Lost Heir (Blood Weaver Trilogy #2)

Chapter 21

21

R onan and I began our clandestine journey away from the palace and toward Keldara. Valoria’s vast, open landscape unfurled before us, a mix of verdant fields and rolling hills, the boundary between the two lands marked by a dense forest that stretched as far as the eye could see. The lands were deceptively peaceful under the bright sun, but every leaf rustle and distant birdcall seemed to carry a warning. We were exposed, vulnerable. The urgency to put distance between us and any potential pursuers pushed us to move faster.

The sun’s position declared it was no later than three in the afternoon, although it seemed a world of time had passed since the stillness was severed by poison and pursuing guards. Its warmth was a stark contrast to the coolness of the hidden cavern from which we had just emerged. We walked in silence with our hands clasped firmly in the other’s, each lost in our thoughts though frightfully aware of the dangers that lay ahead.

The underbrush crunched with each step as we trekked across wildflower-strewn fields. Even though fear of capture dogged our path, I couldn't help but marvel at the beauty of Valoria's wilderness. The vibrant greens of the forest and cheery wildflowers that dotted our path offered a brief distraction from the constant vigilance.

“We should reach the outskirts of a small village by nightfall,” I said after a while, breaking the silence. “We can find shelter there, and maybe even some allies.”

“Allies?” Ronan questioned. The concept seemed almost foreign in our current state of isolation.

I offered a small, reassuring smile. “Not everyone in Keldara needs to be our enemy. You might be surprised at who may be willing to help us.” At least I hoped.

Ronan nodded and looked ahead with a thoughtful expression. “Let's hope you're right,” he finally said. The idea that we could find allies in a land that had always been portrayed as hostile was a sliver of hope in an otherwise grim situation.

As we put more distance between us and the palace, the reality of our situation sank in. Ronan was a fugitive now, and my parents most likely thought he’d kidnapped me. They didn’t know we were merely running for our lives from Caelan's schemes. My heart was heavy, but I pushed the world behind us aside and focused on the journey ahead.

Just as the sun began its slow descent toward the horizon, painting the sky in blinding streaks of orange and pink, we spotted the village. It was a modest community of thatched-roof cottages along with a few larger buildings that likely served as the village center. Smoke curled from chimneys and faint laughter and conversation carried on the cooling breeze.

Approaching with caution, we avoided the main paths and skirted around to the less populated areas. Ronan's hand tightened around mine, offering silent reassurance that he was there, ready to protect me at a moment's notice.

Finding shelter for the night was our priority, but we also needed to be careful about whom we trusted. The fear of being recognized and our presence being reported back to the palace was ever-present in our minds. We stopped next to a tavern hidden in the shadows.

“Wait here,” I whispered.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“I can blend in,” I pointed to the crescent moon birthmark on my forehead, “but you can’t,” I said, tugging on his long hair. “It’s obvious you’re from the Crimson Clan. If word gets out that someone from the Crimson Clan is creeping around the borders of Keldara, my father and Caelan won’t hesitate to send troops this way. We need to stay hidden.”

Reluctantly, Ronan released my hand and I hurried inside. The place was packed with mages drinking their fill. With quiet steps, I darted to the coat rack and searched for two cloaks. Casually draping them over one arm, I scurried out of the tavern and back to Ronan. Ronan quickly covered himself up. I did the same and took his hand again.

Walking through the dimly lit streets of the village, we tried to appear casual on stone paths that had been worn by generations of villagers going about their daily lives. The village was nestled in a small valley surrounded by gentle hills that seemed to embrace it protectively. Houses with thatched roofs and walls made of stone or wood huddled together, their windows glowing softly in the twilight. Gardens bloomed with late flowers, adding splashes of color to an otherwise muted landscape.

We located an inn on the outskirts of the village, a modest two-story building with a sign swinging gently in the breeze. The sign depicted a full moon over a sleeping village, an inviting image that promised a warm bed and a safe haven for weary travelers.

As we approached the inn, the scent of cooking food wafting on the breeze made my stomach grumble in anticipation. The innkeeper, a stout woman with a kind face and calloused hands that spoke of years of hard work, greeted us with a nod as we entered.

I removed my hood to show her my birthmark and then covered myself up again. “I'm looking for a place for the night, and possibly a messenger who can cross into Keldara,” I said quietly, trying not to draw too much attention from the few patrons scattered around the common room.

The innkeeper's eyes narrowed slightly, but she quickly masked her reaction with a warm smile. “I can certainly provide a room for the night,” she said, leaning closer and lowering her voice. “As for a messenger, there might be someone who can help. Go to the back of the inn, near the stables. Look for a man with a scar across his left cheek. Tell him Mira sent you.”

I nodded. “Could we have two meals sent up to our room as well?”

“Will do,” Mira said with a curt nod.

Grateful for the information, I thanked the innkeeper and followed her directions to our room. Once we were settled in, I would seek out the mysterious messenger. The room was simple but clean with a single bed, a modest table with two rickety chairs, and a tiny window that looked out over the village.

“This bed is … small,” Ronan noted dryly as he closed and locked the door behind us.

I sighed. “It is. ”

Ronan removed his cloak and hung it on a wooden peg on the wall before he plopped down on the bed, wincing as the frame groaned. “I guess this means you’ll have to latch onto me so you don’t roll off.” He winked, and I laughed.

My laughter wasn’t due to his suggestion, but more because of the absurdity of our situation. It was a lot of change to deal with in the matter of a few hours, and it was catching up to me.

Sitting on the edge of the bed beside Ronan, I allowed myself a moment to just breathe and let the whirlwind of emotions and events settle. The room, with its sparse furnishings and soft light filtering through the window, was a sanctuary from the chaos outside.

“We've been through so much in such a short time,” I murmured, turning to look at him, his presence a constant reassurance. “I never imagined this would be our journey.”

Ronan reached out and his hand found mine, intertwining our fingers. “Life has a funny way of throwing the unexpected at us. But as long as we’re together, I believe we can handle anything.”

His confidence was contagious. In that moment, I believed we were unstoppable.

When a knock sounded at the door, my stomach clenched in fear. Ronan stood and walked to the door, opening it to reveal a servant holding a tray of food. Ronan took the tray and gave the young boy a coin before closing the door.

My stomach groaned when the aroma of seasoned meat and warm soup hit my nostrils. I realized I hadn’t eaten since breakfast, our day spoiled by Caelan and his diabolical machinations. We settled at the small wooden table. Ronan placed the tray in the middle and I beheld our feast: two bowls of steaming soup, bread still warm from the oven, and a plate of roasted meat that was seasoned so perfectly, the aroma alone was enough to make the day's stresses fade away. It was a far cry from the food we enjoyed in the palace, but at least here I didn’t have to worry about someone poisoning my food.

My sobering thoughts turned to Tessa and the ultimate sacrifice she made to ensure my safety. I pushed through my turbulent grief and picked up my spoon. “Looks like we're in for a treat,” I said with a smile as I tried the soup. Its warmth spread through me, a comforting embrace against the cool evening air seeping through the window.

Ronan chuckled and took the other chair across from me, which looked comically small compared to his hulking frame. “Anything less would be a disservice to our adventurous day.” He broke off a chunk of bread and dipped it into the hearty stew.

We ate in comfortable silence, filled with shared glances and knowing smiles. The food was delicious, or maybe we were simply starved. The simple meal felt like a luxury after the day we’d experienced.

Ronan finally cleared his throat and peered over at me. “Do I want to know who you want to send a message to across the border?”

I shook my head. “No. You don’t.”

Ronan sighed. “Leila … I’d like to say I’m not a jealous man, but the gods would know I was lying. If you’re reaching out to Mykal—”

My eyes widened. “Nothing happened—”

“Don’t lie to me, Leila,” he interrupted. “I overheard part of your conversation with him at the banquet. He kissed you.”

I bit my lip, embarrassed to be caught in a lie. I didn’t intend to lie, but it would complicate things less if he didn’t know. And truthfully, there was nothing between me and the commander.

“It was a mistake,” I admitted quickly. “I was panicking, and kissing me was his way of calming me down.”

Ronan quirked a brow and nodded. “I see.”

But it was obvious he didn’t see.

“Ronan—”

“It’s okay, Leila. This was before you and I were together, and it was during a time when you thought I’d betrayed you. I don’t hold it against you, but I know the effect you have on a man, and it’s obvious Mykal has developed feelings for you.”

I frowned and shook my head vehemently. “No. Impossible. We’ve known each other all of two seconds.”

“Yet here you are, seeking his aid,” he countered.

That shut me up. He was right. I fought the urge to roll my eyes because it seemed that Ronan was always right.

“Are you done eating?” I changed the subject, not wanting to delve deeper. “We should probably seek out the messenger before he heads home for the night.”

Ronan watched me intently before nodding in agreement. I knew he wanted to say more, but he wisely decided to remain quiet.

With our cloaks drawn tight to hide our identities, we crept to the back of the inn. The stables were quiet, save for the soft sounds of horses shifting in their stalls. Under the faint glow of a lantern, I spotted a man who fit the description the innkeeper had given. The scar across his left cheek was prominent, a stark reminder of the dangers that lay in crossing borders .

Taking a deep breath, I stepped forward to speak with the man, ready to navigate the next step in our journey away from the palace and into the uncertain future that awaited us in Keldara. “Excuse me?” When the man turned to face me, I immediately noticed he wasn’t Valorian. I wondered if he was Keldaran.

“Aye? What do you need?” he replied in a gruff voice.

I peered around the stables and whispered, “I need to send a message … across the border.”

He huffed. “I only deal with horses, ma’am. If you need anything else, I can’t help you.”

“Mira sent us,” Ronan interjected.

The man paused and looked us up and down. “Who do you need to get this message to?”

I gulped and whispered, “Commander Mykal Kaiser.”

The man paused and narrowed his gaze on me. “That’s one odd request, little lady. Are you sure?”

I nodded. “Yes.”

He sighed and stood. “Very well.” The man reached for parchment, quill, and ink, handing it over to Ronan. “Keep it short and don’t add too many details in case it gets intercepted. I imagine you don’t want anyone reading it other than the commander.”

Ronan took the materials, then glanced at me before he began to write.

I leaned into him and whispered in his ear, “Tomorrow at noon. The border. Bring aid.” The weight of our message pressed heavily on my shoulders. This wasn't just any letter; it was a plea, a negotiation, a connection to Keldara that would either save us or damn us.

As Ronan wrote, the man leaned against a wooden post and watched us with an unreadable expression. I wondered about his story and the series of events that led him to this place, acting as a bridge between two nations fraught with tension.

Once Ronan finished, he signed it Leila instead of Lyanna , then folded the parchment carefully and sealed it with a piece of string. “It's ready,” he said, his voice low.

The man took the letter and tucked it into his coat. “I'll see it gets there by dawn. Anything else?”

Ronan shook his head. “No, that's it. How much do we owe you?”

“Since you’re Mira’s friends, five Glints. But know this: this is a one-time deal. I don't make a habit of this.”

“Thank you,” I said, my heart lightened by a fraction as Ronan paid him. This was a step, albeit a small one, towards a resolution we desperately needed.

As we turned to leave, the man called out, “Stay safe, you two. Keldara's no place for the faint-hearted, much less Valorians.”