The rejected crown (book 1)

The Price of Choice

Edweyn

The night was still, the only sound the distant crackle of fire and the occasional rustle of wind through the trees. Edweyn stood motionless, his gaze fixed on the spot where Giovanna had disappeared into the shadows. Her words haunted him—her accusation, her pain—like a dagger twisted deep in his chest. He had thought he understood her, once. He had thought he knew what drove her, what she believed in. But now, after everything, he realized how little he truly knew.

The fire in her eyes had faded, but it had been replaced by something colder, more calculating. She had made her choice long ago, but Edweyn was still torn between his duty to the king, to the kingdom, and the woman he had once loved.

The crackle of the fire from the camp behind him was a harsh reminder of his position, of the responsibility he had sworn to uphold. The soldiers, the banners of the king—their loyalty and obedience had always been so clear-cut. But then there had been Giovanna. She had been a beacon, a promise of something better. Of justice, of honor, of a kingdom free from the tyranny of Richard. Or so he had thought.

Now, she stood on the opposite side, fighting for something he couldn't quite understand. She had become a symbol of defiance, a queen in exile with no true allegiance to either side. And yet, in the depths of his heart, he knew she had never truly betrayed him. She had only been trying to survive in a world that had cast her aside. But the cost of survival, the price she had paid, was more than he could fully comprehend.

Edweyn ran a hand through his hair, staring into the dark where she had vanished. The weight of his decisions crushed him, pressing down with every breath. Was he to be the soldier who followed orders, who fought for a king whose cruelty ran deeper than Edweyn had ever known? Or was he to fight for a cause he had long since abandoned, one that no longer existed the way it once had?

Giovanna had told him she made her choice. But did she truly have a choice? She had been thrust into a marriage with Balaric—forced into a position she hadn't wanted, hadn't chosen. A queen in name only, shackled by the very system she had once tried to dismantle. She wasn't fighting for Balaric, as Edweyn had initially believed. She was fighting to reclaim something else entirely—a semblance of freedom for herself and for those she still cared about.

Suddenly, a voice broke the silence.

"You're still here?"

Edweyn turned to see Robert approaching, his face illuminated by the flickering light of the nearby campfire. The soldier's face was hard to read, but there was no mistaking the concern in his eyes.

"I thought you would've returned to the camp by now," Robert continued, glancing at the darkened horizon where Giovanna had vanished. "That conversation... What did she say to you?"

Edweyn didn't answer immediately. He could still see Giovanna in his mind's eye, her defiant stance as she had spoken to him. The memory lingered like smoke in his thoughts.

"She's... she's not who I thought she was," Edweyn said, his voice distant, as though he were speaking to himself. "I thought I understood her—what she wanted, what she stood for. But now, I'm not so sure. She's been forced into a situation she couldn't control."

Robert shifted uneasily, sensing the internal conflict warring within his commander. "We all are, sir," he said softly. "Even you. But there's a difference between being forced into something and choosing to fight for it."

Edweyn didn't respond to that. The weight of Robert's words hung in the air, heavier than any armor.

"Are you going after her?" Robert asked cautiously, breaking the silence.

Edweyn took a deep breath, shaking his head slowly. "No. I don't know what to do anymore. She's gone. She's made her choice. And I... I've made mine."

Robert didn't press further. Instead, he gave a slight nod. "Then we wait for the dawn, sir. And we fight, like we always do."

Edweyn said nothing in response. His gaze turned back to the horizon, to the dark outline of the battlefield in the distance. The rebel forces were still there, scattered and reeling from the brutal clash with Balaric's men. And now, their fates were even more uncertain, with Balaric dead on the field, his tribe disbanded.

Giovanna would not return to them—he knew that now. She had lost too much, become something new in the years of exile and war. And though Edweyn's heart ached for the woman she had been, he knew the woman she was now had a different path, one he could not follow. But perhaps, in time, their paths would cross again. Perhaps the price of loyalty, the price of love, would demand it.

For now, though, there was only the battle ahead.

The next morning, the army marched again, leaving the battlefield behind as the sun rose over the charred land. Edweyn rode at the front, his thoughts miles away, consumed by the silent echo of Giovanna's words. He had done what he thought was right—had sworn an oath to the king, to the people he had once believed in. But in that moment, with the remnants of the past and the shadow of the future hanging over him, he wondered if any of it had ever mattered.

Giovanna had chosen her path, but so had he. And now, they would both face the consequences.

As the sun climbed higher, Edweyn's thoughts returned to the rebellion, to the coming battles. The war was far from over, and he had a role to play in it, whether he was ready or not. But deep inside, a part of him hoped—no, needed—to see Giovanna again. Not as the queen who had once been his, but as the woman who had carried the weight of her choices.

Whether their paths would ever cross again, Edweyn could not say. But he could not forget her. Not yet.

And so, he rode onward, into the unknown.