Guards were posted in the two watchtowers on either side of the doors, two in each, more she guessed behind the embrasures built into the walls. A further four stood sentry on the bridge itself; two at the portcullis, another two where the road met the bridge. All bore the polished silver armour of the Nati - Calate's cavalry and scout division.

The Ninerveh royal crest hung from the castle's outer walls, the red, gold, and black of the flag vivid against the pale stone of Alathy's castle. It blew gently in the wind, a sinister dance under the moonlight.

Her breath caught, uncertainty rising within her at the sight of it. She wanted to turn and run. Run far from here, far to where he would never ever find her. Run to the only soul alive she knew could protect her now.

What madness had taken hold of her? That she had thought to return here to him, after everything. Had she truly hoped to find him merciful? Changed? Death had been her escape. She should have gone to some far-flung corner of the realm and lived life in peace.

With Theodan.

Would he have given up his home and his realm to be with her? She did not know.

My soul has known no light before you.

Perhaps. Though what did it matter now. These were nought but foolish notions of a fanciful child.

She was here because only she could hope to change the outcome of this war now. A war that had been started in her name. Only she could see Zybar punished for what it had done to Azura. Only she could save Ethis now. Her life for the lives of countless others. Innocent men, women, children, Leothine and human -- yes, it was a fair trade.

'Now would be the time to tell me you deceived us all, princess,' Elyon said quietly. His voice brought her back to herself, away from the dreadful clarity she had arrived upon. She turned to him.

'Deceived you?' She blinked, confused.

'Mayhaps you are not Fara, Princess of Calate, wife of Galyn of Azura. Mayhaps you are indeed what you fooled Theo into believing you were: a servant girl from the sun palace of King Sylvan.' His eyes were soft now.

She smiled, a stab of something like loss piercing her heart. 'Oh, how truly I wish I could tell you that was so, Elyon.'

Elyon frowned, surprised by the weight in her voice. Turning from him, she stared uneasily across the bridge, at Valdr's soldiers who guarded it. All that now stood between her and him. Between her and freedom.

If war comes to Calate, I shall find you in it. I will come for you.

Gods, Theodan. How will you know? How will you know that I need you to come for me whether war comes or not? How will you know that without you I shall bleed, wither, and die here all over again?

No. Not this time. Not again. This time would be different. It had to be.

She steeled her shoulders and raised her chin, turning to face Elyon.

'I suppose this is where we say goodbye, Elyon of Lethane,' Fara said.

Elyon dragged his sharp gaze from the castle back to her. 'Unfortunately, you are not relieved of me so easily, princess. I am to remain by your side until you are reunited with your brother.' Though he did not say his name he did not have to. Theodan had commanded this of him.

'They will kill you upon sight?' She said, a chill scraping down her throat.

He made a soft scoffing noise. 'They will try.'

'Elyon there are guards posted on the walls, the watchtowers, the Gods only know how many inside the castle walls. You are skilled, certainly, but you are not invincible.'

'Careful princess, it sounds almost as though you care for my well-being.'

'I will risk no more lives in my name,' she snapped. 'You will leave now, return to the farm and fly from Calate at once. Return to Theodan and tell him that I am safe.'

Safe. The word felt sharp and bitter on her tongue. Elyon merely smiled. It infuriated her.

'As formidable as you are, my orders come from my commander, not you. I am to see you safely before your brother the king.'

Fara swallowed. 'But I cannot... guarantee your safety.'

'I am not asking you to. Let's go.' He moved past her in the direction of the castle.

'Wait,' she reached out to grasp a fistful of rough-worn cloak. Elyon paused, turned to her. 'Then he sent you here... knowing that you may not return to Leoth?'

'Many men die in war, princess. To die in pursuit of peace and in the course of duty is no terrible tragedy, a death with honour is all a true warrior seeks.'

'I fear I misjudged you, Elyon,' Fara said gently, a prick of guilt wounding her. 'I am sorry for it. Theodan is lucky to have such a loyal and faithful friend in you.'

Elyon looked faintly shy a moment, before the arrogant grin she knew well settled over his face. 'Please be sure to tell him that when you see him again, for I am certain he is quite unaware of his luck where I am concerned.' With a wink, he strode past her, out from under the cover of the Giant Roundleaf and into the road which led to the castle.

With a silent prayer to the Goddess, she hurried after him.

oOo

They were a short distance away from the foot of the bridge when they heard the call of a horn.

'Halt!' One of the Nati yelled. 'What business have you? No infantry allowed within the walls, head back to camp!' He pointed behind the castle. She relaxed a little, grateful that Elyon's hood was raised and that he had fooled these men at a distance at least. Still, she could not help but glance anxiously at the embrasures of the castle. One arrow. That's all it would take. She angled herself in front of Elyon slightly, reasoning they would be less likely to loose one at a woman than a soldier, and urged him with her eyes to stay. He nodded his begrudged assent and Fara stepped forward, pushing back the hood of her cloak as she did.

Like the deserters in the wood, she did not expect these guards to recognise her, however, those from the walls or loopholes could well be Nemri: the household guard would be well acquainted with her. She turned her face toward the small arrow slits now, ensuring they had a full view of her where she stood.

'I request you carry a message to the king,' she told them, imperious. The guards looked at each other and laughed. Behind her, she felt Elyon bristle with readiness.

'Would you now? And what message might that be?' The shortest one sniffed, clutching his halberd tightly as he glared at Elyon behind her.

She took a deep breath and spoke loudly, ensuring her voice carried to the guards beyond these two. 'The message that his sister is returned!'

There were a few beats of uneasy silence before the guards looked at one another again.

'We could have you hanged for that, you know,' one said, moving toward her. The two guards at the portcullis had begun to start across the bridge now, curious. Behind her, she heard Elyon growl, his patience thinning with the two Nati. She turned and urged him to calm, before turning to address the guard moving toward her. Close, she could see that he was older, with grey hair and a thick wiry beard, small dark eyes like hene beads.

'If you will not carry the message to my brother then carry it to Lord Ravol, or Commandant Pagel,' she stated. 'I shall wait.'

The younger one narrowed his eyes, thoughtful, sly. He looked her up and down leisurely, before smiling a black-toothed smile.

'You talk like a cunting noble, that much is right,' he smirked. 'Mayhaps the dungeon and a good whipping is what you need?'

Elyon made a low noise but she held out her hand to calm him.

Fara smiled at the guard, obstinate. 'I would advise you to consider very carefully what you say and do next. For if my brother - your king - finds out that after escaping the horrors of war and surviving the barbarism of a Zybar slave camp, I was treated thus by two of his own Nati, I would not wish to behold his wrath...'

The guard looked only mildly moved before he muttered a curse and reached out to grab her. Elyon was at her side instantly, bristling with rage. 'You will show your princess more respect,' he growled, inserting himself between her and the guard.

'Swords!!' One of the men shouted, throwing the halberd to the ground to unsheathe his blade. Fara was certain she heard the whistle of an arrow slice through the air toward them, that they knew finally what he was. No arrow came. She shoved herself between Elyon and the guard and threw up her hands, pleading with the Leoth first.

'Elyon, please!' She begged him, before turning back to the soldiers. 'We mean no violence to my brother's men, I assure you. This male is duty-bound to protect me, please sheathe your swords. I want no bloodshed here!' When the Nati did not obey she pulled loose the tie of her cloak to expose the steel collar of Leoth. 'As the Gods will attest I am Princess Fara Ninerveh of Naharina, second heir to Calate's throne and blooded sister of your king! I was captured in the sacking of Azura but I was unharmed!' She directed this not only at the  men stood before her, but the men on the watchtowers, the loopholes, the far side of the bridge. To any who listened. 'I am the Princess Fara! I live!'

Even in the moonlight, she saw them pale. They shifted edgily and cast furtive glances at one another, frightened now. Before they had a chance to utter a word the scrape of metal rang out across the night, the chain holding the portcullis pulled slowly open. Before it was fully raised a single mounted rider exited from beneath it, he wore the dark blue armour of the Dacian Isles and sat astride a horse as white as the moon.

As he neared her, he slowed, the two guards moving to pay their respects to the Commander of Calate's sea forces. Lord Dacian of Trystath's mouth was slack with disbelief, his eyes narrow as he brought his white steed to a stop. He stared down at her, suspicious, wordless for many moments.

She had never been so glad to see him; the man to whom she'd been promised as a child of ten namedays.

'Princess...?' He blinked, rapidly. He looked older, at his temples, smatterings of grey had begun to creep across his thick nutbrown hair. He wore a beard now too.

'Lord Dacian,' she said, her heart sagging with relief.

He climbed down from the horse, clinging to the saddle as though for strength. He moved toward her, wary.

'How...' he whispered. 'If not witchcraft then how?'

'Because Zybar lied to you, Wyll,' she said. 'To Valdr. They sold him this war on a lie.'

He did not look surprised, only tired, grim. 'Then it is too late... for he has taken Dura of Zybar to wife.'

A strange empty sensation rattled across her chest, echoing loudly in her heart.

'No,' she said, with a shake of her head. 'Not yet it is not. Take me to him. Now.'