ARTHUR & ARTIZEA
"IF MOTHER'S MAP IS ACCURATE, THEN THIS—" said Arthur, kneeling, while tracing a finger over the faded ink. "—Should be theTemple of the first settlers," pointing to a circular area near the heart of the ruins.
Artizea followed his gaze, leading to the stretched out ruins before them, vines infested the crumbling walls, and moss blanketed the weathered stones. The group stood at the center of it all with a map spread between them, old and brittle, but its markings detailing the layout of the ruins were clear as day.
"And if I am correct…" Arthur muttered while his eyes skimmed across the handwriting of their mother. (It was horrible) Though he came across a label saying, Rewritten in large fonts, for Arthur, in case he wanted to read a history book at some point. He rolled his eyes whileclearing his throat in defiance. He squinted slightly, ignoring it completely. "It is where the priests conducted their… ritual of the goats." He declared, adjusting his collar proudly.
Artizea frowned. "You mean the gods."
Arthur's eyes slid to Eugene's handwriting, bold and clear: Gods. "Duh," he said with a shrug. "Must have heard me wrong. You should get your ears cleaned when we get back." He said, folded his arms, rocking lazily on his boot heel.
"Oh yeah? Let me see." Artizea reached for the book, but Arthur was quicker, snatching the translated paper out of reach, with a smug grin.
"Well, well…" she drawled, pretending not to notice. "Look who passed history class."
"Very Funny," Arthur chuckled. "I did not pass geography, though. You're up."
Artizea observed the descriptions on the page, then narrowed her eyes at the darkened expanse of stone structures ahead. "Hey, look, mother's kingdom ."Arthur stared at it; it was impossible to make out because of the fog and distance, but it was there. "I wonder if it actually looked like crystal."
"We should focus," Artizea said, turning her attention back to the markings. "Why send me? The council would never approve of this; they would rather send the mages who know this sort of thing."
Arthur shrugged, rolling the map back up and tucking it into his satchel. "Maybe that is why he sent you instead of them. Scholars have a way of thinking things are as simple as their brain says it is on the surface, no offense to our brother, of course—but he always trusts us, the doers, to look beyond what is obvious." He paused, giving her a knowing look. "Or maybe he thinks you needed to hit something and space and from the whole. Maybe I do not wanna be your legacy thing."
Artizea smirked despite herself. "More plausible."
Arthur studied her carefully. "Do you wish to talk about it yet?"
Artizea shook her head. "I am fine," she said quickly, turning to follow the path ahead.
Arthur exhaled, watching her venture into the temple above, turning to the troops that instantly snapped into command, ready. "You know the drill, the Crown Princess stays the priority. Stay alert. Weapons ready, Eyes sharp." He said.
"Yes, Sir," swore in unison. They moved as one, ready to follow their Crown Princess's lead until their last breath, Brother included.
The scattered temple was eerily quiet. When they finally reached the center of the temple itself, it was a massive dais.
Arthur let out a low whistle, "That is… something."
"Beautiful even…" Artizea murmured, stepping closer to the dais. She could feel an energy emanating from it, a subtle hum in the air that raised the hairs on her arms.
"I wouldn't let Father hear that…" Arthur mused, brushing away a layer of dirt and moss from the walls, "Do these carvings look familiar?" He called out, "Almost like—"
"Our kingdom's sigil," Artizea finished for him, stepping closer. She traced the grooves with her fingertip. "Fire." She pointed to the next. "And that one—"
"Alexander's kingdom! The Tiger!" He shouted a bit too loudly, making an echo. He winced. "Sorry…"
Artizea rolled her eyes. She could tell he was pleased with himself and did not have the heart within her to tell him it was a Sphinx. Her gaze drifted further along the wall. An archer for Syria. A staff for Arkadia. And finally… the lion. Their mother's fallen kingdom, carved in quiet defiance.
All the human tribes gathered in stone.
"These are aligned differently from our charts." She said, "It is as if they are showing the stars as they were… centuries ago." She frowned, her gloved fingers tracing the intricate sigils etched into the stone floor. "It appears to be guiding us to something below," she murmured. "But there's nothing to get down there with, maybe there's a lever—" she looked around, realizing Arthur was missing.
"You mean this one?" Arthur asked casually. His voice carried the unmistakable tone of a man who was about to do something reckless.
"Arthur Careful—"
Too late.
With a soft click, the mechanism gave way beneath his fingers. A low, guttural rumble echoed through the temple floor, dust raining from the vaulted ceiling as the sigils flared to life, as the center of the dais trembled and then split apart, revealing a spiral staircase plunging into the earth.
Arthur stepped back with the same boyish grin he had the moment he spoke words, like "Hazzah!"
Artizea blinked completely unamused at him, half impressed, half unimpressed, then shifted her gaze to the now-opened abyss with stairs yawning before them. A cold draft smell of damp stone and something older slithered up from the opening. "We should proceed more carefully," she warned, her tone sharp. "And do not touch anything."
Arthur walked forward, smirked over his shoulder. "Careful is my middle name." He winked while descending the steps, "Right after Bold, Brilliant, Irreplaceable, Brother of the year." his voice faded away with the darkness.
Artizea sighed, turning to the knights, saying, "Wait here, if anything were to happen above, let two knights come find us, and the other two straight to the king."
"Crown Princess." They bowed.
Artizea then followed her brother with her inner flame now lit in hand.
The descent was steep, and sure enough, the air grew cooler with each step. Faint etchings lined the walls, glowing faintly with the same light as the sigils above. When they reached the bottom, they found themselves in a vast chamber. The air was thick with an ancient energy suspended in midair, and someone made the moldy scent bearable.
Artizea approached cautiously, her boots echoing softly. Her breath caught briefly upon taking in the full view of the place.
"Maybe we should have brought Eugene," she whispered.
Arthur stepped up beside her, scanning the intricate carvings on the central pedestal. "Somehow I think… not even he would find this creepy place interesting enough to inspect…" He said skeptically.
"You take the left," Artizea ordered briskly, already scanning the archways ahead. "I will take the right. We shall cover more ground that way."
Arthur darted forward, then paused mid-step, glancing back over his shoulder, with a crooked grin, "Hey, do you remember that chant we had? Back when we were kids?"
Artizea did not look at him. "We are not kids anymore, Arthur." The words were meant to hurt, but they did not. He knew his sister. There was a method to the madness.
They split off, each moving silently through the chamber; their footsteps were the only sound against the ancient stone, other than Arthur stepping on ancient Arcadian relics and forgotten tomes, which were scattered all over the place. What kind of nerd do you have to be to booby trap someone with a book? Arthur was halfway across the room when something caught his eye. Aha, he thought, a non-suspiciously looking book resting atop a floating slab, in that moment, the perfect plan edged itself into existence all on its own. Arthur's hand inched toward it.
"Arthur!" Artizea's sharp voice sliced through the silence.
Bingo, He pretended to freeze, then turned slowly, hand still hovering mid-air. "I am not touching it," he said defensively. "I was just…admiring its beauty and historical importance."
"You have never once touched a book longer than a sparring match between yours truly," Artizea said, her voice dry.
Arthur feigned insult. "Rude and Untrue. I once used a book to prop up the broken leg of my bed. Balanced it perfectly, too." Artizea gave a reluctant snort, and their laughter faded into the quiet once more. He cleared his throat, attempting again. "So, let us try this again—" he began.
"I said I am fine, Arthur. Why can you not just accept that fact and move on?"
"Because that is what you always say," he murmured.
"And that is what I shall always mean." She shot back, still not turning to him.
They stood apart, backs to one another, both stubborn on their right, neither wholly wrong nor right; they were like a coin's head arguing with its tail, each trying to prove its point. Little do they know, if they swapped places, it would be the same argument, just in reverse; switching sides would not change anything. But if they both worked together, they could help each other up and move forward together, could they not?
Arthur stared at a wall of runes, she at a half-lit dais. Finally, his voice softened. "I just wanted to let you know that I am here. Partners in crime, remember? Arthur and Artizea, Artizea and Arthur—"
That earned a small smile from her. Then, quietly, she began to hum the rhythm of an old childhood chant.
"You take the left, I take the right—" she sang under her breath.
He turned, grinning. "Storms may come, but we stand and fight. "
Together they finished it, "Swords drawn, back to back, shouts of praise, no fear in sight! One's the lookout, the other says 'run!'— Arthur and Artizea, together we fight!"
Their laughter echoed, a bright flare of nostalgia. For a moment.
"Can I ask you something?" Artizea suddenly said.
Arthur stilled, then offered a quiet, "You know you always can."
She hesitated just long enough for the weight of the question to press down between them.
"Do you think Father ever realized… he made us warriors before we had the chance to be children?"
Arthur exhaled slowly; the laughter was gone now. Replaced by something heavier. "I am sure he did the best he could, Tiz."
Artizea turned her back on him once more. "Forget it."
"Tizea—" he started
"—You know," she cut him off, "Sometimes I forget, I may look like him…" her voice dropped. "But you act like him." And just like that, the moment shattered, and the silence that followed was different this time—dense and final.
"Let's just find whatever it is he sent us out here for," Artizea said quietly, her voice barely a whisper now. "And go home."
And that was that. The ghosts of children they once were faded into the walls once more. Arthur cursed himself inwardly. One step forward, ten steps back.
As Artizea moved forward, silently, the ground beneath her boots pulsed. A deep, resonant voice rang through the chamber—neither male nor female, but something older, something other. The runes on the walls flared gold, thrumming with a heartbeat not their own. The air thickened. Magic surged. And the chamber awakened.
She pondered whether she was seeing things. The runes beneath her feet began to glow, then they pulsed faintly with a rhythm that felt alive. The air grew thick with magic, crackling with ancient whispers of a time long before the Pendragon line ruled the mortal realm.
Arthur stood with his arms crossed. His brows furrowed while struggling to make out what language the walls were covered with. As if nothing was amiss but the sheer disdain he had developed for the place of darkness, the moment he pulled that lever.
"This place gives me the creeps. Why are ruins always so… ominous? " he echoed. When he heard no response, he started to search the columns, one by one. "Artizea?"
But she did not hear him; she knelt by one of the larger runes, dazed while she scanned its intricate patterns. The soft glow of the markings reflected in her gaze, a stark contrast to the shadows forming around them. "Really? Silent treatment ?" he murmured, when he found her brushing her fingers lightly over the symbols. A hum filled the air. Arthur stiffened, sensing something about to happen. "Be careful—"
The runes flickered without warning, their light casting eerie shadows on the stone walls. The runes were transferred from stone to the surface. Its words echoed as if spoken from the depths of time.
Artizea squinted her eyes; somehow, she could understand it, but she was not sure how or why.
" …wings once purest white. Touched by shadows, they darken with light.
When the truth is faced and bloodlines run dry.
Only then will be the beginning… of the end…of time." She murmured.
Artizea's breath hitched, her hand snapping back from the rune. She rose quickly, taking her lance in hand, taking a defensive stance. "Arthur, did you hear that?
"Yeah— Me talking to you and being ignored." He said nonchalantly as if he saw nothing.
How strange. Just then, the runes dimmed but continued to pulse faintly, as if mocking her.
"Why did you hear something else?"
"No, nothing." She said quickly, "What were you saying?" She stepped closer to him, the grip on her weapon tightened while scanning their surroundings with a new perspective.
"I was saying…" Arthur scowled. "We came here for answers, and there's nothing here but dust and rock." Before he could finish, the sound of wings cut through the air—a low, rhythmic beat that grew louder with each passing second.
The siblings turned toward the sky, their weapons raised, ready for war. Just then, a single bat emerged from the shadows of the ruins, then disappeared into thin air.
Arthur steadied himself, his sword still drawn. "I hate it here."
Artizea turned to him. "Are you scared of the dark, Little brother ?"
Arthur scoffed lightly, "Do not be ridiculous, I have been living in the shadows since my accidental birth. Besides—" though his grip on his sword tightened. "What kind of warrior would I be, fearing something I cannot see?" he passed, glancing around once more. "That is the beauty of it—."
"Whatever you say," she murmured to herself.
Just then, something caught her eye; there were weathered carvings etched into the stone before her, their meanings whispered in a language older than her kingdom. The ruins spoke of Mardukish….She tolled her yees at the long name; she had gathered enough that he was the King of Gods, a figure long dead but whose shadow lingered.
Arthur stood a few paces behind her when he heard another non-frightening sound, his sword drawn and his breath visible in the frigid air. "This place does not feel right," he muttered, scanning their surroundings. "We should leave. Now."
Artizea did not respond immediately. Still tracing her fingers over the carvings, determined to finally find answers to the questions she had been asking, her mind racing with even more questions. Something about this place called to her, a pull she could not explain.
"Artizea—" Arthur called.
"Not yet—" she finally said, her voice firm.
Then, there was a ruin that glowed brighter than the rest when her hand grazed it. She passed it again, wondering if she imagined it, but it responded just the same. She crouched to lift a small ruin fragment from its cradle, its surface glowing faintly with an otherworldly light. In reading it, she now understood why. "This is about Father—"
"You can read it?"
"I cannot, but I… feel him, somehow—" Even if she could not understand it, they both knew his tale well. The legendary King, who played the role of tyrant during his youth, fearlessly overcame trial after trial. The feud between him and the heavens was said to have gone on for years. But no one knew its true origin.
"If you are right about the domain and this is what I think it is…" Arthur muttered, lowering his sword. "He would not wish for us to be anywhere near it."
Artizea shook her head, her gaze fixed on the ruin. "Unless he truly did not know what was here. He might have thought it was just another temple ruin."
Arthur stepped closer to the pedestal, eyeing the intricate carvings around its base. They looked to tell a story; he saw a beast falling, and figures around her, both below and above, watched. There was that bad feeling again. "Or maybe he did know and sent us here on purpose, because anyone with half a 'ball brain' would have lost it by now." He examined lower, quickly checking for something important, then breathed a sigh of relief. "Yup, still a man, thank the gods…" Raising his head higher.
Artizea felt her eyes physically roll behind her head.
"The true question is…" Arthur continued. "Why would a piece of our history be in a random temple, A celestial temple no less?"
Artizea's mind raced, piecing together the fragments of what they had just learned, or rather, a warning, and the only one who saw it was her. "We need to return home," she said, her voice resolute. "We have to confront Father. If he knows more about this than he's told us, we need answers."
Arthur nodded, though his expression remained troubled. "Finally, Something that makes sense."
Upon ascending the staircase back to the surface, the ruins seemed to pulse with life around them, brighter than when they arrived, but the air was heavy once again with mold.
Something did not feel right.
"I think we made a wrong turn." Arthur whistled low.
"Will you stop with that creepy whistling?" she snapped. "And I am certain this is the same path."
They pressed on, their troops following close behind. The snow was deeper and the winds harsher. While they approached a narrow pass, they were charged with a magic that made the hairs on the back of their necks stand on end.
A sudden burst of light lit up the sky. Artizea's grip tightened on her reins as unease settled over her.
"Quiet—" she ordered, her voice steady despite the turmoil in her chest.
There was a strange energy in the air, crackling like a storm about to break.
"We are not alone," Arthur said, dismounting his horse.
Artizea followed suit, her sharp eyes scanning the terrain. And then she saw them, twin suns freezing her in place. Armor of a sleek blend of black and steel, while his jet-black wings folded neatly behind him. The sight of them, majestic yet intimidating. He looked like a being out of legend and every bit as dangerous as the stories say. It was then that he gave her a look that felt like he could see through her very soul, making her breath hitch.
Arthur's hand went to his sword, and so did the knights. "Is he what I think he is?"
Artizea did not answer because she could not. Her gaze was locked on the being before her. No human had ever seen a celestial in person since the degree, twenty-one years ago, conveniently the same amount of time since she has been alive. Now here stood, gazing into what could very well be the previous master of master of the Sun. As if he could hear her thoughts, his gaze shifted to meet her crimson fury, his expression unreadable.
Finally breaking the silence with a calm yet unsettling tone, "So, reinforcements on foreign land," he said, in a low, controlled voice, "Some would call that a declaration of war."
The sound of his voice was exactly how Artizea had pictured it in her head. Instantly found her own voice, to which she was not quite sure she lost, "This land belongs to Humanity, the only war you are seeking is with its monarch."
"Father isn't here, remember," Arthur grumbled.
Artizea instantly studied her impulsive brother. "Stand down, Arthur," she warned.
"Like hell—" he snapped, taking a step forward. "Hey! You! Oversized raven, how's the weather up there?"
Artizea pinched the bridge of her nose.
The Celestial blinked once, completely caught off guard, so much so that he chuckled darkly, his wings trembling.
Artizea could not help but feel déjà vu, and not the good kind.
"Carry my sympathies…" the celestial finally said, "From up here, you humans are no different from insects; it is natural to forget you even exist, from time to time." He said, with the faintest glimmer of amusement. Then, adding the landing blow, "But I won't forget their pricy little Prince in a hurry."
That sent Arthur into a rage. "Yeah? Well, why don't you glide on down here, and we'll have a little chat about it?" he snarled.
Artizea's eyes widened, shit, she thought, "Arthur, don't—!" but it was too late.
Arthur's eye twitched; that meant he had officially lost his patience, and nothing on earth would bring it back.
The celestial descended effortlessly, his boots crunching softly in the snow, awaiting his contender. Arthur lunged, his blade aiming for the angel's shoulder, but the man sidestepped effortlessly, his movements fluid and precise.
"I see diplomacy is not your strong suit," The celestial's voice carried a teasing edge. With a lazy wave of his hand, he whispered inaudibly, "Let there be rest."
Arthur's body seized mid-strike. His limbs locked, eyes wide with shock before they rolled back, and he crumpled to the ground, unconscious.
"Arthur!" Artizea cried, spinning to her brother, kneeling to check his pulse, steady. Her fingers lingered on his shoulder for just a moment before rising to her feet, turning her attention back to the intruder. "What have you done to my brother?!"
"Relax," The celestial said, his voice calm, though it carried a weight that prickled her spine. "I just needed them out of the way."
"Them?" She muttered. Behind her, the four knights who had been watching the standoff as commanded, barely having time to reach for their blades, until another wave of unseen power pulsed outward. They fell like dominoes, collapsing silently into the snow. Their horses rearing back, before bolting into the white wilderness, their reins trailing behind them.
The celestial's gaze fixed on Artizea as the grip on her sword tightened. He tilted his head, "Now," he said softly, "Where were we?"
Artizea leveled his stare, then darted a look at her brother, fury igniting. "If you hurt—,"
"I would not dream of it," he interrupted, his gaze briefly flickering toward the sleeping Prince as well, "I have no quarrel with your dear brother." His tone held no deceit, as if the idea of harming her brother was not even worth entertaining.
"And me?" she demanded.
The celestial's smirk deepened, amusement flickering in his gaze. He stepped closer, his movements deliberate, his black wings rustling faintly behind him. "I would not call it a quarrel," he said at last, his eyes locking onto hers.
Artizea met his gaze, but the intensity of his golden eyes made her flinch. It felt as though they could pierce straight through her. Sensing her discomfort, the man tilted his head slightly, and the brightness dimmed to a manageable yellow—still unnaturally vivid, but no longer overwhelming. "That's better…" she murmured, almost to herself, stepping forward, the ruin fragment clutched tightly in her hand. "Who are you and what do you want?"
He did not answer. Instead, he drew a spear from matter, its edge shimmering faintly as though imbued with light itself. She responded in kind, unsheathing her lance and holding it steady. The two clashed, the sound of metal on metal echoing through the clearing. Despite her skill, it was clear he was toying with her, his movements precise and effortless.
Artizea, now certain this stranger was more than he seemed, rejoined the fray with more force. Her sword clashed with his, and she was startled by the sheer force he wielded.
"You are skilled—" she admitted grudgingly while they exchanged blows.
"And you are not supposed to be here…" he replied while smoothly parrying her attack. A ghost of a smirk played on his lips. "A conundrum, to be sure."
Artizea raised her blade, her stance strong and unwavering. "Last chance," she raged, her voice cutting through the tension like a blade. "Get out of the way."
The celestial tilted his head, his black wings shifting slightly as his smirk returned. He seemed amused by her threat, as if he welcomed it. As their blades met, the clash rang out across the valley. The fight was fierce, each strike and parry echoing with precision and power. Her movements were honed and deliberate, but the man countered her with an almost infuriating ease.
Finally, he stepped back, lowering his sword but keeping it ready. "I did not come here to fight," he said.
"Then why are you here?" Artizea pressed once more.
The stranger huffed with exasperation. Then, with another wave of his hand, she felt her body freeze, her limbs locked in place as though rooted to the snow. She struggled against the invisible binds, but it was no use. The man stepped closer, his face inches from hers. His breath was warm against her skin, a stark contrast to the freezing air. Reaching out to take the ruin from her hand.
"Give it back." She growled.
"It was never yours to take, nor can you even decipher its context," he replied, his eyes gleaming with a mixture of amusement while turning the fragment over in his hand.
"But you can, can't you?" Artizea breathed out.
"I can."
"Does it have anything to do with me?"
"It has everything to do with you."
"Then have it if you must, just— tell me the answers to my questions."
"I could." He replied. "But I won't."
Artizea's glare could have melted the snow beneath their feet. But her heart slammed in her chest. "Please—" she breathed, voice trembling. "I need it."
"Why?" He asked as if genuinely curious.
Artizea struggled against the force holding her in place, desperate to speak, to move, to make the stranger understand. "I need to know the truth! About who I am. What I am—" Her voice cracked, thick with something close to grief. "That fragment is the closest thing to a clue I have found. So if you will not help me, then I will pry it open myself if I have to!"
For a moment, there was silence. A single flake of snow landed on the shard's surface, then melted against its heat. Then his lips curled into something cruelly poetic.
"I suppose we won't find out, will we?"
Her pupils shrank. "No, don't—"
But it was too late. With a quiet, almost tender motion, he closed his fist. Crack. The ruin splintered in his palm like brittle glass, its once gleaming Light turned into dust, spilling from between his fingers.
Her breath caught. Rage flared. "Why?"
He watched the shards drift into the snow, then lifted his gaze to hers. "Sometimes," he said coolly. "Not knowing the truth is an act of mercy."
Her eyes burned with fresh fury. "You are every bit the monster the stories say of your kind," she hissed. "You may even be worse."
The celestial did he deny it. "Well, if it is a challenge," he said, tilting his head, "Then let me clear the air." His reawakened golden eyes bore into her. The snow around them stirred as the wind curled in. "I am every bit the monster you think I am…andworse," he said darkly.
Artizea narrowed her eyes; she forced her chin high despite the trembling inside her.
"Where I come from," she said through gritted teeth, "Challengers name themselves."
He smirked, leaning in closer, his breath ghosted across her cheek.
"Where I come from, knowing my name would mean your end." She flinched internally while walking away, speaking with his wings. He looked over his shoulder, "Choose your battles wisely." He whispered. Then took to the skies, making the ground tremble. The gust of wind he left behind sent a flurry of snow spiraling into the air, blinding her momentarily. When the snow settled, the celestial was gone, and so was the spell.
Arthur groaned from the ground, slowly sitting up and shaking his head. Artizea staggered forward, her breath shuddering upon regaining control of her limbs. She was at his side instantly.
"Who was that?" he asked with unease.
Artizea stared at the sky where the figure had disappeared, her fists clenching at her sides. "I do not know," she said, her tone cold and resolute, "But I am going to find out."
Arthur's jaw was tight upon turning to his sister. "Why did you hold back?" he demanded, his voice cutting through the cold air.
Artizea paused, turning to face him. "Why did you not listen to me?" Her eyes burned with a mixture of anger and concern. "We have never faced a celestial before, Arthur," she said sharply, her voice low but steady. "We do not know what they are capable of. You could have gotten yourself killed."
Arthur's brows furrowed, and he gestured back toward where the celestial had vanished into the sky. "And what, you think holding back is the answer? How are we supposed to know what we are dealing with? If we do nothing."
Artizea's expression softened. She took a step closer, her voice rising slightly. "I needed to see how he fought, how he moved. Rushing in blind would have done nothing but make us easy targets." Sheathing her sword, her mind racing. "He did not give off middle-class either," she said. "We cannot tell Father. At the very least, we cannot let him know who."
Arthur opened his mouth to retort, but her words seemed to hit their mark. He looked away, his shoulders stiffening. "Are you crazy—." He muttered after a moment, his voice softer. "Whoever he is, he's dangerous, and we need to tell Father and show him what we found."
Artizea's gaze dropped to her empty palm, fingers curled around air. "He took it," she said quietly. "It is gone."
Arthur stiffened, the weight of her words sinking in."Shit," he breathed, his voice cracking with guilt. "I am sorry, I know how much it meant." A pause. He looked at her, eyes heavy with regret. "You are right, I rushed in—"
"No," she cut in firmly, stepping toward him. Her voice trembled, but her conviction did not. "Your life is worth more to me than anything." She paused. "He said he knew what that thing said. He said he knew the answers to what I have been asking."
Arthur blinked at her. "You cannot trust anything someone like him says," he murmured against her hair. "There will be other clues, I am sure of it."
"Promise me you will not say anything." She pleaded, "Give me the chance to find out what he knows first."
"No."
"Pleaseee." Artizea whimpered, giving him the eyes of a damsel.
Then he smiled softly, like the boy he had once been. "—Fine." He sighed. "But only if you promise me one thing: you will not do anything stupid. Forget what he knows." His tone hardened.
"Fine…" she muttered.
"And," he added, "you owe me strawberry tarts. For a year."
Her head shot up. "What? That's extortion!"
"That is too bad." His grin widened, smug.
She huffed but did not argue further. Deep down, she knew she would not stop until she had the truth—no matter the cost. Looking back up at him, her voice softened. "Thank you, Brother."
Arthur nodded, then pulled her into a hug, arms protective and warm despite the chill.
Just then, one by one, the men began to groan and lift their heads, dazed. Artizea offered no time for explanation. "Everyone, gather yourselves and the horses," she ordered, her voice crisp and commanding. "We head for the South."
"Yes, Your Highness," they said in unison with no hesitation, immediately scrambling into motion, shaken at the thought of them having fallen asleep.
Artizea took one last look over her shoulder back to the spot of the encounter. She could not shake the feeling that this was only the beginning.