6 || Motes of Forgiveness
The princess was prepared for the singeing flames from the Vahan royals that would graze her skin.
They had been forgotten as they arrived into the Kingdom of Wyrith and she wouldn't blame them for their anger.
Not only was it pure disrespect, it was embarrassing to treat their potential allies in such a way.
She could only hope they would find some semblance of forgiveness in their hearts.
Informing them about the Necromancer's Curse was off the table. Ilyana needed to think of something and fast before she reached the entrance foyer.
"Illy!" Clove called from behind her. "Wait up!"
She slowed her steps with a sigh. It was only because she needed more time to conjure an explanation worthy of a king, not because of the new shadow she had acquired.
"You should be resting," Ilyana began. "Even if I healed you earlier, you were still on the brink of death. You need time to get your energy back."
From the placement of the moon that cascaded light in through the windows, she could tell it was already midnight.
The decor of the halls of the castle was kept simple in comparison to the main rooms. A bright coat of cream paint covered the walls, only broken up by the occasional door, potted plant, or table with various ornaments sitting on top.
"I can rest when you do," the captain insisted. "I've been asked to keep you safe and so I will."
Ilyana tried to hide her scowl. Everything was working against her today, it seemed. What a wonderful birthday it had been. If both her father and Clove were adamant about her being her personal guard, that didn't mean she had to engage in any sort of conversation.
"Your father's orders out-rank yours, so there's nothing you can do about it right now," she continued.
The constant sound of her voice made it difficult to think.
At the silence that she received in return, Clove quickened her pace until she stood in front of the princess.
"Don't think about giving me the silent treatment either. "
No matter how much Ilyana attempted to walk around her, the captain matched her steps in a dance of desperate pleas and yearning mercy. As much as she didn't want to face the past, she had no choice but to meet her captivating, olive eyes.
"Please, Illy. Don't shut me out. I don't need your forgiveness, but let me try and make it up to you." She placed her hands on the princess' shoulders, squeezing them softly.
"Over a decade of silence is a lot to make up for."
Clove grinned. "It's a good thing that I'm not planning on going anywhere ever again."
Ilyana shrugged out of her hold. "I have Vahans to meet with and they've been waiting for long enough. You heard the servant yourself." When she tried to continue down the hall, the captain moved into her path again.
"But you'll give me a chance, right? One more chance until I mess things up again. Getting letters back to Wyrith was out of my control! I want to try and get back the friendship we used to have."
Joyous laughter filtered through Ilyana's memories, the sounds of small footsteps chasing after one another distant beside it.
A young Clove's furious glare as she lost a tree climbing contest to Vivi all while she had been at the bottom reading a book.
A wooden sword trembled in the redhead's hand as she stood in front of the princess, protecting her from a wild hound that had wandered too far from its woodland home.
The echoes of what they once had both tugged the corners of her lips upward and formed tears in the corners of her eyes.
Could they ever have that again? They weren't the same people as they were back then.
Ilyana had the responsibility of a crown and an island resting on her shoulders, being held up by her father's hands for now.
Then, there was the fact that she had no clue who Clove was now or what she had been through.
While she still had the memorable freckles and blazing crimson hair, she didn't even look the same.
Now, she towered over the princess, she had cut her curls when she had professed it would one day be longer than her own, and her scrawny arms had been replaced with thick muscle.
She couldn't help but wonder if her body was toned in other places too.
"I'll think about it," Ilyana concluded. There were several loopholes in her words that she already had a few plans stirring into motion on how to get out of the agreement. "I really do have to get moving before the castle is burned down in retaliation for the mistreatment we've given them."
Cloven couldn't contain the happiness that sent a strange, fluttering sensation into the princess' stomach. "A thought is a start and more than I could ever hope for right now."
It wasn't long before they reached the top of the foyer's stairs where a pair of frustrated royals stood at the bottom. She had been expecting escorts and guards to be in attendance with them, but they were the only people there.
Despite the two having similar features, it was clear which sibling was which.
Both of them had an air of thrumming power and yet there was a distinct difference between them.
Prince Damian's magic was a quiet mystery lurking behind its owner, enticing you closer.
However, King Matthian's was a suffocating smoke, even from the top of the stairs.
It claimed command of the area, pushing out every other magic until his fire dominated all — a true Fireborn in every sense.
Thanks to Clove, Ilyana had been too busy to come up with an explanation for the curse.
She picked up her pale, blue skirts and made her way down the stairs with as much grace and calmness that she could summon.
"King Matthian. Prince Damian," she addressed each one in turn.
"You have my sincerest apologies from the bottom of my heart.
As you may have seen on your way in, your arrival was disrupted by some panic and stress that we are working on getting under control. "
"The bottom of a heart tends to be a cold and empty place.
" The king's expression was unmoving. "I'm glad you've finally arrived as an explanation is in order.
I was beginning to believe that you were a fictional character created by your father for the sake of an alliance.
" A hint of amusement flickered through his face as she reached the bottom of the stairs.
"If you could allow yourself to accept that I'm real, we can head somewhere a little more private and comfortable to have a discussion.
Unless you would like to rest, of course.
You must have had an exhausting journey over the Molten Sea.
" As the princess stood before the Vahans, she curtseyed and held out her hand to Matthian so he could shake it.
Instead, the Fireborn King turned it over and kissed the back of it. "I would prefer that discussion now." He met her gaze, making her notice the apparent difference between his eyes. While his left was brown with muted, golden embers mixed into the shade, his right glowed a fierce crimson.
"With pleasure. We can head to one of our parlours now." Ilyana swallowed her discomfort and turned to his brother, holding out her hand for Prince Damian to shake too.
"It's wonderful to finally meet you." He smiled warmly, a stark comparison to Matthian. "May I ask who this is behind you?"
For a moment, Ilyana had forgotten Clove was still at her side. "This is... my personal guard." She forced the words out as much as they pained her. "She serves as an additional layer of protection."
"Just the one?" King Matthian raised his brows.
"Cloven is all I need. Where are your entourage?
We have rooms for them if they would like to stay here.
" It was odd seeing the king and prince of a kingdom all by themselves.
Even when the High Table met with foreign Lords and Ladies from overseas, they were accompanied by some form of guard.
"The captain of our ship and his crew prefer to stay on their vessel," Damian confirmed.
"And your guards?" Ilyana pressed.
"We don't need them," Matthian asserted. With the heat and power that reverberated from him, the princess had no issue believing it.
"I'll trust your judgement on that matter. You'll be safe here in Celnaer Castle anyway." Or, so she hoped. With the Necromancer's Curse on the horizon, she didn't know how safe the island would be. "Let me show you to the parlour where we can continue this discussion."
The conversation stopped as she led them through a passage under the stairs. She could sense Damian's eyes taking in the portraits of previous rulers of Wyrith that lined the walls, beginning with the king who vanquished the necromancers.
They were dark creatures that obeyed the forbidden magic that sang songs of death in their minds.
Before they were defeated, they ruled the island with a tight grip, killing anyone who didn't agree with their diabolic methods and using their bodies for experimentation.
Even before their end, they had used the threads of death to curse Wyrith.
While Damian took in their history, Matthian's eyes never left Ilyana. It was as if he were assessing and judging her, as though he were a vulture peering off the edge of a cliff and watching his prey below. All he needed was the right moment to swoop down and capture it.
"Is that blood on your dress, Princess Ilyana?" the king questioned.
The princess peered down at her gown to find the splatters of blood from when she had healed Clove all over the delicate material.
That was yet another thing she had forgotten.
"Please, just call me Ilyana. And it is, yes.
This evening has been rather unfortunate in many ways.
I healed an injured guard before attending a meeting with our High Table.
I didn't waste any time and met with you afterwards. "
"Ah, yes. You spoke of that amazing talent in your letters. It's truly a remarkable gift to have."
"I'm fortunate to be blessed with magic to help others." Even if she couldn't when it mattered most.
As they approached the entrance of the parlour, Clove snuck past the group to open the door and hold it for them as they entered.
The room was small in size, creating a cosy atmosphere.
Usually, there would be servants to bring in tea and snacks for them while they talked, but Ilyana wasn't going to force them to do that at the ungodly hour of the night.
The princess claimed one couch and the Fireborn brothers sat on one opposite past the low table between them.
"From the bad omens that your staff have been murmuring about, this wall can't be anything good.
" King Matthian lounged back, kicking up an ankle onto his knee and draping an arm over the back of the couch.
"If it was a mere trap to capture and assassinate the rulers of another kingdom, you're going about this very poorly. "
In his free hand, fire burst to life. Embers spat at its surroundings — a warning not to tread any closer. A troubled look passed through Prince Damian and he quickly turned away from the daring flames.
"We would never try to kill someone we're actively working toward an alliance with. The situation will be under control within the next day or two, however, this curse was an unforeseen occurrence." Ilyana could tell her attempt at assuring the two guests didn't go as she had hoped.
"A curse?" The prince's eyes flickered between his brother and Ilyana.
"Yes. You need not concern yourself with the details of it, but please stay away from the wall. Until we find a way to bring it down, we can't trust the magic it holds. Ships have already wrecked when they have crashed into it and I would hate for the same to happen to you."
"And you're certain that this will be over in a day or two?" Matthian questioned. "Curses are not simple matters to trifle with."
"The wall may not be gone, but we will have more information on how to deal with it.
" Ilyana wished that would be the case, anyway.
She held out hope that the sorcerer her father was in contact with had some good intel.
Trusting Morana The Cursed with all the irreparable damage she had caused the island didn't seem like the smart thing to do.
"Until then, there's no reason we shouldn't continue this courtship. "
The Fireborn King hummed deeply. "We shall see about that.
It's clear that you feel you cannot trust me with something that affects the safety of my family and crew, so I will find out what's truly going on myself.
" He extinguished the flame in his palm, curling his fingers into a fist while smoke escaped through the gaps.
"You have two days to get rid of the wall or tell me the truth.
After that, I will use my own methods to discover what secrets you're hiding. "
Why had Ilyana lied to try and assure them everything was fine?
There was a slim chance the wall would be gone in a mere few days and she couldn't tell them anything without risking the secret of the Necromancer's Curse.
The High Table were sworn to secrecy through blood oaths and the Vahans weren't.
"Is that a threat, Your Highness?" Clove's voice made the princess jump. She had silently wandered over from her place at the door until she stood behind the royal she was now devoted to protecting.
"Take it as you like." King Matthian only raised a brow in a challenge — one that the captain refused to back down from.
"If you could please find someone to show us to our rooms, that would be wonderful," Prince Damian interrupted, breaking up the growing tension between the king and Clove. Any longer and Ilyana reckoned that one of them would lunge at the other.
"Of course," the princess replied as she stood. "Further measures will not be needed, King Matthian. If you cannot trust me, please, trust my father. He has several plans in place to deal with this."
"As I said, you have two days." He made his way to the door, his brother following suit. "Honesty and strength are both qualities I value. If you can't show either of them then this betrothal will have to be reconsidered."
With one last demeaning glance at Ilyana, the Fireborn King left with the first cracks of the potential betrothal beginning to show. She needed to do something to make sure it wouldn't shatter completely.