He was crying. I didn't know why, but he never stopped. I thought he was afraid of the knuckles and wheezing of the horse and the constant jumping on the saddle. Durad's eyes were soaked, and they refused to look at my face. Like a stitch in my heart, I could feel that constant itching, making me want to rip it off. He knew that I couldn't save his mother. He knew it better than I did. He knew when I sneaked into his room and took him out of his crib. It must have been my eyes. They were dried out, wasted and burning when the cocky wind slapped them while riding. What would Tomris do, I thought. In an instant, my heart stopped, and I was strained; my muscles were contracting, and my feet were inciting the belly of the horse to swagger—the end of the endless lam. I couldn't breathe like the air was depleted. I pulled the reins and tried dismounting the horse while holding Durad tightly.

My legs were numb; my toe was persecuted inside my bloody boots. I stumbled on the ground and hardly landed Durad safely. My chest was stung. I thought that my ribs were going to pierce my flesh inside out. I collapsed on the ground. Her voice was gone. She would never be heard. She would never see her homeland. My head hurt, and my ears were filled with tolls. She would never ride against the wind, hold a sword, shoot an arrow, dream, carry Durad, smell his hair, nestle his head to her chest, or love. She would never love me. She was dead. 

I was gasping, tears were flowing like a waterfall, and I was drowning underneath. I pinched the soil and hit it numerous times till my bones got stiff. We had loved, and now she was dead, like all the leaves fell from the trees at once, like the night swallowed all the stars, like a child watched the end of the world. When I raised my head, I saw Durad sitting on the ground silently. He was staring at me curiously with wide eyes. Nobody would know what it's like to be watched by their own eyes, but Durad was looking at me, and I knew what he saw. 

I wiped my tears and crawled beside him. I carried him. He gripped my hair. He was going to go to Tigrisia for the first time. I wasn't sure whether I was taking him to his homeland or kidnapping him from there. I hopped him on my lap. He was smiling. His fingers tripped over my soaked cheeks. His hair was brighter than gold when it shone under the sun. He also carried the luminous spots of Jaromir's eyes. I knew then he would be at home. 

I carried him on the saddle and attempted to mount the nag, but suddenly, I was alerted. I took my sword out and watched the surroundings. I thought Danishmenthan must have found me. I was stiffly holding Durad with my left hand. The horse started to go uneasy. The fog strained my vision. I assumed I had already passed the Kashcar and Malpitz mountains. Hence, it could hardly be Danishmenthan soldiers. 

Before me, dark silhouettes appeared between the layers of fog. I pointed my sword at the men who were getting crowded as they approached. My horse was pulling itself back, digging the ground, half-rearing. I tried to calm him, but it was useless since I was not calm at all. When the men got on clear, I saw the Dragon brooch on their collars. I withdrew my sword. They were bewildered, but then they became quite excited to see me. Abruptly, all of them kneeled in front of me. The oldest one was murmuring some kind of prayer. "Stand up," I demanded. They straightened themselves. The one standing on the front glided close to me with his long cape hiding his feet.

"Your father sent us. It was a long time ago, but we finally reached you, Your Highness," he said, inhaling every word he uttered. I was confused and about to reach my sword once again. "If my father sent you, it must be long ago," I replied. The other men, who were keeping their heads down, gazed at me as if they were in the presence of the Dragon. "It has been five years, your grace," their spokesman answered. "We are sorry we couldn't reach you earlier because of the circumstances." I nodded slightly and tried to determine whether they had any weapons or aimed to harm Durad. They could be a group of madmen, possibly. "We are blessed that our king finally returned to where he belongs," the spokesman continued. I started to laugh. "You are mistaken, gentlemen; I am the brother of the Dragon. You are in the presence of Prince Vukasin." The spokesman's eyes were apologizing. He kneeled once again. "Forgive me, my king; we must have found you earlier," he said sombrely. One of them put his hand inside his cape. I drew my sword. He was startled and slowly took the piece of roller paper out. Their leader got the roller and gave it to me. I hesitated to take it. 

"Your father wrote this letter to you before he was brutally murdered." I didn't understand. I opened the roller and skimmed the gentle curves of the ink. At the end of the letter, there was the signature. 

With Eternal Love and Hope,

Darcia Dragarevic

The letter fell from my hands. The spokesman kept looking at me comprehensively. 

Durad started to cry.