Never Yours ✔️

Ch. 35

"Any news from Demian?"

General Darkthorn shook her head. "Nothing. None of our messengers have come back and none of his have gotten through, if he's sending any."

Arysa turned her sharp eyes to the general. "What do you mean by that?"

Winn sighed. "It's only--after what you told me about the slaughter at the Reydon cliffs, there doesn't seem to be much hope--"

"Demian is still out there. He's still fighting." Arysa pressed. Her fingers curled into her palms. "Or else the enemy would be at our front doors. There's still hope." She clenched her eyes shut. "I still have time." She breathed.

General Darkthorn inclined her head and took her leave. Arysa stood in the council room alone. The emptiness weighed down on her. She sighed and sat down at the table, clasping her hands under her chin.

There was a knock on the door, but Arysa didn't lift her head.

"Come in."

Kryssa stepped inside and came up beside Arysa.

"Lara thinks she has a lead." She slid a piece of paper across the table.

Arysa dropped her hands and picked up the paper. Her eyes scanned over the quickly scribbled notes hungrily, but at the end, her face fell and she crumpled the note in her hand.

"This would never work."

"We're trying as hard as we can--"

"We're running out of time!" Arysa snapped.

Kryssa flinched and Arysa sighed and ran her hands down her face.

"I'm sorry. I'm just--"

"Scared?" Kryssa murmured. "We all are."

Arysa shook her head. "You don't have the weight of the lives of thousands of people on your shoulders. You cannot possibly understand my fear."

"Maybe I can't." Kryssa replied. "But, as ironic as it is, I care about you. You don't have to do this alone."

But Arysa smiled a deeply sad smile. "It is a royal's burden to bear it alone."

Kryssa said nothing, but Arysa could feel the pressure of her gaze.

Arysa got to her feet. "I have things to do."
She left Kryssa and headed towards the city, but as she passed through the grand hall's pillars, hands shot out from the shadows and grabbed her, covering her mouth so she couldn't scream and yanking her into the darkness.

She jerked her elbow backwards and twisted her attacker's arm, spinning out from under their grasp and slamming them into the wall.

"Who are you?" She hissed.

They didn't respond and Arysa yanked a dagger from her boot and pressed it into the attacker's cheek.

"I said: who are you?"

"Please," the attacker gasped. "We need help."

Arysa followed Taz, the teenage boy around 16 that had tried to attack her, into a small house that was barely standing. She could hardly call it a house.

Her eyes ran over the inside. The furniture had been cleared out to make room for makeshift beds, blankets made out of curtains and piles of ratty clothes for pillows, and kids. There were at least 9 of them, all crammed in the tiny space, ranginging from 4 to 15. Taz was the oldest.

A little girl stood up, no older than 6. Her big round brown eyes gazed up at Arysa with a hope that tightened Arysa's heart. She clutched a stuffed toy ripped with stuffing in a trail hanging from its chest.