what to do.”

His brief glance went to Casimir and Ozias, both of whom nodded, and I frowned. When it came to protecting Niko, I wholeheartedly agreed. But when it came to risking themselves just to remove me from danger…

Gods, these men had the audacity to call me stubborn?

Shaking my head at them, I scaled the massive stairs. The larger giants were filing inside and staring around themselves in awe at whatever lay beyond the door.

My steps slowed. Sometimes I felt small around my own giants. I felt smaller still around the larger Erenlians. But as I approached the doorway, I felt like a child’s toy come to life, suddenly walking about in a building meant to impress people many times my size.

And impressive it was. My boots scraped on the grit overlaying a white marble floor striated with gold, where the tiles were as big as bed mattresses. My lips parted in wonder at the sculptures towering on either side of the entryway, each of them a hundred feet high at least and depicting wise scholars in robes with books and crystalline orbs held high in their hands. Marble pillars held up a ceiling so high, it felt like it should reach the gods.

An enormous archway brought the entrance hall to an end, its edges lined by the same symbols as I’d seen on Ignatius’s robes. Beyond it, a sprawling central room waited, tiled by the same white-and-gold marble as the entryway. At its center stood a fountain shaped like a stone flower surrounded by a walled basin. Railings lined a gallery level above, though the brass banister was tarnished and sections were broken, left to dangle over the ground floor below. Overhead, segments of the roof were inlaid with thick glass, but some panels were blocked by debris, while others were cracked, affording only a blurry view of the stone waterfall above the temple. Still more had broken entirely, falling to the floor far below and leaving gaping holes where the elements could enter.

And enter they had. Moss grew over the large basin surrounding a fountain at the center of the room. Several trees had started growing between the tiles beneath the biggest breaks in the ceiling. Their roots had cracked and shoved up the marble flooring, like even those massive stones wouldn’t stop them from reclaiming this building, piece by piece. Sheltered here from the cold winter outside, they thrived, with red berries clinging to their branches and a lush sheen to their dark green leaves.

“So, uh, Niko,” Clay started, eyeing them. “Those aren’t… you know, anything like the fucked-up trees in Aneira, right?”

Niko shook his head. “Just normal ones. Azurine holly trees, I think. They grew in secluded spots in the forest where I grew up too.”

“They’re beautiful,” I said softly, and Niko smiled.

“Well, scholar?” the duke called, surveying the ruins of Syloria with a look like the temple should take care not to fail him. “We are here. Commence the test.”

By the fountain at the center of the room, Ignatius didn’t respond.

Impatience twisted the duke’s expression briefly. “Scholar ?”

“The waters have run dry.” Ignatius turned from the fountain, a pained look on his face. “There is so much decaying magic here, I cannot tell what caused it.”

“Excuse your lazy ass?” Norbert demanded. “My father traveled all this way because you insisted these waters had to make him king.”

“ Not what he said, dumbass,” Clay muttered, rolling his eyes.

“Then I propose we see this as a sign from the gods,” the duke said. “If they wanted the waters of Syloria to speak, they wouldn’t have let them dry up. Thus—” My skin crawled at the cruel look he turned on us. “—I say we do away with this stalling and settle things in the manner of the ancients. Trial by combat. Me versus the dwarf.”

Protests came from Lars and the rest of my men. Near the front of our group, Roan rolled his shoulders like the demon was fighting to get out, while Ozias growled and made several of the nearest giants back away.

“Like hell,” Clay spat. “You come near him, I swear to the gods I’ll?—”

“Before we decide that’s necessary—” Casimir’s voice cut through noise, “—I suggest we check the location of the water’s source. Perhaps after all these years, there is simply a blockage. Unless you think the gods would choose a ruler who would expect them to do all the work?”

I hid my smile—and my relief. Casimir was impressively good at this. Yet again, he’d backed the duke into a corner.

Duke Ensid turned a look on him that could have poisoned an entire village. He didn’t respond immediately, but I could see his jaw muscles clench beneath his stone-like skin. His eyes flicked to his people and then to the temple itself, skimming over the walls and then the floor as if evaluating the situation.

He paused, his eyebrow twitching upward ever so slightly.

It made me freeze. My father’s tutors had stressed that I should study the faces of nobles to learn all the things they wouldn’t say. Giants were harder to read, it was true. But right now, that skill was telling me the duke was… amused . Intrigued, too.

That couldn’t be good.

After only a heartbeat, he scoffed and buried any trace of that strange reaction. “Zenirya wishes to force the good citizens of Erenelle to labor for the obvious truth, I take it? And so soon after we escaped the Aneirans’ labor prison too.”

Unbelievable.

When none of us rose to the bait, the duke continued, “Or is this merely a cowardly attempt to forestall the inevitable?”

Casimir kept his expression neutral. “How is seeking to aid you in honoring the traditions of Erenelle stalling ? Unless it is you who fears the truth once it is done?”

Anger simmered in the duke’s eyes, but he didn’t respond. He’d walked squarely into that trap too, and he knew it.

“I will see to the water’s source, as the Zeniryan suggests,” Ignatius said. “We’ll start with the underground canals and work our way along from there. But I may need assistance, depending on what the issue is.” He turned to Byron. “If you would accompany me?”

Byron nodded. “Of course.”

I held my face still, not looking at either of them. There was no reason to be upset. To think about how this was a prelude to when our little group would fall apart.

I was being ridiculous and emotional, and the last thing I needed was to draw attention or make anyone question why I thought something was wrong.

Ozias’s concern reached through our connection like a gentle hug anyway.

“Hold on.” Norbert kicked aside a chunk of marble. “So we’re just gonna let the so-called Zeniryans screw up the water and steal the throne from a true Erenlian? Fuck that. I’m going too.”

A shudder went through Ozias. I could feel him fighting back the urge to attack at the man’s bigoted words.

He definitely wasn’t alone. Every bit of my royal training was struggling against the need to claw Norbert’s eyes out for how he spoke to my men.

But then the duke cast a sharp glare at his son, and it brought me up short. Duke Ensid looked like he was seething at Norbert, yet he didn’t say a word.

Casimir regarded the duke for a moment, obviously studying the man’s reaction too. But when the duke said nothing, the vampire’s brow twitched up slightly. In a meticulous tone, he said, “Surely you trust your own scholar to make certain nothing untoward happens while we’re attending to the water’s source?”

The duke tugged his attention away from his son. “I trust Erenlians of worth , Your Highness. No one else.” He glanced at the larger giants. “Brock. Take those five and accompany them.” He jerked his chin at several giants nearby.

Norbert smirked at us. Nearby, Brock looked between the duke and the giants he’d indicated, something odd in his eyes.

“Brock?” the duke snapped.

The blond giant nodded once and then turned to go.

“ Guards ,” Niko muttered with contempt.

“What was that, dwarf?” Norbert stalked toward him. “You say something?”

Instantly, Ozias, Roan, and Dex stepped between us and Norbert, never saying a word. Ruhl flowed around them, reforming into a wolf ahead of our group with his teeth bared.

“Aw, are the dwarves worried about their little fake king?” Norbert mocked, but I didn’t miss how he came to a stop far shy of Ruhl.

Rage shivered through me all the same. I knew I shouldn’t draw attention, but this bastard just wouldn’t stop.

But before I could speak, Niko stepped past Ozias and Dex. My heart hit my throat.

“We would never ask these Erenlians to do anything we weren’t willing to do ourselves.” Niko’s voice so calm it made me pause. “If seven of your people go with Ignatius, then it’s only fair that seven of mine do as well. Or would you wish to give rise to rumors that you manipulated the results out of fear that a dwarf would win?”

It took real effort to suppress my smile this time, no matter how worried I was for him. Even my other men seemed taken back, and Clay gave a low whistle like he was impressed.

But the duke didn’t react with anger this time. Instead, his lip curled ever so slightly and he looked almost pleased .

My skin prickled with apprehension. Why had Niko’s response caused that reaction?

But a heartbeat later, the duke’s satisfied expression vanished behind a supercilious arrogance that even the marble sculptures in the entryway couldn’t have rivaled. “Very well. Seven giants and seven dwarves.” He made the last word drip with insult. “But you cannot be among them, boy. I would not have dwarf duplicitousness steal my people’s chance at being ruled by a true king.”

Niko paused only a moment. “No one could steal the answer that the magic of Erenelle chooses to give. But I will not let your fears rob my people of their faith. I will stay here.”

Gods, did Niko realize how good he was at this?

The duke definitely did. Anger flashed through his eyes again. “Get on with it.” He jerked his chin at his people. “Fix the water’s flow and let us be rid of this dwarf’s false claim.”

“We’ll see about that.” Niko’s voice radiated calm assurance. Without waiting for the duke’s response, he turned to us, his bearing like he was utterly at peace with how the interaction had gone. But when his back was fully to the duke, the expression cracked, apprehension showing through. “Is that okay?” he whispered. “I didn’t mess anything up, did I?”

Clay choked back a small chuckle. “You realize you can’t ask us that if you’re king, right?”

Niko’s eyes widened.

“He’s joking,” Lars assured the younger man quickly.

“Uh, I kind of wasn’t,” Clay countered.

“Then you’re not helping.”

“Enough.” Dex cut the brothers off before they could keep arguing. He met Niko’s eyes firmly. “Yes, it’s a very good strategy.”

Gratitude flashed over Niko’s face. “Thanks.” The worry returned. “Except it does leave Gwyneira and me on our own up here.”

The others exchanged a wary glance.

“The duke is up to something,” Casimir said quietly into the silence. “I cannot determine what, but his face offers hints of his true reactions, and they are… strange, given the circumstances.”

“I noticed,” I murmured.

Respect showed in Casimir’s eyes as he nodded at me.

Lars shifted his weight with discomfort, but his voice was striving for optimism when he said, “The old bastard was always up to something. It’s not surprising he’s still trying to scheme now, right?” He directed the last to his brother hopefully.

Clay frowned, not taking his eyes off the duke. “Yeah.”

“We’ll keep an eye out,” Dex assured them both. “But Niko’s got a point too. If it’s just him and Gwyneira up here?—”

“Take the wolf instead,” Roan cut in. “I’ll stay.”

Niko’s worried look returned. “They’re expecting seven of us.”

“They’re not going to complain if there’s one less dwarf,” Roan countered. “And the wolf can do plenty of damage if needed.” He gave Ruhl a pointed glance, like he was ordering Ruhl to do exactly that.

Ruhl’s head tilted ever so slightly, almost as if agreeing.

“Good enough.” Dex nodded. “But don’t let Niko or Gwyneira out of your sight, understood?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Dirt and debris crunched as Ignatius walked closer. “If your people are ready,” he said, directing the words at Casimir and Niko alike, like he was being careful to address both the king and the potential king in our group. “We can head down into the tunnels that supply the fountain now.”

Niko nodded, and the others did as well.

“There used to be sleeping quarters in the east wing,” Ignatius continued, pointing. “If you and your friend—” I could hear the slight pause before he called me Niko’s friend, and it made me tense. “—would like to find a place to stay down there, you’re more than welcome.”

“Thank you,” Niko said.

“Yes,” I added. “Thank you.”

Ignatius bowed his head in acknowledgement.

Maybe it was my imagination, but the nod seemed a bit deeper than any he’d given the duke.

Interesting.

“This way.” Ignatius started toward the far end of the enormous room.

Dex exhaled slowly. “Watch your backs,” he ordered my men quietly.

Trepidation quivered through me as the others murmured agreement and started after Ignatius into the belly of the earth yet again.

Gods, this had to work. They had to stay safe.

The vampire inside me wouldn’t let the duke survive if this went otherwise.