Triton's Destiny

Part Thirty-Nine

In a lighthouse that used to feel too large for him to fill it, Tristan now paced the floor like an animal in a cage that was far too small. After being locked inside, he'd tended to the cuts on his body that were still bleeding. Then he checked on the birds and gathered messages. Having nothing better to do with himself, he got the messages ready to deliver. That way, he could hand them off to Owain whenever he showed up and wouldn't have to interact with the traitor any more than necessary.

He was restless, agitated, and he'd never been more in favor of leaving Wyntos than he was at that moment. He'd never truly felt like he belonged in Vollendale, since it wasn't a home of his choosing, but now he couldn't stand to be here. Everything about the lighthouse, the town, the island, reminded him of Maki. The urge to rescue his mate and take him someplace where no one would hurt him ignited his soul like an inferno. As he wore down the rugs in his sitting room from countless trips back and forth, his desire to take Maki and escape became the only thing he could think about. Impossible plans flew through his mind until his thoughts were hopelessly fragmented, but still he strategized. There had to be something he could do.

When the sun's rays lengthened and golden light filtered through the front windows, Tristan took a miniscule measure of comfort from the routine of preparing the lighthouse for nighttime, lighting the tower beacon, getting the aviary shut down for the evening, and adding the day's last messages to his pile. But once those tasks were complete, he resumed his pacing in the sitting room, too anxious to do anything else.

A knock sounded on the front door and he glared at it. Last he knew, prisoners weren't granted visitors, so he didn't even move toward the door. If someone needed something from him, then they'd have to let themselves in. And then whomever it was opened the door and did just that.

"I can't let you stay long, Owain," the guard at the door said.

"I understand. I just need to get the messages." Owain stepped into the sitting room, his gaze fixed on Tristan.

"Go away." Tristan folded his arms over his chest and glared at the man, feeling not an ounce of charity toward him.

"I just came to do what I said I would, Tristan." Owain hitched his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the patio. "Beacons are lit. And I'll take whatever messages you have ready."

Tristan nudged his chin toward the stack by the door. "Right there. Take them and leave."

With a nod, Owain picked up the stack and tucked it in his pocket. "Tristan, I..." He heaved a sigh. "I want to say again how sorry I am for what happened."

"I don't give a shit about your apologies. You just stood there and let them take Maki. You stopped me from doing anything! You don't care about us! Or you would have done something. Get out of my house."

"Tristan, please..."

"No! We're done talking! Get out!" Tristan jabbed a finger at the door.

Owain frowned and hung his head. "I'm sorry, mate. I really am."

Tristan just turned away and ignored him. He heard the door close, then lock, then all was quiet once more. The flicker of the patio beacons illuminated the front windows and Tristan saw the silhouette of the guard standing right outside his door. No matter what strategy he'd considered, getting past the guards was where every one of them broke down.

Heaving a sigh, he went to the table by the door to douse the oil lamp. There was no point in continuing to pace, so he figured he'd go upstairs and struggle to sleep instead. Gods, it was going to be a long night.

As he reached for the lamp, though, an envelope caught his eye. Sighing with exasperation that one of the messages had been forgotten, he grabbed it up, looking to see who'd be missing something tomorrow. To his complete surprise, the envelope was addressed to him. Gaze darting to the door, he shoved the envelope in his pocket and then resumed dousing the lamps. As soon as the sitting room was dark, he ran up the stairs to his bedroom, shutting the door behind him, burying himself under the covers on the bed, and whipping the envelope out of his pocket. It had to be from Owain but why was the man leaving him a message? Tristan ripped open the envelope.