Chapter Thirty-Nine: Words on the Road (continued)
For a long moment, the silence weighed like stone.
Then the king's chest rose and fell—and he laughed.
It wasn't a mocking chuckle or a cruel bark. It was a full, hearty laugh that echoed across the road, startling birds from the treetops. The sound cut through the tension like a blade.
"My men…" the king said, wiping at the corner of his eye, "they are lions in truth. Always eager to bare their teeth. Always certain their steel will carry the day. It does not surprise me they spat fire and blood before you ever lifted a hand."
He tilted his head, studying Kael with something new in his gaze—acknowledgment. "Perhaps I should be angry at you. But perhaps, instead, I should be angry at them. They went to measure a storm and were shocked when it struck them down."
Kael's mouth tugged into the faintest shadow of a smile. "Then we agree—they were not lambs butchered in their sleep, but wolves who found teeth sharper than their own."
The king gave a short nod. "So we do."
Words as Equals
The king took one deliberate step forward. His soldiers stiffened, but he raised a hand and they stilled. Kael mirrored the gesture, holding Umbra back with a subtle flick of his fingers.
"Shadowborn," the king said, his tone less fire and more stone now, "you and I sit at the same table, whether the world likes it or not. My banners fly above cities and fields. Yours rise above swamps and woods. But banners they are, nonetheless."
Kael inclined his head. "Nations are not measured by the stone in their walls, but the will of their people. Mine would bleed for me, as yours would for you."
The king's lips curved faintly. "Then perhaps we are not so different."
They stood there, ruler to ruler, the weight of their peoples behind them.
"So," the king asked, spreading his hands slightly, "what do we do now? Do we measure swords until one of us bleeds? Or do we allow our peoples a reprieve from the edge?"
Kael's crimson eyes softened, though the fire remained. "Neither of us is ready for war. Not yet. And I have no wish to see forests turned to ash, nor fields to graves."
The king nodded once. "Then we give them time. Time to breathe. Time to watch each other as proper nations, not shadows in the night."
Parting of Kings
The king extended a hand, unarmored but steady. For a moment, Kael hesitated—then reached out, clasping the man's wrist in a warrior's grip.
Their clasp was firm, forearms tense, shadows curling faintly around Kael's skin while sunlight glinted off the king's gilded bracers. It was not friendship, nor surrender. It was acknowledgment.
"Let the road between us remain unbloodied," the king said. "For now."
Kael's voice was low, resolute. "For now."
The king released him and turned, his cloak sweeping the dirt as he strode back to his caravan. Orders rang out, shields lifted, and the royal retinue began to roll back toward the horizon.
Kael lingered for a moment, watching the banners fade into the distance, the lion crest flapping in the wind. Lyria stepped up beside him, her voice quiet.
"You let them go."
"I let them choose," Kael said, his eyes narrowing. "Peace or war—it will be their decision as much as mine. For now, the forest holds its breath."
Umbra rumbled low, and Thalos shifted his sword onto his back. The strike party turned, leaving the road behind as they made their way back toward the Hollow.
Two nations had stood on the knife's edge that day. And though no blade was drawn, the promise of steel lingered in the air.
But so, too, did the promise of peace.