19. Aramis

Chapter 19

Aramis

N ero and I walk in companionable silence through the camp. Shifter and elemental children chase each other through the streets, their parents yelling after them to be careful, not knowing they'll be back on the snowy roads in less than a day. After the council meeting ended, sanctioning our next moves, Sybil and Marcelene headed to the infirmary, whilst the two of us volunteered to help load the few carriages available with the bare necessities.

Keeping up hope when everything seems to be doomed has been exhausting.

The late winter sun shines brightly above us, cutting down the chill in the air, but it does little to warm the absence of my magic flowing freely through my veins.

"What's on yer mind, Aramis? You're quieter than usual." Nero stares at me, shading his eyes.

There is too much on my mind these days.

"I have abandoned them, Nero. My men, the people at the castle, Edmun—" I sigh, exasperated. The thought of Edmund with the same far away eyes as my father makes me choke up, and I turn the other way, hiding the tears pricking at my eyes. This guilt has been gnawing at me since the moment I left Shadowvale, but now after hearing what Phoebe saw, it's consuming me. I should have gone back. I should have found a way to stab Tricella in the heart.

"Edmund is a smart lad." Nero interrupts my self-deprecating thoughts. "He probably ran from the castle after we left, sensing something wasn't right. And there's nothing ye could have done to change what happened to yer men." He rests a hand on my shoulder, but I can't find the strength to look at him.

"And what the fuck am I going to do if it comes to war? I am powerless, Nero. I will never get rid of these cuffs because I don't have any worth left in me." I look at my cuffs and feel as if I have one wrapped around my neck too, strangling me.

"Yer not powerless , let alone worthless, but clearly ye need a good arse whooping to remember that." I turn to him, surprised by his tone. "Now stop moping around, will ye, and find the captain of the guards ye've lost somewhere along the way. The old Aramis might have been a prejudiced and privileged arse, but he never stood down."

Nero points to the children playing whilst their parents are busy packing their few belongings, faces etched with worry. How many times have they done this? How many more times will they have to?

"Look around ye, Aramis. This is yer kingdom, yer people. We will find a way to protect and save them," he growls, his irises glowing molten gold in the dim light. "Who do ye think will sit on that bloody throne when Tricella is gone? I love ye, but we don't know the consequences the spell will have left on your father's mind. Ye will wear the crown, Aramis."

The truth of his words hits me and I nearly throw up.

"They don't want a murderer as their King," I say with conviction. "How can they look at me and see anything other than the man who has brought countless shifters to their death? What kind of king does that, Nero?"

Nero shakes his head. Scales glimmer underneath his skin as he loses his grip on his temper. "Ye have been so preoccupied with yer own worries and doubts, ye didn't even realize how much these people look up to ye now! They have seen ye rebuild their homes, chop the wood that kept them warm, share information that finally helped one of us infiltrate the castle. Yer a fool if you can't see their gratitude. And a prick if ye don't start appreciating it."

My best friend takes off to the woods and I stand frozen to the ground. A tree in the middle of the desert. Alone and desperate for water.

My eyes fall to the ground and I look at my hands. Despite being a prince, I've never had pristine hands. No matter the number of oils and butters my mother would massage through my fingers, the callouses from the hours spent sword fighting never left. But my hands have changed again. Cuts adorn every finger. They are an angry shade of red from the incessant cold, and the skin is dry and irritated. My nails are cracked, there's soil trapped underneath them and my callouses have gotten so coarse they feel like stones.

What kind of king has hands like these?

A king who's not afraid to work for its people.

The truth is a weak glimmer in front of my eyes. There for the taking, yet I stumble like a blind man. After a moment, I follow Nero to the woods where he's picked up my axe and is working on my stack of logs.

"I don't know what to do, Nero," I admit and it feels like lifting a weight off my chest.

The wood is cast in shadows as the sun is slowly making its descent. Shivers run down my spine and I pray spring will come soon. Alphaeia knows it will make travels for the refugees much easier. I take a deep breath, hoping it will slow my running mind.

"I thought... I thought having Sybil back would fix everything. Show me my place in all of this, but I keep feeling like the villain." I stumble on my words, but I am laying bare my truths now and there's no going back. "Fuck! I don't even think Sybil should forgive me for what I have done to her. I love that woman with every cell in my body, Nero. But there's no absolution for what I have done."

"Ye better shut up right now, Aramis, or I will have to punch the stupidity out of yer arse," Nero says, throwing the axe to my right as it finds its mark in the trunk of a tree behind me.

"Do it," I challenge Nero. I take off my leather jacket and throw it onto the snowy ground.

"Aramis—"

"Fucking do it, Nero. Or what? Do you think I can't take you anymore? Do you think I can't beat?—"

"First blood?" He pulls off his shirt and crouches low into a defensive stance, holding another axe in front of him.

"And mar your beautiful scales?" I taunt as I yank the axe from where it's embedded in the trunk.

Nero lunges forward, his axe slicing through the air. I parry his attack with a swift flick of my wrist. Metal clashes against metal, sparks flying in the dim light.

"Is that all you've got, lizard boy?" I taunt, a wide grin on my face mirroring his own. I feint to the left, then quickly change direction, aiming for Nero's exposed flank. He anticipates my move, sidestepping with lightning speed. Our axes clash again, the force of the impact reverberating through our arms. I relish in the familiar feeling that vibrates along my skin.

"It's draken boy to ye, old man," he grunts as he swings his axe in an arch, forcing me toward the tree line.

"Old man?" I huff with laughter. I press forward, driving Nero back, relentless in my pursuit. Adrenaline pumps through my veins, fueling my every move. My axe becomes an extension of myself as I channel my pent-up emotions into each strike.

"Aye," he says as he launches into a series of rapid strikes. I parry each blow with unwavering resolve, his skill matching mine.

Melting snow and mud crunch beneath our boots as we circle each other, eyes locked in a fierce gaze. Sweat drips from my brow and my muscles burn, but I relish in it. The world around me fades into the background, leaving only the battle, the clash of steel, and the thundering of my heart.

"Remember that time we fought off those kids when we were younger–" I pant.

"Ye've got to be more specific, mate," he says, our axes clashing until he's up in my face. I push him off, and we both stumble a few paces back before crouching defensively.

"You remember Charlotte's daughter, Astrid Wren?" I pant, circling him and looking for an opening.

"Yer mother's lady-in-waiting's daughter?"

"Yes, the one you wouldn't stop talking about for weeks. Granted, what girl didn't you have a crush on in the castle?" I say. He rolls his eyes, but a grin tugs at the corner of his lips.

"Aye, didn't a group of the lord's sons steal her doll one time?"

"That's the one. It was four of them against the two of us." We continue our deadly dance, the clash of steel echoing through the silent forest. Time seems to slow as our movements become more precise, more calculated. Sweat-soaked and breathless, we fight with a fire that refuses to be extinguished.

"Even as boys, you always stood up for those in need," he says, his golden-brown eyes meeting my gaze.

My heart sinks, and the scar on my chest burns with phantom pain. I used to, until that night. However, I am different now; I have become the man my mother wanted me to be. A shiver runs down my spine, and I feel a ghostly caress against my cheek, but as I look around, I see nothing.

Silence fills the air between us as we circle one another. With a sudden burst of energy, I unleash a flurry of strikes, pushing Nero to his limit. His defenses waiver. A small opening appears. I seize the opportunity, driving my axe toward his chest. But Nero is not so easily defeated. With a swift sidestep, he evades my attack, retaliating with a powerful swing. His axe blade cuts through the air, aiming for my head. I duck just in time, feeling the wind of his strike brush against my hair.

"Getting tired there, Aramis? Should we stop so ye can join the villagers with less taxing chores?" He winks, and it fuels my next strike. I will not back down, not against Nero or anyone else. This fight is more than just a clash of swords; it's a test of strength, of will, of who I truly am. I will prove to my people I'm willing to do anything to protect them.

"You wish," I say as I feint to the left, then quickly change direction, aiming for Nero's exposed flank. He anticipates my move, sidestepping with lightning speed. Our axes meet again, the force of the impact reverberating through our arms. The cold air bites at my cheeks, but I ignore it, focused solely on him.

"I win," he says.

It's then I feel the sting on the side of my rips where his axe has left a thin slice in my side, blood mingling with the sweat plastering the linen to my skin.

"You bastard," I say with a grin, punching him in the arm.

"Ye smell worse than a pig rolling in shit, Aramis," Nero remarks, taking a swig from his canteen of water. The scent of sweat clings to him, his brown hair plastered to his head, and his chin covered in stubble.

"You should talk," I retort, accepting the canteen and quenching my thirst with a long gulp. "I didn't realize how much being locked in those cells for weeks affected me," I say, rubbing at the sore muscles of my arms. "I feel like I'm back in our first year of training again."

Nero laughs, and we both lay on the snow-covered ground. I feel the snow melting under my body heat and soaking my tunic, but it's a welcoming sensation. The setting sun casts a mesmerizing array of golden hues across the sky, painting a breathtaking scene as it dips below the horizon. Time is going by too quickly. There's still so much we have to prepare for our travels tomorrow.

"I don't like this plan with Axton. There is something about him that makes me uneasy," I say after a while.

"Aye, he doesn't seem like the best of people, but we dinna have any other choice, it seems. He's our only link in finding the book." Nero is right. My breathing finally starts to calm, but Nero is still panting next to me.

He better remember I still know how to beat his ass.

"I know," I say. "I just wish there was a different way—a better way. A way to avoid all this fighting and turmoil all together." My fists clench at my sides and I sit up. The smell of fresh baked loaves waft from camp as the cooks are getting ready to serve dinner. An idea strikes me but I tuck it away for now.

"How did you manage to stand by my side all those years? You saw the pain I was causing under Tricella's orders but never left."

Nero follows my lead and sits up too, his black hair so disheveled it resembles a bird's nest. "For a hundred years, I've stood by yer side, Aramis. It wasn't easy, but I could see the real ye under all the pain. I know the male ye want to be." He stands and extends a hand in my direction. "Our past shapes us, but our actions help mold us."

I look up at him and thank the Goddess for gifting me Nero. Who knows what would have happened to me, had he not been in my life.

Taking his hand, he lifts me as if I weigh little more than a feather and I brush off the dirt and snow stuck on my clothes.

"When did you become so wise? Sure you don't want to be king? I'll let you try on the crown if you want?" I joke.

"Yer kidding me. When this is over, I want to sleep on the softest mattress in the whole of Shadowvale for a month straight. Find yerself another second in command. Although, I bet yer be busy anyways." Nero winks at me and my heart clenches. Will Sybil want to stay in Shadowvale, with me? "Aramis, trust yer heart. It's brought ye this far. Talk to her without pretending." I meet his golden eyes and know he is right.

The bond tugs me back to the camp, back to her. I nod and another weight is lifted.

As we make our way to the infirmary, with every elemental and shifter looking at us as if we're two children coming back home from a brawl. A thought comes rushing back to me.

"Are you going to tell me what's going on between you and the witch, or do I have to whoop your ass again to find out?"

Nero bursts into laughter, and I can't believe how good it makes me feel. Just because everything seems to be doomed doesn't mean I can't appreciate the little things. Like winding up my best friend.

"First of all, I whooped yer arse. Second, I don't know what to tell ya, mate. She's... she's something." He rubs his chin, eyes on the ground, and I know he'll tell me more when he is ready.

For now, I just need to find the courage to open my heart to the beautiful woman with the long, brown locks by the entrance of the infirmary tent.

The bands around my wrist heat up and I glance down, but nothing seems amiss.