Free The Sword of Ardil: The War of the Furies Book 2 by Matt Thomas Page B

told him an apology on his parents’ behalf would hardly suffice. At least he had been allotted the time to process the implications. It was like shedding one’s soul for another. This would prove hardest on her.
     Not speaking, they descended the lower levels barely aware of those they passed. They found Mistress Tanalo in quarters she had converted for her own use. Seeing the wan color of Trian’s face, Reeva took her aside to help her out of the gown. Mistress Tanalo had chosen not to return to her home, claiming she had enough to do here yet with a small army of men needing their uniforms stitched and mended. Luc hid in the shadows of the hold until Trian reemerged garbed once more in her coat and slender breeches. He took the bundle with the dress and had her on his horse and on the way home within minutes. The early autumn storm had passed and the snow had all but melted, but the passes were still slippery. As the moon reached its high point, they reached the glade leading to the only home he had ever known.
    Taking in the familiar surroundings, the cold separation he had felt on the plains returned. He managed to distance himself from the budding anger, but knew there would be no turning aside the storm that raged through him, that was him. Well, they had made their choice, and to his undying shame announced his ancestry, effectively forcing his hand.
    Now it was time to force theirs.



CHAPTER 4 — CHASING HISTORY
     
    Still locked in a state of anger and disbelief, Luc hauled his belongings out into the main chamber and went through his stowed gear. Most he swapped out, choosing to go with a newer rucksack and blanket roll. Back in his room Trian was similarly engaged. During their stay in the port city the Companions had expertly outfitted them. Events leading up to his return to Peyennar were a blur now, but the thought of Imrail’s company summoned the memory of their flight through the Third Plane and their offensive against the Earthbound camped to the northeast within a two day march of Peyennar. A decisive move. Some would say desperate. That had been the night everything had changed. Around his mother and father he’d been able to dismiss it, but knew now he did not have the luxury to wait or stand on sentiment any longer.
    That had also been the night the truth about the Val Moran had been uncovered. Elloyn of the Highlands . He braced himself with both hands gripping the mantle above the fireplace, his stomach in knots, spurts of acid searing his throat. If his knowledge had grown by leaps and bounds, there were still far too many gaps. How such a thing was possible was well beyond him. Tonight the sight of her in the dress had him feeling fits of cold and flashes of heat. The ensemble had been some gift from Mistress Tanalo. It was his mother’s firm suggestion—as commanding as he had ever seen the White Rose—that Trian stand with them before the nobles of the realm. He understood what the revelation had cost her; no one else could know better. Seeing the masked pain brought back the remoteness, though, that sense of separation. He did not understand it.
    After ensuring Trian had a duplicate set of everything he intended to carry—one of the notched knives he had from Urian, a file and flint, two skins, utensils, and other camp ware—he took their bags and stacked them near the door. He caught a glint in the young woman’s eyes when he took her saddlebags without speaking. He did not expect the fierce embrace.
    “This is not your fault, Luc,” Trian said quietly. She reached up and touched his forehead. “You are on fire. Promise me you will not say anything that will undo what you—what we—gained here. I know you are angry, but they are only trying to prepare you and the nation for the trial ahead.”
    He stared at her. “ I’m angry? What about you?”
    She pulled back. “If your father knows about us, our . . . enemies . . . know too,” she finished limply. Something in her