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   Chapter 231 No.231

The WeatherMaker Hearts Desire By Lady Lilium Characters: 4410

Updated: 2018-07-12 12:02


The figure raised his head, seeing the scene before him through his one good eye. Through his left eye, he was blind, and had bled profusely where the knife had been driven through. He had deep wounds all over his body where he had been stabbed over and over again, but none of the wounds were meant to be fatal, only to cause pain.

'Father' Tristan spoke quietly now. 'I am begging you. Please stop this madness.'

'Bring the Weather Maker back to me' the king ordered.

Tristan clenched his jaw.

'Bring…' the king said, 'the Weather maker…back to me.'

'No.'

At last the king turned to face his son, and Tristan saw with a jolt in his heart, that he held a loaded crossbow in his hands.

'Bring the Weather Maker back to me' the king repeated.

Tristan didn't move, he only stared. Tears began to gleam in his eyes.

The king pointed the crossbow at Alan and fired.

The soldiers each grasped Alan by the arm as he fell back, the bolt from the crossbow sticking out of his shoulder.

Alan groaned in pain, glaring at Tristan.

'Father…' he spoke through gritted teeth. 'Help me.'

'I can't' Tristan whispered back, no trusting his voice. 'Amaia….'

Alan hung his head in grief, realising and accepting the inevitable.

'Father….'

His lifted his head again, but there was no fear in his eyes this time.

'I would do anything for my sister.'

'I know you would Alan' Tristan whispered back, tears running down his cheeks. 'As would I.'

Alan gasped, as another bolt went into him, this time piercing his chest.

Tristan bit back a sob, gritting his teeth as his whole body began to tremble.

He watched as another bolt hit him again, flinching as this time it pierced his lung.

Tristan watched as Alan sunk to his knees, still held by his arms by the soldiers either side as a fourth bolt hit him.

The soldiers released him, and Alan fell to his side, dead.

'Alan was willing to die for you' Tristan told her as he cried, 'as I was willing to allow him to die…for you..........I wouldn't have told him where you were, not even if he tried to kill me too.'

'But why did he do that?' Amaia asked quietly.

'Because I took you from the prison. I re

scued you. I took you away from him.'

'Who was that woman?' Amaia asked him. 'The one I saw when leaving that prison. She went into the cell I just left…..she had green hair too.'

'I kidnapped her' Tristan replied casually. 'I had to find someone to take your place in that prison. I was hoping he wouldn't notice….so caught up in his grief as he was.' His eyes became distant. 'She was just a passerby I found who looked enough like you…I thought it would work…but he punished me for it….and my son.'

'Why was her hair green like mine?'

'I dyed it.'

Amaia furrowed her brow at him, tilting her head slightly.

'What happened to her?'

'I don't know.'

'What do you think might have happened to her?'

'Most likely?' Tristan said. 'Its most likely she's dead now.'

Amaia's heart sunk in her chest as she stared at Tristan in disbelief.

'How could you do such a thing?'

'To protect you' Tristan spoke more firmly than he intended, leaning forwards in his seat. 'And for that I would do anything.'

'Anything?' Amaia repeated. 'Even letting innocent people die?'

'Yes.'

'Then that makes you no better than the king.'

Something happened in Tristan's expression at that. His eye twitched, and he opened his mouth as if to speak, but in the end said nothing.

Amaia rose, and walked away from him.

'Where are you going?' Tristan asked uncertainly.

'You said that you would never keep me imprisoned again' Amaia said. 'That if I wanted to leave…you wouldn't stop me' she turned back to him. 'You said that, didn't you?'

'You're going back to Farrell?!' Tristan asked incredulous. 'He is not your father.'

'I grew up with him' Amaia answered calmly. 'He is as good as.'

She took a horse, and rode the long distance all the way back the way she had come, alone this time. She headed back to the temple, skipping lightly through the rooms, looking for one of them.

She saw Arlen first, sitting beneath the statue of the god Ezla, a depiction of a man growing out of stone, with a bare chest and sharp claws.

Arlen raised his head suddenly as if sensing her, looking around.

Seeing Amaia standing there, his expression broke into a wide grin.

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