Dragons Against Them (Kingdoms of Fire and Ice #2)(29)
Tristan stood in the courtyard at dusk, quiver on his back and bow in hand. Sleep had escaped him last night, his thoughts consumed by worry of the oncoming war. In his heart, he knew Forath would defeat the witch clan and bring his sister safely home. But the conviction that he would survive such a battle yet eluded him.
Until now, his experience with weapons and confrontation had been minimal—not because he was afraid of injury so much as his father had been opposed to any risk that might have resulted in him losing another child. Or so that was Tristan’s belief. And while such thinking had kept him from battlefields in the past, in the upcoming skirmish, he would most definitely be needed—they all would. But could skills developed within the castle walls truly offer him the protection he needed beyond?
“You look as weary as I feel.”
Tristan nocked the arrow to his bow, his gaze fixed upon the target ahead rather than shifting to meet that of his best friend. “I have not the time to feel weary, not as we stand on the cusp of war.”
He drew the arrow back, steadied his aim, and released.
Bull’s-eye.
But will it be enough? whispered a voice in the back of his mind.
The soft, quickened patter of footsteps sounded to his left, and Tristan turned to watch his twin trot by along the castle’s far wall. Since her arrival, she had done the same each evening once the courtyard emptied of hurried servants and training warriors. Jogging, she called it, dressed in those odd purple slippers of hers and garb best suited for a man rather than the gown of a lady. He had tried to convince her not to dress that way, of course. To not do these joggings and draw further attention to herself, but she insisted it helped keep her body strong and her mind clear.
Tristan believed it was more that the routine brought her comfort, something he had thus far been unable to do.
“What lands did she grow up in, then, that they taught her to dash about like a frightened doe?”
“She runs not so much frightened as determined, as if she desires to do so.” Tristan shook his head and looked at Quinn. “I understand so little of the reasoning behind my sister’s actions.”
“A problem Prince Zayne does not seem to have.”
Heat flared in Tristan’s cheeks. “The servants say it is because they are true mates. But am I not her twin? Her own flesh and blood?”
“Aye. And yet you stand here, fuming, rather than trying to learn more about her.”
“What do you wish me to do? Make a fool of myself and trot alongside her?”
“To know a person is to understand them. Walk where they walk, go where they go. Read what they read.”
Tristan narrowed his eyes. “What are you getting at, Blackstone?”
“Princess Adelaide and her fiancé escaped from my attention for a short while this afternoon. Several servants spied them walking from the scroll room with parchment, ink, and quills. But the room they occupied directly afterward was empty upon inspection.”
“So?”
“So, as the supplies were not returned, it begs the question, where did their writing instruments go? My guess would be Adelaide’s room. If the ink is there, the scroll may be there as well.”
“Or tossed in a fire and long gone.”
“I have confirmed that no fires were lit in any room save the kitchen today, sire, and no one saw either of them there.”
Tristan studied Quinn as his friend watched Adelaide run by on her second pass. Blackstone was not one to waste breath on irrelevant information. And had he himself not observed Prince Zayne laying script to a parchment this very morn?
“You believe the scroll may contain information about Rosalind?”
Quinn’s intense gaze shifted from Adelaide to him. “Aye.”
That he was here, in the courtyard, instead of searching Adelaide’s room himself, was a sign of Blackstone’s great wisdom. If Adelaide had discovered Quinn in her room with the tension that seemed to live and breathe between them, she might well have demanded his dismissal. But if she were to discover Tristan searching her chambers… Well, she couldn’t order a prince from their home.
“Keep an eye on her. If she finishes jogging before I return, send me warning in the form of an owl’s cry.” Tristan glanced from his sister to the window of Prince Zayne’s guest room, which cast a dim glow against the darkening night sky. “Betrothed or not, I must ensure there is no traitor in our midst.”
Chapter 15
Zayne sat upon a rather uncomfortable side chair, pulling on a boot, when a knock sounded at his chamber’s door.
“Prince Zayne? I bring a message from the king.”
“You may enter.”
A lad appeared in the doorway, too young in Zayne’s opinion to be a warrior and yet dressed in the same lightweight armor as Jarin’s other men. The boy strode across the room and stopped several paces from Zayne, his face utterly serious, his movements awkward and stiff. The prince worked to keep from grinning as the squire bowed and awaited permission to continue.
“Speak, squire.”
“King Jarin wishes you to know he has received word from King Robert of Edana, requesting that you take wing this day and return home to assist in quelling an uprising in the northern region. Your warrior Brom, however, is to remain here, to assist your betrothed and her family as needed.”