Perhaps even Bresson’s friendship and affection might not survive such a revelation, and Sylvania needed a friend, one whom she could trust, one who looked at her and saw a woman, a person, and not a queen.

  Growing up, she didn’t have any friends, and till she met Leymon, no one had ever seen her as anything but the Queen. But Leymon and she were on the opposite sides of a war, and she didn’t know how much longer they could steal moments like this.

  “Sylvania.” Leymon came towards her as she reached the glade, and a part of her rejoiced that he had been waiting for her, that he had come. “Oh, love, what is it?”

  She hugged him, holding tight to him, and let her tears slip.

  “I don’t know what to do,” she confessed. “I don’t want to lose you.”

  That had been her greatest fear from the time this nightmare started, that this war would come between them, would cause them to make choices that would lead to an estrangement.

  “I know,” he said, holding her tight and kissing her hair. “I don’t want that either. But… This war can’t last forever, Sylvania. Once it ends, if you don’t hate me by then, I will take you away.”

  She nodded. It didn’t matter that she was the Queen, and he the heir to the leader of his people. They were paying enough of a price already, and there was no need to allow any other loyalties to come between them.

  “No matter where, I’ll come with you,” she said. “I love you, Leymon, and you… You are more important than any other.”

  “As are you to me,” he said. “We just need to hold on a while longer, Sylvania. We will be together soon.”

  She allowed herself a smile and the budding of hope. He was right, after all. How long could a war last, anyway? Soon it would end, and whatever Amerin did would have nothing to do with her.

  “So, what is it?” he asked. “You look worried.”

  “Amerin refused to commit his armies,” she said. “He completely withdrew them. Reikor says we can hold on without them, but I fear that we may need them at some point, and I don’t know how to convince him.”

  Leymon frowned. “Can’t you order him?”

  “I can order him and his family, but not his armies,” she said. “And I need his armies, not him and his son. Bresson would fight anyway; that isn’t something I need to command.”

  “Have you asked him to talk to his father? Does he know what his father’s doing?”

  “I want to keep our friendship a while longer, Leymon. Once I start asking him all that, it will be queen and subject, and I… I don’t have any other friends.”

  Leymon lifted her face to his. “You have me,” he said. “You will always have me, Sylvania.”

  “It’s not the same. How would you like it if you were to lose Sykis’ friendship?”

  Leymon looked grave. “It would tear me apart,” he said. “But both of us know that we can never be simply friends. One day I may become her Chief and would have to command her. It’s something that’s rather inevitable.”

  “I know,” she said. “But I want to keep postponing that inevitable for as long as I can. Friendship is a luxury I can ill afford, but I would rather keep the one I have for as long as I can.”

  Leymon’s gaze was gentle and understanding as he nodded.

  EIGHT

  BRESSON DIDN’T KNOW that wars could change so quickly. The first month of the war seemed like sorties more than actual battles. There were no casualties, and it felt like both sides were assessing each other’s strengths and weaknesses. However, at the moment, the situation was completely different. The Halvard had started being more aggressive and had begun to set the woods on fire. The Cailern were stretched thin between fighting the fires and fighting the ones who set them.

  If someone were to ask him, Bresson would say that the Cailern were getting beaten very soundly. Their magic seemed to be of no use. The Halvard’s immunity to magic and spells meant that they had to enchant weapons and objects, but even then, it was difficult. For one, they could never find the enemy. The Halvard seemed to blend into the forest even more naturally than the Cailern, and Bresson was beginning to think that they made a mistake in choosing this terrain for the war.

  But if they were to change to open grounds, what then? The Halvard were excellent fighters, and to let them fight on their own terrain didn’t seem like a wise move, either. Were they doomed to lose this war, no matter what?

  “Father,” Bresson said as he entered his house.

  His father had chosen not to fight, and his armies had stayed away as well. Bresson had been angry when he had found it out, but Sylvania and Reikor had reassured him back then.

  But that was then. Now, half a year into the war, Bresson knew they needed more numbers if they were to manage anything.

  “Bresson,” his father said, looking up from where he was watering some plants. “Is something wrong? You look worried.”

  “It’s your choice whether or not to join the war,” Bresson said calmly. As angry as he was, he knew his father. Anger would only make him dig his heels in. “But you should know that if we lose the war, you and the soldiers who could have turned the tide of this war would be just as dead, or worse, slaves to the Halvard.”

  His father regarded him with a quizzical look on his face.

  “You consider slavery to the Halvard to be worse than death, then?”

  Bresson prevented himself from rolling his eyes with difficulty.

  “The current Chief hates magic, which is why he used such a flimsy pretext to declare this war. I would think that they would likely find a way to strip us of our magic if they win this war.”

  “I consider that unlikely,” his father said. “The war may be going badly right now, but that doesn’t mean that it’s going to stay that way. I have full faith in you and the rest of our people.”

  “If we win this war, Sylvania can strip you of your title and exile you,” Bresson said. “You’re breaking the Cailern law here, Father. Is it even worth it?”

  His father looked sombre. “I’m well aware of the repercussions of my actions,” he said. “But I am not changing my mind, Bresson.” He paused. “I was hoping she would at least talk to me directly instead of sending you.”

  “She didn’t ask me to come,” Bresson said. “I doubt she knows I am doing this. She has not expressed any discontent or raised any complaints against you.”

  “And she obviously hasn’t importuned you to talk to me on her behalf either,” his father said drily. “Have you proposed to her yet?”

  Bresson snorted. “Seriously? There are more important things to do right now, in case you haven’t noticed.”

  His father sighed. “There is always something or other going on, and the importance of those is a matter of perception. If you can’t even propose to the woman you love, how is it that you will be able to take more impactful decisions?”

  Impactful decisions? Bresson wanted to laugh. There was no other decision that was as important as this. That he would propose marriage to Sylvania one day was a given, but Bresson was not so much an idiot to want to propose to her at a time like this.

  “After what you did, how can I even call myself her friend, let alone anything else?” Bresson asked.

  “She should know that my decisions are my own,” his father said sharply. “Or is she unable to comprehend even that?”

  “She knows,” Bresson said shortly. “But that doesn’t mean that I am free of all culpability. Everyone believes that you never deny me anything, Father. When that’s the perception, you can’t blame people for thinking that this decision is a shared one, and that I’m only pretending when I show my concern.”

  That was as plain as he could make it. His father regarded him, brows contracted and his fingers tapping a rhythm on the side of the can of water he was holding.

  “So, you’re saying that I should send our soldiers, people we know and who depend on us, to their deaths, just to make you look good in Sylvania’s eyes?”

  Bresson stared at him. “I don’t understand,” he said. “What part of our conversation gave you that impression? It would be pointless to keep them from the fighting, claiming you want them to be safe when we are getting soundly beaten. This isn’t a game, Father. This is war, and we’re losing. By the time you realise the necessity for fighting, it may already be too late.”

  “Bresson,” his father said, his voice cold. “Don’t take that tone with me. I’m still your father, and the councillor of the East. Don’t presume to dictate to me!”

  Bresson was tired and sickened by his father’s attitude. He didn’t know what to say or do anymore. If his father had truly made up his mind, he was not going to budge, no matter what Bresson might say.

  “I’m not,” he said tightly. “I’ve never been ashamed of being your son, but I am feeling it now. You may think you’re doing the right thing, but you’re only condemning our people to death faster.”

  “Everything I do is for you,” his father said. “You will understand someday.”

  Bresson shook his head and turned around to leave. He didn’t want to hear his father declare that this was for him. How was it for him? Keeping his inheritance safe? Bresson would rather all the Cailern were safe, that they come through this war without getting themselves destroyed.

  And Sylvania. No matter how much he might tell himself that she knew that he couldn’t change his father’s mind, the fact remained that his father had disobeyed a direct order without sufficient cause. That he wasn’t already executed was Sylvania’s kindness to him, but he feared that it wouldn’t last either.

  Bresson was, in the end, unable to protect either the woman he loved or the father who had raised him. He was unable to keep safe their people. He was useless, and he had never felt it as strongly as in this moment.

  Bresson paused outside the gates of his house and looked up at the sky. He had to come up with a way to change things, or everything would be for naught.

  NINE

  LEYMON WAS TIRED, and it seemed like he couldn’t escape the stench of blood, no matter what. They were eleven months into the war, eleven horrendous months where the fighting was beyond anything he could have imagined. The dead on both sides kept mounting, but his father seemed as adamant as ever.

  The Cailern had started adapting to the Halvard tactics by taking to the air. They formed teams of two and used their skills of archery to the full from the sky. One person to shoot and the other protecting their back and to provide refills. Halvard might be immune to spells, but they were not immune to fire conjured by magic, nor arrows that were spelled to never miss.

  The Halvard were forced to fight in the forests and despite all their various tactics, the battle was still evenly matched. To Leymon, it was fast becoming hopeless; worse, his and Sylvania’s meetings were becoming less and less frequent. After the carnage each side was causing on the other, neither of them could even look each other in the eye anymore. They both knew they had no choice, but that wasn’t enough. It seemed like there was an ocean of blood and a wall of dead between them.

  It was desperation that made Leymon approach his father again to plead with him to try for peace.

  “No,” his father said, his face hard. “They won’t win this war. We’re training our archers and many of us are training in the spear as well. With our strength, we will be able to end their new tactics soon, and on the ground, we have the advantage. The Cailern may use fire when targeting individual Halvard, but they wouldn’t use it as a weapon on the ground.”

  “I’m not talking of victory or defeat!” Leymon snapped. “I’m talking of the people who are dying, of those who are already dead! Can’t you see, Father, how sick our people are of this war, how disheartened they are? You can’t just think that this war is going to achieve anything but ruin and trauma for a whole generation? All for what?”

  His father stared at him coldly. “I don’t want you questioning me, boy. I’m not senile, and you’re not yet the Chief. I still make the decisions here. If I’d known you’d grow to be such a coward, I would never have let Feirin have a hand in your upbringing.”

  “A hand?” Leymon asked, lips pulled back in a sneer. “Is that what you call it? He was the one who raised me, Father. You were the one who never had a role in it.”

  His father’s gaze turned frosty. “Don’t think I won’t disown you just because I don’t have any other children,” he said, voice even more icy now. “Go back to your tent, and you aren’t allowed to lead your troops till you are able to be sincere about your efforts.”

  Leymon stared at his father. “I have been sincere,” he said, gritting his teeth. “I have done everything I can, even if I don’t believe in it. What I said, I said because I don’t want the Halvard to go extinct, but it seems you can’t understand my good intentions. Fine.” He unbuckled his armour and dropped it on the ground, followed by his sword. “You want me to stay away from this war? I will stay away. But I will not stay here to watch our people being butchered. I’m leaving, Father.”

  Leymon walked out of the tent, still fuming. He might have declared he was leaving, but where could he go? He couldn’t go to Sylvania. She had enough to deal with already, and besides, he wasn’t ready to betray his people, no matter how angry with his father he was. He could go to Feirin, but that would put the wizard in an untenable position. No matter their personal relationship, there would be political implications to Leymon going to him, and Leymon had no desire to give his father an excuse to turn on the wizards next.

  There was the human world. Wizards had always warned everyone of the place, but Leymon had always been curious about it. What was so dangerous about a world where there was no magic, and the people were not that different from them, at least physically? Of course, he knew that their pointed ears were something not seen among humans, but surely that would not occasion remark?

  In any case, Leymon was out of options. He would not stay in his tent like a truant child sent to their room, and he was tired of fighting with his father, and of seeing his people die. Perhaps he was fleeing, but short of forcing his father at sword point to declare peace, there was very little he could do right now.

  He went to find Sykis because his friend deserved to know the truth.

  As was usual with her, she listened to him in silence, and at the end of it, she sighed.

  “I had hoped that seeing all this would have changed his mind, but… I suppose he’s far too stubborn to withdraw now.”

  “I can’t do this, Sykis,” he said. “I just can’t. No matter what… It doesn’t matter who wins or loses; this is not… I hate this.”

  “Where are you going?” she asked.

  He hesitated. He didn’t want to tell her the truth about that.

  “I haven’t decided,” he hedged. “Somewhere far, I suppose. I can’t go to the wizards, not when it can implicate Feirin, so I just need to leave and hide myself away.”

  “Until when?” Sykis asked. “This war may drag on for years, Leymon. Are you sure you want to do this?”

  “He asked me to stay in my tent and not take part in this war until I’m ready to put my heart into it,” Leymon said. “As if I’ve not been giving my all! Just because I asked him to reconsider. He’s…He’s beyond all reason, Sykis… I don’t know what else to do.”

  “Oh,” she said, her eyes widening. “He’s a fool, and I get why you feel the way you do. It’s fine, Leymon. You’ve to do what you’ve to do. Just… Just come back soon, all right? Perhaps he would change his mind once he has a chance to cool down.”

  Leymon laughed, but it was without mirth, a bitter sound that he couldn’t even recognise as belonging to him.

  “We both know what the chances for that are,” he said. “His pride is as bad as his obstinacy. He won’t change his mind. But I… I will return, Sykis. I just need to be away now.”

  “Go to Sylvania,” Sykis urged. “Perhaps with your help, she can bring this war to a swift end, and she would be gracious and merciful in victory. Perhaps that is the best thing you can do for our people right now.”

  It made sense, but Leymon knew that he would lose all his respect for himself if he worked with Sylvania against his people, against his father, no matter how much he resented the man.

  “I can’t,” he said quietly. “I will tell her I’m leaving, but that is all. I can’t help her wage war on our people, no matter what. I’m sorry, Sykis.”

  She shrugged. “I didn’t think you would do it, but I had to try. I wasn’t lying when I said it is perhaps the best outcome we can hope for at this point, without damage to both races. A Halvard victory may appease a few, but most of us prefer to live and let live.”

  He smiled at her, grateful for her friendship, her understanding, and above all, her support. He didn’t know what he would have done without her, and he hoped that he was able to do for her at least a fraction of what she did for him.

  TEN

  SYLVANIA KNEW SHE had to try something else now. Their airborne tactics had worked well for a while, and the Halvard had sought refuge in the woods without burning them down, but now they used archers and spear bearers against them. With the famed strength of the Halvard, it wasn’t too difficult for the spear holders to throw really high. Aiming was another thing, though, and even with their strength, it was not possible to aim accurately all the time. Still, it was evident that their tactics were not working anymore, and once again, the Halvard were gaining the upper hand.

  “You should throw him in prison,” Haivia said, her expression dark. There was no need to say Amerin’s name. “Take over his armies. You have the right.”

  “Yes, but would they even fight?” Sylvania asked. “All the local armies are loyal to their lord before anyone, as you well know. I can punish Amerin, but his soldiers won’t follow me.”

  “They’ll follow Bresson,” Serthis said.

  “I can hardly throw his father in prison one moment and ask for his help the next,” Sylvania said tiredly.

 

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