Jorlin thought she would want to kill Draven when he woke her up the next morning, but when she opened her eyes and saw his face her heart felt hollow. They exchanged no words as they prepared for departure, and as Jorlin slung her pack over her shoulder she struggled to banish most thoughts from her mind. He threw snow on the smoking logs of their fire and put some things in Storm's saddlebags before mounting the stallion.
"Ready to go?" he asked.
Jorlin took one last look at the skeleton-like forest around them then replied, "Aye." She mounted Ignis and followed Draven as they left the woods behind them and rode out onto the wide, hilly fields.
They arrived at the castle in the early afternoon, the bright sun melting some of the snow. After giving the horses over to the stables, Jorlin found herself and Draven in the outer bailey of Mauntell Castle. She hated this place, but at the same time she felt safe in an oddly comforting way.
"Redblade!" came a familiar voice from behind them.
Jorlin turned to see a certain red-haired guard running in their direction, helmet in his hand. It took a couple seconds for her to remember his name. Jamath.
The guard gave Draven a hug, squeezing him tightly. When he drew away, Jamath said, "I've been watching for your return. And Jorlin!" He stepped forward and embraced her. "It's good to see you two."
Jorlin shook off the odd feeling she got from the hug. "Likewise," she muttered.
"How have things been while I've been gone?" Draven asked.
"Pretty normal," Jamath replied. "Not nearly as exciting, though."
Draven allowed himself a small smile. "We're off to see the king, now."
"Mind if I join you?"
"I don't see why not," Draven replied.
Jorlin listened to the two of them chat as she followed them to the keep. It smelled musty and cramped as usual, and when they entered the throne room there seemed to be more eyes watching them than normal. As they proceeded towards the king, who was talking to his advisors, Jorlin realized they were watching her, not Draven. Jamath stayed behind as the two approached King Tobran.
Before Draven could say anything, the king said, "Ah, Jorlin, I've been wanting to speak with you."
Even though she knew it was rude, she asked, "How do you know my name?" She began to fear that he knew of her gender and would subsequently banish her from the castle.
The king nodded towards Draven.
"You told him?" she asked him.
Draven replied, "I'm sworn to withhold no information from my king."
Tobran held up a hand. "Before we speak of anything else, I need to know whom you serve."
There was no going back now. Jorlin could feel several people watching her, soldiers and nobles alike. She took a deep breath, and stated, "I was a Decaster by birth. Now, I've chosen to serve the Mauntells, not out of duty or goodness, but simply out of what's right."
I'm a filthy liar, she thought.
Draven practically radiated satisfaction.
"And, while you're at it," added the king with a hint of gentle amusement in his voice, "would you care to tell the ones listening who you really are?"
Jorlin glanced over at Draven. "You told him that too?"
He nodded.
Jorlin returned her gaze to her king, and he smiled, wrinkles at the corners of his eyes. "It's quite alright, child. You'll give them hope."
YOU ARE READING
Sides of War
Historical FictionNineteen-year-old Jorlin lives in 14th century Britain, in a country that's in the throes of a civil war. Her childhood friend gets drafted into the war, which drives her into a search for him. However, along the way, she is forced into coming to te...
