Chapter 17 - "It seems there is serious reason to worry."

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Zavier

As Zavier swung his legs off the bed, he let out a slow breath. He could move now without spasms of pain but his side still ached. He dragged a hand down his face, wiping away sleep. He felt tired even after sleeping.

Fynn told him he would feel weak for a while as his body healed. Still, Zavier wished it would heal faster. He'd been confined to a bed for four days while the ship was being repaired. Then onboard again, he'd been confined to the captain's quarters, not having the strength to go further.

When the door to the cabin cracked open, Zavier tensed. He'd had to command Joric to protect him on the other side of the door. For whenever Joric was around, he watched Zavier with such intense concern Zavier felt as if he might die on the spot with how Joric acted.

At least Alwyn treated him better than that. That was when she was around which hadn't been very much. But her presence still managed to put Zavier on edge. He knew she forgave him but where they went from there was uncertain. He wasn't betrothed anymore but he was still a Prince. Neither of them knew what that meant for them.

When the cabin door opened wider and Lydia peered in, Zavier relaxed. She didn't hold the weight Joric or Alwyn did.

Over the previous days of having her help care for him at first felt strange but then comforting. And somehow it seemed to help her. She still wore her grief like a second skin, but she didn't appear so lost.

"I thought you might be awake," she said. "I brought you something to eat."

The scent of cinnamon wafted through the room as she approached him with a steaming bowl. Zavier hadn't asked where Alwyn and Cyrus found Yasmine and her brother, but after eating her meals, he was certain that she could make dirt taste good.

As Zavier ate, Lydia drifted to the windows, staring out. The late afternoon light highlighted the dark circles under her eyes and he could imagine what type of nightmares might make sleep difficult. They were the type of ones that plagued him.

When he set the empty bowl aside, Lydia glanced over.

"Do you think you are strong enough to go on deck?" she asked. "You might enjoy what's going on."

Zavier didn't care if he was strong enough, he needed to get out of this room. Being constantly hemmed in was making him go slowly crazy.

"Yes," he said.

Lydia retrieved his cane, bought for him in the Seau islands.

"It seems unlike a Princess to perform such menial tasks," Zavier said.

Lydia let her eyes slide away from his. "There is not much for a Princess to do on a ship where everyone else has a job."

When Zavier took the cane, Lydia met his gaze.

"I am grateful for your help, Princess."

Lydia blinked like she might cry and broke away from his gaze.

"Do you need help with your boots?" she asked.

Bending down hurt too much, but Zavier wasn't going to make Lydia assist him with putting them on.

"I can go without them," he said.

"It seems unlike a Prince to walk around without shoes," Lydia said with a breath of laughter.

Zavier paused. The sound was made beautiful by rarity.

"You were trying not to laugh when I first met you and your family," Zavier said. The lightness dimmed in Lydia's countenance. "I believe your brother Reen had said something to you and a laugh slipped out."

"Yes," Lydia said. "I have often acted contrary to how a Princess should, even on important occasions. Much to my family's distress."

Zavier didn't admit it but hearing the small bit of laughter had helped him not feel so out of place at the palace. And now she still helped him.

Lydia took his arm and slid it around her shoulders. As Zavier gripped the top of the cane, she supported him as he stood. With his arm wrapped around her, Zavier felt how thin Lydia was. She felt fragile, but she didn't shy away from helping him, which made him admire her. Slowly, they walked to the door and out into the corridor. Joric jumped to attention.

"Allow me," he said.

Joric replaced Lydia and guided Zavier up the stairs, out into the sunshine. Zavier breathed in the sea, letting the hot, salty air fill his lungs. Sunlight bathed his skin and he felt the days trapped inside melt away.

Zavier saw that the whole crew was on deck as Joric led him to the steps to the aft deck where he could sit. Even though this was the first time he'd emerged from the captain's cabin, no one paid him any attention.

He didn't fault them for this, since the fight taking place was far more interesting. Wilder battled against Yasmine and Dempsey. Each of them had a set of narrow wooden rods with leather binding at the base for grips.

It was a sight to behold, the siblings were pinned against Wilder and still, he managed to hold his own. Tall and broad, Dempsey fought with the steadiness of a constant storm. Yasmine wore a long, fitted tunic that split at her hips revealing leggings and boots. The ends of her tunic spun with her, making her appear like a whirlwind.

"You do not get to look smug about this." Zavier peered up at the helm where Cyrus and Alwyn stood. "You had no idea either of them could fight like this. As far as you knew neither of them had been on a ship."

"Then maybe I'm a good judge of character," Cyrus said.

"Attraction and judgment are not the same thing."

"Maybe in this instance they are."

Alwyn met Zavier's gaze and rolled her eyes. In that moment it felt like all the pain between them vanished. They were the two friends who joked and laughed together. He was the one she wanted to send a silent message to. He grinned and looked back to the sparring, not feeling so weary.

"What are those rods they are holding?" Zavier asked.

Instead of Joric, Lydia answered him. "They are kesh rods. It's how the Seau fight." She knotted her fingers as she watched Wilder dodge a blow. "The kesh is a tradition passed down from generation to generation. My mother planned to teach me..."

Zavier felt the urge to reach out to her, wishing he could tell her he understood her loss but didn't know how. So he nodded and continued to observe the trio.

The match ended when Dempsey managed to hit Wilder in the back of his leg. With a grunt, Wilder crashed to one knee. Lydia sucked in a breath. Wilder pressed his fist to the deck, breathing hard, sweat running down the side of his face. When Dempsey reached out a hand, Wilder accepted it.

The crew cheered and dispersed. Wilder handed off his rods to Fynn with a murmur of thanks. As he approached Zavier, Lydia, and Joric, Zavier noticed how different Wilder looked. The boy in the alley was gone, replaced by a hardened soldier. Even his eyes that had been determined but young looked serious and haunted.

"Are you all right?" Lydia asked, reaching to touch Wilder's arm.

"I'm fine."

He didn't look it, he looked as worn out as Zavier felt, but he didn't say so.

"Princess Lydia said the kesh is passed down, did your parents teach you?" Zavier asked.

Wilder lowered his gaze. "No. I'm not Seau. Dempsey and Yasmine have been kind enough to teach me these past few days."

Zavier wondered why someone proficient with a sword as well as a bow and arrow would need one more weapon.

As if reading his mind, Wilder continued. "I wanted to learn because fighting this way gives me more control over whether my opponent lives...or dies."

Zavier knew right then the source of the change. Wilder knew the toll of taking lives. The closest Zavier had ever come to that was outside the palace as he and Joric fled, but he hadn't killed the assassin, simply wounded him enough he wouldn't be able to follow. Even with the attackers from the ship, he wasn't certain if he'd killed anyone. But Wilder knew, knew exactly how many he'd killed. It was written all over him.

"You should get something to eat," Lydia said.

Wilder locked eyes with her. "I haven't been very hungry lately."

"For me," she said. "I need you to eat."

"Have you eaten?"

Lydia dropped her gaze.

"Come on, Ly," Wilder said, motioning to the passageway.

They set off together and again Zavier was struck by their connection. At the sound of footsteps on the steps, Zavier turned his head while Joric straightened.

"Joric," Alwyn said. "If you still find me a threat then you are not as observant as I thought."

Joric grunted but drifted away. Alwyn leaned against the railing, facing Zavier. Strands of her blonde hair fluttered around her face and Zavier wanted to reach out and touch them. But he didn't, there lay too much unknown between them.

"How are you feeling?" Alwyn said, her eyes dark with concern.

The look made him feel weak and broken.

"I see you noticed I was still injured," he said, with a teasing grin. "Though I would assume you noticed because I have commandeered your bed."

Even though Alwyn smiled back at him, she squinted out on the endless stretch of glistening blue water.

"I never left your side when you were unconscious," she said. "But that meant I left Cyrus's." She stared down at her boots, scuffing a toe against the wood. "I'm a captain that abandoned ship."

"Wyn."

"No, I did. I still don't think I would do any different if I were to relive it. But...I got my brother and me into this whole thing and I don't want to abandon him again. Besides," she raised her head, her expression lightening. "You're alive and healing. I don't need to worry."

"No, you don't need to."

They stayed there, looking at each other. Zavier could almost read the thoughts in Alwyn's head, the force she felt pulling her towards him but at the same time towards her crew, her ship, her brother. It was the same pull he felt: her or his title, his duty.

"Land spotted!" Mick shouted from the crew's nest.

Alwyn gave Zavier a small smile, "You're home."

As she dashed back to the helm, Zavier used the railing and his cane to help him get to the forecastle. The salty wind whipped around him and tossed his hair, tugged at his shirt. There in the distance, he could make out the hint of land. Loria. Home.

Riding the Current, the ship sliced through the water, bringing Loria into focus with every passing minute. Zavier heard the crew all talking excitedly behind him, climbing the rigging to get a better look. Finally, they'd made it.

But Zavier didn't feel their eagerness.

He drank it all in, the mix of dark colors becoming more distinct as individual buildings. The splashes of green from the hundreds of parks his grandmother had created in the city.

Lydia took a spot near Zavier as Alwyn and Cyrus called out orders to the crew to prepare for docking. The chaos of motion on the ship matched the chaos in Zavier's mind. He desperately wanted to be home, to understand what he could do to help restore Lydia's kingdom. But being home meant facing the truth again.

His guards were dead. Jayis was dead.

Zavier returned home but they didn't.

He had no right to be alive when they weren't.

They had families, loved ones that would have to hear that they would never get to see the ones they loved again.

Jayis had a wife and two daughters. Brigin had a girl he planned to marry. Jes only had a father who needed him. cared for his widowed mother. Casian had three younger sisters.

All of them, they would all have to know.

They died for Zavier.

Zavier didn't realize how hard he gripped the railing until a small, soft hand curled around his. Zavier blinked, glancing over. Lydia met his gaze, understanding. She knew. She knew the weight of grief and saw that grief in him. Her kindness felt welcomed and wholly underserved. But he held her hand, needing it.

The white marble walls of the palace gleamed in the early evening light as the ship slipped into the harbor. The dock bustled with sailors loading and unloading cargo. The smell of fish hovered over everything. Shouts punctured the air as captains called out commands. It all had a rhythm to it that was familiar to Zavier. When the gangplank hit the pier, he made his way to the main deck.

"Joric," he said. His guard came to his side. "Get to the palace, we will need carriages."

Joric hesitated but disembarked and disappeared into the mayhem of the docks. Zavier watched the busy streets, picturing Joric as he cut his way through the dense crowds. He was lost in imagining the stir Joric's appearance would cause that he wasn't aware of the two newcomers until they were already standing on the deck.

When Zavier saw them it was the same instant in which Wilder seemed to materialize before them, knives in hand and at the man and woman's throats. Lydia sucked in a breath as the whole crew froze.

"Who are you and what are you doing on this ship?" Wilder said, his words a low, threatening growl.

Before anyone could speak, Sparrow burst out laughing. He laughed so hard, he fell against the ship railing, clenching his side.

Captain Isla shot him a glare while Raif merely tried not to grin.

"Mum, Da," Alwyn murmured, still dazed.

"Isla," Sparrow gasped. "Caught unaware, this is a day to remember."

Isla eyed Wilder. "I didn't think it was necessary to be on guard while aboard my son and daughter's ship."

This snapped both Alwyn and Cyrus from their stunned states and they hurried to greet their parents.

"Wilder," Alwyn said. "Put those away."

Still wary of them, Wilder lowered his knives but didn't put them away. Zavier didn't blame him, he'd face too many narrow escapes not to always be on his guard. But when Raif embraced his daughter, Wilder seemed to relax a bit.

"Hello, Little Duchess," Raif said, kissing his daughter's head.

Isla smiled at her son, who stood taller than her. "We saw your ship come in."

Together it was easy to see the family resemblance between all of them. Raif surveyed his son.

"Are you in love?" he asked while Isla touched Alwyn's cheek and scanned the crew. "Where is the rest of your crew?

Cyrus reddened as Alwyn tensed, the twins exchanging looks.

"We'll talk later," their parents both said.

Before more could be said, the ringing of hoofbeats on cobblestones cut through the harbor noise. Zavier looked across the docks, spotting a horse and rider tearing through the mass of workers. He shouted at them to move while two guards chased him. Sailors scrambled, tripped, and dove out of the away of the rider.

At the Sea Siren's berth, the rider vaulted from his horse and charged up the gangplank. Wilder leapt into his path, but the man shoved Wilder out of the way, rushing to Zavier. As Wilder lunged to attack, Cyrus blocked his path.

"Zavier," his older brother said. "What the blazes is going on? I crossed paths with Joric and he said you were here. He said you were hurt? What happened?"

Quinn's energy slammed into Zavier and he felt like he was being beaten by wave after wave. Quinn grabbed Zavier's shoulders and Zavier winced at the rough handing. Quinn let go, eying him.

"You are hurt? How? Is that why you have returned?" Quinn whipped his head around, staring at the surprised crew. "Where the devils in your crew? Why aren't you on your ship? And where are your guards?"

The question pierced Zavier and he leaned heavily on his cane. He didn't want to say it. Didn't want to relive the whole cursed nightmare of it all. He closed his eyes, feeling far older than he was.

"Your Highness," Lydia said, briefly touching Zavier's arm as if to remind him he wasn't alone. "Your brother is injured." Then Zavier realized she wasn't addressing him but his brother. "We will tell you everything, but once would be enough and so I think it best to wait until we are in the palace."

Quinn scrutinized Lydia and Zavier knew what he saw, a ragged girl with short hair and a tired face.

"Who the blazes are you?" he asked.

At this, Wilder shouldered his way past Cyrus and took up his post by Lydia's side. But Lydia didn't look like she needed it, she calmly held Quinn's gaze.

"I am Princess Lydia of the West Isles," she said. "And my family has been murdered."

The statement struck a blow. Quinn blinked and looked to Zavier, shocked. Raif and Isla locked eyes then looked to their children for confirmation. Cyrus was the one to nod once.

"I see," Quinn said. He bowed his head to Lydia. "My apologies, Your Highness." He gently placed a hand on Zavier's shoulder and gripped it once. "Let us return home then."

From the city streets three gleaming carriages, pulled by pristine horses, broke through the horde of people. They came to a stop beside the pier. Joric jumped from the back of one and hastened to the ship.

"I will need your help," Zavier said, though the words pained him to admit.

Quinn took his side, allowing Zavier to lean on him as they made their slow progression down the gangplank. Behind him, he heard Alwyn calling out orders to the crew.

"How bad is it?" Quinn asked.

"So far I have not died," Zavier said.

Quinn grinned but it faded when he saw how much work it took for Zavier to simply walk. When they entered a carriage, Zavier sank against the cushioned seat, relieved he no longer had to be walking. Quinn took the side opposite him, watching him with a concerned brow.

"I told you," Zavier said, dropping his head back and closing his eyes. "I have not died yet, you can stop worrying so much."

The carriage jolted forward and Zavier gritted his teeth at the sudden jerk and how it made his side flare.

"You returned on a ship that was not yours, without your guard and barely able to walk," Quinn said. "It seems there is serious reason to worry."

Zavier couldn't argue with that. He let silence invade the carriage, building himself up for seeing his parents, talking about all that he'd faced, breaking the news about Jayis.

Jayis had been his father's steward, a man he'd trusted. A man he'd trusted to look out for Zavier. And Jayis had, at the cost of his own life.

It felt all too soon when the carriage entered the palace grounds. Zavier smelled the sweet scent of jasmine. It was the scent of his childhood as he spent more time outside than inside. The carriage wheels rattled over the pebble ground and curved to the palace steps.

Quinn exited first and turned back to help Zavier. When he stepped out, he heard a soft gasp.

In the doorway to the palace stood his parents. His Eldin mother youthful with her golden brown skin, bright blue eyes, and his Lorian father striking with his high cheekbones and tall stature.

They raced towards him and Zavier braced himself for their flood of worry. His mother reached him first, looking from his face to the cane he supported himself on.

"My dear boy," she said, her eyes burdened with concern. "What happened?"

His father inspected him as if he could read what the truth was from his person.

"It is a long story," Zavier said wearily.

As if to prove his point the remaining two carriages arrived. From one appeared Isla, Raif, Alwyn, and Cyrus. From the second, Wilder climbed down, surveyed the scene then helped Lydia out.

"Mother, Father," Zavier said, gesturing to Lydia. "This is Princess Lydia of the West Isles." He lowered his voice. "The palace was attacked, her family...her family is dead."

That was all it took for Gigi to rush to Lydia, sympathy pouring from her. When Zavier's mother gently

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