Cursed by Darkness (Once Upon A Curse)

37. Bodin

THIRTY-SEVEN

Bodin

The fear between the two magics had grown when Theran killed Eryx. Those with light were seen as vicious, despite the fact that their power was not harmful by nature. And those with shadows were seen as sneaky and vengeful. Neither side wanted to give in. Neither side could learn to trust.

H eart pounding, Bodin ran east through the camp. He’d been helping on the battlefield, using his magic as well as his skills with a sword to fight alongside his men. Until he saw those white sails in the distance. Everything came to a halt in his mind for a brief second, then he was retreating, racing toward the war tent.

He found Rafe and Moreau already inside, the former dictating to a scribe.

Rafe lifted a hand to stop the young woman from writing. “I’m sending my father another letter. Perhaps knowing four of his children are here will change?—”

“It’s too late,” Bodin said, cutting in. His chest heaved, and he braced himself on the large table with both hands. “It won’t make a difference.”

“What are you talking about?” Moreau asked, moving to stand next to him.

Bodin gulped down air, needing it to say, “Two more ships just arrived. From Gilarn. Large ones.”

“ Shit .” Rafe shoved to his feet.

“That’d be close to another battalion.” Moreau gripped the back of his neck while looking at the map on the table. “We were just starting to gain some ground with the extra Forossan soldiers and volunteers from Kehlir. We can’t…”

A heavy silence filled the tent. Bodin’s lungs tightened, his heart pulsing too fast.

“We can’t make it through this,” he whispered. What in the burning hells would they do now? He thought through every scenario that came to mind, as he was sure the other two did. Smacking the table, he shouted at no one and everything. “It can’t end like this!”

“Do we retreat?” Rafe asked.

Moreau shook his head. “They’ll slaughter us from behind.”

“But would they?” The words slipped out before Bodin could stop them. Both men stared at him, waiting for more. But he didn’t really know what he was saying. “They didn’t want this war,” he said, deciding to process it out loud. “My father declared war, claiming they broke the treaty by killing my brother, but what if they didn’t? What if they had been speaking the truth when trying to convince my father not to attack?”

The tent flap opened. He looked over his shoulder, and his shoulders dropped. For the slightest second, he had hoped it was Juniper coming to find him. Not that she really had a reason to come to this tent—unless she wanted to sit in on the planning. So far though, she hadn’t. And with how busy they’d both been, they didn’t see each other except for when they crawled into their tent at night. He worried that this was too overwhelming for her. It was a lot to take in, and he couldn’t help but remember the way she retreated during her first weeks as queen. That didn’t compare to the stress here.

But it wasn’t her entering. No, it was Laurent walking in with both of the other Forossan princes. Everyone appeared as worn out as he felt. It had been days of this, and they had barely made progress. Now, it seemed none of that mattered.

“What are you thinking?” Laurent prompted, knowing him best.

Bodin glanced around at the other men, his mind whirling through options. “What if we surrendered? If they truly didn’t want this war, they might be just as desperate to end it as we are.”

“You want to just give up?” Hugo asked, incredulous.

Standing at his side, Laurent glared at him, but it was Bodin who said, “I want to see if they will negotiate a new treaty.”

More silence surrounded them.

It was their only chance at this point. Surely, they could see that.

“We can’t surrender though,” Delroy said. “That will give them all the power. It won’t lead to negotiations.”

“Then, how—” Hugo started, but Rafe cut him off.

“Start a new letter,” he said to his scribe. She didn’t hesitate to pull out a fresh piece of parchment. “He’s right, Bodin; we can’t surrender. But we can request a meeting with their leaders to discuss an armistice.”

“How do we get it to them?” Laurent said, crossing his arms. “It’s not like we can reach the other side of the valley, and there’s definitely not enough time to travel back through the kingdom, through Forosse, and sail north to approach from the other side. That would take weeks.”

Bodin nodded. “We don’t have that kind of time.” To Rafe, he said, “Draft several copies of the letter. Send each of them out—by land and bird—and hope that one makes it in time.” He took a deep breath and ran a hand over the top of his head. “Otherwise, we’re all dead.”