Yolan wasn't the Malvar king who'd lost the throne, but dying as an uncrowned prince would surely be just as bad. The thrice-cursed rebels had overtaken his father at Elsbridge, where he'd been promptly executed. They hadn't even attempted a farce of a trial - with nothing but the Duke of Whent's aspirations for the throne to hold against the king, a trial would've done more harm to the rebellion than good. Duke Lelin had sent a force out under Lord Bel to do the same to Yolan.
Luckily, the Astrids at Lolwin Manor had been loyal to a man, and Prince Yolan had escaped with a handful of guards.
At least, that's what the guards called it. Yolan called it fleeing from battle like cowards, but what's done was done. Every last person in Idalion would know Yolan had run from the rebels by the end of the week.
The captain kept insisting it was a good thing, but Yolan was sick of hearing that his merely being alive would drum up support for the Malvar line against the rebels among what was left of the loyal Idalish nobles. But Yolan didn't want to 'merely be alive.'
He rode sullenly through the woods, avoiding the road and flanked by the guardsmen, all of whom were keeping a wary eye out. They'd set out at dusk, and now it was almost fully dark, so the shadows obscured his features.
The prince was a tall but lanky boy who'd grown up very quickly in the past few months, and was just beginning to overcome the awkwardness of youth. His father constantly bragged Yolan was on his way to becoming one of the finest swordsmen Idalion had already seen, and that he was as good as the Huntress herself with a bow.
Had bragged.
Yolan's lips twisted. He pulled up the hood to hide the grief plainly writ on his tanned, angular features, as though his guardsmen could even see the dark brown of his eyes in this light.
Most Idalishmen had fairer skin and lighter eyes, but Yolan had his more of his mother's coloring than his father's.
She had died when Yolan was young, but the prince already decided earlier in the week that they would ride east to the neighboring kingdom, where his uncle was king. While King Falion had been hesitant to offer his sister's husband aid, Yolan was sure he couldn't deny his sister's son.
Still, it chafed at Yolan to ask for help from a foreigner, even if the man was his own uncle. The distaste of shame only darkened the prince's mood.
