Page 26 of Once the Skies Fade

“What is it?”

“Apologies for disturbing you, sir, especially at this late hour.”

I pulled my watch from my pocket. It was barely after dusk. “You have an odd definition of late.”

His lips thinned, and he bobbed his head again. “Yes, sir. You’re needed at the gate.”

At once I was on my feet, frowning at my unfinished brandy before retrieving my boots from beside my wardrobe and following the guard out the door. Hopefully I wouldn’t regret not taking the time to hide my Vranic’s before leaving, but the guard’s uneasy demeanor pushed me to not delay. Grabbing my sword on the way out the door, I secured it around my waist as we bounded down the stairs and headed for the path.

“Anything I should know before we get there?” I asked, ducking under branches. “Is there a threat or?—”

“No, no threat,” the guard said, clearing his throat before explaining further. “But a…a development of a sensitive nature…”

My mind whirred with speculation as we pressed on. Could it be Raven? One of the rebels? Marin even? It couldn’t be someone from Wrenwick if the guard insisted there was no threat, but perhaps someone from Arenysen?

While it was standard procedure for me to investigate situations before the royal family was notified, I hadn’t been fetched like this in over a year when the rebel attacks ceased. Part of me was grateful for the change in routine, but another couldn’t shake the sense of foreboding that deepened with each step toward the gate.

It wasn’t long before I caught the warm glow of the lanterns hanging on the stone wall on either side of the wooden gate. The gate had been locked, as it was every evening at dusk, but the smaller doorway—just large enough for someone to pass through—was propped open with a guard leaning lazily againsthis spear. He straightened as we approached and turned quickly on his heel, lifting his hand in a salute when he saw me.

I nodded in acknowledgment, glad when he didn’t bother with small talk but immediately ushered us through the doorway. Stepping outside the wall, I slowed as an unexpected scent assaulted me.

Blood.

Humans.

Another guard waited fifty meters away with his back to us, his head hanging low as he spoke gentle words to someone I couldn’t see. With a quick glance over his shoulder, he said another few words to the surprise guests before pivoting around and approaching me.

I fought back the urge to peek over the male’s shoulder or around his burly frame, deciding it best to respect his position and hear his assessment first.

“What happened? Who are they?” I asked as casually as I could, quieting the questions that screamed in my head.

“Children, from Arenysen,” he said, sighing heavily.

“Humans,” I said, not phrasing it as a question, but expecting confirmation all the same. He nodded rapidly.

“It’s not good, sir,” he said.

“Do we know why they came here?” As much as Connor wanted the humans to return to Emeryn, most mortals didn’t consider our kingdom amenable to them, and last we knew humans were living peacefully in Arenysen. Occasionally they moved between the kingdoms, but we hadn’t seen the same exodus of mortals from Arenysen as we had from Emeryn.

The guard rubbed his hand behind his neck and gazed off into the dark trees. A throaty sigh fell from him before he finally met my eyes again. “They’re pretty shaken up, sir. The youngest seems to still be in shock.”

What in the stars could have happened to them?

“How many?”

“Two.”

“And they haven’t said anything?” I scratched my hand along my jaw.

“Not much. They’re asking to see the king.”

Slapping my hand on the guard’s shoulder, I said, “Thanks. I’ll take it from here.”

He offered me a sympathetic smile and stepped aside, granting me my first view of the pair. My breath hitched, my eyes quickly skirting back to the guard who nodded as if to say,“I told you it wasn’t good.”

The younger of the two—a girl of about maybe ten years—was perched on an old tree stump staring blankly ahead. Her hands twisted and rolled the blood-drenched fabric of her skirt between her fingers nervously. The older, an adolescent boy, had his arm draped over her shoulders as he slowly rocked her back and forth. When his eyes met mine, the too-familiar look in them gave me pause, my mind pulling forward inconvenient memories.

Desperate battle.

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