Page 39 of Dalla's Royal Guards
Musad frowned. “History says Aragón was murdered by an unknown thief while trying to save his brother.”
Dalla released a snort of disgust and shook her head. “It was no thief.” She exhaled slowly. Her voice was shaking with emotion when she continued. “Aragón and a small group of his most loyal men followed Pascal and Gerold here to the cave. They entered when we were distracted. Aragón confessed he was the one who had sent the assassins to kill his brother and Gerold. His plan was to marry Gerold’s sister, take control of Narva, then kill his father so he could have control of both kingdoms. It would have worked except?—”
“Except you arrived and stopped the assassins,” Nasser said.
Dalla nodded. “The first of many attempts during my time here.”
Her lips twitched at the awed note in his voice. It hadn’t been as impressive as it sounded. Her hand moved to her stomach where Aragón’s blade had driven deep. She turned her gaze back to the carving.
“Between the three of us, we dispatched Aragón’s men, all dozen of them, and I believed, for that one moment, that we would live a long and happy life together and then go to Valhalla together. I believed I had saved the men I loved, and I believed my curse was broken.” Her lips curved in a rueful smile. “Unfortunately, Aragón was still alive. He had hidden behind his men, confident that we would be no match for a dozen of his finest soldiers, and when he was the only one left…”
“Pascal should’ve killed him,” Musad muttered.
She lifted an eyebrow. “You love Nasser. Would you be able to take his life?”
Musad looked at his brother, grimaced, and shook his head. “Probably not.”
“And though they were not brothers, Gerold loved Aragón, too. He couldn’t believe what Aragón had admitted. He wanted any other explanation, any kind of subterfuge that would have meant none of it was true.”
“I’m not sure I want to know, but… what happened next?” Nasser asked.
Dalla took a deep breath. Her hand rubbed at the spot on her stomach where Aragón’s blade had pierced her. She still remembered the expression in the man’s eyes when he realized that hers had done the same.
“Aragón was furious. All of his plans had turned to dust. He moved with desperation and rage, intending to strike Pascal. I stepped between them, driving my blade through him, but there was a cost. The mortal blow meant for Pascal pierced me instead, and my time with them ended before it could truly begin. By thetime I returned, there was no one left to find. They had been dead for nearly fifty years.”
Eleven
“We need some firewood. It is too late to return to the car,” Musad said.
Nasser gave him a startled look. Dalla’s expression was distant, as if she were locked in the past. All Musad knew was he needed some air. The truth behind her words hit him square in the gut. He needed to get out and breathe.
“Where are we going to find firewood?” Nasser asked with a puzzled expression.
Dalla blinked and frowned. “There was an old juniper forest on the plateau above when I was last here. If you return to the fork and head upward, it is a short distance. You’ll also find dried sheep dung… if things haven’t changed.”
“We’ll see if it is still there. We’ll return shortly,” he said.
“But—”
Musad shot his brother a hard glare. Nasser raised an eyebrow in a silent inquiry before he shrugged and stepped away from Dalla. She moved away from them as if she had forgotten theywere still there. Musad followed her movements. She was adrift in the stories etched into the stone.
“We’ll be back in a little while,” Nasser said.
“I’ll be here,” she murmured in response.
Musad reached out and caressed her cheek before dropping his hand and turning away. He strode back to the entrance of the cave, ducked, and exited. Outside, he took a deep breath. Nasser emerged behind him with a questioning expression.
“She died there,” he said in answer.
Nasser pursed his lips and gave him a brief nod of acknowledgement. There was no longer any doubt in Musad’s mind that Dalla was telling them the truth. There was no way she could have known the things she did, told them the things she had, or fabricated such an unbelievable tale if it hadn’t been true.
He closed his eyes and counted to ten. Once he felt calm, he set off through the narrow gap back the way they’d entered. At the fork, he turned to the right and began to climb.
Just as Dalla remembered, there was an old growth of junipers spread across the plateau. The brothers spread out and began collecting enough of the dry, fallen wood to last them the night. He found a thick piece of bark and used it as a scoop to collect some of the wild goat dung that had dried out in the sun.
Sweat ran down his back, and his shirt was soaked by the time he was done. His thoughts were torn between what Dalla had shared with them and Nasser’s echoing muttering. He looked up when Nasser emerged from between two junipers. His brother’s face, flushed and grimy, looked even worse than before.
“You look like shit,” he said.
