Chapter 31: Two Days

The journey back to the jagged, obsidian borders of Fortundra was a grueling trek that felt as though it were stripping the very skin from my soul. At Ultarion’s cold, calculated insistence, Karlos and I had departed days before the main host, acting as a vanguard for an army that marched like a slow-moving plague behind us. The King believed we stood a better chance of infiltrating Zion’s territory on our own—two familiar faces returning to the nest they had robbed. I loathed the plan with a primal intensity, but the thought of my parents—the chilling image of them in Ultarion’s dungeons or worse—left me with no choice. I was a puppet, and the King was pulling the strings until my joints ached.

I sat behind Karlos on Max’s broad back, my arms anchored firmly around his waist as we navigated the treacherous, winding trail that cut through the Iron Spines. High above, Bran soared through the cloudless, sapphire expanse, a dark speck of freedom that I envied with every breath. The summer sun was heavy and golden, spilling over the peaks and promising a long stretch of fair weather, yet I couldn't enjoy the warmth. My stomach was a tangled mess of knots that felt like cold iron. It wasn't just the prospect of seeing Zion again; it was the devastating weight of the how and the why of it.

Against my collarbone, the moonstone pendant Zion had given me felt like a leaden weight, pressing into my skin like a brand. I told myself I wore it only for the mechanical protection he had promised—a shield against the grave dangers of the mountain passes—and not because of any lingering sentiment or the ghost of a kiss in a dark armory. I told myself it was a tool, nothing more, but every time it pulsed with its soft, inner light, it felt like his hand resting against my heart.

"How long until we reach the gates?" I asked, my voice cracking as I glanced toward a distant, rolling hill that signaled the edge of the King’s valley.

"We’re close," Karlos answered, his voice steady and low over the rhythmic, hypnotic thud of Max's hooves against the dry earth. "Two days, at most. Maybe less if we push through the night."

"Two days," I echoed, the reality sinking into my bones like a slow-acting poison. "Two days until everything changes."

"Why? Getting impatient to see your 'friend' again?" Karlos asked, his tone shifting into that sharp, jealous register that had become his armor since we left the capital.

"I just want this to be over," I whispered into the rough leather of his tunic. "This war... this deception... the way my heart feels like it’s being pulled in four different directions at once. I’m tired of being a ghost, Karlos."

Karlos went quiet for a long moment, the only sound the wind whistling through the pines and the distant cry of a hawk. He cleared his throat, his posture softening just a fraction. "Diana, there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you. Something I should have said before we saw those black spires on the horizon."

"What is it?" I asked, tightening my grip around his waist.

"I wanted to say that... no matter what happens down there, no matter whose blood spills or who sits on what throne... you’re the only one I truly care for. You’re the only reason I’m still wearing this uniform." I couldn't see his face, but I could hear the gentle, vulnerable curve of a smile in his voice—a rarity in these dark weeks.

I leaned my head against his broad shoulder, closing my eyes and letting the rhythmic motion of the horse lull me for a heartbeat. "I care for you, too, Karlos. You know that. You've been my anchor when the tide tried to take me."

"Really?" He asked, his voice hopeful yet cautious.

"Of course. We've been through so much together—the caves, the border, the training halls. I wouldn't be standing if you weren't holding me up."

His posture stiffened slightly at my words, the warmth in the air suddenly feeling brittle. "Are you really going to go through with it, then? Now that we’re at the doorstep?"

"Do what?" I asked, though a cold shiver told me exactly what he meant.

"Kill him. Kill Zion the moment we arrive at Fortundra. Ultarion’s orders were clear, Diana. The vanguard opens the way by taking the head of the snake."

The warmth of the sun seemed to vanish instantly, replaced by a biting mountain chill. I sat up straighter, putting space between us, though I kept my arms locked around him for balance. "I have to. You know I have to. It’s the only way to satisfy Ultarion’s bloodlust. It’s the only way I get my family back. If I don't bring him Zion’s head, he’ll give me my parents' heads in return. What choice do I have?"

"But you still care for him," he countered, his voice dripping with a quiet, agonizing certainty. "I feel it in the way you flinch when we talk about the siege."

"I don't," I snapped, the denial coming out too fast, too loud, echoing off the rock faces around us. "He’s a King, Karlos. A powerful, dangerous man who would crush Silvermere if he had the chance. I’m just a peasant spy who happened to be born with a gift she didn't want. There is nothing between us but a pile of lies and a stolen blueprints."

"You do care," he insisted softly, his voice heavy with a jealousy that had matured into a dull ache. "Otherwise, you wouldn't look so heartbroken every time his name is mentioned. You wouldn't be clutching that moonstone like it's a lifeline."

I let out a sharp, defensive snort, staring fixedly at the horizon to hide the sudden sting in my eyes. "I pity the man, Karlos. That’s all it is. I pity a King so lonely he’d trust a girl like me. I pity the fool who doesn't see the knife until it's at his throat."

"Then why are you sad now? If it’s just pity, why are your hands shaking?"

"I'm not sad!" I shouted at his back, my heart hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs. "I just want the war to be over! I'm tired of the blood, I'm tired of the secrets, and I'm tired of everyone expecting me to be a hero or a monster. I just want to go home."

"Is that all?" He asked, his voice low and unconvinced.

"Of course," I answered, nodding firmly as I tucked my face back into the shadows of his cloak. "That is all it will ever be."

But as the sun began to dip behind the obsidian peaks of Fortundra, the moonstone against my chest began to glow with a soft, pulsing light, as if it were beating in time with a heart I was destined to break. I closed my eyes and prayed for a darkness deep enough to hide from the choice that was only two days away.