Chapter Twenty-Five
Réalta Avermont
I could smell the faint trace of the harbors from Zircon City as we traveled north. It sang to an emotion deep in my chest, the salty sea air that would forever remind me of my home and the people I loved.
I kept my cloak drawn high. The hood shadowed my face, though no one was near enough on the roads to see it.
Captain Ryder Wyndfall rode ahead, his broad back a dark silhouette against the moonlit hills, while Isolde kept pace beside me.
Her small white mare moved with the grace of a spirit alongside my auburn mount.
Wyndfall’s cloak snapped in the wind as we entered the outskirts of Burns. He didn’t speak much; the weight of my father’s betrayal hung heavy on his shoulders.
Beside me, Isolde hummed under her breath, a healer’s habit I welcomed. The tune helped keep the fear from festering in my bones. I tried humming the notes with Isolde, but they died on my tongue. Still, I was grateful for the stretch of comfort her melody brought.
I swallowed heavily as we continued, knowing the roads shouldn’t have been this empty on our journey.
Farmers should have been bringing in the last of the harvest, and children should have been chasing stray goats through the meadows as we passed through clusters of homes on the outskirts of the main city. Instead, shutters were drawn, and fires burned low.
My people knew what was coming. War was like a pulse or a drumbeat you could sense from the souls of your feet to the crown of your head. Humans were not native to this land, but all of us here today were born in Valdor. We’d become a part of this world.
I tried not to look back, but the palace’s glow still burned in the deep corners of my mind. The marble towers of Zircon rose like swords against the stars at night, the banners of gold and crimson standing tall and strong as I fled.
Leaving was the right decision, but it didn’t make it any easier. If I closed my eyes, I could imagine the firelight reflecting off Minaeve’s jeweled crown on my final evening with them. The haunting turquoise gleam of her eyes still sent a chill along my spine.
My queen, my father had said.
None of this made sense. He named me his heir and refused to take another queen after my mother’s death.
Something or someone had poisoned his mind.
I could feel the truth of this in my bones.
My father’s secret marriage to Minaeve and then naming her his queen went against everything we had built together.
And Skylar was my cousin… my cousin! Father refused to hear me on this, Minaeve whispering in his ear that this was a lie for control, or a trap.
It could be. But the way she looked at my aunt’s portrait was anything but a ruse. I believed her.
Wyndfall raised his hand for us to slow as the forest closed around the path. Branches tangled above us, shutting out the skyline as the horses snorted, their breath steaming in the cold evening air.
“We’ll rest here,” he said. His tone was low and steady, just as I remembered as a child. “The next stretch runs open along the cliffs going north. We need to rest before taking that route.”
Isolde slid from her saddle and stretched her arms. She was petite, with a round face and long auburn hair that was braided back for travel. Her hands were healer’s hands, calloused, and yet, ever so caring.
“I can make a small fire,” she offered. “Enough to warm our hands and feet, not enough to be seen from the main roads.”
“Thank you,” Wyndfall said with a warm smile toward his wife, as he dismounted and moved to check the perimeter.
I slid from my horse, legs trembling beneath me. We’d ridden hard for two days, but it wasn’t fatigue that made me shake. It was the weight of what I was leaving behind. It was the home, the kingdom that no longer felt like mine, the father whose voice I could no longer trust.
Isolde crouched over the small flames between two stones, dried brush catching the spark she ignited from the flint and her healer’s dagger. “You should eat,” she said without looking up. “You haven’t touched anything since dawn.”
“I can’t,” I whispered.
“Suit yourself.”
I sighed, turning to look at her. “Not going to force me?”
“It’s pointless to force you to do anything you don’t want to, Réalta. I’ve known that since you were a child. It would be foolish to believe I could start doing it now.”
Isolde sat back and hummed the same melody from before as she coaxed the flame. The tune threaded through the open air and trees like a promise—a hope perhaps of healing this world and all those lost within it.
When Wyndfall returned, he dropped a bundle of twigs beside the fire and sat across from me. The lines around his eyes deepened in the flickering light as he took in a long, steadying breath.
“You shouldn’t blame yourself for what’s happened,” he said.
“How can I not?” I asked. “If I had seen what Minaeve was sooner… If I’d spoken against her—”
“She’s had centuries to practice her deceptions,” he cut in. “Your heart is honest, and you haven’t succumbed to a lust for power. That’s why she hates you.”
I stared into the flames until they blurred. “My father doesn’t even look at me the same way anymore. When she stands beside him, it’s as if I disappear. This war isn’t right.”
Wyndfall reached out and took my hand, the gesture gentle and comforting. “You haven’t disappeared. You’re seeing the truth and trying to do what’s right for your people. Sometimes, the gods take us off the throne to set us on the right path.”
I wanted to believe him. Gods, every beat of my heart and breath in my lungs hung in the hope that I was making the right decision. Leaving Zircon City and breaking from my father could be the end of everything or the start of a grand new beginning.
“Now rest,” Wyndfall said. “I’ll keep watch.”
I nodded, thankful for his belief in me. Grateful for his loyalty and trust. Without him, I wouldn’t have a small battalion of brave men and women soldiers preparing to fight against the crown and side with me as the rightful heir.
“And then I’ll take the second watch,” Isolde said. “Don’t think for one second you’re going to exhaust yourself and then ride all day without falling off your horse.”
I smiled at my companions.
“Now sleep, Réalta,” Isolde said firmly.
For once, I didn’t argue and placed a bedroll near the fire, settling in for the night.
The right path.
Wyndfall’s words echoed as I tossed and turned, wrapped in my cloak, trying to fall asleep and watching the stars shift above the black branches.
The cool earth beneath me was foreign. I hadn’t spent many nights, if any, sleeping under the stars like this.
But something about being here, about what we were doing, felt right.
By tomorrow, we’ll reach Agate Bay. And from there, I’d board a ship and leave for the Inner Kingdom, to Skylar, to offer an alliance and the truth about why the war with the shifters began in the first place.
Sleep claimed me in the night, but it was anything but restful. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw my father’s hand clasping Minaeve’s. My crown lay atop her midnight hair, and the Heart of Valdor sat between them as a symbol of their power and unity.
But it was wrong. All so very wrong.
We rode again before dawn. Frost glittered on the grass, and the air was sharp enough to bite. Wyndfall led us through the last of the forest, down into the lowlands where the road met the cliffs. To the west, the sea spread vast and silver beneath the rising sun.
Isolde rode beside me, her healer’s pouch bouncing lightly against her hip. “The High Fae and shifters will listen to you,” she said quietly. “I believe they’ll want this alliance as much as we do.”
“I hope you’re right,” I murmured.
“I usually am.” Her smile was small but sure. “And Queen Skylar, she’ll listen. She’s your family after all, and that means something.”
A part of me still couldn’t believe it. I just hoped she was willing to listen to what I had to say.
The road narrowed to a winding path along the edge, waves crashing below as we reached the cliffs by midday.
Once, Zircon’s banners flew from every watchtower along this coast. Now most were bare, their posts splintered, and the towers abandoned.
The kingdom was pulling its strength inland, preparing for war.
Halfway down the cliff road, Wyndfall halted suddenly, raising a hand. I followed his gaze, and in the distance, we saw three riders cresting a hill, the sun flashing off their helms.
“Scouts,” Wyndfall muttered under his breath. “From the royal guard, by the looks of it.”
My heart lurched behind my ribs. “They’re hunting me?”
“Likely,” he said. “Keep your hood up. If we move quickly, we can reach the lower pass before they see us.”
We spurred our horses into a canter, the hooves striking hard against the stone. The road dipped and twisted as the roar of the sea grew louder, like thunder clashing against the rocks. I glanced back over my shoulder, and one of the riders had lifted a hand to point in our direction.
“Go!” Wyndfall shouted.
We raced down the path, the wind tearing at our cloaks.
Fidela, my horse, stumbled once on loose gravel but recovered.
My muscles ached in protest as my mount regained its footing.
The days of riding along the roads had pushed the limits of my stamina, but I refused to give in.
When we burst from the pass into the open valley, a thick mist settled around the foliage, making it difficult to see.
The road forked ahead: one trail toward the bay, another deeper into the marshes that followed the river.
Captain Wyndfall veered right, calling out to us, “This way!”
The mist cloaked us well enough that when I finally mustered the courage to look back, the other riders were gone. Thank the gods.
“That was too close,” Isolde said.
Her husband nodded, but his expression was grim. “They’ll assume we took the main road. It’s the safer path. We’ll stay close to the marsh edge until nightfall.”
“Why is it considered the safer route?” I dared to ask.
Wyndfall bit his lip. “Princess, sometimes there are things best left unknown.”
We pressed on through the fog, keeping to the marshes.
Reeds whispered around us, and water churned around the horses’ hooves, sucking in their footing.
My heart slowly steadied, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was watching us from the deeper pools.
I swallowed, forcing myself to keep my eyes ahead.
As dusk settled, the land sloped upward again, carrying us to higher ground. The scent of salty air grew stronger, and an invigorating sensation settled in my chest. Up ahead, lanterns gleamed through the lifting haze, and my muscles sagged in relief.
“Agate Bay,” I said, half in disbelief. “We made it.”