Sins of Calate: BOOK II OF THE FOUR REALMS SERIES

Part XIII | Fara

'Who is your soldier?' Lord Dacian asked as he tried to gain a better look. Elyon stood behind her, his head lowered slightly and his hood pulled low. 'Is he...?'

Fara met Wyll's eye directly but said nothing.

'Gods, it is....' he staggered back, alarmed. 'You brought a Leoth into our realm? To our gates?'

'This Leoth is the reason I was not ravaged and killed in Virheim by a band of my brothers own men.'

Dacian blinked, indecision swimming across his eyes. He shook his head. 'He cannot be here, your grace. Surely you see this? The king is within. We are at war. '

'Then what do you propose, commander? We kill him where he stands? Without trial or cause? For bringing Calate's princess home alive and unharmed?' She fired, accusingly. 'We are not monsters. We are not Zybar. I will not allow it.'

He looked at her, surprise creeping across his blue eyes. 'No. No we are not Zybar. Not yet at least,' he added, quieter. Many moments passed while Dacian assessed his options. Assessed Elyon warily.

'Are you armed?' He asked the Leoth finally.

Elyon smiled. 'Of course I am armed.'

'Then you will surrender your weapons if you wish to enter the castle's walls.'

'That you think that would stop me killing your men, human, tells me much.'

'You're not helping, Elyon.' Fara glared.

With an easy smile, he reached into his cloak and drew out the stolen sword and threw it on the ground. Then he drew the stolen dagger from his hip and threw that on top. He had his own Leoth Steel Blacksword affixed to his back she knew, and she waited a moment to see if he would declare it. He did. Swinging the length of cloak over his shoulder, he reached behind him and withdrew it from its holster. At the sight of the sword, she heard an uneasy murmur rise up from the guards.

Elyon held it out to Dacian. 'I shall have this one returned to me.'

Wary, the Calatian reached out to take it from him. 'You have my word, Leoth,' he told Elyon as he inspected it. He removed his own sword and slid it into a belt on his saddle, then placed Elyon's in its place. It hung clumsily from his belt. It did not belong there. 'Follow me,' Wyll said. 'I suggest you keep your hood down for now - for not all of these men follow my orders; they follow the King's. And His order is to kill any Leoth upon sight.' Concern and disquiet swam in his eyes. And she knew why: For even if Elyon didn't attack and kill them all, then Valdr may still have his head for this. For allowing the enemy within.

Wyll led his horse slowly toward the gates, Fara by his side, Elyon a few steps behind. His head down and his hood up as he'd been bid. Unease filled her chest, fear and nerves, dread and uncertainty. Each step took her closer to him, further from Theodan. She felt Wyll steal a look at her as they walked.

'I had never thought to look upon you again, your grace,' he said, his voice tender. 'I imagined you in Hellaphinia, resplendent and at peace as you walked the Garden of Evara.'

She met his eye. Guilt stabbed at her, shame too. For had she not married Galyn though she had long been promised to him.

'It sounds almost as though you celebrated my death, Lord Dacian.'

He paled, shook his head. 'Gods, no. It was not what I... I mourned you, all of Calate mourned you. But the idea of you at peace, comforted me greatly.'

'I was at peace,' she said, quietly. 'Before war came.' Then I was at peace again, in Leoth, before Calate came.

They walked in a tense silence the rest of the way, through the raised gate and under the arched entrance into a small courtyard. Laid with red brick, paths denoted by a paler stone, the courtyard was quaint and decorative in design. The castle itself was around a quarter the size of Prissia, and far smaller than she remembered it. To one side ran the western wall, lights flickering in each of the rooms within. To the east, a small well-tended garden and what appeared to be the kitchens. The entrance up ahead was accessed via a set of ornately carved stone stairs set into one side of the west wall. No sounds came from inside.  No music or laughter. It did not sound like a castle in the throes of a wedding celebration.