Honour or Reason - Book 1# in the Burning Prince Chronicles

Chapter Thirty-Seven

"We are doing it today, Zoysia."

"Today? You're not serious."

Brilyn frowned. "I am."

"What's so special about today?" Zoysia barked. "You almost died yesterday! You don't have energy for this, Brilyn."

He shook his head. "I feel fine. Normal, actually."

He was not lying. Brilyn had awoken full of new strength, although it differed to the power he felt when his shadow stirred. He would have been happier if he hadn't woken up from a terrible dream. If it even was a dream. Brilyn had seen Conlaed. The prince had just finished dressing in mourning garments. Dark smudges were beneath his eyes and his skin was pasty. He kept gazing at himself in his hand mirror. Back and forth, back and forth. Something was wrong. Very wrong.

Conlaed was different. No melancholy leaked from him like when his father died. No, his air was of a dangerous sort. It was like the prince danced on the edge of a knife, just waiting to slip and tumble. Con was wandering off his path. Brilyn had watched from the corner like a ghost. His heart ached as he had reached out to his friend. His hand had gone right through the prince. Bri watched in anxious silence as Con pricked his finger with the prongs of his metal comb and dabbed colour on his lips. It did nothing. Zoysia had been right - he looked thirsty for revenge.

Con ran a shaking hand through his hair, wincing. Bri watched the prince place the hand mirror back on his dresser and roll his shirt up. Brilyn had almost retched at what he saw there. Long, angry red slashes crisscrossed over his blood covered back. Blood oozed and skin broke at the small flex of a muscle. The prince hissed and dropped his shirt again. Bri saw the prince pull a black cloak around his shoulders carefully, before Jules shuffled in. He wore the same expression as Con as he handed the prince a lovely knife. Jules' voice had chilled Brilyn to the bone as he uttered, "Sometimes we must be ruthless to win. Sometimes mercy is not enough." Instantly after Con took the dagger, the vision faded and Brilyn had awoken in a cold sweat.

"What makes you so sure it has to be today?" the shifter inquired as Bri rose to his feet. He smiled sheepishly. "You are going to think I am crazy."

"I did last time and you proved me wrong, librarian. Shoot."

Zoysia shot him a fiendish smirk and got to her feet tiredly. "Well? I'm waiting."

"I, ah... I had a dream," Brilyn began. "More a vision, really."

Zoysia didn't laugh. Her face remained serious as she asked, "Of what?"

"Conlaed. He looked awful... not himself. Like he was ready to kill. He had this sort of..."

"Numbness?"

"Yes! Numbness." Brilyn gnawed his lip thoughtfully. "He was in a lot of pain, too. I saw his back - it was covered in these deep red cuts. It was horrible. He was about to leave his chambers - for court, I'm guessing - when Jules came in. He said something terrible and-and gave Conlaed this dagger."

The Mage swore. "He's going to do it today, isn't he?"

"That's what I was saying!"

"Okay, okay! Well, what's the plan librarian?" Zoysia stared at him expectantly. Brilyn shook his head.

"Um, well I have a rough plan..."

Zoysia snarled. "You have trapped in here for ever and you don't have a plan!"

"Well before you abandoned me, I thought you would help me come up with a plan!"

The two of them glared at each other. The Mage groaned and threw her hands at him "I thought you had forgiven me! I came back and I was so bloody wrong about everything before and I'M SORRY!"