Page 97 of A Kiss of Flame

What did they do? That was a question. ‘You keep to your vows. Serve the queen and the Aurum. Defend the light.’

What else could they do?

The cell door closed on him and he sat down, listening as Yvain’s footsteps faded away. Nightbreaker stayed on the ground in front of him, abandoned by them both.

Defend the light? How was that possible, here, in the dark?

Roland tried to still his racing mind and focused on his breath and his heartbeat. If he concentrated, maybe he could reach out to Elodie where she slept. Maybe he could dream alongside her.

He had tried this every night since he had lost her all those years ago.

The fantasy of a boy who had lost far too much. For a moment he had dreamed he had her back, that everything would be all right again, that somehow it would work out. That he had his beloved by his side again, and a child who was a wonder to him. A treasure.

And it was gone. All gone.

The ache gnawed away inside his chest, emptying him of hope.

In the depths of the night, Roland heard a noise, something which, had he been honest with himself, he had been waiting for all along.

He had wondered if Ylena would send someone of her own before they got here. A knife in the dark, a garrotte or a noose and it would be over. But no. Apparently not.

The cell door opened and Anselm stood there with a shuttered lantern.

‘Grandmaster? You have to admit, this is somewhat ironic.’ He tried to smile, an expression Roland didn’t return.

He blinked in the light, suddenly exhausted. ‘This is a terrible idea. You both know that, don’t you?’

‘We would have come earlier,’ said Olivier. Of course he was there too. The two of them were inseparable. ‘But Ylena summoned every knight in the kingdom to the mustering point. She has everyone out looking for Wren and Finnian.’

Of course she did. She needed Wren to cement her control now. She had Elodie, but with Wren, there could be no doubt.

Roland frowned at Anselm who had the good grace to look marginally guilty. ‘You weren’t included?’

‘It… it didn’t seem my place. Who am I now? The son of a traitor. Convenient, as my father, like you, was the only other balance to her power.’ Anselm had always had a political acumen that few rivalled. He had been born to this world, more so than Roland. He knew the way the tides of the royal court flowed.

‘I’m sorry I doubted you, son.’

Anselm tried that wavering smile again. ‘Well, he was a traitor. He planted his own flag, made his move and lost. And I’m still his son, for what little that’s worth. We should leave, before we’re missed.’

We. That was a word, one word, which carried more hope than he had a right to feel.

Roland pushed himself to his feet. He picked up Nightbreaker and slipped the sword belt back over his chest.

‘You don’t need to come with me,’ he told them. ‘You have lives here, and careers. We will be hunted.’

The two young knights glanced at each other and something unspoken passed between them. As always. They counted Finn and Wren as friends, they served their queen, and their careers were already on rocky ground. Mainly, Roland thought with regret, thanks to him.

‘We are with you, Grandmaster,’ Anselm said. ‘To the end.’

He didn’t deserve their loyalty. But he would take it.

‘Very well,’ he said. ‘Let’s ride.’

‘Where to?’ asked Olivier.

‘North. To find some answers in the College of Winter.’

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