A Joust of Knights

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

Stara strolled through the gardens in the royal court of the Ridge, twisting her way through them, smelling the flowers but not really seeing them, so lost in thought, memories, and depression. Stara could not shake the past from her mind, could not shake images of Reece, of her love for him—of their love for each other. She kept reliving in her mind that last moment she had seen him, disembarking from Gwen’s ship to join Thorgrin on his search for his son.

It tore her up inside. She had begged him not to go, but there had been little she could do to change his mind. It was infuriating and made her feel helpless at the same time.

Stara could not forget the argument they’d had the night before, in the hold of the ship, each trying to get away from the other, yet each unable to get away from one another. They blamed each other for Selese’s death, and it tainted every glance they took.

Yet deep down, Stara knew that Reece loved her. She could feel it, even if he could not express it. And she loved him back, as she had always had, ever since she was a child. She had always loved him, and she could never let go.

Just as she could not let go now. Stara knew that he was a world away now, that she should let him go, assume he was dead. After all, how could he have possibly survived out there? And if he had, how would he ever find her?

She hated Thorgrin for this—why couldn’t he have gone alone to find his son? Why had he had to drag Reece into this, Legion brother or not?

Yet no matter how hard she tried to shake Reece from her mind, to move on, every day since, Stara thought of nothing but Reece, when he would come back, when she would see him again. It was tearing her up inside. And now, finally, here, so far from anything, so well-hidden, reality was starting to sink in. She would never see Reece again. He would never come for her. He would never find her.

And that was a reality she could not accept.

Stara stormed inside as she walked, determined to find an answer. There had to be a way. There had to be some way to find him. Otherwise, life meant nothing to her. She refused to spend the rest of her days hiding in this peaceful place of the Ridge, while Reece was out there, in danger. This place, even with all its beauty, held no peace for her as long as Reece was not in it.

“Those are peonies, my lady,” came a voice.

Stara turned, surprised, caught off guard by the voice, and was startled to see a member of the royal family standing before her, smiling. From his proud jawline and glistening blue eyes, she could see the resemblance to the King’s family, though he was not an immediate member that she could recognize; he looked to be no older than sixteen, dressed in the royal garb of the court.

The man reached forward, smiled, took her hand, and kissed it, a twinkle in his eye.

“They are the finest flowers in court, my lady,” he added. “You have fine taste.”

He stared at her, and she recognized that look in his eyes. She had seen it on too many suitors over the years: the look of a man captivated by her beauty. It bored her. And in fact, she resented it, given her preoccupation with Reece.

“My name is Fithe,” he said. “I am a member of the royal family.”

“Are you?” she asked. “You wear the colors, yet at the feast I did not see you seated at the King’s table. Nor are you one of the King’s sons.”

He smiled.

“You are quite perceptive,” he replied. “You are correct. I am his nephew—one of them, at least—hardly afforded the privileges of the sons, but a cousin to them nonetheless. But at least I am allowed in the Royal Gardens, which has led me to you.”

He smiled wide and Stara turned away, so bored by men’s advances upon her. He was nice enough, but speaking to him was the last thing she wanted.

She turned her back and went back to examining the rows of flowers, strolling along them, wanting peace and quiet, wanting to think of Reece and nothing else.

He began to walk alongside her, and she sighed loudly, making it clear she was annoyed.

“I would prefer the pleasure of my own company,” she said curtly.

“I meant not to offend, my lady,” he said, still walking beside her. “It is just…I could not help but notice you since you arrived here the Ridge. I have been waiting for a moment to talk to you. Your beauty surpasses even what others say.”

She looked away, sighing, not wanting to talk to him.

“Please, my lady,” he pressed. “I mean you no harm. I would like only to talk to you, to spend some time with you. Allow me to at least show you our royal city.”

She faced him, frowning.

“I have seen your city,” she replied. “Enough of it, anyway. I care not for it. I had rather wished I had died in the Waste.”

He gasped, caught off guard. He looked back at her, surprised; clearly he was not used to women speaking to him this way.

“I wish for nothing here,” she replied. “There remains but one thing I wish for in this world, and it is something you could never give me. So you had best leave me be.”

He surprised her by staying put and staring back at her, his eyes not filled with scorn or anger but compassion.

“And what is it that you wish for?” he asked. “Simply tell me, and it will be yours.”

She looked at him, surprised, her interest piqued.

“I doubt it,” she said. “But if you care so much then I will tell you: I want the love of my life returned to me.”

She expected him to walk away, and was surprised as he stood there and stared at her, his brow furrowed.

“And where is he?” he asked.

Stara did not expect him to ask her that, or to even care, now that it was clear that she wasn’t interested.

“Reece is far from here,” she said, “beyond the Great Waste, beyond the sea. He is a castaway, I presume, at sea, on a ship. If he lives at all.”

He looked at her for a long time and Stara waited, expecting him to laugh, to walk away, to be rid of her—which was partially what she wanted.

So she was shocked when he finally responded, in all earnestness:

“You love him very much, don’t you?” he asked her.

Stara was taken aback by his sincerity, and to see his eyes well with tears.

“Yes,” she replied, feeling her own eyes tear up, “I do.”

Fithe grew silent, looking down; he seemed to consider her request for a long time.

Finally, he looked back up at her and nodded.

“I will help you,” he said.

She studied him, speechless.

“You will?” she asked, feeling her heart beat faster.

“I respect your love, your devotion,” he said to her. “I would have loved to have loved you, but I see you are committed to another. And if I cannot have you, then I will have the next best thing: a place in your heart for having helped you.”

Stara stared back, touched. For the first time, she felt her heart fill with hope.

“We have strict rules here in the Ridge,” he continued. “For our self-preservation. One cannot just leave the Ridge. It would leave a trail for the Empire to find, and endanger us all. Leaving this place is no small feat; if caught, you will be imprisoned, and I along with you.”

She nodded back.

“I know,” she replied. “I do not expect you to help me.”

“I will, though,” he said.

She examined him, saw his sincerity, and tried to understand.

“You would risk imprisonment for me?” she asked. “You don’t even know me.”

He smiled.

“True, I do not,” he said. “But I feel in my heart as if I do.”

“And yet it sounds as if there is no way,” she said. “I want to find him, and to do so, I must leave the Ridge.”

“You would have to broach the mountains, to cross the Waste, to find a boat, to set sail at sea alone…” he said. “It is no easy feat.”

“I care not,” she said. “None of those things frightens me.”

He nodded.

“Very well, then,” he said. “If your heart is filled enough, then there is always a way.”

He held out a single hand, and looked at her with all his intensity.

“Come with me.”

Stara placed her hand in his, and as he led her back out, through the gardens, she felt for the first time a new sense of purpose in life, felt that finally, whatever the risk, she would be reunited with Reece again.