10. Chapter Ten

Closing the door behind me, I lock it before tucking the key into my pocket. I selected a room on the third floor knowing the windows open to a steep hill and river that runs swiftly behind the building. Sybil would have to be utterly mad to try to escape, although I am starting to think she doesn't even want to escape anymore. Regardless, I chose one of my guards to sleep in the stables, where he can monitor the room's window.

"Tell me the news, Nero," I command as I catch up to him. I cross my arms over my chest, walking side-by-side with my captain of the guard and best friend.

"Ye've received a missive from the kingdom." He pulls a thick folded note from his pocket before handing it to me.

Grabbing the paper from him, I run my finger across the seal stamped into the golden wax. The symbol of a crescent moon with three stars and a sword thrust through it: our family crest. Moving into a private dining room, I sit down in a chair before breaking the seal and running my eyes over the text.

Aramis,Hasten your return delivering the prisoner.The rebel shifters will be attacking Larnwick in two days. You areto leave and deal with the attack when you return.-Queen Tricella

The paper crumples under my hands as I throw it at the fire. I slam a fist on the table in frustration. The sound of my heartbeat fills my ears as I seethe in anger.

"Bad news, yer majesty?" Nero inquires as he lifts an eyebrow in my direction.

"Don't be facetious, Nero." I push back from the table and begin pacing the room. "The queen requests we hasten our return to deliver her prisoner so that we can handle a rebel group that is going to attack another village close to the capital. As if she's not the one who sent us on this fool's mission in the first place."

"Does she think we travel on magical flying horses?" He snorts with derision. "Why doesn't she send some of her precious lackeys to do her bidding?"

Nero is interrupted by a knock on the door frame. The tavern owner's daughter enters the room with a tray laden with food and two chilled mugs of ale. Just like she did with the tray of soaps and oils, the woman seductively lowers her chest as she serves us our dinner, giving both me and Nero quite the spectacle. I roll my eyes, her constant advances now pushing on my last nerves. I am the prince of Shadowvale. She is a mere poor peasant–well beneath me. Beyond the fact that this is neither the time, nor the place to accept such advances, her family should be grateful that we frequent their establishment at all.

Finishing her task, Odetta… Olivia - or whatever her name is, turns and curls a blonde lock around her finger as she peers at me through hooded eyes.

"Prince Aramis, if there is anything else I can be of—"

"Leave us." I cut her off. I don't need another female to complicate my life.. A sigh leaves my lips at the sight of her fallen features. A prince never regards its subjects as beneath him Aramis. Only because the Gods have chosen a different path for them does not mean they are not your equals. My mother's words come flashing back with a wave of sadness. She taught me better than that. "I'm sorry," I quickly add, and pull a few gold coins from my pocket and hold them out to her. The maiden slips them between her breasts, a hint of a coy smirk curling at the corners of her lips. I may be an asshole sometimes, but that doesn't mean I have to be heartless. I invite her once again to leave the room and say, "Please see that my men get more ale and food."

"Yes, your majesty. You need only call if there is anything else I can do to ease your evening." Her lips press into a thin line while curtseying, hips swaying exaggeratingly on her way out.

Nero lets out a low whistle and leans back in his chair. Taking a deep drag from his chilled mug, he nods toward the open door. "That one is relentless." Nero beams. "It's unfortunate she's nae my type." Setting down his mug, he grabs a chicken leg from his plate and takes a large bite.

"We have more important matters at hand than fraternizing with the serving staff," I reply rather stiffly, sitting back in my chair. I run a hand helplessly through my already disheveled hair. The food wafting up from the plate before me looks delicious, but my stomach churns at the thought of eating. The weight of my duty as crown prince gets progressively heavier the closer we are to Shadowvale. I try to remind myself that I have no control over Sybil's fate, that disclosing information regarding the crown is the best I can do to help her. A voice whispers in my head, you should not be wanting to help her, she is shifter scum and part of me can't help but instinctively agree. But then I think about Sybil…

I clear my throat and interrupt my thoughts. "What are we going to do about this rebel group? They're always two steps ahead of us. By the time we reach Larnwick, they'll have moved on."

"Well, if Kieran has seen the rebels attacking Larnwick, we could still potentially reach and set up forces before they attack. His visions are of the future, not the present." He waves the half-eaten leg bone at me in emphasis.

"What's the use of a seer–" I exclaim, releasing my frustration onto the table by slamming my fist on it, "If his bloody visions are always late? Queen Tricella can't even get a decent seer on her court. I'll never understand how my father thought she'd make a fit queen." I pick up my ale and take a sip.

"Who knows what kind of massacre will be awaiting us once we reach Larnwick. The last rebel attack in Walden killed over three hundred brave Elementals. No survivors left. I am so goddamn tired of all this bloodshed. I assure you, the only thing left in Larnwick by the time we get there will be stragglers and children." The silverware clangs as it dances to my fury. The image of Edmund crying over his mother's corpse is still fresh in my mind.

"Mmhh," Nero mutters, lost in his thoughts.

"What now?" I ask, knowing the wheels in his mind are turning by the way he is scratching his chin contemplatively.

"Isn't Larnwick one of the few villages in all of Shadowvale where Shifters and Elementals peacefully coexist? Like… What was the name of that other village, Astrakane? Which was also ransacked about a month ago?"

"Indeed. I can still hear the screams of the few survivors we found at Astrakane. So many dead or missing… both Shifter and Elementals." I pause. Why had the shifters killed their own? I could see a few casualties or accidents from the destruction of the town, but outright killing their own made no sense.

"Have ye ever wondered why the towns are empty like ghost towns, while others are left with death and destruction of both kinds?" Nero asks, tentatively.

"Of course I ask myself that!" I growl in frustration. He always had a knack for reading my mind. "I've been over the situation a hundred times or more. It just doesn't make sense. Unless…"

"What"s on yer mind, mate?" he asks.

"What if…" I meet his eyes across the table and speak, a fear festering in my gut. "What if not all shifters support the rebellion?" The thought of Sybil valiantly defending her innocence makes me sick to my stomach for not believing her. All those shifters, women and children alike, I had taken to Shadowvale for questioning, certain they would have information about their own kind. I lower my head and voice words I never thought I would pronounce. "Maybe I've been so blinded by my own vendetta to not see that some shifters are just victims in this story?"

I replay the aftermath of all the villages that had been attacked with this new theory in mind. If the shifters' reason for rebelling is the unfounded accusation that the crown is endangering the Shifter community within Shadowvale, why would they kill their own kind during these raids? Did they maybe consider the casualties supporters of the crown? Deserving of death for not joining the rebellion? The questions keep multiplying in my head, and I wonder how we prove the veracity of this assumption.

Nero studies me before he responds. "Ye know that ye must walk yer own path, Aramis. Ye decide who ye want to be and what ye want to believe in." He leans forward on the table, resting his chin on his hands. His massive frame casts his shadow to creep over the wood of the table from the candle behind him.

"Who are you and what did you do with my goofball guard, Nero?" I grin, helplessly trying to break the tension. I push aside my worry and lean forward to slap him affectionately on the shoulder. Nero smiles in return. He is like a brother to me. The lines between friendship and princely duty blur with him.

"But seriously, when did you grow wise on me, old man?" I grab my tankard of ale and down it swiftly in a few gulps, the cool liquid sliding down my throat. The familiar fruit and hoppy taste of the ale coats my tongue, reminding me of warm summer days.

"I've always been wise. Ye've just been too immature to notice." Nero lets out a hearty laugh and I can't help but shake my head at him. "I, for one, am looking forward to a hot bath and a warm bed with one of Cook's famous apple tarts."

"Oh, you're going to take a sweet tart to your bed?" I wink at him, but at the mention of a warm bath, my thoughts stray back to Sybil upstairs above the tavern room. For the first time, when I think of her, my heart is light in my chest.

"What is on yer mind?" Nero reaches towards my plate, but I swat his hand away.

"If you're still hungry, go try your charm on the kitchen staff," I reply, ignoring his question. "Maybe you'll find yourself some extra food and a warm bed to share."

"What do ye think the queen will dae with Sybil?" Nero asks, his face turning serious and unreadable.

"You know as much as I do," I reply, musing. Turning away from him, I watch the flames crackle in the fireplace, light and shadows dancing on the worn wood floor. Scuff marks mark the surface from years of patronage. With a sigh, I rub at my temples. "We were only tasked to bring the unicorn before my father and the queen for her crimes. I never told you this, but I overheard Kieran telling the Queen about a vision he had in which Sybil was leading a group of rebels," I scoff at the absurdity of it. "She will probably be questioned, just like all the other shifters we retrieved from the raided villages." My head hurts trying to put all the information in order.

"Fuck Kieran's visions. They're shit most of the time anyways," Nero blurts out and I can't help but break into a vigorous laugh at my best friend's honesty.

She is going to prove her innocence; I tell myself. And then me and Nero are going to uncover what is really going on with the rebel group. To hell with Kieran's visions. Indeed, I am going to do this my way from now on.

I finish my meal in silence as we both watch the embers in the fire slowly dim, lost to our thoughts.

***

My new theory concerning the shifter rebels plagues my thoughts as I make my way upstairs. I gently knock at the door but Sybil does not answer. For a moment in time, I'm aware how unreal the situation is–a shifter is in my room, alone, and I'm worried for her. Fear grips my chest, stemming from a place I can't even remotely understand as I burst into the room expecting her to be gone, only to stop in my tracks. I stand watching from the doorframe. Sybil lays asleep on the far side of the bed, the blanket pulled up to her chin. Her eyes move behind the lids, her face twitching with emotion as she dreams.

Panting, I run a hand through my hair, looking around the room in shock.

This woman is still my prisoner. Yes?

Maybe it's the fortnight I've spent with her. Maybe it's believing, even for a moment, that she might be innocent and I'm about to ruin a life that doesn't deserve it. Thinking hard, I trace back to when that changed–Edmund.

Her continuous protesting and arguing is infuriating. But like a moth to the flame, I am in constant awe of her resilience, courage, and her wide, disbelieving eyes make my heart flutter. How did one female get under my skin so thoroughly that I've begun to question my very beliefs?

She should not be asleep on the bed, but I can't bring myself to disturb her just to make her move to the floor.

Were she any other prisoner, I would have her sleep on a bedroll, and tied her so she can't attempt any escape. I simply can't bring myself to do that to Sybil. Even if she's been accused of treason against Shadowvale by my stepmother, I've seen too many rebels to not believe her story. But she is not just a prisoner, not anymore. So I gently close the door to not disturb her and make my way towards the fireplace. Tossing more wood onto the fire causes sparks to fly, hungrily consuming the offering and warming the room. A draft of air catches my attention and I lift my gaze to the window where the shutters have blown open. The rain continues to drizzle down into the shadows below, the scent of evergreen. I can hear Sybil tossing and turning in the bed. From my pack I pull out a silver flask, stamped with the Aldrostos crest, and take a deep swing of the amber liquid, relishing in its burn. Sleep will be a long time coming for me.

My feet take me to the foot of the bed. I brace myself against the footboard.

"There's enough space for the two of us, you know?" Sybil's sleepy voice catches me by surprise and I turn to face her. The fire is casting a golden glow on her freckles, dusting faintly like constellations across her cheeks and nose against the firelight. A warm tug deep in my core beckons as my eyes trail from the faint star mark on her brow to the dark, long locks of hair framing her face and shoulder.

"Last time I offered you to share my sleep roll, you told me I was utterly insane. So, I thought I'd be more cautious this time and avoid the question altogether," I say and take a sip from my flask. But the liquid does not warm me inside as much as the small smile spreading on Sybil's lips does.

"I remember well. Let's just say I am in much kinder spirit tonight then," she says and scoots further to the left side of the bed. An invitation.

I slowly get to my feet, unsure whether to follow my instinct or remind myself of my duty. My heart is racing as I make my way towards the front of the bed, Sybil's eyes fixed on me.

"I'll be okay on the flo—"

"Aramis. It's okay," she interrupts me, her eyes shining more than any jewel I have seen in the castle, and moves the covers on my side. I could get lost in those eyes. "It's been a long journey for both of us. You deserve a good rest as much as any."

After removing my boots, I carefully sit on the bed, the mattress sinking under my weight as I stretch my body on top of the covers. I prop my head up on an arm and chance one last glimpse in her direction before fixing my eyes on the window in front of me.

"See, it was not so difficult, was it? I promise, unicorns don't bite, much." She adds, snickering, but I can hear her voice already drifting off.

I force my body to relax, careful not to touch her, but the electricity coursing through my veins at the sole thought of Sybil lying so close to me is driving me insane.

My resistance to look at Sybil crumbles, so I move on my side and face her. Her chest rises and falls under the blankets in a smooth, even rhythm. Her face calms to a peaceful expression. I ease my position slowly, just to fully appreciate her beauty.

"What have you done to me?" I whisper.

Heat radiates off her soft hand mere centimeters away from my own. After a few breaths, I turn and lay on my back, crossing my arms over my chest, careful not to wake or disturb her. I stare at the canopy above us and pray for morning to never come.