“A shipment was raided. I will work with Kairyn to ensure it does not happen again.”
“So, that’s it? He would have willingly killed you during the Rite. You know that, don’t you? Now, you’re just going to let him go free?”
How do I explain to Dayton that if Damocles were still alive, he would do everything he could to give Dayton a second-chance? “Kairyn had his reasons for challenging me. I respect that.”
Dayton scoffs. “Your honor will be the death of you.”
“Enough!” I push Dayton back. “What is this? Keldarion is gone and now you have to step up and fill his role? Are you trying to be like him?”
“Are you?” Dayton growls. “Willfully ignorant, trusting someone against everyone else’s judgment, turning away from the facts when they’re right in front of you—now that’s like Kel.”
“He’s my brother!” I roar.
Dayton steps back, a look of hurt on his face. He turns and walks to the door. “Just remember, ‘brother’ is what you once called Cas. Didn’t stop him from betraying all of us.”
38
Dayton
My world narrows to the points of my swords and the sound of metal hitting the wooden dummy. Step, slash, step, slash. I put myself through every routine and exercise my old trainer beat into my thick skull. Step, slash. My arms twirl, my feet falling into a practiced rhythm as my breath evens to a familiar cadence.
I push past the ache in my muscles and the frantic beating of my heart. Sweat coats my brow, my palms, and I tighten my grip. Roaring, I spin and bring my swords down.
Wood splinters and the dummy cracks in half. My chest heaves, and I blink sweat out of my eyes. The dummy is reduced to rubble, nothing but a carved-up husk. Around me, the training yard is completely still, and everyone that had been practicing is watching me. Didn’t realize I’d garnered an audience.
One of the squires rushes up to me. “It’s not often we get to witness someone from Summer train, especially of your skill, my Prince. It is a most exceptional feat. Please allow me to replace this for you.”
Nodding, I step away from the gravel square. Florendel’s training ground is located on an upper level of Keep Hammergarden, partially covered. Half of it looks over the city to the landscape beyond.
Certainly is beautiful for such a hard people. Below us are the royal gardens. I can see they dragged out old Thalionor for some air. Sun glints off his armored helm, but the rest of him is covered in a thick quilt. A few acolytes mull around him, picking flowers. One of them turns to look up, then lowers her hood.
Wrenley. She smiles and gives me a wave before turning back to the prince. I grasp the string of seashells around my neck, tilting my chin to look at the beautiful golden shell she’d gifted me. It’s fate. I can’t help but drift my gaze to the rolling hills beyond Florendel where two people are walking through a rainbow of wildflowers.
Rosalina and Farron. I take a drag of cold water from my flask. Their movements are delicate, almost as if in a ballet. They’re two small figures on the horizon, no bigger than dolls, but it’s like I can feel the love between them. A dusky pink line blankets the horizon. I hadn’t realized how long I’d been in here. Fare doesn’t care if the sun sets.
Not anymore.
On the other side of the rolling wildflower hill is a bobbing cluster of blue lights. “Those lights over there … Are they—？”
“Ahh, yes. The Lights of Fate.” The squire comes up beside me. “We often see them on the hills. They like the flowers.”
“Lights of Fate,” I repeat, absently rubbing my chest, trying not to think of the last time one of those buggers landed on me. Showed me the tangled mess that is my mate bond. The Spring Realm may have another name for the will-o’-wisps, but I still don’t want to get anywhere near them again.
“I’ve replaced the training equipment, sire.” The squire nods, then retreats.
“How about training against something that fights back?” a voice calls from the entrance. “I think that block of wood is a bit below your skill level.”
A smirk crawls up the corner of my mouth. “I suppose the High Prince of Spring ranks a little higher than wood, but we’ll see by how much.”
Ezryn steps closer. We haven’t spoken since our fight yesterday evening. He’s in his usual helm, though his armor is lighter, looser, good for movement. He swings a large broadsword in one hand. The crowd moves to the edges of the training ground and murmurs with anticipation.