Page 26 of The Trials of Ophelia

“They’re chasing Angels and curses, the unknown and impossible. I’ve had enough of that volatility in my life.” I sighed, the sound nearly a growl, and rubbed my chest to soothe the tight sensation this vulnerability dragged up. “I may be a lousy fighter since…But at least at camp, I’ll have a clear task. War is fickle, nothing guaranteed. I’m not naive enough to think I’ve chosen a less tumultuous path. Just one that’s easier to conceptualize.”

I could bracket the trials and triumphs of war. Count the losses, divide the provisions, and organize the battles. It was a stability I’d been craving, one that felt more right than chasing some unknown prophecy.

“Beautifully put,” Dax muttered, warm serenity saturating his voice again.

“You deserve to choose what you prefer,” Barrett added.

“I know.” My lips pulled into a tight line. “I don’t know what, but there’s something more out there for me.”

As I said it, the tattoo on my chest heated ever so slightly. I rubbed the heel of my palm against it.

“Come on,” Barrett said, inclining his head. “I found a spot that will work for a camp tonight.”

The odd heat dissipated as I followed him through the weeping cypher branches, but the memory of it stuck with me.

Dax fell asleep quickly, his boots coming within inches of the mystlight lantern as he stretched and rolled over.

“Idiot,” Barrett murmured, shaking his head and scooting the lantern out of Dax’s sleeping reach. He brushed a hand across his consort’s hair, pulling his cloak up higher.

“At least someone can sleep,” I said, searching the branches curtaining our small shelter, ears perked for any aberrant noises. Chills crept up my neck. “We have to be alert while we’re out here.”

My gaze remained glued to the dark spaces between the branches, so narrow it barely mattered where I was looking.

“Fae and winged creatures and soured beasts,” Barrett drawled. His voice was flat, though, lacking his usual careless teasing, and his hands shifted toward the weapons beside him. He trained with both swords and axes now.

“Supposedly,” I muttered. Barrett leveled me a harsh stare, though.

Ophelia had beaten the threats of Gallantia’s corruption into us before we’d left, recapping each encounter she’d had between her journey to the Undertaking and her quest to rescue Tolek over the summer. Still, I struggled with the facts. What possible reason was there that not only one but multiple wild beasts of Gallantia would be roaming the continent with corruption in their systems? And the fae she’d bargained with? We were no closer to discovering what the bastard was doing on our land.

We were out of other options, though. We had to charge forward without answers.

Barrett stood and crept around the clearing. For a moment, I observed him. In the months since the Battle of Damenal, I’d come to see more sides of this prince than I’d allowed myself to previously.

Former prince. I had to correct myself often. It was still hard to reconcile who I thought the Engrossian heir was with this man before me, securing our campsite. His claim to the throne had been revoked. I didn’t know where that left him when this was all over—didn’t think he knew either.

Honestly, most of us weren’t thinking that far ahead. I didn’t dare to hope for a future beyond this war, had no idea what I even wanted it to look like.

If we didn’t win—if Kakias wrapped her cruel power and twisted intentions around the continent—I didn’t know if I wanted to be around to see it.

“What happens if you get her?” I mumbled.

Barrett stiffened. “Hmm?”

“If your mother is killed?—”

“When I kill her, you mean.” Barrett continued his slow prowl along the tree line, eyes flicking to Dax briefly to ensure he was still asleep. “Because make no mistakes, brother, only one of us will live to see the end of this war. Bant guide me, I hope it’s me.” He tacked on the last sentence like a silent confession given to the night, exposing that vulnerability in him I kept trying to overlook.

“And when that happens—when she’s gone—what happens to your people?” I pulled my knees up, draping my arms across them and studying him. “Will you lead?”

“I relinquished my crown,” he snapped, starting a second loop of the clearing, pacing more than seeking now.

“Under a corrupt regime,” I reminded him. As the future Revered, I’d been schooled in the political traditions of each clan. There was no provision for this situation in Engrossian law. Why would there be? Most leaders did not expect their reign to be corrupt, and those who did would never establish a rule against their own supremacy.

“A verdict is a verdict. Law upholds the monarch’s word unless formally challenged, and I—” Barrett stilled, leaning a hand against a cypher. “I knew what I was doing when I left. I knew I was abandoning the seat I should one day hold, but I was doing so to save my people so there would even be a population to lead.” His fingers curled against the bark. “I thought it through. Promised I knew what it meant. But sometimes I wonder if I didn’t think about how it would feel.”

“To no longer be fit for the one thing you always expected?”

Barrett gave me a tight smile over his shoulder. “If we do win, and my mother is gone, who’s to say I’d even be welcomed back?”

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