The Kindly One

XVIII. Ruin

Of all the people Devyn had been expecting to meet on the road to Zaeylael, Benedikt Hustovi was not among them. The Král of the Zázemí was a man fond of creature comforts, not one known for roughing it on the road unless he couldn't avoid it. Besides, as far as Devyn knew, the man should have been in his own holdings rather than the capital. The Yssan Prince was almost wholly unaware of the Great Game and the importance of royal favor, of course. But despite all the reasons why, to Devyn, the man should have been in somewhere in his own holdings, he saw a familiar white surcoat with a red emblem riding down the road towards him.

Devyn was still passing himself as a knight errant, wearing a dusty surcoat of linen and cendal of russet color. It was a common dye for a wandering knight, easy to come by. His armor was masterfully made, but he had scratched it up and lost much of the shine over the course of his travels, not that it had been parade armor with gold trim and embellishments to start with. He was dusty, hot, and tired. He looked like anything but a prince, he'd been on the road so long. His boots were wearing thin, his horse was weary, and he was in desperate need of a bath. But more than that, he needed to find Iona. There had been no sign of her in the north and he had been unable to locate a center of mages anywhere but Zaeylael. There was only so much he could do without going to the capital. Countless attempts to search everywhere but the heart of unfriendly territory had yielded him no useful information.

Fortunately, there was no one else on this stretch of road even though he was only a day out from the massive city. He'd taken a side path. For Král Hustovi to have found him so quickly, the man surely had a spy or some magic at his behest. "Hail, Prince Devyn of Yssa. You have come a long way," Benedikt greeted. His tone was cool, but still polite, as he drew his horse to a halt.

"Hail, Král Hustovi," Devyn said cautiously. He had made a small camp at the edge of the road, where many travelers before him had. His horse was grazing peacefully, raising no alarm. "I wondered why you were not to be found in Xisholis."

Benedikt's golden eyes might have been sympathetic, but his face was not. He had pressed his lips into a thin line and set his jaw. "I had other things to attend to. Your sister's wellbeing, for one."

"I need to speak with her, Your Grace." There was a little desperation in Devyn's voice and definite urgency.

Benedikt dismounted and strode to meet Iona's brother. He was about the same height as Devyn, but not as broad in the shoulders or deep in the chest. "She does not wish to speak to you."

Those words hit Devyn hard. He'd known that Iona would be hurting, but he'd assumed that over the course of a year, that bitterness might have waned. But then again, if she'd been in Zaeylael, there was no telling what venom had been poured into her ears. He wanted to believe that the spellguard and the lord in front of him would be better than that, but there was too much enmity between their nations to assume that completely. Besides, no doubt there were other influences at work. "If she saw me, she would reconsider," he said quietly. "I'm not here to hurt her, Your Grace. I just want her to know that I am sorry and that I never want her to think I hate her. We...we have some things to talk about."

"And what would you have me do?" Benedikt said. "Have her think that her brother would see her but her country would not? Have her write letters to a Yssan prince when she is under the auspices of a Leyan noble house."

Devyn's eyes widened slightly. "What noble house?" he demanded.

"That is not your concern. Any would consider it a treasonous correspondence," Benedikt said. "I am taking an enormous risk speaking to you myself, on her behalf. Go back to Yssa, Your Highness. She has no welcome for you here."

The Yssan prince gritted his teeth. "I have not come this far to be turned away."

"This is about what is best for her, not what is most satisfying for you," Benedikt said quietly. He knew that Devyn was correct in thinking that if Iona had known he was here, she would have desperately wanted to see him, particularly knowing that Devyn's message was one of reconciliation. Something in his heart budged. He could give Iona that much, the knowledge that her brother still loved her. He was confident in his ability to stop her from writing letters, at least until he had her safely in Xisholis, out from under prying gazes. Simona had just consented to let him claim the half-elf as one of his mages once she was collared properly. It left a bad taste in Benedikt's mouth, but he would take it. "I will compromise with you, Your Highness. I will carry a message to her."