Chapter 18:
Flowers and Lies
The morning sun warms my face. Without our horses, we’re on foot, and my well-made boots protect my feet from the dew.
I’ve been ordered to walk between the three of them, and Trevus retied the sleeves around my arms after I threatened his men last night.
I fumble with the berries in my pocket. The sleeves make it difficult to maneuver a strawberry to my mouth. After tasting blueberries, blackberries and strawberries, I’ve decided strawberries are my favorite, and letting one fall in the dirt would be a waste. I loved blueberries as a child, but little of who I was then is who I am today.
“Trevus, how far are we from Nepolis?” I ask. Knowing how much time I’ve got left will help me plan.
“Five days on foot,” Trevus says. “Crossing the bridge at Troas shall mark our entrance into Mephia.”
“Forget the bridge,” Giddius says. “Without our mounts, we shall cross Merk river as soon as we encounter it. It shall recover a day.”
“Crossing the Merk without a bridge has cost us men in the past,” Trevus says.
“Detouring to the bridge at Troas will burn a day. Do you not wish to find your father alive?” Giddius says.
Trevus gives Giddius a sharp look before returning his attention to me. “Irrespective of our path, the Merk marks the border between Versillia and Mephia, and Nepolis is a three-day journey from there. Can you muster the stamina to traverse that length?”
“I can.” I nod, but it doesn’t mean I plan to cooperate.
The forest thins as we walk. Green leafy plants resembling clovers dominate the underbrush. They reach up to our shins, engulfing my boots with each step. Bright yellow flowers dot the ground. After spending so long apart from nature, I’ll never overlook its beauty again.
A bright pink flower with a white-seeded center catches my attention. I step out of our little pack’s formation for a closer look. Giddius and Marcellus eye me with suspicion. I’m not about to take off.
Placing my sleeved hands on either side of the stem, I pluck the flower. I carefully tuck it in my shirt front pocket before falling back with the others. Its vibrant pink stands out against my inky black outfit.
The sweet scent of the flower reaches my nose. Soon I spot another one, and I can’t help but take it too. It’s not long before I have three stuffed in my front pocket and two more between my hands. I’d forgotten how much I enjoyed the outdoors.
This pink and white flower is my new favorite. It’s similar to a sunflower but has a smaller middle, different colors and far more petals. It’s not the shape of a rose, and it’s too big to be a daisy.
Trevus is leading the group. I hurry up to catch him.
He notices the pink flowers between my hands. “What is it you carry?”
“I was hoping you could tell me.” I raise them to his level.
He takes both flowers to inspect. “These are consolvas.” He runs his fingers through the soft petals. “They are said to be of radiant beauty. The unique white pistil stands out from other flora.” His gaze falls on me. “Their beauty is derived from the ways which they are different.”
I smile. Not only are the flowers beautiful, but they’re special.
“It appears the girly finds the Captain endearing, for she gifts him flowers,” Marcellus says.
Giddius grunts in agreement.
Imbeciles.
Trevus returns the flowers to my hands. I fail to get a proper hold between my sleeves, and one falls.
He picks it up and plucks the leaves off the stem. Resting a hand on my shoulder, he threads the flower through my hair before leaning back and admiring his work. “It suits you well.”
I turn my head to hide my blush. A week ago, no one would dare touch me, but now a handsome man is threading a flower through my hair.
Trevus continues on. Giddius follows after him, and Marcellus waits for me to walk between them. I didn’t hear them say anything else, but they couldn’t have missed that.
As we trek on, the pleasant-scented forest disappears, and endless rolling hills become more pronounced. My sore thighs are worn out by the afternoon, but I don’t dare show it. I could accept that these massive men were stronger than me, but it’s embarrassing to tire quicker only bearing half their weight. While they’ve had years of training, being trapped in that small room for so long didn’t provide many opportunities to use my legs. I may be sore and out of breath now, but when I’m free, I’ll build myself up to walk longer than any of them.
Trevus and Giddius stop at the crest of a hill. They’re both still and silent. Something’s wrong. I hurry to catch up, and Marcellus follows too.
The green hill up ahead is littered with dark boulders. The setting sun forces me to squint. They’re not boulders. They’re ruins. What appeared like large stones are actually weathered wooden buildings reclaimed by weeds and creeping vines. Sun pokes through holes which were once windows, and the grass on the surrounding hills still show the boundaries of what were once fields. This place has been abandoned for years.
“I cannot recall its name,” Marcellus says.
“Balin,” Giddius says.
Trevus makes no comment.
We continue forward down the hill, treading over both wheat and grass. After all this time, patches of the original crop still remain, dying and regrowing with the seasons.
The sun dips lower, and the village shadow stretches over us. It’s chilly without the sun, but now the ruins are easier to make out. A dozen structures are left standing, and another dozen piles of waterlogged wood lie where there were once homes.
We pass through what’s left of Balin. The roofs of the remaining homes have fallen in. We stand on what was once a dirt road but is now filled with stems that stretch to my knees. Thick weeds burst out from building foundations, as if the vegetation has taken the homes for itself.
All of the doors have long since fallen off their frames, offering us a view into each house. Nothing but stones and crumbling wood remains.
Giddius taps a doorframe. “This one shall do.”
“The one here is of greater size,” Marcellus calls. He’s a few houses up the hill.
“’Tis easier to warm a small space,” Giddius says.
“I prefer cold over your odor,” Marcellus says.
Trevus hasn’t spoken a word since we found the ruins. Instead of leading the way like usual, he tails the group. He doesn’t explore the village, not even with his gaze. His eyes are fixed to the path, like he wishes to ignore the eerie buildings. Perhaps he’s wondering the same thing I am – why was this place abandoned?
I crane my neck to see the four poles that once supported the roof of a home. I reach out to one with my sleeved hands. The black wood crumbles in my fingers, leaving only fine powder. I bring it close to my nose. It’s ash.
I twist around, looking over all the buildings a second time. This place wasn’t just abandoned. It was razed. “What happened here?” I ask. They knew the name, so they must know more.
Marcellus stomps back down to us in his heavy boots. “This was Balin. Caravans would base here on their journeys to Mephia. That was the way of things until-”
“Jade can afford to skip a few pages in the book of Versillian criticism,” Trevus says.
I look to Marcellus. “Until what?”
“’Tis not something I should share,” Marcellus says.
“Why are you all so hesitant? Did Trevus-”
“’Twas King Tytius,” Giddius says. He’s leaning against a decrepit wall with his arms folded. “The order for Balin to be put to the torch came from his mouth.”
“Trevus’s father? Why? Isn’t this his land?” I ask.
“The Versillian King plundered his
own
domain,” Giddius says.
I turn to Trevus. “This is the man you’ll have us rescue?”
“He was under the belief that Balin was aiding Mephia,” Trevus says. “‘Twas a popular foot passage many Mephians traversed.”
“So he just killed what – fifty innocent men and women? He unleashed the very soldiers meant to protect Balin on its people?” I tighten my fists. These men are warriors. They’re trained to fight, but instead of taking on others of their own strength, the soldiers of Versillia opt to slaughter farmers and their families. “Were you all a part of this!?” I step away from the three of them. “Did you cut them down!?”
“Our hands are free of the blood of Balin,” Trevus says.
“But you’re the king’s son. You could’ve done something.” I yank the flower from my hair. He’s a nationalistic Versillian soldier, and I seem to have forgotten that.
Trevus’s eyebrows crease. “You believe that I advocate for excessive cruelty? You believe I am a man of no character?”
“Well Balin is burned black, inhabited only by the dead, yet you are here doing all you can to save the one who massacred them. When your father gave you the title Captain of the Palace Guard, he chose a loyal servant.”
Trevus’s heavy hand lands on my shoulder, gripping my body through my shirt. I’m yanked forward to just a hair’s length from him, my small frame easily maneuvered under his strength.
He leans down to be at eye-level with me, and his hand reaches up. I hold back from flinching. I won’t let him intimidate me. He pulls down on his collar, and a button pops off. He points to a thin scar across his sternum. “This
alone
is all I have received from the king.”
It’s not a battle scar? His father did that to him? I’m not afraid to take a hit, but I’ve never had one form a scar before. Imagining the pain that would accompany such a wound sends a shudder through my body.
“Why all of this?” I ask in a delicate voice. Why risk his life, crossing the country to save a rotten man who he himself doesn’t even like?
A short breath escapes him, and his grip on my shoulder relaxes. He steps back and averts his gaze to the forest. “The king is the only man with knowledge of where my mother dwells.”
“You don’t know…” I trail off at the expression on his face. All this time I’ve seen Trevus, he’s always been tough, determined and built of stone. This is a man who rides horses without reins, who frightens a squad of horsemen into retreat, who splinters off from an army and then opposes it. Everything about him exudes confidence and self-assuredness, except in this moment. He doesn’t know where his mother is, and the thought of never finding her again terrifies him.
The thin silver chain around his neck is just visible with the popped button. Being the illegitimate child of an affair, his father kept both Trevus and his mother, Elie, at a distance. She may be the only person he truly cares for. If the king dies, he’d lose her.
Trevus steps around me and enters one of the dilapidated houses. Marcellus and Giddius follow him through the broken doorframe without a word.
And the plot thickens… dun dun duuuuun
Yes but many would agree with her – many are against war and the endless damage it does.
😂
I’m happy she has goals.
He’s like a teasing buddy though 😂 it’s just rubbing Giddius the wrong way though…
Me too
Why do I feel like the woman she killed is his mother??
marcellus knows what’s up
yessss ❤️❤️❤️
I think this last piece of information change her perspective a bit.
She probably is. And that is, if she is even alive.
So, he doesn’t really care if the king is dead; he just want to know where his mother is BEFORE they kill him.
WHIPPED
ughh it’s giving when you both look at something and you say “it’s beautiful” and he turns to you and says “it is
i love her
Balin’s alive!!!
*Berlin
If anything she should be over emphasising how tired she is so they let their guard down
Folded
That and he knows he needs her for the plan… he doesnt want her fleeing or refusing to cooperate.
I hope she’s not locked up somewhere…
So he doesnt auctually care about the king lol
That’s horrible
But then how did he get his position in the army?
Also wat is complicated and the king may not have had accurate information (espically in a world like this) to be able to know what was really happening. Or he made a bad decision and even is abad person, but there must be a reason they are rescueing him…
Trevus is a good man from a difficult situation…
Yeah, soilders follow orders or face consquences…
Thats messed up, just cause Mephians were resting there while travelling I guess
Trevus doesnt want Jade to know what Versillians have done to Mephians… does he think it migjt effect her willingness to cooperate?
War, famine, disease, natural disaster
Lots of reasons…
A past raded village from a war between the two nations?
It’s sad how her captivity has weakened her body. But her kind is strong at least.
Oh she thinks he’s handsome!
Omg a flower in her hair!
Definatly
Dude stop… he asked her to see them, she didnt offer to show or give him them…
It really is!
I think once she came back the first time they realised she was just picking flowers lol
Its honestly cute
Yeah, she’s been locked in a tower for 10 years with minimal food and less chance to exercise…
Awwwww
v true
shes adorable
ah, so everyone hates the king but the dide needs him befire the bastard gets killed. lol
He’s really fond of her to not get annoyed lol
Ah, so a double mission got it
You’ve been locked in a tower princess, the world is unfair and not everyone agrees with things that apparently have to happen
I’ll say it again, girly does not understand how soldiers work XD
i love your way of writing 🫶🏻and the story is amazinggggg
sweet
Love it