Page 31 of Embers of Frost
“Eirabella…” he starts. But then he stops and just lays his hand on top of mine, returning the squeeze. And so we sit for a perfect moment in time. Until the sound of Grellor snorting in his sleep across the camp yanks us out of our locked gaze. Rylan jumps to his feet, brushing the bark from his pants. “Um, I’m just going to go for a walk around the camp perimeter. Don’t go wondering where I am now.”
I poke my tongue out at him. “Oh, I didn’t mean I would wonder about your whereabouts,” I add, grinning. “I already know exactly where I’d bury your body.”
For the first time since I met him, he throws his head back and laughs. Really laughs. And the way his face looks, lit up in smiles, utterly takes my breath away. Then, shaking his head, he walks off, disappearing into the shadows of the dark woods.
I watch him go, the warmth of his laughter lingering in the cool night air, and for a second, I wonder who I would need to pray to so that I could stay in this moment forever.
EIGHT
Eirabella
Late the next day,we emerge from the depths of the forest to approach Narathia, the capital of our kingdom, Celador. I watch in wonder as the landscape shifts before my eyes, as dense brush and trees open onto dirt roads that now widen, giving way to a sprawling, grand city that rises up before us like something out of a dream. It’s almost dusk, the golden light of the setting sun casting a warm glow over everything, and for a moment, I forget my fears, my confusion—everything. All I can do is stare.
The city’s wall looms ahead, its jagged stones catching the last light of the afternoon sun. My breath hitches as we pass through the gates of the capital, past the ancient words etched deep into the granite, telling the story of the realm. The world outside instantly fades away as we enter the bustling heart of the kingdom. Rylan’s steady heartbeat thumps through hisarmour, a small comfort in the midst of the overwhelming sights and sounds around us.
Narathia is huge, easily ten times larger than any place I’ve ever seen. The city seems to stretch endlessly in every direction, a patchwork of bustling streets, sprawling markets, and elegant buildings. People move like ants through the city, their diversity striking. I see traders, scholars, and soldiers, all mingling as one. Their clothing varies—rich silks, simple wool, and everything in between. The air hums with activity, a symphony of voices, laughter, and the constant bark from competing market stalls. It's a city that feels like it would never quieten.
The lush green landscape surrounding Narathia only adds to its beauty. The city was seemingly built in harmony with nature, surrounded by water that glistens in the fading light. The canals wind through the streets like silver ribbons, reflecting the warm colours of the sky. Bridges arch gracefully over the water, leading travellers to every corner of the city.
And then... I see it.
The royal castle. Aetherhold Keep, as it was named by Celador’s first king.
My breath catches in my throat.
Aetherhold isn’t just a building; it’s a monument, a towering masterpiece carved by the very hands of Morath, the god of life, from a single slab of marble. Each kingdom received such a gift from the gods in the earliest days of the continent. Even in the growing twilight, it gleams, catching the last of the sun’s rays and throwing them back like a beacon. The white marble glows faintly, the smooth surface glistening with an otherworldly sheen. Four tall towers rise into the sky, each one perfectly symmetrical, reaching for the heavens like the city’s watchful guardians.
A shout pulls me out of my reverent staring, and I watch asa cage rolls by, drawn by a pair of weary, mud-splattered horses, their flanks slick with sweat. The iron bars of the cage clatter with every jolt of the cart as it struggles over the uneven ground. Inside, countless prisoners are crammed together, their hollow eyes fixed on nothing, staring blankly as though the world beyond the bars no longer exists for them. Their bodies are broken, hunched over, their chains rattling faintly with every tremor of the cart.
My heart sinks with the weight of watching them. The hopelessness etched into their faces is undeniable, the way their hands shake just slightly, as if even their muscles have given up fighting. There’s no defiance left in them, just exhaustion, despair, and that deep, hollow look of men who know their fate is sealed.
“Where are they taking them?” I ask.
“The dungeon,” Rylan answers, his voice as grim-sounding as I feel. “Come on, we need to go before it’s dark.”
The streets are a blur of faces and activity, people moving in every direction. I can’t keep the questions from bubbling up inside me, my curiosity too strong to ignore. “Is it always like this? So many people, all in one place?”
Rylan’s arm tightens slightly around me, a gesture that’s both protective and reassuring. “Narathia is the heart of the kingdom,” he replies, his voice calm and steady. “It’s always alive with activity, especially as you get closer to the castle.”
I glance around, trying to take it all in, especially the way the crowds part when they see Grellor and Yosef riding up front, dressed in King’s Guard uniforms. Mathis and Rylan had opted for plain armour, but their tall, imposing figures seem to command just as much respect as the other two. “Do the people… are they always this respectful?” I ask, noticing how everyone seems to move out of our way without hesitation.
Rylan’s gaze follows mine, and I sense something darker—resentment, perhaps—in his eyes. “They’re respectful because they’ve been taught to be,” he says, his tone tinged with a hint of bitterness. “To them, royalty is everything. It commands their reverence, their loyalty. But sometimes, that reverence blinds them to what really matters—like honesty, kindness, or the value of a life not wrapped in gold and titles.”
His words hang in the air between us, and I feel a pang of sadness at the truth in them. The people we pass are bowing to symbols, not to the individuals behind them. Part of me wishes that I could tell them of the valour of the four men I’ve had the unique privilege of getting to know over the last week, and that their bended knees aren’t wasted.
We pass through the massive town square, filled with market stalls and street performers, and I long to immerse myself in it all. But it passes by us, and soon we’re trotting over a stone bridge; that’s when I realise he’s taking me to the castle. For once, I’m speechless, and I lean back, needing to feel comfort in Rylan’s steadiness. He must sense it, as his arms tighten around me, his thighs supportive against the backs of my legs as I take in long, deep breaths to calm my racing nerves.
The bridge leads directly into a vast courtyard, the castle looming overhead like a fortress. The walls are higher than I could ever have imagined in my most uninhibited dreams, the spires reaching toward the sky as if trying to pierce the clouds themselves. The sight takes my breath away, a reminder of just how small I am in the grand scheme of things.
We come to a stop, and as if in unison, Mathis, Grellor, and Yosef dismount their horses nearby. They’ve been my constant companions on this journey, my protectors, my friends, the much-needed buffer that has kept Rylan and me from killing each other sometimes, and knowing that I’m to bid them farewell now, a wave of emotion washes over me. We’ve only known each other for a short time, but the bond we’ve formedfeels strong, like something that can only be forged in the heat of shared trials.
Beating Rylan to it, Yosef helps me from the horse, grinning at me, his usual teasing glint in his eyes. “Don’t go forgetting all your charm in there. Remember how you had half the tavern hanging on your every word? You’ve got a knack for turning heads, and you might need it.”
Grellor nods in agreement, his gruff expression softer than usual. “It’s easy to lose yourself in a place like this, but you’ve got your feet firmly on the ground. Keep it that way, lass.” I give the gruff, bear-like man a little punch on his shoulder, and he blushes.
“Hey, stop hogging her!” I feel someone pull me into a tight hug from behind. “Take care of yourself, darlin’. You’ve got friends here; all you have to do is call out, we’ll come find you,” Mathis says.
“Thank you,” I say, my voice catching slightly, burying my face in Mathis’s shoulder. “For everything.”
