“I just want to talk.”

  I said, my hands raised to show I meant no harm.

  "Who are you?!" One of the men called out, his sword pointed directly at my chest. He was the taller one, broad-shouldered with a scar running down his left cheek.

  "My name is Vera," I replied, keeping my voice steady.

  The knights exchanged glances. The woman's eyes widened slightly, and she tightened her grip on Emil's shoulder.

  "The monster tamer," the smaller man said in recognition.

  "Yes," I answered.

  As if on cue, Nox emerged from the undergrowth, padding silently to my side. All three knights tensed further, weapons shifting to point at the massive wolf.

  "Call off your beast," the woman demanded, her free hand moving to the short sword at her hip.

  "He won't attack unless I tell him to," I said. "And I don't want this to turn violent. I just need to understand what's happening."

  I glanced at Emil, who hadn't reacted to my presence at all. The vacant look in his eyes made my chest ache. Whatever that mind-healer's stone was doing, it was keeping him distant, locked away from reality—and from the trauma he'd experienced.

  "There's nothing to understand," the taller knight said firmly. "The prince is returning to those who can protect him. Your service is appreciated, but it's no longer required."

  "Prince," I repeated, testing the word. "So it's true. Emil is royalty."

  The smaller knight scowled. "You've been eavesdropping."

  "I've been tracking," I corrected. "Emil disappeared without a word. What did you expect me to do?"

  "You have no claim on him," the woman said, her voice softening slightly. "I understand you may have grown attached, but Emil belongs with his people. With those who have sworn to protect him since birth."

  I took a careful step forward. The knights immediately raised their weapons higher, but I kept my hands visible, making no threatening moves.

  "I heard you talking about Drakmoor, about King Malachar hunting him. You're taking him into danger," I said.

  "We're taking him away from danger," the taller knight countered. "Blackwind's men have already raided one town looking for him. How long before they trace him to Oakenford? What happens to your friends there when they come?"

  The question hit like a physical blow. I hadn't considered that staying in Oakenford might put others at risk—Jorik, Leah, all the people who'd shown us kindness.

  "What is Solus?" I asked, changing tactics. "You said Emil's mother came from there."

  The knights exchanged glances again, surprise evident on their faces.

  "You truly don't know?" the woman asked, her brow furrowed in confusion.

  "I'm... not from around here," I said, which was the understatement of the century.

  The smaller knight gave a short, humorless laugh. "Clearly. Solus is the kingdom across the Serpent Sea, ruled by the High Mages. Princess Alicia was the youngest daughter of Archmage Veridian, sent to marry King Malachar to secure peace between our lands."

  "A peace that Malachar shattered when he murdered her," the woman added bitterly.

  My blood went cold. "Murdered? Emil's mother was murdered?"

  "By her own husband," the taller knight confirmed grimly. "When Malachar learned that she had been secretly teaching Emil the magic of her homeland—magic that could potentially challenge his own power—he had her executed for treason."

  "And now he hunts the son as well," the woman said, her hand protectively on Emil's shoulder. "We are all that remains of Princess Alicia's royal guard. We've sworn to protect Emil with our lives."

  The pieces were falling into place now—Emil's trauma, the attack on Millbrook. It wasn't just about a child who'd seen too much horror; it was about a prince in hiding, the target of a king's murderous paranoia.

  I looked at Emil again, at his vacant eyes and the wooden horse clutched in his small hand. Whatever his birth, whatever his destiny, right now he was just a broken child.

  "I understand you want to protect him," I said slowly. "But I've spent weeks with him. He's traumatized, barely responsive. Taking him on a dangerous journey now could do more harm than good."

  "We have the mind-healer's stone," the smaller knight said, tapping the pouch where he'd stowed it. "It keeps the worst memories at bay."

  "And that's healthy?" I challenged. "Keeping him sedated, his mind trapped in some fog while you drag him across kingdoms?"

  The woman flinched as if I'd struck her. "We do what we must to keep him safe. What would you have us do? Leave him to scream through the night? Let the memories consume him until there's nothing left?"

  There was real anguish in her voice, and I realized these knights truly cared for Emil. They weren't just following orders or fulfilling some oath—they loved him as much as I had come to.

  "Where are you taking him?" I asked, my voice softer now.

  The taller knight hesitated, then answered, "The Sanctuary in the Mistfall Mountains. Lady Elara maintains a haven there, protected by ancient magic. Emil will be safe while we gather allies."

  "Allies for what?"

  "To reclaim what is rightfully his," the knight said simply. "The throne of Drakmoor."

  The throne of Drakmoor. The words hung in the air between us, heavy with implication. These knights weren't just trying to protect Emil—they were planning to eventually use him to challenge King Malachar. A child, thrust into the center of a power struggle that had already cost him his mother.

  Stolen novel; please report.

  I had no answer. She was right—Emil deserved to know who he was, where he came from. But the weight of a crown seemed like a terrible burden to place on shoulders already carrying so much trauma.

  I looked back at Emil, hoping for some sign, some indication of what he would want if he could speak for himself. His gaze remained unfocused, but his small fingers still clutched the wooden horse Jorik had carved for him.

  Jorik. The thought of him waiting back in Oakenford, anxious for news of Emil, made my chest tighten. What would I tell him? That I'd let strangers take Emil away? That I'd handed him over to people who planned to use him in a war against his own father, however monstrous that father might be?

  "There's someone else who cares for Emil," I said finally. "A young man named Jorik. He lost his sister in the attack on Millbrook, and Emil has become like family to him."

  The taller knight frowned. "We cannot risk bringing civilians into this. The fewer who know of Emil's true identity, the safer he will be."

  "Jorik deserves to know where Emil is going," I insisted.

  "And what would you have us do?" the smaller knight asked, exasperation in his voice. "Take this Jorik with us? Add another person to protect, another potential liability?"

  "Maybe that's exactly what Emil needs," I countered. "People who love him for who he is, not what crown he might wear someday."

  The woman's expression softened slightly. "We do love him," she said quietly. "We've watched over him since he was born. I held him in my arms the day Princess Alicia first presented him to the court. He is more than his title to us."

  I believed her. Despite their talk of thrones and birthrights, I could see the genuine concern in her eyes when she looked at Emil, the gentle way she kept her hand on his shoulder.

  "Then you understand why I can't just let you take him," I said. "Not without knowing he'll be safe, not without a chance to say goodbye properly."

  The taller knight's grip tightened on his sword. "We don't have time for this. Duke Blackwind's men could be anywhere. Every moment we linger puts the prince at greater risk."

  "Let her come."

  The voice was so soft I almost missed it. All of us turned to look at Emil, whose lips had parted slightly, though his eyes remained unfocused.

  "Emil?" the woman asked, kneeling beside him.

  "Let Vera come," he whispered, his voice rusty from disuse. "And Nox. And Jorik."

  It was the first time he'd spoken in weeks. My heart leapt, even as the knights exchanged alarmed glances.

  "My prince," the taller knight began, "it's not safe to—"

  "You said..." Emil's voice faltered, but he pressed on, "...you said I'm the prince. That means you... you have to do what I say."

  A child's logic, but it struck the knights silent. The woman looked up at her companions, a question in her eyes.

  The smaller knight sighed. "We can't bring civilians to the Sanctuary. Lady Elara would never permit it."

  "Then we meet halfway," I suggested quickly, seizing the opportunity. "Let me return to Oakenford with you. Give Jorik a chance to say goodbye properly. Then I'll help you get Emil safely to the edge of the Mistfall Mountains."

  "Why would we need your help?" the taller knight asked suspiciously.

  In answer, I let Virel spread slightly across my skin, the symbiote's dark patterns rippling visibly along my arms. All three knights tensed.

  "Because I can protect him in ways you can't," I said simply. "And because he asked for me."

  The knights huddled together, speaking in urgent whispers while keeping Emil close. I waited, feeling Virel pulse beneath my skin, ready for whatever came next.

  Finally, the woman turned back to me. "Three days," she said firmly. "We'll accompany you to Oakenford, allow one day for farewells, and then we leave for the Mistfall Mountains. You may accompany us to the edge of the mountains, but no further."

  It wasn't perfect, but it was something—a chance to ensure Emil would be safe, to give Jorik proper closure, to learn more about these knights and their plans. And perhaps, to find a better solution for Emil's future than being raised as a weapon against his father.

  "Agreed," I said, letting Virel recede beneath my skin. "We'll go together."

  Emil's fingers tightened around his wooden horse, and for just a moment, I thought I saw a flicker of awareness in his vacant eyes.

  =====

  Everything was hazy.

  Emil clutched the wooden horse tighter, the rough texture of the carving anchoring him to the present. Voices swirled around him—familiar and unfamiliar, urgent and worried. He couldn't focus on them, not entirely.

  The attack on Millbrook. The basilisk. His mother's death. These memories pressed against his mind, sharp and painful.

  But there were other memories too. Memories he didn't understand, couldn't possibly have lived. Memories of being older, taller. Of wielding power both magical and political. Of sitting on a throne made of dark iron and dragon bone.

  That's why he couldn't respond, couldn't engage with the world around him. He was sorting through memories that couldn't be his, yet felt as real as the wooden horse in his hand.

  In these strange memories, He was Emil, King of Drakmoor Kingdom. Somehow, he had grown up, had managed to kill his father and avenge his mother. He had taken the throne that they now said was his birthright. Only to die to an invasion from beyond the skies.

  It made no sense. How could he remember dying? How could he remember a life not yet lived?

  The blue glow of the stone helped, pushing the worst of these confusing images away. When the mage-knight used it, Emil could breathe easier, could almost remember which memories belonged to him and which were... something else.

  He heard Vera's voice now, cutting through the haze. Vera, who had sat with him day after day, telling him stories, never demanding he respond. Vera, who had fought to protect him and the others. Vera, with her monsters and her kindness.

  "Let her come," he found himself saying, the words pushing past lips that felt stiff from disuse.

  The knights turned to him, surprise evident in their expressions. He knew them somehow, recognized their faces from both sets of memories—his real childhood and the impossible future-past that haunted him.

  "Let Vera come," he repeated, stronger now. "And Nox. And Jorik."

  Jorik, who had lost so much yet still carved him toys and spoke gently to him. Jorik, who in those strange future memories had become his most trusted advisor, his general, his friend—before dying to protect him from assassins.

  "You said..." his voice faltered, but he forced himself to continue, "...you said I'm the prince. That means you... you have to do what I say."

  He wasn't sure where the boldness came from. Perhaps from those other memories, where he had commanded armies and passed judgments. Where he had been a king, not a frightened child.

  The knights argued among themselves, their voices rising and falling like waves. Emil couldn't follow it all, slipping in and out of focus, the haze threatening to swallow him again.

  Then Vera was agreeing to something, the knights nodding reluctantly. They would go somewhere together. To Oakenford first, then to mountains he half-remembered from dreams or visions or whatever these impossible memories were.

  The wooden horse felt warm in his hand now, as if drawing in his body heat. Emil clung to that sensation, using it to stay present when the other memories tried to pull him under.

  He wasn't sure what was happening to him, why he had these memories of a life not yet lived. But he knew Vera would help him. And Jorik. And maybe these knights who said they had known him since birth, though he only half-remembered them.

  The female knight knelt before him again, her face gentle. "Are you with us, my prince? Do you understand what's happening?"

  Emil nodded slowly. "We're going... home. To Jorik first. Then to the mountains."

  Something like relief flickered across her face. "Yes, that's right. And you'll be safe there, I promise."

  Safe. The word echoed strangely in his mind, triggering flashes of the other memories—a fortress crumbling around him, soldiers in unknown armor cutting down his royal guard, a blade piercing his chest as he cast one final spell.

  He had not been safe then. Would he be safe now?

  The blue stone glowed brighter, and the knight-mage murmured something soft. The terrible memories receded again, pushed back behind a wall of gentle light.

  Emil blinked, feeling more present than he had in weeks.

  "Vera," he said, looking up at the woman who had protected him since Millbrook. "You'll stay?"

  She nodded, her eyes bright with emotion. "For as long as I can. I promise."

  That was enough for now. Emil tightened his grip on the wooden horse and let the knights lead him forward, toward Vera and her monsters. Toward whatever awaited him—in this life, or the strange other one that haunted his dreams.