Conflict of the Heart

Summary

After the only family she has ever known is murdered, Arwyn swears to avenge them. A decade later, she is a master of blades, yet she still thirsts for revenge. But what happens when she falls for the man she vowed to kill?

Author’s Notes

Okay, I’ve decided to skip through a week of travel, because I’m too lazy to make up more events. The events seem kind of pointless right now, but it’s mainly for character/plot development (and to fill out the story). I’m too lazy to be imaginative at the moment, so after this chapter (which probably won’t end in a cliffhanger, because I can’t figure out how to make one fit in with this part of the plot), the story’s going to come to the climax, which of course takes place in Coria. There are hints scattered throughout to some of the secrets of the climax…especially in this chapter (:cough:Kyle’s note:cough:).

Oh, and I’m sorry about the “license to kill” thing, I know it’s really cliché, but I couldn’t think of any other way to say that she can kill him legally. Also, I just found out that “secular” (in the last chapter) means non-religious, so ignore that, and I’ll get around to fixing it later.

On a completely different note, I fixed it so that anonymous reviews are accepted! Anyway, on to review responses:

BlueStone: Yes, I know, I’m so sad. sob I think the first chapter was better too, I was kind of rushing through the cult town scene because I realized halfway through writing it that Arwyn and Kyle both have to be in Coria within 2 weeks of leaving the inn. So, they only spent one day in the town, and I wasn’t really happy with how I kept skipping time. But oh well, maybe I’ll revise it later. About the Gabrielle scene: are you any better at writing explicit stuff? I could have done some research (yuck!) and made it more…detailed…but then I would probably have to raise the rating to M. If you want to know what I mean, read Exchange of Life by praying piper – thoroughly. By the way, Kyle was knocked out, that’s why he didn’t struggle while being tied to the post. But the pain woke him up suddenly, so he screamed even though boys usually don’t like doing that kind of stuff.

MacialEarthhammer: Really? I thought my character descriptions were really vague… the inns aren’t really important, but now that you’ve mentioned it, I don’t really describe settings. I’ll try to describe Coria more. Kyle and Arwyn have about the same level of education (okay, not really, but in the way they talk it’s the same), but the “accent” idea is good for innkeepers and stuff. I’ll try to fit it in somewhere and edit the innkeeper’s speech when I go back to revise.

Chapter 3 – Noble Hospitality

Like lightning, Arwyn raced to the post. She opened her lance but kept the blades retracted, using it to block the whip’s onslaught. She drew her dagger again and slashed Kyle’s bonds.

Kyle stumbled toward the girl lying on the ground, calling wearily, “Natalie…”

Arwyn glanced around and saw yet another problem. Kyle’s whipping had complicated her plan, and the sight of Dylan advancing quickly didn’t help. She ran toward Kyle and Natalie, hoping to escape in time.

However, Natalie was too gravely injured to travel anywhere. In desperation, Kyle lifted a square jade pendant on a gold chain over his head and placed it around Natalie’s neck, tucking it inside her shredded robe. By now, Libby had also come forward to help Natalie, so Kyle said quickly, “Libby, make sure this pendant isn’t taken away. It is an insignia even Dylan will be afraid to ignore. When Natalie is well, tell her to travel to Coria. The pendant will protect her.”

Libby was confused at the cryptic message, but she promised to tell Natalie. She added hesitantly, “May I go with her?”

Kyle smiled. “Of course.” However, at that moment, a wrinkled arm snaked around his neck in a vise-like hold, nearly cutting off his circulation.

Dylan tightened his hold and warned, “Back away from the girl, or God’s will shall strike the boy down!”

Arwyn’s face was emotionless, but inside, her heart was pounding. In one swift movement, she released the onyx blades of her lance and pressed one end to Dylan’s throat. She said in a dangerously low voice, “You know, I’ve had this lance since the capture. I was all for a massacre, but Kyle pleaded otherwise and I yielded. But now you’ve threatened me, and I don’t like threats. This blade has a core of diamond, the hardest substance in the world. Don’t you think it will make short work of your neck?”

Dylan was in too much shock to reply, but he quickly released Kyle, who scrambled away. Arwyn smiled menacingly. “Good. Now, if I hear of you abusing religious law again, I just might come back for a visit, this time with a license to kill. Natalie and Libby will be leaving for Coria soon, and I wouldn’t try to stop them if I were you. Natalie is under special protection.”

Dylan nodded as much as Arwyn’s blade would allow. Arwyn studied him for a moment, then lifted her lance. Dylan promptly turned the opposite direction and scurried away, leaving a clear path for Arwyn and Kyle.

The two bid farewell to Natalie and Libby before heading to the pasture. There, Kyle changed back into decent clothing and grabbed his weapons, and Arwyn sheathed her lance. They mounted up and rode toward Coria at Arwyn’s usual breakneck pace.

A week passed without incident. Then, when Arwyn and Kyle were only half a league away from Coria, Lein threw a shoe. They were in the wilderness at the time, the closest city, town, or village being Coria itself. But with only three horseshoes, Lein could only hobble along. At that rate, it would take two months to cover half a league.

Kyle was unwilling to leave Lein behind; there wasn’t any place to buy a replacement horse anyway. Kyle was about to suggest that Arwyn go ahead without him when he remembered the summer estate of Count Thomas Relyan.

Excitedly, Kyle explained to Arwyn, “Count Thomas Relyan has a summer estate in the wilderness around Coria, since hunting is his passion. His estate could be much closer than Coria, and it’s sure to have a blacksmith!”

Arwyn said skeptically, “Early April is hardly summer. How do you know all this, anyway?”

Kyle replied, “Don’t worry, hunting season’s already begun. As for my source of information…let’s just say it’s very reliable.”

Arwyn was suspicious, but she left the subject alone. “Well, it’s not as if we have anything to lose. Lead on!”

Confidently, Kyle walked east, the same direction as Coria. It took six hours, but in the late afternoon, a large manor finally came into view in the distance.

Another hour passed before Kyle and Arwyn arrived at the front gate of the estate. Kyle pulled the doorbell, then stood back to wait. To break the silence, Arwyn asked curiously, “What makes you think the count will allow us entry? You never know with nobles, they change their minds faster than the wind blows.”

Kyle answered, trying to calm his sudden nervousness, “Well, some nobles are kind. Count Thomas isn’t known for being particularly inviting, but he isn’t cruel either.”

As he finished his statement, the front gate was opened by a gruff, suspicious guard. The guard peered at Arwyn and Kyle and said, “What do you want? The count is busy.”

Arwyn replied politely, “We are travelers, searching for a blacksmith because one of our horses threw a shoe. Have you one we could make use of? We will pay compensation, of course.”

The guard shook his head. “There is only the count’s personal blacksmith. The count would never allow his servant to tend to traveling strangers. You must look elsewhere.” He began to close the gate, but Arwyn kept it open with her hand.

Arwyn pleaded, “Please! We can’t go far with a lamed horse, and it’s still half a league to Coria.”

The guard shook his head again and attempted to pull the gate shut, but a master of blades builds up a lot of strength, especially in the arms. Try as he might, with Arwyn’s hand blocking it, the guard couldn’t budge the gate. Cursing, he snapped at Arwyn, “Move your damn arm!”

Arwyn’s eyes hardened and her other hand strayed toward her sash. Sensing that her temper was about to explode, Kyle hastily put in, in as commanding a voice as he could manage, “Then you shall allow us an audience with the count. I will write a note of excuse to give to him should he object.” He pulled out a piece of parchment, a gray goose quill, and a small bottle of black ink. Dipping the quill into the ink, Kyle scribbled quickly on the parchment and folded it into a square with an elaborate origami seal. He tucked away his writing utensils, handed the self-made envelope-note to the guard, and said firmly, “You may send the note ahead. Now, lead on.”

The guard opened his mouth to argue, but Arwyn had put up with enough delays. In a flash, she had a dagger against his throat. She whispered in his ear, “Do as he says, or you won’t live to see dusk.”

The frightened guard nodded. Arwyn put away her dagger, but kept her hand hear her sash just in case. Immediately, the guard turned and began walking quickly toward the manor, Arwyn and Kyle (leaving the horses just inside the gate) following at a close distance.

The guard led them inside the manor and into an audience room on the second floor. There, he left them, to deliver Kyle’s note to Count Thomas.

Apprehensively, “the guard climbed the stairs to the fourth floor and knocked on the door of the count’s private study. Frenzied arguing could be heard inside, but as soon as the knock sounded, silence fell.

The count opened the door, looking very red in the face, and barked, “What is it? I thought I gave orders not to be disturbed!”

Through the doorway, the guard could see the countess and their daughter sitting stonily. He longed to learn more – he was courting the housekeeper, who loved juicy gossip – but he knew better than to ask. He stammered, “A boy and a girl, both about 18 years old, are demanding an audience with you, your lordship. They are currently waiting in the second-floor audience room. The boy sent this note for your lordship.”

The count accepted the proffered note, frowning at the origami seal. He recognized that symbol… Finding no way to open the parchment without destroying the seal, he tore the seal in half and the note fell open. It read:

Thomas,

Since you were not previously notified of my arrival, I will forgive your transgression. You have disliked me in the past, I know, but you must put that aside.

A girl my age travels with me to Coria. She too has an upcoming inheritance, the position of High Priestess to Aethra, goddess of revenge; not the most conventional goddess to serve, but still a position of great respect. For your references, her name is Arwyn. Arwyn Onyxblade. I trust that you are familiar with her reputation. Be forewarned, the tales are unexaggerated and her temper is short.

In our travels, Lein threw a shoe. I understand that your personal blacksmith is skilled in the shoeing of horses and sincerely hope that he will do so for Lein at full speed. Until then, we ask for your hospitality.

By the way, Arwyn does not know of my identity, although I think she suspects it. She has clearly voiced her opinion of nobility; I think I need not say more.

I await your audience, Thomas.

Segenorri yours,

Kyle

The note was quite long, scribbled hastily in messy handwriting. “Segenorri yours,” Count Thomas mused. It was clever of him, using a code in case the note was discovered. But he was right. If it was Kyle and his companion, he had no excuse to refuse. There was also the Arwyn girl…was she a threat to his daughter’s chances of catching Kyle’s eye? With a sigh, the count shook himself out of his thoughts. He explained to his still-angry wife and daughter that the “discussion” (argument) would have to be continued later, then headed downstairs to the second-floor audience room.

Meanwhile, in the audience room, Arwyn and Kyle were having a half-friendly, half-suspicious chat. Arwyn spoke first. “I’m tired of all these secrets. I know there’s something you’re not telling me – something important.”

Kyle sighed inwardly. He wasn’t ready to tell her, not yet. But two can play at this guessing game. He replied evenly, “I too am tired of secrets. But you have your own little secret.”

Arwyn sighed as well. What am I supposed to say; I’m going to Coria to commit murder? I think not. “Look, my secret is for everyone’s good.”

Kyle countered, “So is mi–” He broke off as a tall man dressed in burgundy velvet and bedecked in jewels walked in. “Ah, Thomas, you’ve arrived.”

The count replied in a rather cheerful voice, “Yes, I hope you weren’t waiting too long?”

In the same cheerful tone, Kyle assured, “No, we’ve been waiting only a few minutes. By the way, this is my traveling companion, Arwyn. Arwyn, this is His Lordship, Count Thomas Relyan.”

Arwyn nodded curtly in the count’s direction. “How are you doing, Count Thomas?” It wasn’t the most proper protocol – although she was a priestess, she should have addressed him as “Your Lordship” to show respect – but she didn’t care. She wasn’t in a particularly respectful mood at the moment.

The count frowned a little, but he kept his tone level. “Very well, thank you.” Inside, he was worried. Arwyn wasn’t a conventional beauty, but she certainly wasn’t unattractive either, and she held herself with a born elegance. Kyle seemed quite attracted, which was not good for his daughter Isabel, who wanted to be wealthier than a countess. If Arwyn and Kyle came to actual courting, Arwyn would have to be…distracted.

The count’s thoughts were interrupted when Kyle cleared his throat meaningfully, a subtle reminder of why the audience had been requested. The count quickly said graciously, “Now, I believe that you said Lein threw a shoe? Where are your horses at the moment? I shall have them tended to and Lein fixed up immediately. The blacksmith should be finished by tomorrow morning; tonight, you may dine with my family and sleep in a guest room.”

Kyle replied, his tone bland, “You are too kind, Thomas. Our horses are just inside the front gate. If they don’t touch the saddlebags, the hostlers should come out unscathed.”

The count shivered a little at Kyle’s ominous last sentence, but he said, “I will relay your warning to the hostlers. Supper will be served in the mess hall in an hour, but we normally eat in our rooms. You may eat wherever you choose. Fetch your belongings from the stables first, and a servant will show you to the guest quarters.” With that, he walked out of the room.

Arwyn stood up and cast a questioning look at Kyle before walking out as well. With a foreboding feeling, Kyle ran to catch up. The two did as Count Thomas had suggested – thankfully, the guest quarters had separate bedrooms – eating their supper in privacy. Afterwards, they sat in plush armchairs in the lounge area in absolute silence, each contemplating the secrets of the other.

Arwyn pondered Kyle’s identity. I’m pretty sure he’s a noble, considering all of the cryptic episodes we’ve had together. Why else would Count Thomas, a man known for being unsympathetic to travelers, have welcomed us so graciously? But if he really is of noble blood, why is he hiding it from me, and what noble in their right mind would name their son a name like Kyle? Kyle is a commoner’s name. Unless…might his secret be something else altogether? At this point, she wasn’t sure of anything anymore.

Meanwhile, Kyle had been thinking about Arwyn’s motive for traveling to Coria. She said that she’s going to Coria to be inducted as High Priestess to some obscure goddess of revenge named Aethra, and I have no doubt that’s the truth. But then why do I have a hunch that there’s another reason, one that’s much more important? Wait a minute…Aethra, goddess of revenge? Maybe there’s a connection.

Still, even if my guess is right and Arwyn is going to Coria to seek revenge, I’m not much further along then before. There are about 25 million people living in Coria, not counting temporary or unregistered residents, and that’s assuming that she wants revenge on a person. I don’t even want to think about the possibilities if places and objects are taken into account. I can hardly confront her with almost no factual information and a few educated guesses, but what do I do now? Should I just allow her to go ahead with her (suspected) plan of revenge? Isn’t it my duty to stop acts like that? His head was swimming with unanswered questions.

Suddenly, a firm knock on the door broke the silence. Immersed in their thoughts, Arwyn and Kyle both jumped. Arwyn quickly stood and opened the door to a rather impatient messenger boy. The boy said curtly, “His Lordship requests your presence in his private study. You are to prepare yourselves and follow me.”

“Really.” Even Kyle couldn’t determine what Arwyn was thinking. “Pray tell me, what if we refuse. It is a request.”

The boy looked surprised that refusal had ever crossed her mind. “I’m not sure what will happen…I would advise against it though. His Lordship is known for his temper.”

“Really.” Arwyn’s eyes were suddenly filled with anger. She snapped, “Shall we test his temper against mine?”

Kyle realized that Arwyn was losing her temper – again. He hurriedly cut in, “We accept the count’s offer. Both of us.” He stared at Arwyn pointedly.

Arwyn glared at Kyle, but started to calm down. She asked the boy in a voice that could crack ice, “I suppose we must be dressed appropriately?” She spat out the last word as if it was poison.

The boy nodded. “If you mean formally, the answer is yes.”

Fuming, Arwyn strode into her bedroom. She returned ten minutes later, dressed in an outfit deemed proper for the occasion.

Arwyn wore a midnight-black silk gown that matched her long black hair, which she had let flow down her back. The gown had a wide v-cut neckline, a tucked bodice, and a swishy skirt with numerous loose folds that almost (but not quite) touched the floor. Around her neck hung two chains, the silver priestess cameo pendant and her precious blade tube (the latter almost invisible, tucked on a spidersilk chain into the front of the gown). Arwyn looked like a noble lady, despite her common heritage.

At first, Kyle was surprised that Arwyn would actually dress like a girl (for once), but then he noticed that she wore black spidersilk leggings underneath the gown. Arwyn saw him staring at her leggings and smirked. She adjusted her sash, revealing to him the slight outlines of dagger sheaths paced strategically within her gown.

Kyle refused to change, wanting to make a point to Count Thomas, so they were off. The boy led them to a large mahogany door on the fourth floor, opened the door, and announced, “Your Lordship, they have arrived.” He slipped away, leaving Arwyn and Kyle to face the count – and his family.

As the two entered the count’s private study, the count rose from his seat by the crackling fireplace to greet them. He smiled warmly and said, “Allow me to introduce my wife and daughter. Kyle, this is Countess Katharine Relyan and Lady Isabel Relyan. Katharine and Isabel, this is Kyle and Arwyn. They’re traveling to Coria, but they’ll be staying her tonight. Please, do sit down.”

Arwyn’s eyes narrowed at the silent snub – the count had slighted her by not mentioning her name in the formal introductions to his family, and she was sure he had done it on purpose – but she took a seat next to Isabel. Kyle did not notice the snub and simply sat down in a richly upholstered armchair opposite the fireplace. As the countess and her daughter had also been sitting next to the fireplace, opposite the count, the seating arrangement formed a sort of semicircle.

In the silence that ensued, Arwyn shifted to a more comfortable position on the velvet-upholstered couch and studied Lady Isabel Relyan. Isabel wore an elaborate pale pink gown with a decidedly low neckline and many lacy frills. The dress complemented her blue eyes and blonde hair – the latter curled in tight ringlets brushing her shoulders – but her figure was strained, obviously the result of a stiff-boned corset. She looked about 18 years old, the same age as Arwyn (and Kyle, incidentally).

Finished with her examination, Arwyn found the count and Kyle engaged in lively conversation, the countess eavesdropping discreetly. Arwyn listened in as well, but when the topic turned to politics, she decided to strike up her own conversation. She said politely to Isabel, “How do you do, Lady Isabel?”

Isabel inclined her head delicately in Arwyn’s direction, her eyes sweeping from head to toe. She replied, nose in the air ever so slightly, “I am well, thank you, Mistress Arwyn.” She did not continue the dialogue, for obvious reasons.

Arwyn was unperturbed, although she was mystified as to why Isabel disliked her. She wasn’t noble – that much could be guessed from the count’s insult – but her rank as a high priestess was about as far up the social ladder as a commoner could get. Why would her heritage be held against her anyway?

Well, two can play at this game of thinly veiled insults. Arwyn said casually, “Am I bothering you, Isabel dear?”

Isabel stiffened, but she could think of no polite comeback. “Not at all, Arwyn, not at all.” She picked up her sewing basket, removed a white silk handkerchief, and began to sew.

Arwyn said cheerfully, “Oh, sewing! Don’t you just adore needlework? Do you have any scraps that I could practice on?”

Isabel forced a smile. “Of course, Arwyn dear. Help yourself.”

Arwyn let out a girly giggle and reached for Isabel’s sewing basket. She normally hated acting like a bubbly, air-headed lady, but it suited her purpose at the moment, and in any case, needlework was her (relative) strength in the ladylike arts. It was much like sword fighting, in an abstract way.

Isabel’s sewing basket was filled with blank white silk handkerchiefs. With a start, Arwyn noticed that they were men’s handkerchiefs. She glanced up and caught Isabel staring at Kyle. Biting her lip, Arwyn fought a sudden urge to laugh. So that was why Isabel hated her! She thought of how Kyle would react to the gift of an embroidered handkerchief and couldn’t keep from grinning.

Arwyn schooled her face to stone once more and picked up a handkerchief, needle, and various threads. She thought for a moment, then began to stitch. Her design used only three colors of thread, but she though that it would be a fitting keepsake for Kyle, much more so than Isabel’s elaborate, multicolored rose. But a little voice in her head whispered, “Why do you care if your gift is better than Isabel’s? Are you jealous? Do you lo–”

With a violent shake of her head, Arwyn cut off the voice in her head. Absurd! These ideas are simply absurd! She concentrated on her needlework, blocking out everything else.

Two hours later, Kyle’s conversation was finally winding down, and Arwyn had just finished her embroidery – but so had Isabel. Arwyn said sweetly to Isabel, “May I see your needlework? It looks so interesting!”

Isabel replied just as sweetly, “Of course, dear, but only if I can see your work!”

The two girls exchanged handkerchiefs. Arwyn looked at Isabel’s work with amusement. In one corner was a large rose, every color of the rainbow used. Underneath in small print was the classic love poem: “Roses are red, / Violets are blue, / Sugar is sweet, / And so are you!” Along the hem, in pale pink thread, was stitched, “Lady Isabel Relyan”. It was a good effort overall, but Arwyn couldn’t imagine any man using (or even carrying) such a feminine handkerchief.

Meanwhile, Isabel looked upon Arwyn’s work in horror. The design was also in one corner, but it was the subject depicted that was shocking; a dagger with a black hilt and a silver blade dripping with crimson blood. It had been meticulously outlined in backstitch and filled in with satin stitch, making the subject seem almost surreal. Most elaborate of all was the dagger hilt. Although the hilt was stitched entirely with black thread, there was still the appearance of ornate scrollwork and detail. Hidden cleverly in the scrollwork were the initials A.O. All this mystified Isabel, who did not understand the symbolism. (The design, of course, was taken from Arwyn’s sacred cameo pendant, but Isabel didn’t know that.)

As they exchanged back their respective handkerchiefs, Isabel demanded, “What business have you sewing such gruesome scenes?”

Arwyn countered, “What business have you sewing roses on a man’s handkerchief? It’s only going to gather dust in the cellar.”

Isabel was about to shoot back an angry reply when the count said loudly, “Yes, of course Isabel will be attending the Coronation Ball. Her dress has already been ordered and she’s meeting with a face paint specialist tomorrow.”

Immediately, Isabel’s anger was redirected toward her father. She snapped, “I am not wearing the dress you chose! Do you think I have no modesty at all?”

The count raised his voice. “Don’t be so silly, Isabel. If you don’t wear that dress, you will never find a suitor!”

Isabel shouted furiously, forgetting completely about Arwyn and Kyle (the guests), “I don’t want a suitor if I have to wear a dress with a plunging neckline to get him to notice me!”

Countess Katharine tried vainly to come to her daughter’s defense. “Thomas, why must you force her to wear it? She isn’t ready yet; maybe in a few years she’ll agree.”

The count, however, refused to be persuaded. “The Coronation Ball is the chance of a lifetime! She must wear that dress!”

The countess abruptly stood and curtsied stiffly. “Then goodnight, my lord. Come, Isabel.” She strode out of the room, a still-fuming Isabel following close behind.

Arwyn took that as her cue to excuse herself. She stood as well and said delicately, not wanting to arouse the count’s temper, “I’m weary, I think I shall retire for the night.” She cast a meaningful look at Kyle.

Thankfully, Kyle managed to take the hint. He pleaded weariness too and left the count alone in his study.

When they arrived back at their rooms, Kyle nodded at the white handkerchief still clutched in Arwyn’s hand. “What’s that?”

Arwyn blushed faintly, much to her horror – she never blushed! “It’s just a little embroidery I did tonight to pass the time while you and the count were heatedly debating politics. Let’s just say Isabel isn’t very talkative. Here, you can have it. Isabel only had men’s handkerchiefs in her sewing basket.” Not daring to meet Kyle’s eyes (something else she was surprised at), she tossed the handkerchief at him.

Kyle caught the flying object easily and proceeded to examine it. When he saw Arwyn’s handiwork, he gave her a surprised smile. That smile made Arwyn weak in the knees, although she scolded herself for acting like one of the helpless noble ladies she so despised. Without waiting for Arwyn to regain control of her body, Kyle said sincerely, “Thank you, Arwyn. Your stitching is magnificent, even to my untrained eye. Wherever did you learn such fine needlework?”

Arwyn attempted a smile, but her eyes were filled with pain and sorrow. “My mother–my late mother taught me, right up until the day she died. It was her last gift to me, so I treasure the skill. Although I dislike the other feminine arts, I still practice them – I know it’s what she would have wanted.” She couldn’t bring herself to confide in Kyle the manner of her mother’s death, not yet. It was too painful to relive those memories.

Kyle found himself filled with heartfelt sympathy for Arwyn. He knew exactly how she felt. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up hard memories. I know what it’s like; my own mother died from a long illness when I was only 8 years old. The 10th anniversary of her passing is coming up. She died after using the last of her strength to wish me a happy birthday.”

Arwyn’s eyes glimmered with unshed tears. “I lost Mother at the age of 8 as well,” she said softly. “I am sorry for your loss.” She continued, unable to keep the bitterness from her voice, “At least you knew she would eventually die.”

Kyle looked at Arwyn, confusion written all over his face. “What do you mean? How did your mother die?”

Arwyn closed her eyes and whispered her tale. “It was a few months after my 8th birthday, when the leaves begin to change color. It was just a normal day – or so I thought. Mother and Father were still eating dinner when it happened; I had finished eating early, so Mother sent me to do the laundry. I had just walked behind the curtain that served as a makeshift partition in our cottage when I heard hard hammering on the front door. Mother and Father immediately began panicking, but our cottage only had one door and two windows set on either side of the door. There was no way out. I guess Mother realized that because she come over to the curtain and told me not to come out no matter what happened.

Then, the men outside managed to break down the door. They copped off my parents’ heads, then left as quickly as they had come. I peeked out as they were leaving, but I only saw a flash of blue and white. I couldn’t even bury them properly, because I was afraid the men would come back. I sought out Michael that day – he was a master of blades and my training master – so I could learn to fight, to protect myself. Strangely enough, he was murdered too, by a fast-acting poison while he was out drinking at a bar. That was nine months ago. Michael was a priest of Aethra, the goddess I serve, and the only male to ever become one of her Chosen. I suppose I am her Chosen as well – every High Priestess in history has been Chosen.” Her long recitation complete, Arwyn sank down onto her bed, a single tear running down her cheek.

Kyle was silent for a long time. He finally said softly, “Oh, Arwyn. I’m so sorry.” In absolute silence, he and Arwyn fell asleep with heavy hearts.

Author’s Notes

Wasn’t that sad? :tear: So now, Kyle knows about Arwyn’s past. The next chapter will feature Coria (finally!); stay tuned!