Page 74 of Lost Heir
“My fae friend?” I repeated with furrowed brows. Instead of answering, Mykal made a noncommittal sound. I gaped at Ronan, hoping he could fill in the blanks.
“Orion,” Ronan clarified for me. “He’s talking about Orion.”
My eyes widened. “What does Orion have to do with any of this?”
Mykal chuckled as he leaned on the saddle’s pommel. “And here I thought you were best friends with the fae. I guess not.” He shrugged.
Ronan rolled his eyes. “For the love of the gods, can you get to the point, man?”
Mykal snorted. “All right, all right. Caelan acts like he’s not fighting for the Eldwain throne, but he secretly is. His backers are the Elders from Ellyndor, who have gathered asecret army to assist him. Right now, Caelan’s main mission is to marry into Valoria to acquire the lands. It’s the whole reason he wants to marry you, which means he won’t let you slip through his fingers so easily.”
I frowned. “Why are you telling us this?”
Mykal shrugged. “Because once Caelan conquers Valoria, he’ll come for Keldara and the Grasslands next. He’s already got the Central Plains in his pocket. Like I told you once before, Leila: you and I don’t need to be enemies.”
Ronan scoffed. “Right, because Keldara has always had Asteria’s best interest at heart,” he said sarcastically. “Didn’t you try to invade Valoria just ten years ago?”
Mykal nodded. “Yes, mistakes were made, but I’m hoping to correct them.”
Ronan looked away, his rigid posture belying the fact that he didn’t believe a single word Mykal said. “And what of the Crimson Clan? Will you continue to require tributes every year?”
Mykal’s eyes widened as he glanced between me and Ronan. “She knows?”
“Yes, Iknow,” I said clearly. “Which makes your story about wanting to help us hard to believe.”
Mykal shrugged. “It’s an equal trade. The Crimson Clan needs war horses and weapons, and we need people. If you truly wish to end our partnership, you need to speak with Chief Aryan.”
“It’s not that simple and you know it!” Ronan growled.
Mykal sighed. “Very well. It’s obvious we won’t solve things here tonight, but it’s best if we don’t linger here for long. We still have a day’s trek to reach the capital. Come on.” He pulled his horse’s reins and trotted ahead, reclaiming his spot at the head of the line.
Ronan and I glanced at one another, unsure aboutMykal’s claims. Even so, they held the ring of truth and things were starting to make sense. Now the only question was: How did we fix it?
As we neared the capital,the military presence became more pronounced. It was clear that the army was not a force of subjugation, but one of protection, deeply intertwined with the identity of Keldara itself.
“The King rules, but it is the military that safeguards our way of life,” Mykal declared, his voice carrying a tone of admiration.
In the capital, the streets were filled with people; it was where I got my first glimpse of Crimson Clan members. Their tattoos were visible, but what startled me was their shaved heads.
“Ronan?” I whispered, glancing over at him to see his jaw locked with the force of gritting his teeth. “Why …?”
“Our hair is very important to us,” he ground out. “Taking it away is like stripping away our identity. It’sbarbaric.”
I glanced around, absorbing the stark contrast between the disciplined, uniformed soldiers and the Crimson Clan members who mingled among them. Their shaved heads served as a silent reminder of the tension that lay simmering beneath the surface of this military-run nation. Despite the apparent peace and order, it was clear that sacrifices had been made and identities were altered in the name of unity and defense.
As we moved through the bustling capital, the presence of the Crimson Clan members increased. Some walked with their heads held high, a soundless rebellion against theirimposed loss; others moved with a subdued air, the weight of their lost identity casting a shadow over their steps. It was a powerful statement of resilience and resistance.
“Move!” a Keldaran soldier yelled as he cracked a whip against the back of a Crimson Clan woman. She screamed in agony and almost dropped the barrel of water she was carrying. “Hurry up!Move!”
“He—!” I started, but Ronan sent me a look and shook his head.
“Don’t interfere. It’ll only make it worse for them,” he muttered, his expression consumed with rage.
Many of the Crimson Clan members watched Ronan in awe as we trotted down the streets, silently begging him to save them. I watched Ronan avoid their gazes, his eyes glassy with unshed tears. I wanted to comfort him and tell him it would be okay, but that would be the biggest lie I’d ever told. The only way to free them from this enslavement was to resurrect the demon fox. And the only way to do that was to sacrificeme.
The idea gnawed at my insides as I watched his people being prodded like cattle. For the first time, I understood his desperation. Why he lied to me. This was their reality. For the first time … I wanted to help.
I snapped the reins, urging my horse to trot and catch up to Mykal. “How far are we from the Central Plains border?”
