A Royal's Tale [COMPLETED]

Chapter 7 - "Was it worth it?"

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.