Page 104 of To Bleed A Kingdom

Snorting, Amara ducks her head towards mine, whispering,“That female doesn't have a respectable bone in her body.” She chuckles, then whips her gaze toward Lottie. “Shut it, you nosy cow!”

Not as easily startled as she once was, Lottie takes a frightened hop back, but quickly recovers to meet Amara’s glare with a scowl of her own. They eyeball each other for another moment, but no matter how familiar Lottie has become with us, she can’t hold that menacing stare for long. Lifting her nose with an indignant huff, she marches away, passing through the swinging doors to the kitchen.

Chuckling at Amara’s smug smirk, I gesture toward the sketches. “Do you think they’ll like them?”

“Who wouldn't?” Amara replies, picking up the drawing of a broadsword I made for Griffin. “But these blades are still useless against the Breccans.”

“I know, but at least it will help against the Soulless.” Frowning, I fold my arms on top of the table, drumming my fingers against my forearms. “Did you find anything in the armory?”

“No,” she says with a grim slash to her lips, tossing the stack onto the table. “Every blade was made from steel or iron.”

I shrug. “Then this is the best I can do at the moment.”

Scrubbing her face with a weary sigh, she glances at the sketch of a short sword and dagger. “Do you think Darius will train Trip with these? Or will he continue with the broadsword?”

“He’ll train with them,” I reply confidently. Darius is as stubborn as a mule, but he knows I'm right. Once he gets over his wounded pride from being corrected by a human woman, he’ll see that.

“I still don't understand why he didn’t in the first place. Or why he trains his guards the way he does,” Amara says, lounging in her chair with a baffled expression. “Their methods are outdated.”

“Because it's how it's always been done,” I answer simply. “Besides the Battle of Brecca, this realm hasn't experienced a war in centuries. They haven’t been tested in battle for so long, they don't realize how ill-equipped they truly are.”

“They will soon though, won't they?” Amara says with a tight smile.

Groaning, I brush my fingers through my hair, sweeping through the wavy locks and trailing downward to clasp my hands on the back of my nape. Fear and guilt are a solid presence within my mind as I debate which step to take. I could either continue on my path to search for my quarries throughout Vanyimar and leave Darius, Aurora, and all my friends to battle the unknown alone, or I could help them first, losing valuable time in the process, and possibly condemning them all to an even worse fate.

Either way seems cruel, but until I find who I've been searching for, there's not much else I can do. I'm stuck between a bad choice and an even worse one. But even as I say this to myself, I know it's not true. There is another way, one where I can guarantee the safety of every Seboian citizen. But it's risky, dangerous. If I were to do it and I was captured or killed, which is more probable than not, it could destroy everything I spent my whole life preparing for. Everything I've sacrificed for.

Shaking my head, I shove the thought aside, unwilling to entertain such a perilous venture. I know what I need to do. I should pretend I never met any of them and focus on my own search. Zenith said I had to protect Darius, but I'm sure I could figure out a way to get him to leave with me. No matter how gruff he may appear, he's a good soul. All I would have to do is threaten Aurora or his brother, and he'll do whatever I asked. He would hate me for it, but I suspect he already will when he learns the truth.

Mind made up, I attempt to form a plan, debating which kingdom to target next and the best route to take. But even as I do, knowing this is the only logical path to take, I also know that in truth, I could never abandon these people I've come to care about, even in the face of my quest.

“We can’t abandon Seboia,” I whisper to myself. But Amara answers all the same.

“Of course we’re not,” she replies, grabbing a charcoal stick and adding her own contributions to the sketch for Trip’s blade.

Feeling as if a weight has lifted off my shoulders, I fold one leg over the other, repositioning myself to face Amara. “What I mean is, we’re going to do whatever we can to help them.”

Pausing with the charcoal stick hovering above the parchment, she eyes me with a puzzled expression. “I know.”

That was easier than I thought it would be.

Shrugging internally at her odd behavior, I slouch in my chair while fiddling with my lip. “Alright, then. I need to figure out a way to tell Tristan and Zander. Zander shouldn't be an issue, but Tristan won't be pleased.”

“They already know.”

Focusing on the best way to present this deviation to Tristan, it takes a moment to realize what she said. “How can they? I just figured it out for myself.”

“You’re kidding, right?” Seeing my blank stare, she shakes her head with a soft smile. “From the moment we stepped foot on Seboian land, we knew you wouldn’t be able to leave without preparing them.”

“But,” I sputter, “it's not part of our plan.”

“When have we ever followed the plan? Hmm?”

“Well, I’m glad we're all on the same page,”I huff, irritated that I'm just now realizing what they've known all along. “But it would’ve been nice to be included in the plan.”

“I can't believe you’re just now figuring this out.” She tilts the sketch back and forth, appraising her work until her eyes widen with an epiphany and she slaps it to the table “Wait! Is that why you’ve had your face scrunched up like that? You've been debating whether we should stay or not?”

I grit my teeth. “Yes.”

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