CHAPTER I #2
It’s a perfect city atop a mountain, one that offers a certain rowdiness not often found or allowed in the castle at the bottom, but it’s also a perfect city that hides imperfection not far behind it…
I narrow my gaze to the top of the mountain and stare at the buildings that look like nothing more than tiny flecks in the distance. My eyes squint to the sky behind them, as if I can find all the dead land that rests just beyond our beautiful city…
The Plains of Unknown and the Barren Flats.
They’re blights to look at when you’re above.
Two bleak borders to our beautiful Kingdom that are covered in a vast expanse of dead grass, small rolling hills, and not much else.
No one leaves Disce in any capacity to cross into those lands, and not once in the history of the Old World has any foreign traveler made their way across that land into our Kingdom.
They’re just there, dead and desolate without any signs of life, a stark contrast to the natural beauty of our Kingdom.
I remember reading once that a powerful Discerni tried to summon the earth of the Flats a thousand years ago.
He aimed for growth, to turn the yellow earth into a land of lush green that could thrive with our Kingdom.
Not only did he fail, but his summoning was so weakened in the process that it acted as a fair warning to all others: The land had no intention of changing its ways and anyone else attempting to do the same would do well to rethink that decision.
No one has tried since.
The sound of galloping hoofbeats tears my gaze away from the Palisades and back to the path in front of me.
A single rider moves swiftly in my direction, his left hand holding the reins to his grey steed while his right hand points loosely at his side.
He guides a second mare directly beside him, every gallop between both horses purposeful and made with calm intent.
I quickly move off the path and make room for the man to pass, then bring my right hand to my left bicep when I notice him slowing both horses to a walk in front of me.
That’s another habit I thought I kicked last year, but as my fingers brush against the cool stone under my shirt, I smile at the protective weight and then lift my hand to shield the early morning sun.
A grin quickly plasters across my face when I recognize the second mare.
“It’s too soon for you to be riding again, girl,” I croon in greeting.
Millie walks up to me and rubs her nose in my palm, her gentle head dipping down to the bag at my hip for the apple she knows is waiting inside.
“The King has requested us both, Lady Alexis,” the traveler announces.
I stiffen at the deep voice and reach for the apple, giving Millie her half before running a slow hand along her neck.
Prince Desmond Bardot of the Court of Warriors…
Second in command of the King’s army and Master Informer to the Kingdom of Disce. A man I’ve avoided since coming to Bardot.
No one willingly tries to catch the attention of our Master Informer, and until this greeting, I’ve only seen him in Castle Bardot in passing.
“We need to meet with him before the morning turns late,” he continues, “my father has other pressing matters to attend to.”
I move my palm across Millie’s back and stop on the saddle, finally looking up at the man I’ve kept my distance from for the past ten years.
Dark brown eyes catch mine in an instant, his narrowed gaze so focused and cool that I can’t help but hold back a shiver.
The dark brown is complimented by his deep ebony skin, the two features so near to matching in color that they lend him the perfect mysterious appearance that befits the title of Master Informer.
He’s handsome with his black hair and short-clipped beard, not to mention the angular plains of his face and the leaf-shaped ears that are so prominent amongst all the Discerni.
And although his overall presence is cool, dark and quiet, there’s also something soft about him that I can’t quite place.
He looks to be the age of twenty-seven in human years, which would put him around a decade over one-hundred for a Discerni.
Desmond’s hard gaze breaks mine to glance at my saddle.
I give him a curt nod and ignore his impassive stare, swinging a leg across Millie before getting comfortable.
The Prince flicks his reins when I glance at him again, then spurs his grey steed into a quick gallop once he sees I’m ready to ride.
I urge Millie behind him with a frown and stare at the back of his black satin shirt, the color so dark compared to my Knowledge emerald that it emphasizes the Court of Warriors from which he hails.
While technically not of the same blood as the King, Desmond Bardot holds the same surname and status as if he is.
The King adopted him at a very young age, raising him alongside his two sons and daughter as he integrated the Discerni boy into his royal family.
Desmond’s true father was the King’s best friend, the former Commander of the Disce armies and the Leading Lord of the Court of Warriors.
He was also a formidable fighter in his time, a man who protected our western border from nomads and other nefarious groups who traveled through the Bulwark Plains.
Desmond’s father died defending our lands in the only known battle on Disce lands in the last two thousand years.
It took eight arrows of green agate to slow him down before a ninth, final arrow, pierced clean through his heart.
He was dead the moment the stone sliced through the major muscle, leaving both Desmond, a young child at the time, and his mother without a father and a husband.
In the days that followed the battle, both mother and son were invited to live at Castle Bardot with the King and Queen and their court.
Desmond’s mother lasted three months in the capitol before she contracted a sweating sickness that ravaged the entirety of the human population at the bottom of the mountain.
The mortal woman succumbed to the sickness within a matter of days, while Desmond, being mixed-race, showed little to no signs of any illness.
Her death led the young Master Informer to be swiftly adopted into the royal family, where he has remained a Prince ever since.
I’ve seen Desmond often in Bardot, always a quiet figure moving in and out of rooms in silent stealth and shadows.
It’s known that he’s the gatherer of information for our Kingdom, but no one truly knows or questions how he gets that information or by what means.
His frequent presence here in Bardot is something of a bit of a hushed whisper amongst the castle residents, though, and whenever the court is feeling bold enough to gossip, they’ll always ask the same question: Why does a Prince of the Court of Warriors spend so much time in Knowledge?
I prefer to leave that talk, and him, well enough alone.
Our ride along the Bell Grove quickly comes to an end when the two of us reach the eastern gate of the castle.
Desmond brings his horse to a slow and gives me a cool glance to ride at his side, then leads us towards the barracks where the majority of the castle guards and some of the King’s army live.
Most of them are awake and walking towards the training fields to begin their early morning, though they all stop and stand at attention the moment they spot their Prince.
That is… all of them except for a few of the younger boys.
“That’s him then, huh? The Master Informer?” a human boy no older than sixteen asks.
“Shut it, Thay.”
“Shut what? I can’t ask questions?”
“Not if you know what’s good for ya’. Don’t you know the Prince can hear whispers?”
“Rumors,” the boy called Thay rolls his eyes, “just like those that say he can disappear with the earth.”
“My momma said she saw it happen. Said she saw him in the rose garden one moment and gone the next.”
I peer quietly at Desmond in our ride, watching as the Master Informer remains silent.
“Who’s the lady with him?”
“A royal?”
“Nah,” Thay laughs, “a royal lady wouldn’t be caught dead in riding pants.”
“True. Does she have any shackles on?”
“You think he’s escorting her to his dungeons?”
“The dungeons are rumors, too, you idiots,” Thay shakes his head, “plus, she’s too pretty to be a prisoner.”
“Thayland. Ros. Garret!” a thunderous voice yells.
The three human boys startle just as we ride past them, their cheeks blooming in embarrassment as a very angry captain strides in their direction.
“Stable and lavatory clean-up for the next three days! Out of my sight, now! And don’t let me hear your voices again until those three days are up.”
I bite my lip and hide back a laugh.
“As fucking green as the grass they walk on,” the man grumbles and walks towards us, “apologies, Your Highness. Obviously they’re new.”
“In my day that would have been half a fortnight of lavatory duties,” Desmond quirks a quiet brow.
“That’s because you and your brother purposely tried to rile my mornings,” the man huffs, “those lads just haven’t figured out what’s good for them yet.”
I watch as the hint of a barely-there smile graces Desmond’s lips.
“It’s good to see you, Ramast.”
“Aye, Your Highness, and you as well. Give your father my regards.”
Desmond nods to the captain as a small human boy starts waving at us from the stables.
“Prince Desmond! Lady Alexis! That was a quick ride, Your Highness!”
“She wasn’t too far out.”
I bring Millie to a halt and push out of my saddle, patting her on the rear.
“Lots of rest and water for Millie today, Danny,” I give him the reins, “I suspect another long journey awaits her soon.”
“Yes, Lady Alexis,” the boy grins.
“How many times have I asked you to call me Alexis?”
Danny winks and catches the gold cinerin I flick his way. I laugh at his quick reflexes and turn back to Desmond, shrugging when the Prince gives me a look of quiet contemplation.
“Ready when you are.”