Chapter 13
13
A fter the commotion from the banquet finally settled, the night ended fairly early. But due to my father’s request, they celebrated my return for three full nights with enough food and drink to feed a whole nation. I made my nightly appearance, but never stayed long. The feigned smiles and the endless cycle of introductions to faces and names I would soon forget became increasingly wearisome. By the time the festivities drew to a close, I was relieved, tinged with a fatigue born not from physical exertion but from the emotional labor of constant pretense.
By the fourth night, many started to return to their lands while some stayed to explore Valoria and all it had to offer. I was surprised when my father allowed Ronan to stay, even after his father and Silas announced they were returning to the Grasslands. It seemed my father was very appreciative for what Ronan did the first night of the celebration, when he saved his only daughter’s life.
“I leave him in your care,” Silas said as he handed Henry off to us. “He’s been such a good little spymaster; I hope he can stop for a bit and enjoy his time in Valoria.” Silas ruffled Henry’s hair as he smiled at the boy. It seemed they had grown close over the last few weeks.
“We’ll take good care of him,” Ronan reassured Silas. “Thank you for all you’ve done.”
Silas turned to me with a voice tinged in regret. “Your Highness, I wish we’d had more time to get to know one another. But I trust you will watch over my brother while he’s on your lands.”
His words elicited a sincere promise from me. “Of course,” I said. “I won’t let anything happen to him.”
Ronan rolled his eyes and patted Silas on the shoulder. “Go on now, before my father leaves you behind.”
We watched Silas mount his horse and ride through the palace gates, a lone figure that gradually disappeared into the distance. The sight, though simple, marked the close of one chapter and the tentative beginning of another, leaving us to navigate the complexities of the days to come in the quiet aftermath of celebration.
After Silas vanished, I lowered to one knee, aiming to meet Henry at his level and create a space where he might feel more at ease to express his wishes. “Alright, Henry, what's on your mind? Hungry for something special? Whatever you desire, consider it yours,” I offered, my smile aimed to coax him into sharing his thoughts without reservation.
The boy's hesitation was palpable. His cheeks flushed a deep shade of crimson as he wrestled with his request. “Well …” he started, his voice barely above a whisper.
Ronan, ever the encourager, chimed in with a playful tone. “Ah, come on, Henry! You weren't this shy back in the Crimson Clan camp. You boldly requested a feast back then!” he reminded him, tousling the boy's hair affectionately .
Henry's response came with a roll of his eyes, a gesture that carried a weight of consideration. “Yes, but this is Miss Leila. I can't just ask her—”
“Of course you can,” I cut in, eager to assure him of his place here. “You can ask me for anything, Henry.”
In a move that warmed my heart, Henry embraced me, his small arms encircling my neck. “Can I be your spymaster?” he ventured, the question hanging between us like a vow. “I promise to be loyal only to you, Miss Leila.”
Ronan and I couldn't contain our laughter at his earnest request. “Henry,” I replied, drawing him closer for a hug, “is that really all you wish for? Not a grand feast or to dive into a bathtub filled with gold coins? Because I can make both of those things happen,” I added, joining in the lighthearted jest.
His reply came with a playful snort. “Of course, I expect payment,” he stated, “but I don't want handouts. I wish to earn my keep, Miss Leila.”
I looked deeply into Henry's eyes, now clear of the shadows of sadness that once lingered there. “Alright, then.” I rose to my feet and extended my hand in a gesture of agreement. “If becoming a spymaster is your ambition, then so be it. But know it won't be an easy path,” I warned, half-hoping to sway his resolve.
Henry's handshake was firm, his determination unwavering. “I don't expect it to be easy, Miss Leila. I promise to serve you for the rest of my life.”
The notion of 'service' weighed heavily on me. The last thing I wanted was for Henry to view his life as one of obligatory servitude. I yearned for him to experience the freedom and joy of childhood, a gift I wanted to offer freely. Yet, his insistence on earning his place and not accepting charity was a stance I had to respect—at least for now. In the back of my mind, I acknowledged that this arrangement would require re-evaluation in the future.
Freedom, not lifelong obligation, was what I truly wished for Henry.
After ensuring Henry was comfortably situated in his new quarters within the Eastern palace, I accompanied Ronan to his temporary residence in the Northern palace—a decision graciously approved by my father. Our path through the palace grounds was shrouded in the cool, enveloping cloak of evening, our hands nearly touching, nearly intertwining, yet refraining—a silent concession to the eyes that might be upon us.
“Ronan,” I breathed, a whisper meant only for him, even as we paced a discreet distance ahead of my ever-watchful guards, Viktor and Tessa. “Can I ask you something?”
“Anything,” he responded, his gaze fixed ahead, a testament to the gravity of the moment.
My gaze drifted to his hand, carefully tended and bandaged by the palace's healer, a visible sign of the tumultuous events that had transpired. The urge to comfort, to connect, was palpable, yet restrained by circumstance. “I feel somewhat foolish for this,” I admitted softly, “but I need to understand … what exactly is this … between us?”
Ronan's stride halted abruptly and he turned, the intensity of his gaze piercing the twilight. “If clarity is what you seek, then let it be clear. You are mine and mine alone, Leila. I cannot, and will not, entertain the thought of you with Caelan—or anyone else, for that matter. If marriage is not your desire, I accept that. But should you choose it, know that it must be with me. Because just like you’re mine, I’m yours, Leila. And I don’t want anyone else but you.”
His declaration, fervent and unwavering, left me momentarily speechless. My heart raced at the sincerity and depth of his commitment. “Eventually you’ll have to return to the Grasslands. You can’t stay with me in Valoria forever,” I countered, the practicalities of our situation weaving a complex web of uncertainty. “What will we do if—”
Ronan closed the distance between us, a gesture both tender and bold. “Let that be my concern,” he assured me, gently tucking a wayward strand of hair behind my ear. “But know this—I have no intention of leaving your side.”
A mix of frustration and affection bubbled up at the evidence of my own vulnerability. “I feel stupid. I don’t know why I’m worried.”
“It's only natural to feel this way, Leila. The odds are stacked against us in so many ways. But as long as you don’t give up, neither will I,” he soothed, his touch a balm against the chill of the night, his fingers tracing the contours of my face with a care that spoke volumes. “We can make this work … I promise. Do you trust me?”
Locking gazes with the Crimson Clan warrior who’d stolen my heart, I realized I stood at the crossroads of emotion and reason. Trust … that fragile, intangible thread had frayed under the weight of unspoken prophecies and past actions. My heart yearned to leap and affirm my unwavering faith in him, yet the shadow of doubt cast long by the events woven around the prophecy that entwined our fates, held me back.
“Yes.” I finally allowed the word to escape, a whisper of hope amidst the storm of my hesitations. “I do.”
Ronan's acknowledgment was a mirror to my inner turmoil. “I know this isn’t easy for you, Leila. I haven’t always made the wisest decisions when it comes to us. For that, I’m eternally sorry and will spend the rest of my life making up for it,” he professed, the sincerity in his voice attempting to bridge the chasm my reservations had created.
How I wished to dissolve into that promise, to tell him that understanding and forgiveness had already paved much of the path towards healing. That I understood it was all for his people. His people who continued to suffer under Keldara’s cruel thumb. A situation that painted Ronan not as a villain, but a leader caught in an impossible-to-win situation. Yet words failed me, choked by the complexity of emotions and the reality of our situation.
Ronan cradled my face and his lips tenderly met my forehead, a fleeting sanctuary from the world's prying eyes. I couldn't help but whisper a caution. “Ronan, we must be careful. The walls, the shadows, they all have eyes,” I reminded him, my voice a hushed echo of our precarious reality.
His sigh, laden with a blend of regret and longing, marked his reluctant retreat. “I’m sorry,” he whispered in return. “I guess I just got caught up in the moment.”
I peered over my shoulder at Viktor and Tessa, who had given us their backs for privacy.
A mischievous idea took root, spurred by the temporary privacy their vigilance afforded us. “Let’s go get caught up in the moment elsewhere,” I suggested, a playful lilt in my voice that invited Ronan to entertain the notion of a clandestine escape.
His laughter, a rare sound that wove warmth through the cool night air, followed me as I led the way, silently beckoning him to join me in finding our secluded haven. My call to Viktor and Tessa to resume their protective roles was met with immediate compliance, their presence a constant reminder of the delicate balance we navigated between duty and desire.
As we navigated the intricate tapestry of moonlit pathways that connected the Eastern and Northern palaces, silence settled, a reflective space where unspoken thoughts and lingering doubts danced in the shadows. The night air, cool and fragrant with the scent of late blooms, whispered secrets to the ancient stones under our feet, bearing witness to the complexity of emotions that swirled around us.
As we reached the shadowed archway that led into the Northern palace, an unexpected figure emerged from the dim light, grounding our steps to a halt. Caelan, unmistakable in his posture of impatient expectation and silver hair, pivoted toward us, his surprise unmistakable.
“What are you doing here?” he demanded, his steps quickening as he closed the distance to where we stood, a storm brewing in his eyes.
Instantly, Ronan and Viktor positioned themselves defensively before me, a living barrier to Caelan's advances.
Caelan’s frustration peaked. “What is this? I have no intention of harming her!”
Ronan's response was laced with cold sarcasm. “You mean no more than you already have?”
The color in Caelan's cheeks deepened, a silent testament to his anger. “Whatever has happened is between me and Lyanna.”
Ronan took a step toward him. “Her body is still covered in scars from your so-called love,” he growled. “Those marks will never go away.”
Before the tension could escalate further, I intervened by stepping forward to diffuse the brewing confrontation. “Enough!” I shouted. “What are you doing here, Caelan? ”
His retort was immediate, tinged with accusation. “What about you ? You should be secure within the Eastern palace, not here … with him .”
“I’m not a prisoner in my own home,” I replied, striving for a tone of measured calm. “I’m free to roam the grounds as I wish, with whom I wish.”
Caelan, visibly struggling to contain his frustration, seemed on the verge of an outburst, yet restraint held his words at bay. I could tell he wanted to scream and shout and tell me I was wrong, but somehow he managed to hold it all in, as evidenced by the vein pulsing at his temple. I’m sure there was much he would like to say, but he remained quiet.
Viktor stepped in, aiming to placate the situation. “We are keeping an eye on her, Your Highness,” he attempted to reassure Caelan. “She is safe.”
Undeterred, Caelan confronted Viktor with a fierce glare. “She should not have crossed the threshold of the Northern palace. Should you dare to neglect your duties …”
“Apologies, Your Highness,” Viktor interjected with firm respect, “but I don’t take orders from you. You are but a visitor on our lands. I take orders from the princess and the king only. Your status grants you no command here.”
Caelan’s reaction, a mix of shock and righteous indignation, mirrored the tension of the moment. As for me, the effort to suppress my amusement at Viktor's bold declaration was a battle. Indeed, Viktor more than earned my esteem in that moment, proving himself to be a true guardian amidst the crossfire of royal complexities. He deserved a raise.
Caelan's ire was palpable. He jabbed a finger in Viktor's direction, his voice a rumble of barely contained fury. “You! I would advise against such arrogance—”
His challenge was cut short by my interjection. “And why should he? Viktor is correct,” I asserted, my voice steady. “If you care to argue, you can take it up with my father.”
A grieved sigh escaped Caelan, and his posture deflated slightly in resignation. “Lyanna, please … just listen to me for once. As your future husband—”
Unable to contain his mirth, Ronan barked a laugh. “By the gods, Caelan! You’ll never be her husband. King Malik’s reaction should have told you enough.”
Caelan's retort was swift, a sharp edge to his words. “And you think you will? Because I vow that’ll never happen.”
Ronan shrugged and stepped toward him, invading his personal space, and whispered, “Maybe not, but I’ll be the one warming her bed at night.”
The tension snapped. Caelan's fist flew, connecting with Ronan's face in a burst of anger. “If you touch her, I’ll kill you !”
My voice rose above the chaos, a command for peace. “Enough! Caelan, leave now. You have no place here.”
With a parting glare, Caelan retreated, his departure leaving a charged silence in his wake. I turned to Ronan, frustration boiling over. “What was that about?” I demanded. “Why would you taunt him like that? I thought this was supposed to be a secret!”
Ronan's stance was defiant, a mixture of protective fervor and anger. “He needed to be put in his place, Leila. He can’t go around claiming to be your future husband!” Ronan shouted before licking the blood on his cut lip. “I’m sorry if it offends you, but when it comes to him, I won’t keep quiet.”
Ronan stomped back to his rooms in the Northern palace. I started to follow, only to be halted by Tessa's cautioning hand. “Your Highness, you shouldn’t enter the Northern palace. Others are watching.”
Glancing around, I caught the curious stares of a dozen courtiers, their presence a stifling reminder of the palace's ever-watchful gaze. The realization that our confrontation would fuel tomorrow's gossip over breakfast trays settled heavily upon me.
“Let’s go before anyone else sees me,” I whispered, urgency lacing my words. With Tessa and Viktor by my side, we retreated to the safety of the Eastern palace, away from prying eyes and whispered judgments.