Page 11 of Lost Heir
“No I didn’t,” he interjected with quiet intensity. “Mykal thinks he knows everything, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t know what I had planned.”
I frowned, my curiosity piqued. “Which was?” I sought the truth hidden beneath layers of deception.
In response, Ronan closed the distance between us, his hands gently framing my face and pulling me closer until our breaths mingled, his lips grazing mine in a whisper of a kiss that stole my breath away.
“Nothing you need to concern yourself with,” he whispered, but the gravity of his dismissal could not quell the storm of questions within me. “Just forget about the prophecy. There’s no use in—”
I pulled away abruptly. “This involves mylife, Ronan. I can’t forget it that easily.”
“Do you love me, Leila?” Ronan’s voice softened,vulnerability cloaking his usually guarded demeanor. “Truly, do you love me?”
“I—” The words snagged in my throat. I was speechless, trapped in a moment that demanded a truth I wasn’t ready to confront. Frozen in place, I stared at the man who had captured my heart. A man who was supposed to be my enemy.
“Because I lov—”
“Your Highness?”
The interruption was abrupt, a voice slicing through the thick air, breaking the spell Ronan and I were under. I spun around to find Viktor, his expression a mix of concern and confusion as his eyes darted between Ronan and me.
Scrambling to my feet, I sought to mask my turmoil. “Hi, uh, are you looking for me?” My voice wavered, betraying my flustered state.
Viktor offered a strained smile, his glance fleeting towards Ronan before settling on me. “Caelan is,” he informed, a cautious glance over his shoulder hinting at the urgency of his message. “It’s best if you leave here, Your Highness … before he finds you.”
“Listen to him, Leila.” Ronan’s voice, a blend of resignation and hope, urged me to heed Viktor’s advice. “Go. I’ll see you soon.”
I peered back at Ronan, hesitant to leave him alone, but nodded with weary resignation before letting Viktor escort me back to my tent. His assurance, however comforting, couldn’t ease the reluctance that weighed my steps as I followed Viktor away from Ronan’s cage.
Our return to the heart of the camp was marked by silence, a mutual contemplation of the events that had just unfolded. I finally broke the quiet, curiosity guiding my words.
“Can I ask you a question, Viktor?”
“Of course, Your Highness,” he said as we walked side by side.
“Why does the Valorian army listen to Caelan? He’s from Eldwain.”
Viktor nodded, his steps unfaltering. “Yes, but he spent much of his youth in Valoria and earned the King’s trust. Especially since Prince Marcellus hasn’t shown any interest in politics, Caelan’s influence has only grown.”
“And you, Viktor? Do you trust Caelan?” I asked cryptically.
He halted, the suddenness of his stop mirroring the gravity of my inquiry. “Do you want the truth, Your Highness?” At my affirmation, he exhaled a weary sigh. “I believe Caelan is up to something, I just don’t know what. It worries me.”
I hadn’t known Viktor long, but he was Sir Edric’s son. If there was anyone I could trust, it was him. At least until proven otherwise.
“Will you do me a favor?” I ventured, lowering my voice as I scanned our surroundings for eavesdroppers.
“Anything, Your Highness,” he assured, his stance resolute.
“Investigate Eldwain’s political climate. Rumors suggest the King is ill, and a successor remains unnamed. Can you—”
Viktor's agreement was swift, his promise a lifeline in the tumultuous sea of court intrigues. “I’ll look into it, Your Highness. You have my word.”
4
The trek into the capital was filled with shouts and cheers as we passed through the streets of Celeste where the people of Valoria eagerly awaited our return—or rathermyreturn.
I peeked at the town I once called home through a slit in the curtain. The people appeared joyous, throwing grains of rice as if they were witnessing a wedding processional. The excitement for my return was evident in their faces.
Celeste, the heart and capital of Valoria, unfolded before me like a tapestry woven with threads of joy and anticipation. Its streets, lined with cobblestone paths that shone brightly under the mid-day sun, thrummed with life. Buildings, their architecture a harmonious blend of elegance and strength, rose on either side. Here, in the capital, the reverence for the moon goddess was palpable, her influence interwoven into the very essence of the city. Crescent moons were etched into doorways and hung from balconies where they danced in the breeze, a constant homage to the divine protector of Valoria.
