Conquering The Unbroken

Chapter 49

"The fact that you can look at him and not snap his neck is bewildering to me."

My words are followed by the crunch of an apple, the snap of a twig, and finally, the exasperation of Bren's sigh. We've been through this, over and over again, but it never seems to settle. Our one difference, well, one of many now that I think about it, is our care towards Alaric. The commander that has never once put himself on the line when it matters.

How they found each other, I don't want to ask. It's not any of my business, but I know it all happened after Arego was ruined and I was kidnapped with the rest of my family and taken to the capital. I remember sitting in that prison wagon and staring out the barred window. Celestine was at my side then, my parents, too. How had I taken advantage of that? Why didn't I fight harder?

Still, there's that lingering question inside my mind and it holds the possibility that Bren was part of this long before Arego's destruction. It's possible he sought the rebellion hoping to protect me, Celestine, and everyone he cared about in that village. It's possible Alaric knew who I was all along, watched from the shadows while weaving together his web of immortal powers to take down the king.

What they're fighting is similar patterns of technique. The king wants immortal powers. Alaric wants them, too. What they're failing to realize is that the average witch does not hold an immortal strength. Only the lucky are gifted powers of ground, storm, illusion, fire, water—everything that makes us superior. The majority of our kind is mortal and weak by both leaders' standards.

They're in an endless tugging war and the king is fighting a blind man. Literally and figuratively.

"Can you not talk like that?" Bren retorts. I toss the apple core into a berry bush past Renit, and he hardly notices other than a slight glance in my direction. "The last thing you need is to start behaving like you're a cold-blooded killer."

"Rage unsettles the mind, for one is not kind," Renit speaks for me. He doesn't tear his stare away from where it's locked straight ahead, peering at the woods before us.

We're heading in a similar direction as we took to Lona, but we'll cross the river shortly and head the rest of the way west towards Ducoria. I'm not prepared to see the uncomfortable darkness of the city, the stares through lowered brows and faces hidden behind the dark hoods of cloaks. No one wants us there, they're trying to live their lives without the king's, or anyone else's recognition.

They might very well kill us for stepping anywhere near their city and asking for handouts, soldiers willing to risk their lives for a better future. They know Renit's blood, and mine as well, and both of us have aided the king when he needed help the most. Renit for three hundred years, me for two months. Time holds no weight. If we stood at the king's side, did his bidding and polished his crown, we're just as bad as him.

Bren speeds his steps to stand at my side, coming from behind and his need to patrol the area without actually looking behind him. "Spoken like a true member of the elderly," he mocks, craning his neck around me to view Renit.

Still, the witch of storm doesn't falter. I expect him to; I expect to pull him off of Bren's huddled and terrified body after he starts throwing punches, but Renit's demeanor hardly shifts. His stony expression doesn't change.

"He's saying that just because I'm pissed at Alaric. It doesn't mean I want to kill everyone," I explain.

Renit's acknowledgment of my knowledge is a grunt. Another one of Darlene's books then. Something he has read, too.

"Still, you mustn't parade around, threatening everyone you know. It's important to make allies, just as it is important to watch your enemies."

Not from a book I know and not something I necessarily care to hear. I oblige him anyway, turning my gaze to his as we walk through a thick pile of brush. He extends his hand out towards me, helping me along, and I bat it away. Renit doesn't offer for he knows I can get through without trouble and Bren is offering, not to help, but to upstage the banished prince.