Kael stepped wearily onto the circle of crumbling stones that surrounded the fire pit. He was tired. His body. His mind. His heart. All of him seemed to ache with exhaustion.
But he refused to let it show. They needed him to be strong now, as they always did.
So, Kael squared his shoulders, lifted his chin, and turned to face the Freemen that stood around the cold fire pit.
His eyes found Andra instantly, standing near the front of the crowd. Talias stood close to her side, looking comfortable and certain of his place there.
Andra had told him and the rest of the council what Talias had said about his role in the battle.
Kael didn’t want to believe it. He wanted to feel certain in his initial declaration that Talias was a spy. He wanted him to be a traitor, wanted Andra to turn her back on him entirely.
And he didn’t want to believe he may have killed innocent servants.
But there was no reason to doubt Talias’s story, so for now, he remained relatively free among the rebels, watched by a guard but otherwise unrestrained. And he nearly always remained at Andra’s side.
Kael refused to look away from the pair, meeting Andra’s gaze as he spoke.
“Andra,” he said, fighting to keep emotion from his voice as he said her name. “Join me, please.” He gestured at the stones beside where he stood.
She blinked at him in confusion but, at a gentle nudge from the former Kingsman beside her, she finally stepped forward and up onto the edge of the fire pit, turning to face the other Freemen as well.
Struggling to ignore the brush of his arm against hers, Kael continued speaking.
“By now, you have all learned of the unique bond between Andra and Tiri. They were destined to be Paired, but missed their opportunity. Still, Tiri claims Andra as her Rider.
“Yesterday, many of you witnessed Andra fighting with the rest of the Freemen, returning to the battle after I had asked her to leave.
“In doing so, she saved my life, and the magic she used turned the battle in our favor. Without her, this rebellion would be over.
“You all stood witness as Tiri was honored with an Ers Fehnar like no other, and I don’t believe any would argue that that dragon, who fought with us when the battle was not hers to fight, is undeserving of that honor.”
Kael paused, as if waiting for someone to voice any disagreement. When the watchful crowd remained silent, he continued.
“I only think it right that, in recognizing Tiri, we recognize the one she claims as her Rider.
“I believe that Andra has proved herself to be one of the Freemen, and I believe she has fought as bravely as any of us, and certainly as bravely as any Rider.”
At the back of the gathering, Kael saw Tiri, just squeezed between the trees of the forest, lift her head and rustle her wings in a preening manner, pride radiating from every violet scale.
But Andra seemed to be shrinking beside him, shoulders rising to her ears in discomfort, her head shaking slightly. He could see she wanted to protest, but refused to give her the opportunity.
Whatever may have passed between the two of them, whatever she may or may not feel toward him now, Kael knew beyond any doubt that Andra deserved this.
“Janis,” he said, nodding to the young Rider who stood near the front of the crowd. The boy stepped forward, limping heavily from his injuries, his eyes gaunt and hollow from his loss.
He carried two objects in his arms, and Kael hopped down to relieve the younger man of his burdens before turning to Andra again.
He looked up at her, her face now elevated slightly above his own as she remained perched on the edge of the stones, looking as if she were ready to flee at any moment.
“Andra…,” Kael said, his voice low, intended only for her.
Her eyes moved from the crowd of faces behind him and focused on his face alone. He stared back for a long, quiet moment, trying to pretend that nobody stood behind him, that she saw only him.
But then he continued, his voice louder now, so all the Freemen could hear.
“A vote was held among the council last night,” he announced, “and it was unanimously decided. In the eyes of the Freemen, you are now a Rider, Lady Andra.”
Applause erupted behind him, and Andra’s face went white as she continued to stare down at him, shaking her head minutely. Kael simply stared back, feeling the corners of his mouth turn upward slightly as he did so.
When the uproar had died down slightly, Andra’s lips parted and she began in a quiet, trembling voice, “Kael, I—I’m not…”
He refused to let her say it, and spoke loudly again, holding out the two parcels still in his arms.
“As is tradition,” he said, “I’ve had a sword, Rider’s gloves, and a jacket crafted for you, Lady Andra. A saddle will take more time, but I’ll ensure you get one as soon as I can.”
She stood frozen until he pressed the bundle of leather into her arms, and she seized it to keep the objects from falling to the ground.
“Let’s see it!” someone called from the crowd.
“Put them on!” another shouted.
Andra, forever obliging, shakily donned the black leather jacket and tugged the matching gloves on her quavering fingers before buckling the sword belt around her waist.
She stared at where the sword hung at her hip, barely brushing her fingertips against the hilt, as if afraid to touch it at all.
“Draw your sword, Rider!” someone cried.
Andra lifted her gaze to the cheering crowd, eyes darting about uncertainly before coming back to Kael’s face. He nodded at her reassuringly, and Andra gripped the hilt of the sword, slowly drawing it from its sheath.
The sunlight struck the blade as it emerged, illuminating it in dazzling violet, an exact match to Tiri’s scales.
The elven smiths had worked through the night to craft that sword, and Kael felt a thrill of pride to see the beautiful blade in Andra’s hand as she fully drew it, holding it above her head as she gazed up at it in awe.
The crowd erupted into cheers again, the sacred word for the Riders and their dragons rising in a chant.
“Veholum! Veholum! Veholum!”
Kael gazed up at the girl—the Rider—in front of him. Her features were tight with uncertainty, and he could see how little she felt she deserved this. But he knew better.
Andra was a Rider. No mark or lack of one could change that. He knew it as surely as he knew that he loved her.
Andra sheathed the sword, and the noise of the crowd died down just as Kael spotted movement from the corner of his eye.
He turned toward it to find Janis hobbling up toward the fire pit again, his dragon saddle bundled awkwardly in his arms.
The ashen-faced boy dropped the saddle at the edge of the fire pit. “You can have my saddle, Andra,” he said hoarsely. “You are now the Rider I cannot be.”
Andra quickly hopped down from the stones and took the younger Rider’s hands. “Janis,” she said, “you are still a Rider.”
The boy gave a hollow laugh. “What’s a Rider without a dragon? I do not even fully feel like a person anymore, Andra, much less a full Rider. Half of me is dead.”
“She’s right, Janis,” Kael said, placing a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “A Rider remains a Rider until his death. Nothing will change that. Your effects represent your bond with Tildin.”
“I’ll have my sword, gloves, and jacket,” Janis countered, “but Andra needs the saddle, and I…” His voice cracked and tears filled his eyes, beginning to stream down his brown cheeks as he lowered his head.
“I shall never need them again,” he finished in a quavering voice.
Kael looked down at the black object at his feet, then at Janis and Andra. He nodded slowly, reluctant to separate the boy from anything that he’d shared with his dragon.
He could see the hesitancy in Andra’s eyes, the pained sympathy in her expression. But she simply wrapped the boy in an embrace.
“I’m so sorry, Janis,” she whispered. “I’m sorry for what you have lost.”
Janis released a shaking sigh and half-heartedly returned the embrace. “Just remember him when you use it,” he whispered back. “Remember Tildin for me.”
“I will. I promise, I will think of both of you. Thank you, Janis.”
As Andra stepped out of her embrace with the young Rider, another figure stepped toward the fire pit. Kael stiffened this time at the figure’s approach, dislike surging in his chest at the sight of Talias.
His brow was drawn together in deep furrows as he looked at Andra, then looked down at the saddle.
“Andra,” Talias said slowly, “are you certain you want to accept these?”
Kael’s jaw clenched, fighting desperately against the urge to lash out at the other young man.
Talias kept speaking, his voice low, clearly trying to keep the words between him and Andra alone.
“Riders can’t be elected by a council. You know as well as I do that the title of a Rider is sacred, that their effects represent their position as defenders of Paerolia.
“And you told me yourself, Andra… You have no mark. You don’t have a true bond with Tiri. Are you certain you should take a Rider’s effects when you’re not a Rider?”
Kael glanced at Andra, seeing the doubt creeping into her eyes, pulling her shoulders forward, dragging her gaze to the ground. His eyes snapped back to the interloper, lip curling in a snarl.
“Tiri has claimed her, and her people have accepted her as one. Being a Rider has always been Andra’s destiny.
“If you wish to argue against her right to be called a Rider, I will gladly settle that with you myself—though Tiri may wish to discuss it with you first.”
From the back of the crowd, there was a low growl of warning, and Talias’s eyes darted warily to where the violet dragon watched the proceedings, the tips of her fangs slightly bared.
Kael saw the kitchen boy swallow, then shake his head before stepping back into the edge of the crowd.
Feeling slightly gratified, Kael turned back to Andra. The doubt lingered in her green eyes as she watched Talias, obviously considering his words. It made Kael’s heart ache with sorrow and fury.
These effects were the least that she deserved, and he refused to allow a kitchen boy to tell her otherwise.
Before he could think of anything to say to her, another voice called out from the crowd, “Kael? What will we do now?”
Kael lifted his gaze back to the Freemen—to his people. They looked woefully around at Bellris. To the south, only a few scattered huts remained standing, the rest still sending smoke from their ruins.
Around them, though most of the quarters within the trees were still intact, burned bridges had fallen where they had once connected the trees.
Kael sighed quietly, trying to keep the loss and fear from his voice.
“If there is one thing that we learned from yesterday, it is that the judges will waste no effort to eradicate us. They will not underestimate us again.
“And, as I’m sure we all know, they will be back, and this time with greater numbers of soldiers, sorcerers, and Riders. I doubt so many of us will survive if they do return.”
“So, we run?” Egan asked. The sneer that would have been in his voice before was absent, replaced by a listless sense of defeat.
“No.”
All eyes—even Kael’s—turned to Andra at her single spoken word.
She had stepped back on the stone circle and looked down at them. Her fists trembled slightly at her sides, but her gaze was steady as she took in their upturned faces.
She drew a breath and spoke loudly, her voice carrying between the trees.
“If it is Castigo that the Kingsmen wish to put on the throne, then we must remove him from the equation. If there is no man who would be king, then there are no Kingsmen.”
“They could just choose another man to back,” a voice in the crowd pointed out.
“If we kill Castigo, we can put honorable, trusted men in the judgment seats, as the Guardians intended.
“The elves’ Seer, Astrum, came to Bellris before and said that the key to ending this rebellion was the power that Ledo held.
“You believed that meant taking Ledo, but perhaps it means removing the power of Chief Judge Castigo altogether—the power he would have given to his son, the power he was already beginning to let him wield.
Pride swelled in Kael’s chest as he looked up at Andra, along with a dull and weary ache. It was such a simple answer, yet he had not seen it.
Perhaps if he had, perhaps if they’d wiped out Castigo’s line altogether from the very beginning, all of this could have been prevented. All of this death and loss—Colmen’s death…
But he hadn’t seen. He’d wanted so badly to avoid killing, even monsters like Castigo and Ledo, and innocent men had died because of his cowardice.
Andra was right. This was the only way. And he should have seen it sooner.
Stepping up beside her, he turned to the crowd. “All in favor?” he called out.
Every hand rose, and Kael nodded.
“We leave tomorrow. Gather what you can. Egan will lead the majority of our number to a camp at the base of the Mordis Range to prepare for our final encounter with the Kingsmen.
“The other Riders and captains, and a small number of our soldiers, will head for Iterum. We’ll strike at Castigo from there. When the judges are weakened…we’ll end this once and for all.”
Andra lay awake in her bed, staring at the ceiling, tears streaming down her temples and into her hair. Her hand clutched Colmen’s flute to her chest in the darkness as she fought to keep her sobs silent.
Another woman slept in her room now, displaced by the fires that had ravaged the village, and she did not want to wake her.
The night was eerily silent, the woodland animals having fled from the fire and the smell of ash and blood.
She knew she should sleep. Her body ached with exhaustion. But the aching of her heart overpowered it and kept her from sleep.
Colmen’s smiling face seemed to fill her mind, and she wept with the realization that she would never see his smile, hear his teasing voice, or feel his eager embrace ever again.
In the heavy silence that filled the forest, Andra thought she heard a soft sound. She held her breath for a moment, listening.
It came again, the quiet, muffled sound of someone weeping and trying not to be heard.
Silently, she slid from her mattress, leaving the wooden flute on her pillow, and crept from the room.
She stood outside of her doorway, listening again until she heard the sound. And then she was certain from where it came.
Andra’s bare feet were silent as they crossed the wooden bridge, which had been patched together with rough boards. She paused briefly outside of his quarters, then cautiously pulled the curtain away from the doorway.
At first, she saw nothing but blackness, but her eyes soon adjusted, and she saw Kael, his chest bare, sitting against the wall, a fist pressed to his mouth to muffle the sobs that shook him.
Without a moment’s hesitation she rushed to him, drawing him to her. His arms went around her in an instant, enfolding her as they had not done since that moment beside the glass memorial.
He held her tightly, but she felt no fear of his desperate embrace. She held him with all her strength, his quiet sobs shaking through her as she, too, wept, wishing for words that would comfort him.
But no amount of wishing brought words to her lips. There was no magic that could mend this wound.
For a long time, the rebel leader wept, and Andra held him, accepting his tears. Gradually, the sobs seemed to ebb, just enough that he was able to speak.
His voice was ragged with heartbreak as he spoke, his face still buried in the curve of her neck. “It was my fault. All of it.”
Andra pulled back from him, startled, looking down at his face.
His gray eyes, so dark in the dim moonlight through the window, were filled with an anguish she had never seen anywhere—anguish she’d only ever felt in her own heart.
An echo of that pain flared to life in her chest at the sight of it.
“What do you mean, Kael?” she asked quietly. He tried to turn away from her, but she placed a hand on his cheek, holding him there. “What’s your fault?”
Then he did pull away, removing her hand from his cheek, turning away from her as the pain in his eyes crumbled beneath the weight of his own agonizing guilt.
He drew his knees to his chest as he buried his hands in his midnight hair, clutching at it.
The heartbreak pressed into that last word made Andra’s own heart tremble. She had never seen him like this before—so broken, so lost.
She started to reach for him again, but before her fingers could touch his cheek, he spoke. “I’m stepping down.”
The moment the words had left his lips, Andra scrambled from her seat on the mattress beside him, moving to kneel before him.
Her hands gently encircled his wrists, trying to pull his fingers away from where they desperately tore at his hair.
The last word came out with a strangled sob, and he pressed his fist to his mouth again, trying to silence his anguish, wishing he could simply choke on it.
In his mind, he felt Eithne’s silent, reassuring presence.
She’d tried to talk him through this for hours already and had run out of words long ago. Now she simply filled his mind with her warmth and devotion—none of which he felt he deserved.
He closed his eyes, unable to meet her gaze.
All of Kael’s choices ran through his head over and over again. If only he’d killed Castigo too. If only he’d ensured Ledo was dead. If only he’d been a better leader, a better Rider, a better man.
If only, if only, if only.
And maybe…maybe if he had been better, Andra would have chosen him…
“Did I kill my mother, Kael?”
Andra’s words startled him enough that he blinked open his eyes to look at her again. The watery depths of her green eyes filled his vision, her forehead still pressed firmly to his, her hands on his cheeks.
“What?” he asked.
“Am I responsible for my mother’s death?”
He remembered the agony in Andra’s voice as she’d told him about her mother—how Ledo had hanged her because Andra had defied him, how he’d made her watch, stolen her voice from her in that moment of horrible punishment.
Kael’s hand came up to cover one of hers, pressing it more firmly into his cheek.
“Of course not, Andra,” he said. “You—”
“Made a choice,” she interrupted sharply. “I made a choice that led to my mother’s death, and I told myself for over a year that I was to blame.
His other hand covered hers now, his hands holding hers, her palms cupping his face as their foreheads remained pressed together. “Don’t say that,” he whispered. “You know it wasn’t.”
Kael closed his eyes, fresh tears trailing down his cheeks. “I…don’t know if I can…”
“You can,” she whispered, her voice so full of conviction that, for a moment, he couldn’t help but believe her. “You’re the leader of the Freemen, Kael. They didn’t choose you because of your mark.”
One hand moved from his cheek, and Andra pressed her palm against his bare chest, fingers splayed over his skin as she went on.
The words were barely more than a whisper, but they stirred something in Kael’s chest that he didn’t think he could ever feel again—hope.
Hesitantly, he raised his hand to her cheek, brushing away the tears that she’d shed with him.
“Stay with me,” he breathed, that hope clinging desperately to his heart. “Andra, please... Promise me you’ll stay.”
She was silent only for a brief moment before she answered him.
“I promise,” she whispered in return.
He didn’t know if she’d understood that he’d meant more than this moment, more than tonight. But it didn’t matter. For now, this was enough.
Kael lay back on the mattress, gently bringing her to lie beside him, their faces still close.
He wrapped his arms around her, holding her tightly, and she allowed her head to rest into the curve of his neck, just above his heart.
Though his heart still ached with loss, knowing that the girl he held shared in that loss offered comfort somehow. And, with her in his arms, Kael was finally able to sleep.
He woke before the sun, as he usually did, but stayed in his quarters until the first rays of gold began to appear through the tiny window in the treetop room.
Then, Talias rose, quickly dressed, and headed toward Andra’s quarters, a dutiful elven guard following a few feet behind him. He didn’t mind the guard so much. In fact, it made him feel a little safer.
The Freemen’s leader, Kael, had been staring daggers at him since he’d arrived.
At first, he’d thought it was simply because he’d arrived with the Kingsmen, but after watching the rebel leader with Andra, after seeing the way he stared at her, Talias suspected there was another reason altogether.
Talias arrived outside the doorway that he knew led to Andra’s room and rapped lightly on the tree trunk. “Andra?” he called. “Are you up?”
The curtain pulled aside, and an unfamiliar face appeared before him. “She’s not here,” the woman said, pushing disheveled hair from her face. “She was already gone when I woke up.”
“Oh,” Talias said with some disappointment. “Sorry to disturb you.”
He turned away, heading for the fire at the center of the camp. Surely she was down there, already having breakfast.
But as he headed for the ladder to descend to the forest floor, he spotted her across another bridge.
She was stepping out of a different bedroom, running her fingers through her hair to pull out the tangles from her sleep.
He brushed off the confusion and started forward, a greeting rising to his lips, preparing to call out to her.
Before he could say her name, however, another figure stepped out of the same quarters.
The rebel leader. Kael.
Talias froze, staring in numb disbelief as Kael finished belting on his sword, then took Andra into his arms.
The embrace was brief, ending with an abruptness that hinted Kael didn’t wish to be seen. Then the two parted ways, Kael heading down a nearby ladder, and Andra turning toward her own quarters.
As she reached the bridge that separated them, she finally noticed him standing on the other side of it. She smiled, crossing the swaying planks with ease, her manner relaxed and easy.
“Talias,” she said warmly, “you’re up early.”
His responding smile was quick to form, but he didn’t truly feel that smile. “Always are, aren’t we?” he replied.
She gave a lighthearted laugh. “I just wanted to grab my sword from my quarters,” she said. “Kael thinks I ought to have it on me all the time now. Says…”
Talias pressed his lips together, a brief feeling of discomfort urging him to argue against the term.
He cared for Andra deeply. He knew how brave she was, how good her heart was. But to call her a Rider felt like blasphemy, no matter what the violet dragon claimed.
Still, he had no desire to be burned to a crisp by Tiri nor impaled by Kael, so Talias remained silent. Andra apparently did not notice his discomfort.
“We can head down to breakfast together in a moment. Wait for me, will you?” she asked. With that, she ducked inside the tree he’d just knocked on and disappeared from view.
Talias sighed heavily. “I always planned to, Andra,” he whispered to the place she had stood.
As he waited beside the railing that encircled the tree, Talias looked down at the increasing bustle on the forest floor below.
The Freemen were stirring, preparing for their departure from the ruined Bellris. Kael strode among them, giving confident orders. Talias watched him for a moment.
The rebel leader couldn’t have been more than nineteen or twenty, he’d guess, only a year or two older than himself. But Kael carried a confidence that made Talias feel like a child by comparison.
He turned away from the sight, placing his back against the railing as Andra stepped back out, sword now around her waist.
Following her down to breakfast, Talias felt a sense of conviction he hadn’t felt before.
He may have missed over a year of time with Andra, but he’d known her for years before that, spent countless hours at her side. He knew her as well as he knew himself.
Whoever this strange, new Andra was, the girl he’d fallen for was still in there somewhere. He’d find her again, no matter what it took.
