Scarred(Never After #2)(91)

I open my mouth, my brain trying to catch up and re-slot the pieces of the puzzle into fresh places. “I—”

She shakes her head. “There is no time for this, milady. You must go. Edward is waiting for you in the black forest. He will take you to the shadowed lands, and you can lead the rebels here to save our king.”

“He’s alive?” Tears burst from my eyes, and relief drums through my veins until my legs threaten to collapse. “Tristan’s alive?”

“He is.” She nods, her hand pressing against the stone until a secret passage opens wide. “Now go, before they catch us both.”





Edward’s not alone. Sheina stands next to him, holding my boots, trousers, and black cloak, my daggers lying on top. Emotion swells like a balloon at the sight of her, and I fall into her arms, the clothes dropping into a heap at her feet.

“Shh, milady. Everything will be okay.”

“Sheina, I can’t—I don’t…” My body trembles as I hold her against me.

She strokes my hair, rocking us back and forth, tears streaming down her face as fully as they pour down mine.

“Don’t worry, Sara.” She pulls my face up to hers. “We will save him.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I whisper. “You could have trusted me.”

She smiles. “I could say the same, best friend.”

I smirk and move my gaze to Edward, who bows. “Milady.”

Stepping in close, I grab his hands. “Tristan trusts you. Can I?”

His jaw tics, eyes blazing as he bows and kisses the back of my palm. “I swear it.”

Nodding, I step back, turning to grab the clothes on the ground, grateful that I can get out of this soiled and torn dress. “Sheina, help me out of this.” I twist back to Edward. “And then take me to the rebels.”

It’s a thirty-minute trek through the forests and back alleys into the shadowed lands, but we make it in one piece. And now I’m in the second story of The Elephant Bones Tavern, staring out of the double doors leading to the Juliette balcony, anxiety filling me to the brim as I stare at the hundreds of people standing outside, spread so far, I wonder how many acres they must cover.

“Morale is low,” Belinda—the woman I’ve only seen once before when she rolled a severed head to my feet—hisses as I strap blades to my thigh and take the pistol from Edward’s hands and place it in a holster on my side.

She watches me, her gaze wary.

“You don’t trust me,” I say.

She tilts her head. “You are the king’s.”

I reach out, placing my hand over hers. “I am your king’s. And I will save him with or without his people.”

Her grin spreads across her rotten teeth and she waves her arm at the door. “Well then, time to convince his people.”

My stomach flips, nerves threatening to tear me apart from the inside out, but I swallow them down, closing my eyes and trying to reach through the ethers; to find Tristan’s power and channel it until he infuses my every cell.

With a deep breath, I step through the doors and out onto the balcony.

The air grows still and tense.

I lick my lips as I look out over the rebels, the hyenas, putting faces to the thought of them for the first time. There are small children staring up with wide eyes, women and men with sorrow in their eyes and exhaustion lined in their pores.

Ragged and worn, but glorious.

These people are the lifeblood of Gloria Terra, just as we are in Silva, and they deserve to be able to live free.

“I am not your king,” I start.

“No shit,” someone yells out.

My chest tightens. “I’m terrified to be standing before you, so much so that every fiber of me wants to turn around and run away. But your leader is in trouble.”

Closing my eyes, I picture Tristan, swallowing around the agony that strips me bare at the thought of never seeing him again; never feeling his lips brush against my skin, or his love devour me whole. I think of all the whispered secrets he spoke into my soul, of how I was his filthy girl, and how he couldn’t wait to see me in a crown and at his side. Of his vision for the future, and the memories of his past.

My eyes pop open.

“I don’t pretend to know what it is you’ve gone through, but I’ve seen struggle and I’ve known strife.” I hesitate. “When I came to Saxum, it was to kill the Faasa’s, every last one, including the scarred prince.”

Rumbles sound through the crowd.

“But then I got to know him—” My throat swells. “And he made me believe in a better way.”

My eyes scan their faces, noticing Belinda has moved to the front of the crowd down below, Edward and Sheina standing at her side. My eyes lock on my friend, and she nods, giving me strength.

“It’s over,” a woman says. “They caught him. We’ve lost.”

“You would give up so easy?” I argue. “How many times has he proven himself to you over and over? And yet at the first sign of struggle, you turn your back?”

I shake my head, praying that my words hit their mark. I don’t know any of this for sure. I’m only going off what Tristan has said, trusting that he speaks the truth.

Belinda steps forward, turning toward the crowd. “He saved me when I went into the castle and was promised certain death.”