His Captive Sorceress

Chapter 60: King

Trevus makes his way back towards the fragmented Versillian army, carrying my numb body in his arms.

The dead are strewn across the mud where the Versillian and Mephian frontlines once met. The three horsemen that charged me are crumpled in the dirt with their steeds. Tytius and much of the Hunt Unit still lie where he removed my necklace. More dead are scattered about, some were hit with stray arrows, while others were brave enough to aim their bows at me. Among the fallen are the Mephians that were too close to the Six at the moment of Nomier's possession.

"A hundred," I whisper.

Trevus raises an eyebrow.

"A hundred died because of me."

"'Twas not your will to carry a piece of Nomier," Trevus says. "As persons of great influence, our action, or inaction, carries consequence that we cannot foresee."

If I'd known that leaving Zaybeth to follow Asarus led to this, I wouldn't have gone. I never wanted to be a 'person of influence'. If both action and inaction lead to death, how can I make any decision?

"Do not fret for consequences that once lay within fog. Torturing yourself for the sake of the dead shall not bring back their souls, it shall only distract from taking action on behalf of the living."

I think back to the people with power who I used to despise – those who were deliberately cruel, those who stomped upon my back. I'm not like them.

I'll be better, for the sake of those who passed.

We reach the Versillian army. I twist my head around for a view, still resting against Trevus's arm for support.

The Ceramayan queen and her men have disappeared. The leaderless Versillian soldiers have gathered to a group five hundred large, but any semblance of structure is long since lost. What was once a loud battlefield is draped in silence.

"'Tis the prince," one soldier says to another, his voice low.

"He carries the Seventh," another says. Every pair of eyes is on us.

"Men of Versillia," Trevus projects his voice. "What are you doing? You marched here to protect Versillia from the Seventh Sorceress, and you found her.

"But look around," Trevus says. "You are not in Versillia. You stand as invaders on foreign soil. Yet you are the men to whom the Seventh fled.

"Think for yourselves. Why would a Mephian sorceress offer herself to Versillia? Because she is not the Seventh Mephian sorceress. She is not Mephian but Versillian. But she shall not endure Versillia's intolerance any longer.

"Behold Sorceress Jade, Daughter of Versillian Lord Asarus. Men of Versillia, you must choose. Choose an empowered Versillia that rivals Mephia's sorcery. Choose to march with the First Versillian Sorceress in rank. Choose a Versillia that wields sorcery, not fears it.

"I, Trevus of Cerillis, Crown Prince of Versillia, have made my choice. Who shall stand at my side?"

Some soldiers look to each other and whisper. Others don't take their gaze off me. They're unsure.

A palace guard in a black oban approaches. I recognize his short brown hair and wide face - Ackalanius, the man who caught me sneaking into the throne hall and believed my story about being lost, the same one I put to sleep the day I broke into Tytius's bedroom.

Ackalanius stands before us. "You are the sorceress who infiltrated the palace?"

"I am." I try nod, but even lifting my head is exhausting.

"I recall a different face," he says.

"I wore a magic disguise. I'm sorry I set you to sleep. I needed to see the king in private." My voice sounds of someone woken up from a long slumber.