Page 21 of Lost Heir
“It’s complicated, Leila,” he answered curtly, his voice strained with a mixture of frustration and desperation. “Things in the Grasslands aren’t as simple as they seem. My people … are suffering.”
I furrowed my brows, my curiosity and concern deepening. “What?”
Ronan rubbed his sweaty palms on his thighs nervously as he blew out a breath and struggled to find the words. “It’s a deal the Crimson Clan made with Keldara during my great-grandfather’s reign. In exchange for war horses and weapons, we provide Keldara with tributes,” he whispered, his voice dropping to a hushed tone as he lowered his head in shame.
“Tributes?” I repeated, my heart sinking at the implication.
“Women and children, Leila.” His admission was a whisper, yet it reverberated through the room like a thunderclap.
I gasped and covered my mouth with my hand in shock. “Why?”
“Keldara is a military-run country. Their birthrate is fairly low, almost nonexistent. They need …” He trailed off, unable to finish his sentence, but the implication was clear. Keldara had a strong military; alone, the Crimson Clan would never be able to defeat Keldara. But with the fox demon? They might stand a chance.
“If they’re doing this to your clan, why did your people align themselves with Keldara ten years ago?” I asked, stepping closer as I sought answers to the questions swirling in my mind.
“My father was desperate. He wanted to capture you as soon as possible and resurrect the fox demon to save our people. Unfortunately it backfired, and we’ve been searching for you ever since.” His voice was a mix of regret and determination, revealing the depth of his struggles and the lengths he would go to protect his people.
Ronan gently captured my hands in his, drawing me nearer with a tenderness that belied the gravity of our conversation. His eyes, a stormy mix of determination and despair, locked onto mine as he whispered, “I never meant to deceive you.” His voice, barely louder than a breath, carried the weight of his dilemma. “But I'm stuck between a rock and a hard place.”
The crease of worry between my brows deepened as I considered his confession. “Does … does Mykal know the whole truth?” The question emerged from me, tinged with a mix of hope and skepticism.
He gave a noncommittal shrug and his gaze drifted away momentarily. “Honestly, I don't know. The King of Keldara is aware, but who among his advisors is privy to the same knowledge remains unclear. But Mykal must suspect something, given how readily he shared the prophecy with you.”
A wave of frustration crashed over me, causing my jaw to clench tightly. The realization that I was a pawn in Mykal's game ignited a fierce anger within me. Yet, the awareness of my naive trust in him spurred a deeper frustration. If only I had sought Ronan earlier, we might have navigated thismaze of deceit more wisely. Still, the thought of sacrificing my life for the uncertain promise of resurrection was a gamble I couldn't fathom taking. It felt selfish, but the personal stakes were too high.
“Ronan,” I began, the resolve in my voice masking the turmoil inside, “why doesn't the Crimson Clan seek an alliance with Valoria? Together, we could challenge Keldara.”
A soft chuckle escaped him, laced with a hint of melancholy. “We're not on good terms with Valoria, Leila. You, of all people, are aware of the rift between us.”
Dropping to my knees before him, I tightened my grip on his hands, seeking to convey my sincerity. “I'll talk to my father. Once I lay everything out for him, he'll surely—”
“No, Leila,” he interjected, his tone firm yet fraught with an urgency that stopped me in my tracks. “It's not as simple as you think. Please, I beg of you, don't share this with anyone. The consequences could be dire for my people.”
My frown deepened at his plea. “Why can't the Crimson Clan simply sever ties with Keldara?”
His response was soft, yet each word seemed to weigh heavily on him. “We've tried, but they have a tight noose around our necks. They’ve threatened us with harming our people who are currently enslaved in their lands.”
A somber hush fell over us, my voice barely a whisper as the reality of his words sank in. “This is horrible,” I murmured, a sense of despair enveloping me. The grim truth of the Crimson Clan's plight was far more harrowing than I ever imagined. “What can I—”
In the dimly lit room, the air thick with tension and unsaid promises, Ronan's strong arms encircled me, effortlessly lifting me from the floor to stand before him. “There's nothing youcando,” he concluded with a touch ofresignation. “After everything, it'd be shameless of me to ask.”
His words resonated with a bitter truth I wasn't ready to confront. The sacrifice he hinted at—my life for the salvation of his people—was a price I found too steep, especially with the shadow of uncertainty that my spirit could be reclaimed from the abyss.
“I'm sorry,” I replied, my voice steady yet laced with profound sadness. There was no other recourse, no other words to bridge the chasm of our dilemma.
“It's okay, Leila. I'll figure it out,” he assured me, lifting his gaze to meet mine, a gentle smile gracing his lips. “As long as you can forgive me. For everything. I can't bear the thought of you being upset with me any longer. These last few days have been torture.”
In a swift motion born of a mixture of frustration and a desperate need to maintain some distance, I withdrew my hands from his. “Still … you kept the truth from me. How can I trust you again?”
“You did once before when I was your enemy. I believe you can find a way to do it again now that I’m your friend,” he countered, his voice a soft but firm challenge. He grasped my arm, pulling me gently yet with undeniable strength onto the bed beside him. My breath hitched as I landed with a soft thud, his body rotating in a blink to hover just above mine, the mischievous sparkle in his crimson eyes igniting a familiar thrill. “Don’t you think I should be mad at you as well?”
A frown marred my features, confusion and a burgeoning heat mingling within me. “Why? I haven’t done anything.”
His laughter was low, a sound that vibrated through the charged air. “Oh, no? What about when you left camp,leaving only a letter with Henry as your farewell?” His reminder sparked a memory of the last time we’d seen each other, and my eyes widened. “Remembering now? I told you to stay put,” he murmured, his voice a velvet caress that seemed to stroke my skin just as his hand did, trailing a fiery path up my bare leg as he slid the silky fabric of my nightgown higher and higher with a deliberate slowness that sent shivers racing across my skin.
“What are you doing?” The question was a whisper, my voice betraying the turmoil of desire and hesitation that wrestled within me. “We can’t do this. Not here.”
“And why not?” he challenged, his eyebrow arching in playful defiance. “It’s just you and me. No one is here to stop us this time.”
