Hello everyone! Sorry about the radio silence, I've been struggling these past couple days. But this is a little more fast-paced and I hope it gets your blood pumping. Only two more!

Chapter 24 - Graie

Spring ripens into summer, which rots in turn into fall, and at last, decays into winter and soon everything is covered under a blanket of snow.

I'm out of the castle more often than not; by now, I've perfected my excuses until they're a fine art. Sir Harte doesn't much care anymore; after my argument with Samn, I've come around to her side. I don't think he's even bothered that we're not friends anymore—he hardly notices when I'm around him, in fact.

But I'm managing.

Until, that is, my affairs take a sharp turn for the worse.

This turn comes one cozy evening when Sila and I are tucked under the covers together in a room at the Drunken Stag. I'm floating in a haze of warmth and joy where I've forgotten about almost everything in my life except the here and now when Sila breaks the silence.

"This might be the last time we can meet for a while." Her voice is soft and in the dim light from the candle on the chipped dresser across the room, I can see that she's staring up at the ceiling.

"What?" I twist to look at her. "Why?"

"There's…" she sighs and turns over to face me and lays a hand over mine on division between the two pillows. "There's a storm on the horizon."

Quick as a storm. I don't think she means the sort that passes in a day, though. "What do you mean? What storm?"

Her brows draw together and without thinking, I raise my hand to touch her cheek in comfort. It doesn't seem to help and she rolls back over with another heavy sigh. "I—I trust you."

I can't help a laugh. "I'd hope so!"

"I…" Sila takes a deep breath. "I feel like I need to tell you something."

"Okay…?" Apprehension tugs at me, but I brush it off. It's probably nothing.

"My father—the king—he's planning an attack on Wynnd with Naitienne. King Naitienne, that is." Her eyes search mine as she lets that drop between us.

I swallow. Oh no. "Okay. Okay. Well… when?"

Sila's brows knit together and she bites her lip. "I don't know if I should tell you. I don't want to make you choose between me and your kingdom."

I already have. "Why would you tell me at all?"

"You'd be mad if the attack happened and you found I knew about it," she answers instantly and I can tell that the possibility has been plaguing her thoughts for a while. "I want to be honest with you."

The trust that she's placed in me briefly chases away the anxiety I'm feeling at the revelation and a feather-soft smile passes over my face. "I love you."

She lets out a weak laugh and presses herself to me again. "I love you too. I don't want anything to come between us but that means that we're going to be put in these positions. Probably more in the future. I don't know what to do, but we probably need some kind of—uh, protocol."

I brush a silvery strand of hair off her face absentmindedly and blink at her. "You're right. I… I think I shouldn't say anything."

Worry creases her face. "Really? What about Wynnd?"

Picking my words carefully, I tell her, "But if I tell the queen, she'll want to know how I know. And I don't know how to explain that away. Besides, no trail right?" It was our agreement—if we treated our relationship like it didn't exist in the same world as our kingdom, it wouldn't be subject to our kingdoms' laws. That meant that nothing between us could interfere with our 'other' lives. "So I shouldn't use anything you've told me to my kingdom's advantage."

Sila's eyes close and I know she's deep in thought. When those blue eyes return to mine, she's got a half-smile that I'm not even close to immune to yet. "Alright. No interfering."

But as confident as she seems to think I am, doubt prickles on my back. We already agreed on this… but this isn't something like when Rivier's main ships are leaving the Summer Island. This could be war. And the very act of saying nothing might be betrayal to Thundria.

Though it's not like I'm a stranger to betraying my kingdom. The thought has no bite behind it when I'm staring into Sila's eyes knowing that I'm allowed to reach toward her and hold her, that we're from different worlds and would be punished severely if we were caught but she's still mine and I'm still hers.

"What's wrong, Graie?" she asks softly, leaning forward and dropping her head on my chest like a puppy.

I let out a little laugh but she's insistent and snuggles into me until her ear is right over my heart, waiting for me to speak from it, I guess. I don't want to concern her more about the battle thing… "It's Fiyr again."

"When isn't it?" she mumbles.

"I think it's really over. I know I keep saying that but I talked to his…" I pause, fumbling for the right term for what Samn is to him and coming up empty. "To another knight. She's very… er, close to him."

"Mhmm." Sila's chuckle resonates in my chest and I feel warm again.

"Exactly. I wanted her to talk to him on my behalf but she went on about how it's not her problem and when I asked her if she wanted to see him happy, she said he seemed happy enough without me." Unbidden, my voice softens at the last part. I sound like I'm trying not to cry, and maybe I am.

"Well, what's the problem then? He's happy and you won't have to fight with him anymore," Sila replies.

"But he's…" It's hard to put into words without sounding like a toddler. "He's gone. I want him back."

"Surely you have other friends?" She pulls away and gives me a concerned look.

I bite my lip and after a moment, shake my head. "I only have you now."

Far from being flattered, alarm crosses her face. "Don't say that! What about… well, if you're on good enough terms to talk to Carrot's whatever-she-is, can't you be friends with her?"

Befriend Samn? I suppose she's changed enough from when we were kids. She's definitely less of a snotty, aloof, know-it-all guy. She's not a guy at all, in fact.

"Maybe," I agree grudgingly.

"And you have Brakken, right?" she pursues.

I wince. "I know, but I can't really be friends with a fifteen-year-old. Not in the same way, at least."

"That's true," she allows. "But there are more kinds of relationships than the friendship of equals. What about your mother? Or the elders? They'd appreciate some company, I'm sure, and age brings wisdom, or so I'm told."

"You seem awfully wise." I elbow her and she squirms away with a laugh.

"Yeah, Riviens are just naturally very clever, I can't help it. Thundrians need to grow out of their headstrong idiocy," she teases.

"Very funny."

"It's not funny, it's Rivien wisdom."

"I take it all back."

She giggles and my worries melt away again.

"Well, if this is our last time together before everything goes south with Wynnd and Rivier, we'd better make it count," I inform her.

"Oh? What'd you have in mind?"

"I don't know, but I'm sure I could think of something."

…

The storm hits in the middle of the night.

I'm awoken by Sir Strommer battering the door of my room down and I flail out of bed in the dark.

"Suit up!" His voice echoes like he's shouting down the hallway. "Prepare for battle, we're riding out in fifteen minutes!"

I'm thankful for the adrenaline that lights my blood on fire at his words. The dizzying, hand-shaking feeling of it is far better than being half-asleep in a battle. But it's not until I've got my tunic and over-armour on that I realize what's really going on. We're riding out for battle. Then it's not here. Then it's an attack somewhere else.

It could be an attack by some sort of beast on one of our villages, but I'm not so tired that I could forget what Sila told me. The storm hits. But I'm going to need every shred of sanity to fight—there's no time to worry over how I never told the queen. It is what I promised Sila I'd do, but now that it's not just a faint, far-off future and it's instead 'Sir Strommer is going to bust through my door and drag me out to do battle with them', I'm having second thoughts about my choice.

All the same, I get dressed and run out the door and down the stairs to join most of the rest of the court in the throne room. Samn looks like she wasn't in bed two minutes ago, with perfectly tied hair and an alertness in her eye that makes me suspect she wasn't sleeping at all, and Brakken is looking more alive than I've seen him in… in years, I suppose.

Great, it's so great that a battle is bringing us closer together, I think, wincing. Nothing unites us so quickly as a common enemy.

The queen looks harried, at least. Whatever excitement is humming in the air, she's blind to it; while she's already in uniform and armour and her hand is white-knuckled on the pommel of Winter's Wrath, she's evidently hardly ecstatic to send us off to fight based on the deep lines in her forehead around the ethereal star.

But it's not the queen's lack of enthusiasm for bloodshed that makes my gaze catch on the dais and stay there; it's the unfamiliar man standing next to her. After a moment, I recognize him, though his shaggy brown hair has grown out considerably and the sober set of his features is a far-cry from the laid back Wynnder with the easy laugh that escorted Sir Harte and me to the border years ago.

"Sir Newskar?" I don't say it very loud, but your own name is always easier to hear than anything else and sure enough, those dark brown eyes flick through the crowd in search of the source before landing on me. Confusion melts into recognition on his face and he gives me a weak smile but makes no move toward me. I nod to him and he returns it. Not really the time for a cheery reunion. He must have come to warn us. His family and friends are in danger. Could I have done something?

"Thundria!" the queen calls for our attention and I note that her sceptre isn't in her hand. I suppose she doesn't want to go to the trouble of getting it out when we're all going to leave in a moment anyway. I can't help holding my breath as she begins again, even though I'm certain I know what she's going to say. "I will be brief. King Naitienne Star and King Crukkedaro Star, along with their kingdoms, have attacked Wynnd. The latter court has sent this knight to request aid and we will join them in the fight for Wynnd's territory."

Despite half of us just having woken up, I hear murmurs of dissent. Sir Cawle, though I'm certain he's already spoken with the queen, hears it and pipes up as well. "Why are we fighting on behalf of another kingdom?"

The look the queen shoots him dispels any doubts I have that she's already shot down his argument in private. He's only bringing it up again because this time he might have the support of some of the court behind him, I guess. Slime ball.

"Because they'll be coming for us next," Lady Fyrra answers him before the queen reprimands him beyond the icy look he's already received. Another flurry of whispers follow the statement, but the whole room goes abruptly silent when she adds, "We stand with them now or we fall alone later."

I've never known her to be eloquent, but it sums up the feeling of everyone who disagrees with Sir Cawle, I think. If Shodawa and Rivier have grown brazen enough to attack Wynnd, why would they stop there? I have no doubt that Thundria is next if we don't quash whatever strange compulsion is leading the other two kingdoms to try the same bullshit as a literal child murderer. Who is currently residing in our healer's wing, I remind myself with an uncomfortable twinge. Another secret I'm keeping; Sila doesn't know.

"Well said, Lady Fyrra," the queen says softly, a warning implicit in her words. Owen Newskar's shoulders slacken with relief. "We will send out two patrols to flank the Wynnder castle and attack Shodawa and Rivier. The captain of the guard will lead the first and Sir Strommer the second."

It's hard not to notice how she avoids addressing Sir Cawle directly. More than one storm on the horizon, it seems like, I observe silently.

"The former will lead Sir Styrp, Lady Fyrra, Sir Teyl, Sir Peyelt, Sir Harte, and Sewif, and will be accompanied by Sir Owen Newskar to bring them to the castle." The queen is still avoiding saying 'Sir Cawle' directly. It's more petty than I expected from her, but I guess we're all under stress. "Sir Strommer will lead all the other knights of the court along with Brakken. Everyone, head to the stables and be ready to ride on my signal."

In absence of a sceptre to slam against the ground with the characteristic finality that the queen was so accustomed to, the armoured woman stepped down from the dais. We pull apart to allow her to pass through the doors first. Before she exits the castle, she pulls Frostialla Fuor aside and murmurs something to her.

Sir Cawle, still scowling, turns to the court and looks around for his patrol. I head for Sir Strommer's white hair that protrudes from over the heads of the rest of the court and stand by him silently. Brakken pins himself to my side immediately and I lay a hand on his shoulder comfortingly. He looks up at me and I don't know whether I'm relieved or not to see that he's looking more excited than scared.

Tigre's patrol is leaving as the last members of ours filter over. Owen Newskar is heading up that patrol, much to the captain of the guard's evident chagrin, but Sir Cawle can't object without looking unreasonable; apart from Fiyr and I, he's the only one who knows the path to Wynnd's castle. I remember our quest and wince.

"We will allow them to take the lead and follow their trace," Whit Strommer announces without preamble. "We'll follow the captain's patrol to the castle and once we're in sight of it, we'll take the opposite flank. Prepare for battle, but remember, we'll need the element of surprise on our side so be mindful of our sound when we near the castle."

He catches each of our gazes in turn and I share a nod with him as his hazel eyes meet mine. I let out an imperceptible breath when no trace of suspicion flickers in his gaze. Without another word, he leads us out of the castle and I brace myself for the cold night air.

The moon is high in the sky. It's a bit past midnight if I had to guess. It's oddly serene; the wind is usually howling this high up but the night is silent. Peaceful. It belies the mood hanging over our patrol—most of us are excited, anticipating the battle. I'm dreading it.

The combined courts of Rivier and Shodawa will give me plenty of targets besides the woman I love. I won't even be forced to attack someone she might know; I can stick to Shodawes knights and no one will be the wiser. I'm not a traitor. It rings hollow.

We saddle up and head for the hole in the leaves. I hardly register the tang of life-force on my tongue; my thoughts have sealed away the outside world. Quicksilver and I fall back from the front of the patrol and I take up the back alongside my mother and her horse, Tormenta. It's eerily silent save for the thunder of the horses' hooves on the soil as we gallop along a trail that will take us directly to the border.

But it's only a few minutes into the ride when I'm anxiously checking the life-force and feel something familiar. What?! It's almost like a god's trace, but… Are we being followed?

I open my mouth to alert Sir Strommer, but Willowamina beats me to it. "Sir Strommer! We're being followed!" she shouts.

Only his white hair lit by the moonlight, I see him pull the reins and the double file line of knights bunches up into a crowd.

"What?" he shouts back, but now that we're silent, I can hear the beating of hooves.

"I hear it too," I chime in. "But it's not enemies."

Sure enough, Sir Strommer doesn't have time to reply before a horse carrying two small figures bursts into the clearing. A small boy with white hair that is just as distinctive in the moonlight sits on a horse before us. A moment later, I see a young girl with a brown braid poke her head out from behind him.

Clowd and Faern. I fight off a face-palm.

"What…" Sir Strommer is completely nonplussed.

Thinking fast, I realize this is the perfect excuse to get Brakken out of the fight. "Brakken, take them back to the castle."
"We want to fight!" Faern exclaims, hoisting what I'm fairly sure is a butter knife.

"Yes," Sir Strommer agrees, pushing through the patrol to come up beside me and face the two children. Faern looks defiant, although Clowd's matching defiance is rapidly morphing into chagrin as he realizes that this is not going to result in him doing glorious battle with a Shodawes knight twice his size. "Brakken, escort them back. You'd better stand guard with Lady Fuor once you're done, I don't want you riding through the forest alone twice."

Brakken looks disappointed, but I'm feeling nothing but relief as I assure him, "There are more battles. Making sure these two… marauders are safe is more important."

I'm gratified when he doesn't argue and just turns. I hear Faern make some muffled argument as he herds them back into the underbrush, though Clowd is remarkably silent. I would've pegged him as the one to argue that he can totally fight off both kingdoms with his arms tied.

Sir Strommer watches until they're absorbed by the shadows of the night and then turns back to us. It's hard to tell in the darkness, but it looks like he's stifling a laugh. I see similar amused smirks on the faces of the rest of our patrol.

"Well now that that's… dealt with," he begins, his voice rising in pitch a bit as he continues to try to contain his laughter. He swallows hard and finishes, "let's keep going."

We take off again toward Wynnd and soon we're over the border and the trees around us fall away. Galloping across a moor is entirely different from in a forest; in forests, the biggest danger is a branch slicing you open. Moors are free from that issue, but I'd prefer branches because on a moor, you have to fight for every breath. My eyes are streaming in second and I try to suck in a gasp in the blistering wind.

It feels like drowning on land. I'll take the forest over this any day, thank you. Not to mention the fact that I'm being carried toward a battle between my friends and family and the second person I've ever loved. The first person who loved me the same way. The moor is a painful reminder, although the aching memory of losing Ravne is hardly comparable to the immediate danger of watching Sila come to harm and not being able to do anything about it.

Shit. I hadn't even realized; I was so wrapped up in being afraid that I would have to hurt her or someone she knows that I haven't considered that someone else I know might hurt her. My head snaps up and I cast my gaze over the patrol. Samn, Duss, my mother—how will I look them in the eye after if I see them hurting her? Will Sila recognize Samn as 'Carrot's whatever-she-is'? Will she recognize my mother?

I could grab Lady Peilte now. Based on my hazy memories of this territory from Fiyr and me traversing it back when we brought Wynnd back, I judge we still have a while before we reach the castle. The rolling plains haven't morphed into the rockier terrain that would signal our approach of the castle. But what would I even tell her? Maybe that I've seen Sila fight and that she's really dangerous. Although I think that would only make my mother more curious and suspicious; why would I be warning her? She can take care of herself.

I can only pray that Sila won't be on the battle patrol. She's complained to me enough about how overprotective her father is; would he keep her out of danger by forbidding her attendance in the battle? Maybe, maybe I'm worried for nothing.

It's not much of a reassurance though, and my fearful thoughts eat up the last few minutes of the ride. The wind finally stops buffeting us as Sir Strommer halts our patrol.

We're near the edge of a ridge and ground cuts away in a steep hill beneath us, though it's not far until it levels out and I'm certain Sir Strommer will have the horses leap it when we're heading into the fray. The castle, the same half-crumbling stone walls set into the cliffside that Fiyr and I sheltered in on our way to save the court of Wynnd, looms before us, starkly shadowed against the starry sky. I can barely make out flashes of light and the glancing silver sheen of a sword catching the moonlight down below, in front of the castle. The fighting must have spilled out onto the territory. I can hear the shouts below. Summoned birds circle overhead, diving, and I don't need to switch to the fifth dimension to feel the pulse of a dozen or more different life-forces clashing.

The moonlight is almost beautiful, set against a backdrop of dazzling starlight. I hope it's the thing I remember most from tonight and not how my mother's sword looks as it swings toward Sila, or the colour of her blood, or—the Starlaxi forbid—the look in her eye if we face each other.

"On my mark," Sir Strommer whispers, but his voice carries through the darkness. The fire in his hazel eyes is lit by only the stars. He tilts his head back like a wolf howling at the moon and shouts, "For Thundria!"

I dig my heels into Quicksilver in tandem with the rest of the patrol and we all go flying over the ridge and pounding down the hill toward the castle. Sir Strommer, nearly glowing in the moonlight on his white horse against the shadowy swathe of earth in front of him, swerves our course to the left to position us on the east side of the castle. In seconds, we're upon the fighting clusters.

I don't even bother trying to make out figures in the darkness, instead slipping immediately into the fifth dimension and letting my life-force lead me. And even though I'm tired and jittery, my life-force hones in immediately on one familiar trace. Salty and sharp like metal and warm like spice. Fuck.

Her hair gleams like an unsheathed sword in the moonlight. She's fighting King Tahliorius, because of course she is, but as she spins and he turns, circling her, her eyes catch mine in the darkness.

I realize something in that instant; there was never any danger of us having to fight, because I'd die before I hurt her.

And then I launch myself into the fray, finding a Shodawes trace and crossing swords with it in the darkness.

Thank you for reading chapter 24! Please follow and favourite this story and leave me a review with what you think! This was the last chapter from Graie's perspective. The next chapter will be the last of Sea and Smoke.

~Akila