The Crowned

Reynold.

Two Weeks Later

“You’re looking better. Meatier,” Belma said, and smacked my back hard.

My entire body reverberated from the blow.

“Thank you,” I wheezed. “You look… meaty, yourself.”

Belma’s mouth twisted into a grin. “I imagine you’ve forgotten how to fight since your time away.”

She tapped the edge of the wooden training sword against packed earth in our fighting circle. It was quiet that morning, even a little cool.

“I would not forget,” I said, lifting the practice sword. My arm felt heavier than it should have. I slowly rolled my right shoulder, feeling the stiffness in the joint. “But I am rusty, no doubt.”

I pointed the blade lazily toward her. “Nothing below the belt.”

Belma scoffed. “When have I ever fought dirty?”

“All the time,” Castian interjected.

Both of us looked up.

The Hothram King stood just outside the circle, arms folded across his chest. He was dressed as if he had been awake for some time.

“This is early for you, Cas,” Belma mused, echoing my own thoughts.

The sun had barely begun to rise. Pale mist still clung to the edges of the forest.

It was the only part of the day Belma could spare time to help me train, war preparations held her attention otherwise.

Truthfully, I felt guilty for taking these scraps of freedom from her.

But I craved the normalcy. The familiarity of sparring, a steady rhythm of a sword in my hand... it fueled the illusion that I had never spent four years rotting in a cell.

“I must travel south,” Castian said. “To Evengate.”

“To charm a few lords and ladies into providing military aid against Galesseine?” Belma guessed.

Castian nodded stiffly. “We need all the help we can get.”

“I will wish you good luck, then, brother.”

“Ass kissing was never your strong suit,” Belma added. “But I’m sure you can learn.”

Castian gave both of us a dry look. “When you are well enough, brother, you will be making the circuits for me. So enjoy your freedom while it lasts.”

He spun away and left us.

Ronan had not yet made his move. But the tension thickened with every passing day, like a storm gathering beyond the horizon.

I lowered my sword, turning to my opponent. “If I beat you, you have to wear a dress to dinner tonight.”

She barked a laugh and lunged at me, wooden sword in hand.

Later that afternoon, I assembled supplies for my journey.

Leaving without Castian knowing was ideal. If all went well, I would return before he did.

He would rage when he discovered what I had done—that much was certain. But I could not remain idle while Everly rotted in Ronan’s dungeons the same way I had.

Belma promised to keep an ear open for any news of the Queen. But for two weeks, there had been nothing. No whispers in the spy network, no missing intel.

And I understood the truth of it: Everly was not a priority for either the king or general.

Castian had a kingdom to hold together. Armies to prepare. Lords to appease.

But me? I was only a prince. I had no real occupation.

And I would not forget Everly's kindness. So if no one else could help her, then I would.

All I was missing from my trip was a sword belt.

I slipped into Castian’s private apartment to find one, pausing just inside the doorway as I glanced around.

In years past, it had not been uncommon to find a naked woman asleep in his bed awaiting his return.

The bed was empty, and the room felt… odd. Lonely.

My gaze drifted to the table. Or rather—what had once been on the table.

His Wyrre pieces were scattered across the floor. I bent to retrieve one, turning it slowly in my fingers. It reminded me of the way he used to grin when he cornered me in a game, the smug little bastard.

The black king piece was placed upright where it belonged. I left the others where they lay. It was not my game to finish.

Everly had once told me that Wyrre was a game of deliberate sacrifice. You had to lose pieces to win, she had said. Sometimes even the most important ones.

At the time, I had laughed at her paradoxical thinking. Now, I wasn’t so sure it had been a joke.

I left the room a moment later with the sword belt slung over my shoulder.

If I moved fast enough, I could be in the Black Forest before the late afternoon.

And if fortune favored me, perhaps Everly would not be another piece lost to the board.

Everly.

Someone pressed a metal cup to my lips, and I lifted my head just enough to drink.

The water was ice cold as it slid down my throat, and I nearly choked on it.

“Your Majesty.”

The voice was familiar. I forced my eyes to crack open and see who it was.

A young handmaid was crouched before me. She was a frequent staple in my memories, so sweet and gentle. Always worried.

“I don’t remember your name,” I whispered. “I am sorry.”

“Nell,” she said softly, offering a faint smile. “I brought something for you."

She placed something into my cupped hands.

Four wooden game pieces. Castian’s Wyrre pieces.

My chest tightened painfully as I clutched them to my heart.

The thought of him hurt more than anything Aren had done to me.

I had tried to close my mind from our time together, seal the memories away along with the others.

But seeing those pieces dragged them back to the surface.

“How is the copycat faring?” I asked.

A damp cloth pressed against my face, Nell was gently wiping the dried blood from beneath my ear.

Aren’s last… experiment had left my skull ringing for hours.

“She is rather subdued,” Nell said carefully. “The court has attributed it to the pregnancy.”

Right. Ronan finally had his heir.

“She has asked to see you.”

My eyes shifted away. “That would be unwise.”

Nell hesitated. “I… I don’t know, ma’am. I hoped you would consider it. If you could form some sort of alliance with her—perhaps she could help you escape. She does not seem unreasonable.”

My mind fogged as I struggled to follow her reasoning. “I do not think there is anyone who can help me right now, Nell.”

She looked genuinely surprised, her wiping hand stilled.

“But you’ve never given up before.”

“I do not know who that other person was,” I admitted, my voice sounded hollow, even to me. “Not entirely.”

I looked down at my trembling hands. “But the person I am right now is tired. And I do not have the energy to conspire and plot the way my former self did.”

Nell frowned.

“But if you don’t escape… the rebellion… everything people have endured—”

“Eldric seemed like a capable man,” I interrupted softly. “He will be fine. Please, Nell, do not keep coming down here if it puts you at risk.”

She fell silent as she finished cleaning the other side of my head, then placed a small piece of bread in my lap.

“I hope you will remember that people are counting on you. My... my family included.” She rose, then hesitated at the doorway. “The revolution will not survive without you.”

The door shut with a heavy thud.

Slowly, I slid onto my side, staring at the four Wyrre pieces in my hand.

Carefully, I placed them on the stone floor.

Red.

Black.

Red.

Red.

Three red pieces.

Only one black.

The Queen.

My vision blurred as tears filled my eyes.

With a shaking hand, I tipped the black queen onto its side.