SEVENTEEN: Trust

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Isiah sighed, so tired that he no longer felt it. He couldn't have gotten more than three hours of sleep before the attack the night before. A grand total of four hours of sleep since they'd left Ishmar. It wasn't enough, but he no longer felt like he was going to pass out with every step he took.

If they were attacked again, he would be useless in a fight. He'd probably be killed in an instant. In his tired state, he couldn't bring himself to care about his death. He was exhausted, physically and mentally. He moved like a slug, completely drained and unable to focus on what they were doing and where they were going. He knew they were moving west, following the sun as it sank towards the horizon. That was all he needed to know.

He knew nothing of the mountains. How could he? He'd never been beyond the Sanctum before. Part of him itched to go back, but the Mother's warnings echoed in his ears. It wasn't safe there, according to her. To him, there wasn't a safer place, but the Mother didn't seem to believe so. Maybe it was because it was too close to Ishmar.

Something Isiah had never questioned was how the Mother knew something was amiss with the treaty. She was a wise woman, but even someone as wise as she was shouldn't have known. Or maybe they could. What did Isiah know of her talents? It could have been intuition.

"Sons tend to take after their fathers," she had told him. Isiah did not know much of their last king, but he had been the one to start everything with Minisia. King Harudan certainly seemed to be from a similar vein.

But what did that mean of Nerin? The boy was kind, innocent, intelligent. But he was too smart for his age. He had a habit of sneaking around. Would he be like his father? Would he try to kill a Princess for no reason? From the reaction Nerin had had during the attack in Ishmar, Isiah already knew the answer, but he still had every right to be nervous.

The Princess was obviously nervous as well. Isiah knew that she had been trying to run away the night before, but he hadn't said anything to her about it yet. There wasn't much point, it would only start an argument all three of them were too tired to deal with.

He was surprised that she was still with them. She could have run off at any time and he wouldn't have tried to stop her. She was much stronger than him and he was so tired. If she wanted to leave, he would just let her, even though he knew it was a bad idea. Letting her leave meant condemning her to death.

If Isiah had been asked, he would have said that he wanted her around. The road west was dangerous and she could fight. If they went without her, who knew what Isiah would do if they got in trouble again. Granted, their trouble in the village was caused by Sharina, but she had saved them.

He'd thought the blood had been bad back in Ishmar, but there'd been so much of it in the room at the inn. Somehow, in the light of a single candle, it had been so much worse. It looked like black sludge until it caught the light and twinkled like the gleam in an angry dog's eye.

At least that time, frozen against the thin wall, the memory of the man's hand on his neck, he hadn't wanted to help. All he'd wanted to do was to hide away from the violence. There was too much of it in the real world. If someone had told him that he would have seen seven people die in the space of a few days, he never would have left the Sanctum.

If he had never left the Sanctum, Princess Sharina would be dead. There would still be war, but the Princess would be dead and Nerin would be stuck in Ishmar with his brutal brother. Isiah couldn't tell which was better for him, but he had no choice but to stick with the path he had been thrust upon. Lingering on possibilities would be fruitless.

He pushed the thoughts away, instead choosing to focus on the melting snow crunching under his feet. The sun always came out and melted the first snow. It was the second snow that stayed. It wouldn't be long before they hit and Isiah prayed to each of his Gods that they would reach the place the Mother told him of before they fell.

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