A Royal's Tale [COMPLETED]

Chapter 35 - "I made a promise to Wilder."

Zavier

Urgency drove Zavier. Every branch he pushed aside, every vine that tried to tangle his feet only dug the urgency deeper. If not for knowing he'd be lost within an hour in the Whispering Forest, Zavier thought about running all the way to the palace ruins.

Two days. Two whole days lost because they were battling a storm.

Zavier could still see how Alwyn stood at the helm, Sparrow beside her, her face tense with determination and fire. Remembered the way the waves slamming into the hull, an angry army trying to break through the barricade. The rain lashing at Zavier, cutting across his face. The furious wind buffeting him, attempting to throw him from the deck. The darkness like the inside of a monster mouth, endless.

And through it all, as death taunted the crew, Zavier never thought of his life but Lydia's. He thought of what would happen if they weren't there in the palace to help fight King Titus's men. How many would die? Lydia...

Zavier pushed so hard against a tree branch it snapped. They had to get there in time. They needed to move faster. Lydia needed them. She needed him.

Quinn moved to Zavier's side and placed a hand on his brother's shoulder.

"Zavier," he said. "We are going to make it."

Zavier said nothing, his urgency all too consuming to be easily reassured.

"We planned for delays," Quinn said. "We gave ourselves time."

They had, but had it been enough? Zavier kicked at a knot of vines, wishing he could rip it from the ground and tear it apart. They had to keep moving, they had to make it.

Quinn drifted behind Zavier and Zavier barely noticed. The sunlight hung overhead, casting fluttering shadows on the forest floor. As they traveled, all Zavier could see were how those shadows shifted and elongated, reminding him of each hour that passed.

When Simon shouted that he spotted the ruins, Zavier didn't hold back. He broke into a run, sprinting through the thinning forest, crashing through a shallow stream, and tearing into the crumbling remains. He halted and spun in a circle, looking for a vantage point. Spying half a tower, he raced through moss-covered archways, down barely-there hallways, and into a broken down stairway.

High above him, Zavier could see part of the tower's upper level still intact. He surveyed the crumbling stairs but they didn't reach the platform. Swearing, he went to the wall and eyed it. Vines rooted themselves in the stone, patching holes. He grabbed a strand of the thick vine and pulled. When the vine held firm, Zavier took a firm hold and climbed.

Please, please don't be here. Please don't be here.

The mantra repeated over and over in Zavier's head as he climbed. Halfway up, he pressed his boot against the wall and the stone fell away underneath. His foot slipped and he hit the wall, his fingers digging into the roots, keeping him from falling. He gritted his teeth and found a new notch to shove his boot into then hauled himself upward.

As he reached the ledge, his muscles ached from the ascent that was the equivalent of three levels. Despite his exhaustion, he hoisted himself onto the platform and staggered to his feet. The wall of the tower had fallen away, leaving him a clear view of the palace, city, harbor, and sea beyond.

Zavier dropped his pack and rummaged through it until he found his spyglass. Heart hammering, he put it to his eye and scanned the port. He painstakingly searched each pier for Prince Kristoff's ship. When he couldn't spot it, he turned the glass to the ocean.

Nothing. They weren't there.

Zavier sank to the ground, breathing hard. They had made it in time. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes, letting his muscles slowly relax. They had made it.