Survival of Me
To JasonChapter 7-To Jason
“What’s wrong, little brother?” Byron asked after finding me pacing my study.
“I feel as though I’ve swallowed a stone and it’s sitting in my stomach,” I replied.
“Why?” he asked.
“I just feel like something bad has happened to Izzy,” I admitted.
“You don’t need to worry about Izzy. She’s got her guards, not to mention that dog and horse of hers. Besides, she’s not at all incapable of taking care of herself. This is Izzy
“I know. But do you remember that feeling you described to me when Lucinda and Izzy when to the Summer Palace a few days before us? How you felt like you had someone twisting a knife into your stomach?” I asked.
“Of course. You got this same rock in the stomach feeling then, didn’t you?” he replied.
“Yes. And it’s worse this time,” I told him.
“Well then, we’d best get you packed. I’ll come with you to tell Father you’re going after her,” he informs me.
“Thank you, Byron,” I said as he delved into one of my trunks for my metal studded leather armor. He helped me pack two saddlebags, and then helped me into my travel clothes, armor, and cloak. I strapped on my functional sword instead of my pretty and expensive dress sword, as well as a hunting knife and a few hidden daggers. Having Izzy around my whole life had taught me a few things.
“You’re not going on some delusional mission of fantasized romance,” my father growled when I told him of my departure.
“This is not delusional, nor is it fantasized. I am doing my duty as Prince saving Lady Isabella from whatever trouble she has gotten into,” I replied evenly. I would not allow him to goad me into a temper.
“You are being juvenile, Jason,” he boomed, standing.
“I do not believe so, Father. I am doing what is right. I am going on this mission. Curtis and Jonathan have both agreed to accompany me, so I will not bring a guard. But I am going. You cannot stop me,” I declared, meeting his eyes evenly.
“No one is to know of this, understood?” he demanded, sitting back down.
“Yes, sir,” I replied.
“Go, then. Do not expect me to send someone after you until you send word that you need it,” he snapped.
“Yes, sir,” I repeated, bowing. He dismissed me away with one hand and I strode out of the Throne Room. I continued out into the courtyard, where a hostler held the reins of two inconspicuous brown geldings. I mounted the tacked one and took the lead reins of the other. Jon and Kurt sat, waiting, on bays, with a brown and a dun spare behind them. “Let’s go,” I ordered, urging my horse into a canter out of the gates. We headed for the Coast Road and Izzy.