Page 62 of The Curse Between Us

“I’m sorry—” he started, reaching out, but Edric held up a hand, stopping him.

“Maybe it isn’t,” Edric said quietly, his voice steady despite the tension between them. He crossed his arms over his chest, his expression unreadable. “But something similar could be happening in Rafria right now. Even if it’s not, this is a blow to me as well, Zephyr.” Edric shook his head, sighing heavily, the weariness clear in his posture despite having only just woken. “Don’t you understand by now? Our lands, our destinies, they are joined. Just as we are.”

Zephyr was quiet for a moment, letting the weight of Edric’s words settle in. His chest tightened, guilt gnawing at him. Edric was right, but it was hard to admit. His thoughts were too clouded by anger, frustration, and a deep, gnawing fear for his kingdom’s future.

“And that is the very reason Abyss strikes at us,” Edric continued softly, his voice full of a quiet wisdom that made Zephyr pause.

Zephyr exhaled slowly, his anger dissipating slightly, replaced by a heavy ache deep in his chest. Letting the bundle of clothing in his arms drop to the floor, he closed his eyes for a moment, trying to regain his composure. “Then what would you have me do?” he asked, his voice strained with emotion. “Edric, I can’t just do nothing. I simply cannot.”

“I would never ask you to.” Edric’s voice was calm, but there was a fierce determination in it. He bent down and gathered up the clothes Zephyr had discarded, passing a few ofthe lighter layers back to him. “I’m asking you to let me help you.”

Zephyr took a breath, the tension in his shoulders loosening slightly as he reluctantly nodded. He stripped off his nightrobe and began to dress. “How?”

Edric, his back turned to Zephyr for a moment as he selected his own clothing, spoke in a quiet but firm tone. “We send the fastest rider to Rafria to get help. Alec and some of the guards can join us here. Then we ride into the mountains to seek Abyss.” He turned to face Zephyr, his eyes meeting his with an unflinching resolve. “But we do it together.”

Zephyr stood silently for a moment, looking into Edric’s eyes. His heart still raced, but the anger was fading, replaced by a quiet understanding. He couldn’t keep fighting this battle alone. And perhaps—just perhaps—he didn’t have to.

With a slow nod, Zephyr allowed Edric to guide him through this. They dressed quickly, knowing the castle would soon be in turmoil at the news of the waterfall’s destruction. Just before they left the chamber, Zephyr reached out and placed a hand on Edric’s shoulder, stopping him.

“I’m sorry,” Zephyr said softly, his voice almost a whisper. “I didn’t mean to suggest that you don’t care about what happens to Eskarven. I know you do. I was just... distraught.”

Edric’s gaze softened, his lips curving into a wry smile. “You weren’t entirely wrong,” he said. “Had something like this happened in Rafria, I likely would have reacted the same way you did. And I imagine you would have been the one trying to stop me from riding out alone to face Abyss.”

Zephyr managed a small, rueful smile. “That does seem likely.”

“But that’s why we have each other,” Edric said quietly, stepping closer and offering Zephyr a reassuring look. “To face our enemies together.”

Zephyr chuckled softly, shaking his head as he threw one last glance at the window and the shattered waterfall outside. “How far we’ve come from being enemies ourselves.”

Edric grimaced at the memory but said nothing. Instead, he opened the chamber door and nodded toward the hall beyond. “And farther yet to go.”

???

They rode out the next morning, the weight of the previous night’s decisions still pressing heavily on Zephyr’s shoulders. The endless rounds of council meetings and strategy sessions had been a blur of tense faces and sharp words, all aimed at securing the future of Eskarven. Many of the courtiers and advisors had been quick to suggest re-forming the army, riding out in force to strike back at whatever threat loomed in the mountains. But Zephyr had refused that suggestion with a calm determination. The castle needed to be protected, especially with the knowledge that other dangers could emerge in their absence. Besides, Edric had already sent a messenger to Rafria, requesting additional forces to meet them at the foot of the mountains. Together, they would be enough to confront whatever awaited them.

Still, Zephyr had insisted on bringing a select few trusted companions along on the expedition. Clara, Ollie, and Wilfred were the only ones he could think of to bring, each one skilled and loyal in their own right. He had expected Pierce to protest—he always did, his ever-present worry for Zephyr’s safety never far from his thoughts. Sure enough, the steward looked displeased to be left behind once again, but Zephyr gave him animploring look that caused Pierce to relent, albeit reluctantly. He trusted Pierce to keep the palace running smoothly in his absence, particularly with Hannah’s help.

“Watch yourself out there,” Pierce murmured as he pulled Zephyr into a brief but heartfelt farewell embrace in the castle courtyard. “I may be content to play regent, but we need you as our king.”

Zephyr chuckled softly, though his throat was tight. “I have no plans to give up the crown anytime soon,” he assured him. He paused, looking around at the familiar, beloved walls of the castle, the sunlight gleaming off the polished crystal that adorned the outer walls. “I will return.”

Pierce nodded, though his face remained shadowed with worry. He lifted his hand in a final salute as the column of riders began to move out through the gates, the black and white banners of Eskarven fluttering in the wind. Zephyr didn’t look back. He couldn’t afford to. His gaze was firmly fixed on the distant peaks of the mountains, his mind already racing with the unknowns that lay ahead.

Edric, riding close at his side, glanced over at Zephyr from time to time, his expression hesitant, but he didn’t speak. It wasn’t that they were angry with one another—quite the opposite—but there was a weight of unspoken words between them. They had fought for peace together, and now they were riding toward a war they had hoped to avoid. A grim company, united in their defense of home, but not one of them thrilled at the prospect of this battle.

The journey was long and slow, the mountain path beginning to rise as they reached the foothills. They met the party from Rafria at the base, and Zephyr was grateful for the support. The sight of familiar faces—Alec, Marsh, and the rest of the Rafrian contingent—was a welcome relief. As Edric threwhimself into his brother’s embrace, Zephyr greeted them with the same warmth, nodding politely to the others.

“Thank you for coming,” Zephyr said, clasping Alec by the shoulders. “I am sorry you were forced to put this armour on again.”

Alec, though his mouth was set in a grim line, shook his head. “I am not,” he said. “I have been and always will be willing to defend Rafria from any threats.” He turned to meet Zephyr’s eyes, a silent promise in his gaze. “And to defend Eskarven as well.”

“We all are,” Marsh added with a wink, grinning as he placed a hand on Edric’s shoulder. “We wouldn’t let you go off on your own, Your Majesty.”

Edric rolled his eyes fondly but couldn’t quite suppress the small smile that tugged at the corners of his lips. He wheeled his horse back into place at the head of their joined column of riders. “Very well, then,” he said with a mock salute, casting a glance over at Zephyr. “At your command.”

Zephyr nodded, feeling the full weight of leadership fall upon him. He reached down and drew his sword, the morning sunlight glinting off the blade, turning it to liquid fire. For a moment, he considered retrieving Icelight, the ancient sword from the catacombs that had been passed down through generations of kings, but the weight of it felt unfamiliar to him. He preferred the security of his own blade, one that had been with him through countless battles, a reminder of the journey he had already taken.

“Move out!” he called, his voice strong and unwavering.

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