Zavier

The door latch rattled and Zavier leapt to his feet, his sword in hand. Flashes of assassins burst in his mind, the screams of men cut down ringing in his ears. Heart pounding, he clutched the sword hilt.

Joric stepped into the small inn room, pausing at the sight of Zavier prepared to attack. Breathing out, Zavier sheathed the sword, tossing it carelessly onto the flimsy mattress. He anticipated a fight, needed the action to break him from his thoughts, and now felt empty with the anticlimactic resolution. Willing his heart to calm down, he went to the grimy window and peered out on the street.

"What did you find out?" Zavier asked.

The sun had crossed the apex of the sky and now fell towards the horizon. Half the day Zavier had been trapped in this inn, this small bedroom, waiting for Joric to return with news of what was going on. All that time he'd been held captive to the ghosts of Jayis, his guards, and the ship's crew. Their dead eyes stared at him, blaming him for their fates.

He knew the blame lay with him. It lay with who he was. Who his parents were. Hours of reasoning around their deaths and how blame belonged to the assassins hadn't alleviated the guilt that pounded into him over and over again.

"News of the attack has spread quickly," Joric said. "Who is behind it is still unknown."

Zavier nodded, staring out the window, but unseeing. Scenes of the gore in the ballroom, the blood splayed across the polished floor, the lifeless eyes, the open mouths with screams locked inside played in his head. His men, gone. His friends, cut down. The royal family, dead. Zavier ducked his head, shoulders sagging under the weight of so many lives lost.

"I also heard that a member of the royal family survived," Joric continued.

Zavier snapped his head up. Hope, relief and that tingling twinge of guilt stirred in his chest. He swallowed, his mouth strangely dry.

"Who?" he asked.

He looked at Joric but hoped his face didn't betray the inner turmoil of his emotions.

"Prince Corwin is rumored to still be alive, though badly wounded."

Zavier turned away, trying to remember what he'd seen of the Heir's wounds, but everything happened so fast he couldn't think of anything. Still, he concentrated, needing his thoughts to outweigh the bit of relief he felt at the news and the guilt that quickly chased after it.

"Anything else?" he asked.

When Joric didn't reply right away, Zavier eyed his guard. Something about Joric's impassive face set Zavier on edge. Despite Joric's control, Zavier had known this man for most of his life and learned to read him.

"Tell me," he said.

"They are closing off the ports. No ships are to leave," Joric said. "Men are searching the city, trying to find some of the assassins who escaped from the palace. Until they are found, the city is shutting down."

Zavier paced the length of the room. "We have to leave. West Isles needs Loria's aid, to help repair the damage of this loss. They can not contain us here." He spun on his heel and stormed back the other way, the room too short for him and each crossing making him feel more and more trapped. "We will go to the palace-"

Joric held up his hand and Zavier stopped.

"I would not advise that," he said.

"Why not? We need to return home."

Clasping his hands behind his back, Joric stared at Zavier. Instantly, Zavier wondered what his guard knew or guessed. They both knew heading to Loria as the best plan of action.

"Ships are being searched," Joric said. "The rumor is for the assassins. But...it could be for you. All we know are rumors. They say a royal member still lives, we do not have proof. They say they search for the assassins, but that could be a ploy to be searching for you. Tactically speaking, keeping people under the impression that though there was an attack, it is now contained and means of finding the ones responsible are being taken it would be the wisest way to ensure control of the city."

With a sigh, Zavier dropped onto the mattress. Despite the straw filling, it felt as if he sat on a plank of wood. Everything Joric said made sense. If the situation was as he said, they couldn't go to the palace and more than ever they needed to get out of the city. Soldiers would be needed to take back the palace and reinstate command to the rightful leader, whoever that might be once they figured out what was going on.

Zavier looked to the window. Though he couldn't see anything but the side of another building, he felt as if he could see out into the harbor. Could see one ship among dozens. A ship captained by someone daring enough to defy orders. When Zavier met Joric's gaze, he wondered if his guard could read his thoughts, because Joric frowned.

"There is one ship that might be fast enough to get us out of the city," he said.

Grunting in dismay, Joric crossed his arms. "Yes, but we both remember how your last interaction went. I believe there was a threat of death involved if I'm not mistaken."

Zavier dragged a hand through his hair, a vivid memory surfacing.

"I believe it was stabbing, not necessarily death."

"Yes, that makes me feel better about this option," Joric said in a monotone voice.

Zavier rose to his feet. "What other option is there? If what you believe is happening in the palace is true, we need to return Loria now. These people need our help. Do we stand by and do nothing when we have a chance of assisting?"

"A chance that might end with you being stabbed."

"I am fairly certain it would not be fatal."

When Joric let out a long breath, Zavier knew the matter was resolved. Zavier turned to retrieve his rucksack, but Joric caught his arm, stopping him, eyes piercing.

"You must understand, I am in charge of saving your life, no matter the cost of who might be threatening it."

Zavier nodded, hoping this wasn't the worst decision he had ever made. Joric moved about collecting his things as Zavier did the same.

After the shock of seeing the whole crew of the Eldin Prince murdered had faded, Zavier and Joric had boarded the ship. While Joric gathered what money was hidden away, weapons and clothing items that would keep them unnoticed, Zavier lined all the men all up along the deck.

With each one, he took a minute to remember their face, to acknowledge that they had died unfairly. Wanting to give them a better burial than sinking with the ship, they had set the ship on fire. Though Joric wanted to move on, Zavier refused, watching from the shadows of a tavern as the flames consumed the men. Only when a crowd came racing to put out the flames, did Zavier and Joric slip into the night.

Dressed in common clothes, though of finer quality than most, the pair left the inn. They took to the back streets, avoiding as many people as they could. Though Joric with his tanned skin and fair hair didn't stand out, Zavier did with his dark curls, dark eyes, and dark skin.

Around them, the city felt subdued and Zavier wondered how many knew. How many were already grieving for the family that symbolized peace and authority? Would they grieve? The little time he'd had with the royal family the previous night, he'd seen glimpses of a loving, welcoming family. Did that hold true for how their subjects saw them?

Zavier jolted out of his thoughts as someone shoved him, pushing him against a rough-surfaced wall. Out of the corner of his eye, Zavier saw Joric reach for his sword but a knife appeared at his neck, freezing him.

The one holding the knife looked younger than Zavier though he stood a few inches taller and held himself with a rigid military posture. In contrast, his companion, the one who shoved Zavier, was a dirty-faced boy who barely came up to Zavier's nose.

"Was it worth it," the boy yelled with a higher pitch than Zavier expected. "Is it worth having all those lives on your hands. Having my family's lives on your hands!"

The boy pounded a fist against Zavier's chest and he didn't react, couldn't react. The words cut into him, bringing his grief and guilt to the surface. So many lives were on his hands. All his fault.

When the boy slapped Zavier across the face, he snapped back. As he grabbed the boy's hands to stop him, the boy holding a knife to Joric, glanced over. In the second, Joric batted away the knife, punched the boy, and held him against the wall, hand at his throat.

"Wilder!" the boy in Zavier's grasp yelled.

He struggled against Zavier, kicking his shin, but Zavier gripped his shoulders and pinned him to the wall.

"Lydia," Wilder wheezed out, clawing at Joric's hand.

The name sparked recognition in Zavier's mind. He frowned, staring at the dirty-faced boy closer. Deep brown eyes glared at him. But beneath the fury, he saw pain. Pain that could tear a soul in two. A pain Zavier felt echoed inside him.

Blinking, he tore his gaze from the brown eyes, taking in everything else. Despite the boyish appearance, he saw the softness of a girl's face, felt the small feminine shoulders underneath his hold.

"Princess Lydia," he said, hesitant.

She growled and tried to kick him again, but Zavier managed to avoid the hit.

"Are you going to finish what was started? Are you going to kill me like you killed my family."

The accusation struck Zavier and he backed away. Lydia followed him, shoving his chest, anger written in every inch of her.

"Do it! Kill me like you had them killed," she shouted.

"Ly, don't," Wilder gasped.

Before Lydia could hit Zavier again, he caught hold of her hands, pinning them together. "Stop, I did not have your family killed."

Lydia squirmed, trying to pull free from his grip. "How can I believe that? You arrived and the next thing I know my family is dead. Explain that."

"I can't, all right! I can't explain, but you are not the only one who lost the ones you cared about. I lost good men!" He squeezed her wrists as his pain beat against him. Lydia winced at his strength. "I did not do this. I am trying to leave the West Isles to bring help to your kingdom, Princess."

"Are you certain?" she sneered. "Or are you running away like a coward?"

Zavier pushed Lydia into the wall, shaking with fury, the screams of his dying guard filling his ears. "I am not a coward!"

Beside Zavier, Joric eyed him, which was a mistake. Wilder cracked his fist across Joric's face, slammed his elbow down on Joric's arm, breaking his hold. In a breath, a knife appeared at Zavier's throat while a sword edge appeared at Joric's neck.

"Ly," Wilder said, his voice raspy. "We have to get out of here."

Lydia stared at Zavier, clearly not done with him.

"Why would you bring help to my family's kingdom?" she asked.

Zavier didn't miss how she said her family's instead of hers. Which if Corwin was not alive, she was the sole heir to the throne. A throne he wanted to help preserve, which meant helping her. Letting out a breath, Zavier reigned in his emotions.

"You know why I came here; to bring Loria and the West Isles together through a marriage." He fought against the swell of guilt and frustration he felt over the marriage, struggling to hide his feelings. "My family wants to ally ourselves with you, I figured if we bring help then we could still have an alliance."

Lydia held his gaze as if searching for a lie. But Zavier never broke away, willing her to understand, to trust.

"Whether you wish for that or not," she said. "It doesn't matter, the ports are closed. We've been looking all day for a ship willing to leave, but none of them are."

"I might be able to help you there." Even with this assurance, Zavier saw Lydia's hesitation. He didn't blame her, she'd watched her family murdered before her eyes, trust would not come easy. "Give me a chance to help you, Princess."

After a moment, where she looked to Wilder who never took his eyes off of Joric and never wavered in his hold on his weapons, she nodded once.

"Very well," she said. "Tell me about this way out."

Zavier opened his mouth, but Joric cut him off. "I might advise moving to a less observed place. I believe we've drawn attention."

Zavier glanced down the alley and noticed as townsfolk eyed the strange scene.

"Wilder," Lydia said. "Put your weapons away."

Reluctantly, he did as she said but instantly positioned himself in front of Lydia and in Zavier's direct line of sight. Hazel eyes pierced Zavier.

"Hurt or touch the Princess again and I will break every one of your fingers," Wilder said in a low, calm voice.

The calmness told Zavier that it wasn't a blustering threat. He would see it through, no matter what title Zavier held. For that, Zavier found himself respecting the boy. Though boy didn't quite seem to fit his description, soldier felt more accurate. He dipped his head in acknowledgment. To further the relations, he gave Lydia a half bow.

"My apologies for mistreating you, Princess," he said.

The apology softened her expression and broke some of the tension in Wilder's stance.

"We should move," Joric advised.

Together they all left the alley and slipped into the nearest cafe. At a back table, they huddled together, sending a server away with requests for coffee.

"I must be honest with you," Zavier said. "The ship I plan to use is led by two captains and one of the captains and I...well the last time we saw each other, we did not leave on the best of terms." Wilder leaned forward, looking ready to argue but Zavier held up his hand. "But I do not believe that means we would be turned away. Once we explain what is at stake I know we will be helped. I do not see another way to leave the West Isles."

"And this captain," Lydia said. "You still trust them?"

"With my life."

It was an understatement, but going into depth about what the relationship was would bring in too many complications. Besides, it was not a matter to be discussed with people he barely knew. He found he didn't like thinking about it himself.

Lydia locked eyes with Wilder and Zavier saw as they seemed to talk without saying anything. In that instant, he saw the strength of their relationship, it went beyond a guard and a Princess. They were truly friends. Seeming to come to a decision without speaking a word, Lydia looked at Zavier.

"We accept your offer of help," she said.

"Good, I suggest we wait here until dark then-"

Zavier cut himself off as the door to the cafe opened and two palace guards wanted in. Across from him, Lydia stiffened and Wilder reached for his knife.

"There is a rear door," Joric murmured.

As the guards moved to talk to the owner, the group slipped out the back only to find three more guards covering the alley. Zavier grabbed his sword but Wilder stepped forward, his hands raised.

"I believe you're looking for the assassins, is that correct?" he said, his tone commanding.

The guard in the center nodded, even as his eyes took in the group before him. If he recognized them all, Zavier couldn't tell, his face unreadable. Zavier waited, unsure what action to take. These men wore the palace guard uniforms and they fit them well.

"You should know I am the son of the Commander of the Royal Guard. Commander Holston," Wilder said.

All three guards nodded in acceptance of this information. At least this meant these men were who they appeared to be.

As Zavier eased his grip on his sword, Wilder moved with breathtaking speed. His dagger found one of the guard's chest and his sword cut the other two down. Lydia cried out, covering her mouth. The back door to the cafe opened and the other two guards stepped out. Joric flashed forward, disarming them with a few quick strokes.

"What have you done!" Zavier shouted, as Wilder cleaned off his blade and seethed it, looking a bit ill as he did.

"I have done what needed to be done to protect Lydia," he said, his voice hoarse like he was reminding himself of this fact. "My father is Commander Ror, if these men had been real guards they would have known that. They are imposters."

Zavier stared down at the now-dead guards. "I see."

"We can not wait till dark," Wilder said, pulling a shelled-shocked Lydia close to him. "We need to get out of here. Take us to this ship."

**********************************************************************

"Do you trust me?"
(Aladdin)

(Wow, what a fitting question, since this book is still a bit depressing and I don't want you to bail on me)

Royal decree: 3 out of the 4 have met up, what are you thinking? 🤴🏾⚔️🛡

I'm not going to lie, when I wrote this chapter I discovered the fun of writing 4 POVs because we (the readers) know who the dirty faced boy who hits Zavier is, but he doesn't.

It's the first time that I've ever written something where the characters doesn't know as much as we do! It's so much fun!!

Oh the power I have! I can make everyone know something no one else does and make them feel the pain of their confusion! Feel the helplessness of not knowing! I CAN DO IT ALL!! MAWHAHAHAHA!

*coughs*

I mean, I'm not a power hungry author who tortures her characters, that would be so mean.

*runs away*

Question for you: Who can make you smile even when it's a terrible day?

Reader question from TypicalTimes: have you written the whole book?

Laykhak ka jawaab (hindi🇮🇳): Nope, not even close. I'm a few chapters ahead so that I will always have a chapter for you come Friday in case I have a hard week and can't write.

Vote, comment, follow! Or buckle up because we goin' on an adventure!