Chapter 3
3
T he next day I avoided Caelan at all costs, managing to scramble into the carriage with Selene before he could see me. He hadn’t approached me since last night, for which I was extremely thankful. Something about Caelan made me uneasy, but I couldn’t seem to pinpoint just what was bothering me, which only frustrated me further.
The caravan resumed its journey with the first light, the rhythmic trot of the horses and the gentle sway of the carriage a constant as we navigated the path towards Valoria. By noon I was getting antsy and peered out my window to catch a glimpse of the world outside. I quickly realized we were no longer in the Central Plains. Without being told, I knew we’d crossed the border to Valoria.
Rolling hills covered in a quilt of green and gold stretched towards the horizon, dotted with clusters of trees that swayed in a gentle breeze. Fields of wildflowers bloomed in riotous colors, painting the landscape with strokes of lavender, yellow, and crimson. The air was fresher, imbued with the scent of earth and blossoms, a marked departure from the dusty openness of the plains.
Amid the enchanting scenery, a figure caught my eye—a mage soldier marching with a casual grace that set him apart from his companions. His presence piqued my curiosity. For a reason I couldn’t explain, he looked familiar compared to the others who marched nearby. I glanced at Selene sleeping soundlessly beside me and then back at the soldier.
Leaning slightly out the window, I beckoned to the mage. “Excuse me!” I called out, then waved him over. “What’s your name?”
He paused and turned towards the sound of my voice. In that moment, he was transformed. His dirty blond curls that sat as a chaotic crown atop his head were brushed aside to reveal a crescent moon birthmark—a mark of distinction for those of Valorian descent. His smile, bright and disarming, crinkled the corners of his eyes, reducing them to mere slits of vibrant green that sparkled with an unreadable emotion.
“Viktor, Your Highness.” His voice bridged the gap between us as he stepped closer, the distance shrinking with each deliberate pace.
My gaze drifted beyond the carriage, seeking the horizon’s secrets. “Do you know how far we are from the capital?” The question lingered in the air, mingled with the scent of fresh earth and the distant murmur of our caravan.
Viktor’s gaze followed mine, squinting to get a better look. “Roughly another hundred kilometers,” he estimated, his eyes reflecting a sliver of the journey ahead. “We crossed the border about an hour ago.”
That meant we would arrive by noon tomorrow at the latest. With such a large caravan, we couldn’t travel faster .
I bit my lip. I was hesitant to ask, but decided to take the risk. “How have things been in my absence?” I ventured.
“We’ve made many advances, building our army and even training some female mages. But …” A pause laden with something unsaid hung between us.
“But what?” I prodded, sensing the undercurrent of his hesitation.
He leaned in subtly, his voice a hushed tone meant for my ears alone. “Keldara's silence has been deafening. Our preparations have mirrored the quiet, but we believe Keldara has been secretly preparing as well. It’s been far too quiet across the border. We expect they’re working on something big,” he confided, the concern in his eyes mirroring the tension in his voice.
Surprise flared within me, and realization dawned sharp and clear. Valoria, for all its advancements, remained blind to Keldara's quiet storm. Keldara had found a material called Aetherite that muted a mage’s power. I felt it firsthand when Mykal captured me. Didn’t my father and the others know about it? Not wanting to alarm him, I kept quiet, knowing that when I arrived at the palace, I would have to tell my father immediately.
As Viktor moved parallel to the carriage, his silhouette a constant companion to our journey, I was enveloped by a sense of familiarity. There was something unmistakably known in the curve of his jaw, the set of his shoulders—echoes of a past interaction, perhaps, or a shared moment lost to memory.
Leaning forward, my curiosity thoroughly piqued, I posed the question that had been gnawing at my thoughts. “Do we know each other?” My arms found a perch on the windowsill, bridging the distance between us. “You look very familiar.” .
His response, a chuckle muffled by the distance, drew my gaze to his movements. Viktor glanced down with a momentary contemplation of his boots before meeting my inquiry with an air of amusement. “Something like that,” he offered cryptically.
The ambiguity of his answer furrowed my brow in confusion. “What do you mean by that?” I pressed, seeking clarity.
He lifted his gaze and we locked eyes. The smirk that played upon his lips carried a depth of knowledge, a shared secret yet to be revealed. “I'm Sir Edric's son,” he disclosed, the words landing with the weight of a thunder bolt.
Surprise seized me and a silent gasp escaped as Viktor's words settled into reality. My seat became a necessary anchor, preventing the physical manifestation of my shock from sending me tumbling to the carriage floor. “You-You’re Sir Edric’s son?” The words tumbled from me in a stutter of disbelief.
He affirmed with a simple nod, embodying the legacy of his father with quiet pride. “The one and only.”
Memories of a young Viktor filtered through my mind. He was fifteen or sixteen when his father smuggled me out of Valoria. Sir Edric often spoke about him. Viktor, the beacon of Sir Edric's life, now stood before me, a bridge to a past marred by sacrifice and separation.
“Viktor …” My voice softened, laden with the weight of unspoken apologies, a heart burdened by the price Sir Edric paid for my safety. “I'm so sorry.” The guilt, a shadow companion of mine, grew darker with the acknowledgment of his loss. Sir Edric had risked it all for me. As if I was his own daughter. Worse still, I didn’t even have an answer for why he was murdered. I couldn’t help but feel responsible.
“Your Highness?” His gentle voice made me look up at him. “You don’t owe me an apology. You did nothing wrong. I hold no resentments.” His reassurance was a balm, yet my heart wrestled with the burden of what remained unsaid.
“I know, but—”
“But nothing, Your Highness. Please.” He glanced down at his booted feet again. “I’m assuming he is no longer with us … Would you mind telling me what happened?”
“Of course.” I situated myself and recounted the story I shared with Caelan and Marcellus the first night of our journey back to Valoria.
Viktor listened intently, without becoming upset or emotional. He simply nodded with each word I spoke.
“Sir Edric was like a father to me,” I admitted. “He protected me from everything and everyone. He trained me well so I could eventually protect myself. When things got hard, he never once abandoned me. He always made sure we had a roof over our heads, and even if he went without food, he made sure I was never hungry. Sometimes we could only afford a single meal a day which we shared, but he hardly ate to make sure I had my fill. I can’t express how sorry I am that I couldn’t protect him. I owe you a debt, Viktor.”
A sad smile spread across his face as he looked up at me again. “Thank you, Your Highness. I’ve spent many years wondering, and I’m glad to finally have closure … I hope to protect you just as my father once did.”
The offer, noble and heartfelt, sparked an immediate refusal. “I could never ask that of you!” I insisted, the weight of his proposal too great. “How … how is your mother?”
At my question, Viktor’s eyes turned glassy and he looked away again. “She passed two years ago.”
A tear slid down my face. I could only hope that she and Sir Edric were reunited in the Underworld after being apart for so long.
“I’m—I’m sorry,” I whispered, lowering my head and then quickly looking up. “Whatever you may need, you can count on me. I owe you that much.”
“Thank you, Your Highness, but truly, I am fine. I just hope to be of service one day.”
The evening’s encampment sprawled beneath a twilight sky, situated a mere twenty to thirty kilometers from the Valorian capital. Restless, I navigated the periphery of our makeshift settlement, the need to evade Caelan propelling my steps. I wanted to bring Selene with me, but she’d been spending more and more time with Marcellus. I worried she was becoming too attached, but I didn’t have the heart to stop her. At least not yet. I knew eventually I would have to step in, especially if my mother caught wind of their relationship.
As I strolled through camp, the sight of Ronan ensnared within his wooden prison halted my steps. His gaze, a piercing crimson, found mine across the distance, tethering me to the spot. Compelled by a mix of unresolved emotions and lingering questions, I approached with measured steps until I crouched before him a respectful distance away.
“Are … are you okay?” The words felt inadequate, but they bridged the silence between us.
He stared at me intently, his face covered in grime, his long hair disheveled, and met my question with a weary acknowledgment. “I’m fine, Leila,” he exhorted, a mixture of concern and resignation in his voice. “Go before anyone catches you here. Before Caelan finds you here. ”
Millions of questions swarmed my mind. I didn’t care who might find me here. There was just one question to which I needed the answer. “Ronan?” His name escaped me like a plea. “I need to know why … Why did you betray me?” It was a silly question. The inquiry was born of a heart still entangled in past affections, but I couldn’t leave without knowing the truth.
He regarded me, his expression a complex tapestry of emotions, the weight of unsaid words palpable between us. “Does it matter? What’s done is done,” he deflected, his voice a low murmur in the encroaching night.
“It does matter, Ronan! I trusted you! So please, just give me an answer, any answer.”
Ronan’s response was a mirror to the complexity of our situation. “The truth doesn’t matter, Leila. Not everything is black and white.”
I pressed on, undeterred by the ambiguity of his warnings. “I’m not afraid of the in-between. I just need the truth, whatever it is.” I crept closer to the wooden bars of his cage.
He hesitated, a silent struggle evident in his demeanor. “You might not like what you hear,” he cautioned, his voice laced with somber foreboding.
My frustration boiling over, I clenched my fists around the bars of his cage as I sought to bridge the physical and emotional distance that separated us. “I don’t care!” I declared, my voice rising in a mix of anger and desperation. “Are you prepared to be taken hostage to Valoria? Is this what you want?”
Ronan's retort was laced with grim amusement, a stark reminder of the political chessboard on which we were mere pawns. “Do you think I’ll remain their captive?” he challenged, his words painting a picture of inevitabilities yet to unfold. “Valoria's king would not dare, not without risking war with the Crimson Clan. I’m just indulging Caelan for the moment.”
“You truly believe my father will release you?” I pressed, skepticism lacing my voice. Truthfully, I didn’t know much about Valorian politics, and I didn’t know what my father was like anymore.
Ronan’s confidence didn’t waver; his smirk was a beacon of certainty. “I know he will,” he assured me. “Your father is a smart man, Leila. He wouldn’t dare bring another war to Valoria’s doorstep.”
My skepticism morphed into weary frustration. “Even so, I wouldn’t be as confident. Caelan is …” I hesitated, the name alone conjuring a storm of complications.
“Tricky?” he finished for me, a hint of wariness creeping into his voice. “I know. I know better than anyone what Caelan is capable of. And so should you. So … be careful.”
His concern, genuine and unexpected, drew a furrow between my brows. “Are you actually worried? About me?” I couldn’t mask the surprise in my voice.
“Always, Leila. Always,” he returned, his voice devoid of humor.
I scoffed. “Why do you keep calling me Leila? It’s Lyanna,” I corrected, a thread of irritation weaving through my words.
“Is it?” he challenged softly, an underlying acknowledgment in his gaze. “I’m sure you’re not used to being called such. Leila suits you better. The great healer of the Central Plains who fears no man or beast. Not Princess Lyanna of Valoria who, in Caelan’s eyes, is defenseless and weak. No, you’re no such thing.”
His assertion that he understood me better than I realized stirred a complex whirl of emotions. “You think you know me so well,” I whispered, disbelief shadowing my tone. “But you don’t.”
He moved closer, his hand reaching out between the bars to gently caress my cheek. The warmth of his touch sparked an involuntary lean towards him. “But I do,” he whispered back, his thumb grazing my lips in a tender motion that belied the complexity of our connection. “I know you very well, just as you know me.”
“Do I?” The question was barely a breath, a soft surrender to the moment as I leaned into his touch. “All you’ve done is lie to me.”
His hand stilled and I slowly opened my eyes. “I didn’t mean to, Leila. Everything I did was for your wellbeing. In that, you can be sure. I would never hurt you.”
The softness in his crimson gaze contradicted the harshness often attributed to his people. “But you have, Ronan. You lied to me—”
“No I didn’t,” he interjected with quiet intensity. “Mykal thinks he knows everything, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t know what I had planned.”
I frowned, my curiosity piqued. “Which was?” I sought the truth hidden beneath layers of deception.
In response, Ronan closed the distance between us, his hands gently framing my face and pulling me closer until our breaths mingled, his lips grazing mine in a whisper of a kiss that stole my breath away.
“Nothing you need to concern yourself with,” he whispered, but the gravity of his dismissal could not quell the storm of questions within me. “Just forget about the prophecy. There’s no use in—”
I pulled away abruptly. “This involves my life , Ronan. I can’t forget it that easily.”
“Do you love me, Leila?” Ronan’s voice softened, vulnerability cloaking his usually guarded demeanor. “Truly, do you love me?”
“I—” The words snagged in my throat. I was speechless, trapped in a moment that demanded a truth I wasn’t ready to confront. Frozen in place, I stared at the man who had captured my heart. A man who was supposed to be my enemy.
“Because I lov—”
“Your Highness?”
The interruption was abrupt, a voice slicing through the thick air, breaking the spell Ronan and I were under. I spun around to find Viktor, his expression a mix of concern and confusion as his eyes darted between Ronan and me.
Scrambling to my feet, I sought to mask my turmoil. “Hi, uh, are you looking for me?” My voice wavered, betraying my flustered state.
Viktor offered a strained smile, his glance fleeting towards Ronan before settling on me. “Caelan is,” he informed, a cautious glance over his shoulder hinting at the urgency of his message. “It’s best if you leave here, Your Highness … before he finds you.”
“Listen to him, Leila.” Ronan’s voice, a blend of resignation and hope, urged me to heed Viktor’s advice. “Go. I’ll see you soon.”
I peered back at Ronan, hesitant to leave him alone, but nodded with weary resignation before letting Viktor escort me back to my tent. His assurance, however comforting, couldn’t ease the reluctance that weighed my steps as I followed Viktor away from Ronan’s cage.
Our return to the heart of the camp was marked by silence, a mutual contemplation of the events that had just unfolded. I finally broke the quiet, curiosity guiding my words .
“Can I ask you a question, Viktor?”
“Of course, Your Highness,” he said as we walked side by side.
“Why does the Valorian army listen to Caelan? He’s from Eldwain.”
Viktor nodded, his steps unfaltering. “Yes, but he spent much of his youth in Valoria and earned the King’s trust. Especially since Prince Marcellus hasn’t shown any interest in politics, Caelan’s influence has only grown.”
“And you, Viktor? Do you trust Caelan?” I asked cryptically.
He halted, the suddenness of his stop mirroring the gravity of my inquiry. “Do you want the truth, Your Highness?” At my affirmation, he exhaled a weary sigh. “I believe Caelan is up to something, I just don’t know what. It worries me.”
I hadn’t known Viktor long, but he was Sir Edric’s son. If there was anyone I could trust, it was him. At least until proven otherwise.
“Will you do me a favor?” I ventured, lowering my voice as I scanned our surroundings for eavesdroppers.
“Anything, Your Highness,” he assured, his stance resolute.
“Investigate Eldwain’s political climate. Rumors suggest the King is ill, and a successor remains unnamed. Can you—”
Viktor's agreement was swift, his promise a lifeline in the tumultuous sea of court intrigues. “I’ll look into it, Your Highness. You have my word.”