Tales of Fire and Ruin

The Star-crossed Lovers

The scars of last night's battle were carved into the landscape. Cracks in the rock where thunder struck weaved through the charred remains of what had once been green moss and creeping thyme. The fire in the woods nearby reeked of burning flesh. I imagined bodies piled up in the same large clearing where my sisters and I used to play robbers.

"Did it have to happen this way?" I asked Gisela, who was standing with me at the foot of the cliffs. I gestured at the smoke circling up into grey clouds above the woods.

Gisela followed my gaze. "No," she replied curtly. "You could have let them overrun us, surrender the mansion, and end the Montbow bloodline."

"Gisela."

"See it this way then: the woods will flourish as their ashes fertilise the soil and provide us and the town with more fruit to eat," Gisela stated. "They serve a noble purpose now. That is more than they could say in life."

I just shook my head. Gisela and I had these discussions before. She saw it as wasteful to not use the bodies and had little regard for funeral rites. I was unconscious when Ytel's dead men were moved to the clearing in the woods and set on fire. Ariane's servants did it, maybe, or my family members. But I was the one who had killed all of them. The least I could have done was burn them myself. 

I also wished I had time to help rebuild. Leaving the Thundercoast with the memory of a collapsed mansion and blood soaking the ground left a sour taste in my mouth. I also didn't want to make my family explain to the townsfolk what transpired here last night.

Gisela put her hand on my shoulder. A rare, sympathetic gesture. "It's time to say goodbye, Laurence."

"Yes..."

"But I have one last thing to say to you," Gisela said, squeezing my shoulder. Her eyes bored into mine. "Father's warning still stands, Laurence. Don't give your trust too easily. Especially not to beautiful men with long hair and soulful eyes. Remember that you don't know him, and you know nothing of him."

"I need to fear long-haired men? I don't think Endris is dangerous, Gisela," I joked.

Gisela narrowed her eyes. She didn't laugh.

I sighed. "If Oleander meant me or us harm, he would've already made his move by now. He had plenty of opportunities. You should listen to Mother instead of Father."

"Perhaps," Gisela replied. "But I believe it wise to pretend like you have no allies in Wildewall. Not truly. The capital is very different from the Thundercoast. We're on the outskirts of palace society, and there you will be in the thick of it. Remember that."

"I understand."

"Then let us go back."

Gisela turned on her heels, and we headed up the cliffs together. Guilt stabbed at my chest as I saw everyone waiting for me in front of the battered mansion. I would be leaving my parents and siblings for much longer this time. I couldn't help them if something happened.

Oleander, Endris, and Ariane and her servants looked ready for travel. My horse, Spot (as Fynn insisted), was saddled as well. Fynn was holding the reins, but when I approached, he offered them to me.

"Spot will keep you safe," Fynn said as if repeating the words often enough could manifest it as a truth.

I brushed my hand through Fynn's hair and pressed a kiss to his forehead. "Thanks, kid."

Valda came up to me with a tense smile and pulled me into a hug. "I'm so jealous you get to travel to Wildewall. Bring me a gift when you return."

"I will, Valda," I promised.