Chapter Twenty-Six
Réalta Avermont
Night had fallen by the time we arrived at the docks. With ships gently swaying against the ropes holding them steady, the port was peaceful. The sounds of gulls overhead and far-off tavern laughter caused an ache in my chest as a thread of doubt seeped in.
Am I doing the right thing? I asked myself as the waves splashed against the dock.
We’d stabled the horses in a quiet yard behind the nearby tavern.
I ran my hand down my mare’s neck, whispering a heartfelt goodbye.
Fidela was a gift from my father on my twenty-first birthday when he announced that I was to be his heir, and as such, I should have a prized mount to match my new title.
The mare had tenderly nuzzled my sleeve as if she understood me. The goodbye was only for now; I would find her again.
As I waited with Isolde on the edge of the pier, my fingers traced the rope tied to a nearby ship.
It was stiff and brittle with salt, a quiet reminder of my duty to my people.
Whatever storms might come, I had to stay the course and not break, for I was the lifeline that kept them safe in the harbor.
Ahead, Wyndfall spoke quietly to a sailor near the end of the pier, passing him a hearty sack of gold for his silence and support.
“It’s alright to have doubts,” Isolde whispered, patting my shoulder.
I jumped at her touch, lost in my tangled web of fears and doubt. “What do you mean?”
“If you didn’t second-guess this endeavor, I would be more worried.”
I arched my brow. “Really?”
“Doing what’s right isn’t always the easiest path to take.”
I inhaled deeply, forcing my nerves to settle.
The night fog from the bay rolled over the ships swaying in the tide, readying to shift to take the ships out to sea. The harbor appeared to be floating amongst clouds on a dark, stormy night, with lanterns along the masts of ships looking like ground-bound stars.
Boots stomped in a familiar pattern as Isolde, and I turned toward the approaching pair of feet.
When Wyndfall reached us, he nodded once. “The captain will take us. He sails before dawn.”
Relief and dread twisted together in my chest.
“This way,” Captain Wyndfall said, his voice quiet and calm, bringing me back.
I followed him along the dock until we came to the last ship, waiting for us at the end.
Wyndfall had sent word with a trusted courier to seek out safe passage across the sea.
I was glad his intel proved true. The boat’s sails furled tight, its name painted in pale letters along the hull, Brightwater.
Isolde’s firm grip caught my wrist before I could move closer. “Wait,” she said.
Something in her tone stopped me.
“I’ve been thinking.” She paused, taking a steadying breath. “You can’t go.”
I blink. “What?”
“You’re too recognizable, even in disguise. If word has reached Zircon that the princess fled over the Narrow Sea, the king will send his fastest ships to retrieve you.” She shook her head. “You’d never make it across.”
“But the plan—”
“The plan can change,” she said. “And I believe it is in our best interest if you remain here, Your Highness.”
Wyndfall’s brow furrowed. “Isolde—”
She turned to him, eyes bright in the lanternlight. “You know I’m right. You can protect her better here. I know enough of the past to state our case. I come as a healer, not a warrior or a threat to their people or crown.”
I didn’t know what to say. Isolde’s voice was firm and unwavering. The confidence in her ability to speak to the High Fae and shifters touched something in my heart. I admired her for this offer, but I was not in favor of her traveling across the Narrow Sea alone.
Isolde turned to her husband. “She’ll listen to me.”
There was a beat of silence as Wyndfall stared at his wife. His emotions were caged behind a mask of steel as he assessed her.
I stared at Isolde, practically speechless. “You’d be risking your life to sail there. Are you sure about this?”
She turned toward me, saying, “It isn’t a risk. It’s a purpose. You taught me that.”
“I never—”
“Yes, you did,” she interrupted, giving me a soft smile.
“When you rode into the villages last winter with food from your own stores. When you defied your father’s ruling to remain inside the gates and left to help the healers comfort the plague victims, you taught all of us that a single heart’s courage can move kingdoms.”
Her words pierced straight through me.
Wyndfall’s hands clenched at his sides. “If you go, love, we may not see each other on this side of the crossing.”
“I know.” Her voice remained steady. “But if Réalta goes, the realm may lose its hope entirely.”
I couldn’t bear it. “There must be another way—”
“There isn’t.” She reached up and unfastened the small silver pendant at her throat, along with her healer’s dagger from her hip, and pressed them into my hands. “For luck.”
I took the dagger and slipped it into my cloak pocket, but paused as I gazed at the pendant. It was small and shaped like a feather, worn smooth by time. I closed my fingers around it, unable to speak.
“This was once my mother’s,” she said. “And if we were ever to have children, it would’ve gone to one of them. But alas, the gods foresaw another we would need to care for and love as if she were our own.”
Tears collected at the corners of my eyes. “Isolde—”
“Where should they meet you?” Isolde asked, forcing my mind to stay sharp.
“The Rainbow Woods. Tell them to meet me in the Rainbow Woods if they agree, by the next new moon.”
Isolde smiled and nodded, wrapping me in a loving embrace.
I forced myself to release her. Isolde leaned back, pulled her cloak tight, and gave me a firm nod before stepping onto the gangplank.
Wyndfall strode to close the distance between them, reached for her, and wrapped his hand behind her neck to pull her in for a loving kiss.
I found myself turning, wanting to grant them this small moment to say farewell to a love that had withstood the test of time.
As Isolde entered the ship, the sailors glanced at her but asked no questions, while I remained beside Wyndfall with my hood covering my face. She moved with quiet confidence, as if she belonged among them.
When the gangplank was pulled aside, Isolde turned her attention toward me. “Remember who you are,” she called softly. “Not a crown, not a title. But a heart. You are the heart of your people.”
The crew moved quickly, untying ropes and raising sails.
The Brightwater glided from the dock, its lanterns dimming as it merged with the night.
I stood there long after it vanished, with a cold sensation trickling along my spine as the sails disappeared.
I clutched the pendant in my palm and strapped the dagger to my hip, praying my cousin would listen, that she would answer my call and meet me.
Wyndfall’s steps were heavy as he came to stand beside me. For a while, neither of us spoke as the endless dark sea murmured below.
“She made her choice. Now it’s time we make ours,” he said.
I nodded. The grief of Isolde’s absence was sharp, but beneath it, something steadier burned. Something I knew I needed to become to save my people from the tyrannic ruler now sitting on my throne.
“What are your orders?” he asked.
“We’ll gather any allies we can. It’s only two weeks until the new moon. And while we prepare our forces, Minaeve is also gathering hers.”
My oldest friend placed a hand on my shoulder, the gesture strong and comforting. “Then let’s begin.”
As we turned from the water, the first light of dawn broke over the horizon. It touched the waves with gold, reminding me of the color of our banners, of hope, of home.
I breathed it in, squared my shoulders, and walked into the rising sun. For the first time since leaving Zircon City, I felt certain of my path.
Not a princess on the run or an heir denied.
But a ruler fueled with the courage and heart of her people.