Chapter 35: Chapter 35: The Victor:

Two days later, Helos leaves.

He tells me he has a plan, a way to draw Issar out and finish this war. I want to believe him. I trust him and I pray that he can win, but I can’t deny the fear I feel.

I watch as the remainder of his army leaves with him, and as they disappear into the horizon, a dark, nagging hollowness spreads over me.

I don’t know how long he will be gone for. How long until I see him again. I’m suddenly so aware that now he is gone, it’s just me, in this castle, surrounded by men.

I shrink back into myself.

Hiding away even more, spending my days wallowing and longing for him, and every time a rider comes, I’m so fearful of the news.

So fearful that perhaps he might have failed.

In those moments, it’s not even me I’m fearful for—it’s Helos. That Issar has killed him. That he is lying dead somewhere and it’s all my fault, all my doing.

Every time those thoughts come to my head, I fall deeper into my melancholy, into my despair, and I end up weeping for hours, hidden away back in the solace of the bathroom.

***

Zan has started visiting me. I think he’s lonely too and pining for his father.

We meet in the menagerie almost daily, and though I want to hide away, I force myself to go, see him, comfort him, and stop thinking of just myself.

An easy sort of friendship grows between us. He is so frank and opinionated, and even the guards tell him off when he says something they think has crossed the line, but I don’t take offense.

I want him to be comfortable around me, to learn to trust me.

I hope that, by the time Helos comes back, Zan and I are comfortable enough and Helos can relax.

Helos has been gone for weeks. It feels like my heart is breaking, even though I know I’m being ridiculous, selfish even.

I walk up through the castle, having spent the morning with Zan and then the afternoon reading in the quiet of the library, but as we climb the final set of stairs, someone calls out for me.

I turn, frowning.

“There’s a messenger. From Queen Amera. They’re at the gates. They’re refusing to give the note to anyone but you,” the man says, and I look from him to the guards.

Why would Amera send a messenger? Why would she not simply come herself?

I follow the man back through the castle. The guards are with me, so I’m not all that concerned.

We reach a gatehouse that I don’t recognize, and I feel them tense around me.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, but they don’t reply.

Their sole focus is on what’s ahead. I look ahead, seeing a figure in the distance.

“You have a message?” I say.

“Guess again,” he replies, stepping forward into the light.

I squint, trying to make out what this is, and then my eyes recognize what is so blatantly in front of me.

I don’t recognize this man, but I sure as hell recognize the person he’s holding with the knife against their throat.

Zan.

My guards react instantly, but more figures step out from the shadows, and we can all see we’re outnumbered.

“Let him go,” I say quickly.

“If you want the boy to live, you’ll come with me,” an only too familiar voice replies, and my stomach drops at the sound of it, at the sight of him as he steps out now.

~Issar~.

“How…,” I begin, but it doesn’t matter.

They have Zan. They will no doubt kill him if I don’t comply.

“Let him go,” I say again, focusing on the monster in front of me as my guards tense.

“Take my hand and the boy will live,” he states, holding his hand out, and I stare at it. He’s standing only a few meters from where Zan is, but even that distance feels like a threat.

I shudder, trying not to think, because there isn’t an option here.

There isn’t a choice.

I glance at Zan, and I can see the fear in his eyes. The knife against his throat looks so sharp that I’m scared that even his struggling might cause him to get hurt.

I go to push past my guards, and one of them moves to stop me.

“Don’t,” I say quietly. “The prince is more important than me.”

He winces, but we both know it’s true. A siren’s life does not come close to that of a prince’s, and though I would never want Helos to choose between us, I hope he’d choose his son every time.

I walk past them, feeling the air tense around us. I focus on him, on Zan, and not the monster in front of me because somehow it feels like if I don’t, I will become a coward, I will run, and Zan will die as a consequence.

Issar smirks, watching me, his hand held out in expectation, and I grit my teeth as I place my own in it.

“Good girl,” he mutters as his fingers wrap tightly around mine and I feel my stomach twist in revulsion.

“Let him go now,” I say.

He nods to the man. I see the knife drop from the corner of my eye, and Zan, instead of running to the guards, to safety, runs to me.

He hugs me tightly. I pull my hand from Issar’s grasp to embrace him.

“It’s okay,” I whisper into his ear, kneeling down in the dirt to comfort him. “You’re safe now.”

He doesn’t reply and I feel Issar’s irritation growing, which, if anything, makes me panic more.

I need to get Zan to go. I need to get him away from these people before the warlord changes his mind and decides to take him too.

“Go,” I whisper urgently. “Run to the guards. Don’t look back.”

He looks up at me and nods, and thank the gods he does it, running as fast as his little legs can carry him, and I see the guards move to protect him.

I stand, staring at them. Issar’s arms wrap around me, pulling my body into his, and I choke as he begins to drag me back.

It’s over, I realize. My fight, my attempts to escape him.

It’s all over.