Page 53 of Their War

“That shouldn't be possible,” Brannoc whispered, now starting his own pacing. He stopped suddenly, his eyes meeting Arryn's. “No.” The word was barely a whisper of sound and yet full of knowing.

I opened my mouth to demand the two fill me in, but a groan from behind Arryn had us turning to the unknown man that Rhowyn had insisted on saving.

“What do we do with him?” I asked, deferring to Arryn.

“We can't take any chances since we have no clue who he is or why she was determined to save him. I say we tie him up and lock him in a room until we're ready to deal with him.” Moving to do just that, I found a stretch of rope, kneeling down to wrap the man's hands and feet. Having bound him, I glanced at Baer. “How is she?”

“She seems fine. Obviously, she's passed out, most likely from the magic exertion,” Baer said. “I'd feel better if Arryn checked her with his magic, but I can't see anything physically wrong with her.”

Master Jude knelt next to her. First looking at me and then Baer, he asked, “May I?” The old man had looked his age before, but after his short stint in the dungeons, he looked frail. Despite everything, he’d always had an air of confidence and assuredness that demonstrated his strength. Now, he looked shaken and weary.

Arryn and Brannoc were whispering across the room, both wearing a look of shock as they glanced at Rhowyn. I ignored them. They'd fill us in when they were ready. Baer backed away from Rhowyn's prone body, allowing Master Jude room to assess her. His weathered and worn hands found her tiny ones, holding them tightly. He closed his eyes as I felt his magic rise.

Baer and I watched him closely, our fear that something else was wrong with her holding us captive. After thinking we'd lost her, it was hard to believe that she was here in front of us now. That this wasn't some delusion my brain had conjured up after fracturing under the realization that she was at the mercy of the Queen.

Her grandfather leaned back on his heels, a small smile on his face and his relief evident. Still, I needed to hear him say it. “How is she?” I asked him.

“She's fine. Like Baer thought, she's exhausted her magic. She'll need to rest and recover, but her connection to you four allowed her to pull from you, ensuring she was able to make it here without burning out.”

I let out a deep exhale, finally able to breathe again for the first time after finding out she hadn't been with us. Leaning my head back, my eyes closed as I relaxed. Somehow, we'd all made it back in one piece. We'd struck a blow to the Queen, although I wasn't sure it was worth the risk. We'd come so close to losing her, losing the only hope that Avalon had. More than that, I'd almost lost the only person who'd reached beneath my hardened exterior in too many years to count.

Just the thought of losing her sent me into a panic. When I'd lost my parents, I thought I had been ruined then, broken except for the role I had to play. Until Rhowyn. Now, I realized that if I lost her, it would break me in a way that I had never thought possible. In just this short while, she'd become everything to me. I couldn't risk her like this again. She was too precious. Not just to me but to all of us. All of Avalon.

Master Jude moved slowly toward the mystery man who was laid on his side, facing away from us. His movements, slow and shaky, belied his age and just how much his imprisonment had affected him. It seemed we'd all need a while to recover after this. While we recuperated, we could plan our next move in our fight against the Queen.

Gnarled hands rolled the man to his back. A gasp escaped the old man as he looked at the face of Rhowyn's rescue. Trembling hands moved the matted and knotted hair from the face, revealing the scars that cut across the man's visage. Clearly his imprisonment hadn't been kind to him.

“Oh, child,” Master Jude whispered, glancing back at the woman in question who was still passed out. “How'd you know?”

“What?” Baer asked, his concern peeking through his tone. I stepped closer as well, preparing to end the threat if needed.

Master Jude chuckled, his soft sounds growing until he was clutching his side, his laughter ringing out through the now silent room. We all watched him as if he'd lost his mind, Arryn and Brannoc joined us as Lennox's shoulder brushed mine. I glanced at him, glad that he was alright as well, only now realizing he hadn’t taken part in our earlier argument, fear and despair freezing him while we ranted and raved. Loki stayed back, clearly uncomfortable with the old man's crazy laughter.

Finally, his laughter slowed as he wiped tears from his eyes. Arryn approached him slowly, cautiously. “What's so funny?” he questioned Master Jude gently.

A soft laugh escaped him again as he looked at Arryn, beaming in a way I hadn't seen in a very long time. “Gentlemen, this man that Rhowyn insisted on rescuing is none other than Jonathan Whitethorne. My son.”

Chapter Thirty: Arryn

I stood back, taking in the revelations that kept coming, my mind spinning as I tried to process this new development. Too many revelations had rocked me in such a short amount of time, and I was struggling to maintain my calm logic. My concern and anxiety over Rhowyn kept me from being able to focus in the way that I needed to. Her revelation of Brannoc’s powers, the shadows that had swept us away and back to safety, imparted a new anxiety over what this could mean for her and us.

Glancing at the man in question, I found him kneeling again, his eyes glued to Rhowyn with a mixture of shock, awe, and fear written all over his face. I’d known him for more years than I could count. Some of my earliest memories had involved him, the standoffish and quiet youngling who struggled to make friends.

In his early years, he had kept to himself in the village, ashamed of his status and always watching from the sidelines as the other younglings played. His clothes had always been either too big or too small, patched and faded, and I could tell it bothered him. As a lower fae, the others had always seen Brannoc as beneath them, and those who didn’t care were too afraid of his powers. The shadows that would eventually develop him into the skilled assassin we knew now.

Some of the high fae younglings a few years older than us would often find it funny to bully him around since his powers hadn’t developed yet, their bravery leading them to take risks they shouldn’t have. One afternoon, on my way home from school and training, I stumbled across them, their once verbal abuse escalating into physical as they pushed him to the ground in an alley beside the tavern. They surrounded Brannoc as he landed in the filth that always littered the ground there, the excrement and stench obvious even from the mouth of the alley.

The taunts drew my attention, making me pause long enough for my eyes to meet his. The pleading and fear there nearly buckled my knees, his wide eyes begging me to help him. Not hesitating, I shoved my way through the boys and stood between Brannoc and his attackers.

“What’s going on here?” I demanded from them, waiting for their paltry excuses and explanations. Despite what they thought, to me, there was no rationalization good enough to condone their actions. My father had raised me to be honorable in the ways of the old fae, ways these boys surely needed a lesson in. One I wasn’t afraid to teach them despite their obvious advantages. And yet, I saw the hesitation in their eyes. Already my reputation was growing, my skill in combat and tactics far beyond theirs. I wasn’t being cocky, just honest in my evaluation of my own limits.

My eyes took the measure of each of the boys as my mind raced to find the advantage when their leader spoke. “This is none of your business, Oakley. You need to leave before we decide to teach you a lesson as well,” Grant said with a sneer.

“And what lesson are you trying to teach him?” I jerked my head to indicate the small boy behind me. At the time, we had never spoken before, and I didn’t know his name, but none of that mattered to me. Wrong was wrong.

“He thinks he’s good enough to train with us, showing up and asking Sergeant Gray to train him.” The boys laughed at this.

“And why wouldn’t he have the ability to train? Even as a lower fae, he has the same rights as we do. There’s no law preventing him from pursuing the combat arts,” I told them plainly.

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