Page 101 of Under the Lion Star

Orin had been skirting the edge of what little control he had over himself when Sanna had figured out that Gamril and Corrin were behind our parents’ assassinations. We had all the proof we needed to punish both of the lords through legal channels, but I hoped giving Orin free rein to take out his aggression on Corrin would at least keep him away from the more significant threat.

Gamril might be Zialda’s birth father, but he had shown he was willing to throw anyone under the carriage if it meant getting ahead. I couldn’t be the reason that my wife died, and so if it came to it, I was more than prepared to sacrifice myself to save her life. Atlas was, too.

“Listen to me, Atlas,” I turned to face him.

“Nope. None of that horse shit,” he held up his hand. “I will make sure Alda is safe, and I will do it without sacrificing you. You and I might be a couple of maladjusted miscreants, but all of us are going to walk back into the castle on our own two feet. Got me?”

“I’ll probably carry Z,” I grinned. “But yeah. I got you.”

“You say shit like that, and now I’m less confident that you’ll make it home in one piece. Gamril might not get you, but Alda will flay you living.”

I nodded, pulling the canteen from my belt and dumping the water into the dirt. Pressing the sole of my boot into it, I mixed the ground up until it became a thick mud that clung to both of my shoes. Atlas mimicked my motions.

“You think she’s going to figure it out?” Atlas frowned at his soiled boots.

“Positive.”

If there were any doubts about our plan, Zialda’s role wasn’t one of them. My wife was brilliant, even if she didn’t always believe it. As soon as I had her back in my arms, I’d spend the rest of my life giving her opportunities to discover her strength until she knew without a doubt that she was the best of us.

I had never considered myself a religious man, but it was hard to imagine that she hadn’t been crafted by a higher power to be everything I wanted. Everything I needed. Her very existence made me strive to be better—a better king, a better brother, a better man. How I had earned such a partner escaped me, but I refused to question it any longer.

She was mine.

When my heart rate began to spike, I took a deep breath and reminded myself that even if everything went south, all of my siblings were safe. All I needed to do was give Zialda an opening to save herself. Anything that happened after that was secondary. My life mattered little if my family wasn’t a part of it.

The fact that Gamril had been such an ally to my parents made the betrayal sting even more. I wondered how someone who knew them so well could so callously cast them aside. They may not have been flawless, but they were good people. They deserved far better than the deaths they received.

My eyes cast out into the heavens, wondering if they were somewhere among the stars—watching us. There was no doubt in my mind that they would have adored my wife. They were probably thrilled to see that Atlas and I both made it home from the war. And they would have been so proud of the people my siblings were growing into.

Their presence lingered in all of us through the lessons they instilled and the love they fostered.

“Time to show them the lion,” Atlas winked at me.

We waited silently, watching the guards patrol until our opening came. A slight gap between two mercenaries who didn’t quite keep the same pace.

“That’s your in,” I whispered to Atlas.

“I’ll be right behind you.”

I stood, walking toward the mausoleum entrance. Two guards immediately noticed my approach, and I held my hands up. They took their time, patting me down to ensure I was unarmed. Little did they know the secret weapon I carried just for my wife.

“Move,” one commanded in a gruff voice, satisfied that I wasn’t carrying anything of any danger.

He pushed me up the polished marble steps, and I pressed my eyes closed as they adjusted to the torchlight within. The man stood at my back, his dagger held to my throat, but I was unconcerned. As we made our way through the entrance tunnel, I could see Zialda sitting against the wall, still wearing her knights' clothes.

“Found him,” the sword-for-hire called to Gamril as we entered.

Gamril moved to Zialda, hauling her up roughly and holding her in front of him as a shield. My teeth clenched when she winced in his grasp, and her eyes went wide when she felt the press of his blade at her throat. Dried blood clung to her skin, marking a path from her split lip.

I heard the barely perceptible thud of a body in the distance but hid the smirk that wanted to free itself, knowing that Atlas was making quick work of the outside patrols.

“Kind of you to join us,” Gamril stated. “I see you got my message.”

“I found your trash as well. He’s with my brothers now. It’s not nice to leave your garbage around the city,” I sneered. “Now, give me my wife.”

Gamril gave a cruel grin, no doubt glad that I had taken care of the loose end that was Lord Corrin for him. My eyes focused on the blood that trailed from the corner of Zialda’s mouth to her chin. Her cheek was flushed red, but I didn’t notice any other obvious injuries on her. With a rigid spine, she tried to keep her neck as far away from Gamril’s weapon as possible.

Those silver eyes were locked on mine, pleading with me. It would take a minute or two, but I was confident she would realize that I wasn’t the one doing any rescuing tonight. That was all her.

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