“He’s right for me, Ambrose. I finally realized it this morning after hearing what was going to happen to him. It’s Tzsayn that I truly love. It’s Tzsayn that I want to be with.”
Tzsayn, Tzsayn, Tzsayn. “He kept you away from me. Even now he contrives to do it. He plays with people like they’re chess pieces.”
“No, Ambrose. Circumstances kept us apart. Society, appearances . . . whatever you want to call it. But, much as I missed you, I was able to endure our separation. If I’m apart from Tzsayn, if anything happens to him now, I know my feelings will be . . . deeper.”
“And you know too that he may not survive the week.” Ambrose felt cruel saying it.
“I do. But I’ll risk that, because I can see that the future with him, if we’re allowed it, will be best for us both. We’re alike; we want the same things; we can make each other happy. And that’s the difference. I was never sure I could make you happy by being me. With Tzsayn, I know that the more I become my true self, the more our relationship blossoms.”
It was over. There was no way to argue or plead. Ambrose had run out of words. He looked across the stream at Tanya, who was standing, watching. This place and these people were a part of him. He’d fought for them, bled for them. His brother had been killed, his sister executed too. His father was probably dead. His lands lost forever. Everything seemed to be lost.
What was it all for?
Ambrose had an overwhelming urge to get on his horse, ride out of the camp, and keep going.
As if Catherine was reading his thoughts, she spoke again. “Ambrose, I have a feeling you’re thinking of leaving us. But I ask you to resist that urge. You’ve saved my life and Tzsayn’s too. If it weren’t for you, all of Pitoria would be lost. We owe you so much and I know you’ve given so much already, but I still ask that you fight on with us. Lead the mission to the demon world. You are a great soldier, but you’re an even greater leader. Help us and continue the fight against my father.”
Could he do it? Did he want to do it? Ambrose felt like gathering Catherine in his arms and sweeping her away. But this wasn’t the Catherine of even just a few weeks ago. The girl had gone, and now there was a woman. Well, he was a man to match her. He stood straighter, his head up. “I’ll fight, Catherine. I’ll lead the attack into the demon world. But not for you, or for Tzsayn, or even for Pitoria, but for me, my family, and Brigant.”
And, as he said it, he knew it was the right decision and there’d be no changing it.
CATHERINE
NORTHERN PITORIA
Truth is like a diamond—precious and hard.
Pitorian saying
CATHERINE NEEDED to calm down after Ambrose left. He’d been upset, obviously, and was probably angry and very hurt and many other things, but she had to believe that he could cope with his feelings. She was upset too, but she’d managed to master her emotions, though tears filled her eyes as she remembered the look of hurt on Ambrose’s face. But her responsibility now was not to Ambrose but to Tzsayn. She wanted to be with him more than anything. She ran out of her tent and to Tzsayn’s bedchamber, slowing as she approached his sleeping figure, and sat close to him, taking his hand and kissing it.
“That’s good to wake to.”
Catherine smiled and kissed his hand again. “I leave at dawn for my journey to the coast. I thought I’d sit with you for the rest of this afternoon. If you don’t mind.”
“I definitely do not mind.”
She kissed his hand again.
He squinted at her. “You seem different.”
“Do I?”
She had to find a way of telling him about her decision.
“And how did the council go this morning?”
“The war council?”
“Yes, the war council. The one Sir Ambrose was invited to. I assume he attended?”
“He most certainly did. He’s had his hair dyed crimson. Who’d have thought anyone with such brightly colored hair could still be so . . . manly.”
“Who indeed? And was anything discussed at the meeting besides Ambrose’s hairstyle?”
“Actually, I don’t know what was discussed at the meeting. I didn’t stay.”
“What? Why not? What’s been going on?” Tzsayn frowned.