Page 75 of Lost Heir
“About a day and a half. And then roughly two hours from the Grasslands border.” He peered over at me, then over his shoulder to where Ronan rode behind us. “You know you don’t have to go with him,” he whispered. “The Grasslands won’t be safe for you.”
I raised a brow. “Who said I’m going with him?”
Mykal smirked. “Well, ifthat’sthe case, would you do me the honor of staying in Keldara as my guest?”
I scoffed. “And you think I’d be safe here? I’m notthateasily fooled.”
His grin widened. “See? That’s what I like about you. You’re a realist. But truly, Leila, you have my word. I will keep you safe.”
Feeling the weight of Mykal’s gaze, as well as Ronan’s on my back, I forced myself to keep my eyes trained straight ahead. I didn’t know what my plans were, but for now, my priority was getting Ronan to safety. “Just get us to the border as quickly as you can,” I muttered.
The remainderof our trip to the border was tense, the sense of urgency palpable. Each of us was lost in our own worries and hopes for the future as the landscape of Keldara unfolded before us—a mixture of rugged terrain and serene beauty. The military presence gradually lessened as we moved further from the capital, giving way to the plains of the Central Plains. The occasional patrols we encountered nodded respectfully to Mykal, though their curious gazes lingered upon Ronan and me.
The knowledge of our impending farewell loomed over us like a shadow. I saw the tension in Ronan's rigid body, the muscles clenched and ready to spring; his usual ease was replaced by quiet solemnity. His homeland was calling him back, yet the idea of separation filled us with dread.
The day passed with little conversation. That night, we camped under the stars and listened to the fire crackling softly as we huddled close by for warmth. The time felt surreal, a temporary reprieve from the challenges that awaited us.
On the final stretch of land before we reached the border, the landscape grew increasingly desolate, a no-man's land that served as a buffer between Keldara and the Grasslands. The air was filled with a sense of desolation, a reminder of the rift that lay between the two vastly different lands.
As the border came into view, I was consumed by a mix of relief and apprehension. This was it—the moment of parting was upon us. I glanced at Ronan. His expression was unreadable, his jaw set in determination. Mykal rode silently beside us, his earlier offers of sanctuary in Keldara lingering unspoken between us.
“We're here,” Mykal announced as we halted at the edge of the border near the invisible line that marked the beginning of the Central Plains.
Ronan dismounted, his gaze lingering on me. “Leila,” he began, his voice thick with emotion. “I don't know how to—”
“You don't have to say anything,” I interrupted, my voice steady despite the turmoil inside me. I dismounted and strode to him, then wrapped him in a tight embrace.
I ignored Mykal when he cleared his throat behind us. I didn’t want to let Ronan go, even though I knew he would only be safe in the Grasslands.
Slowly, Ronan pulled away, his crimson eyes staring deep into mine. “Don’t linger in Keldara. Have Mykal take you straight back to Valoria,” he whispered as he brushed my hair back. “Once I reach the Crimson Clan, I’ll send word to you—”
“No,” I muttered and shook my head. “I can’t do this. I can’t let you go.”
Ronan cradled my face. “Once I step over into the Grasslands, I’ll be safe. You don’t have to worry about me, Leila.”He pressed a soft kiss to my forehead. “I’m more worried about you.”
Images of his people scattered and humiliated throughout Keldara filtered through my mind. Their silent pleas to be rescued were imprinted in my brain. I was the solution. I couldn’t cross Keldara again and see them as I returned to the relative safety of my home. Their empty gazes would haunt me for all eternity.
“No,” I repeated. “I’m coming with you.”
Ronan’s crimson eyes widened. “What?No! You can’t.”
My eyes flashed. “I can and I will.”
“Leila,” Mykal cut in to our conversation. “I’ve gotten word that your family believes you were kidnapped by Ronan. If you truly want to help him, getting back to Valoria to clear his name is the only way.”
I glared at Mykal. “What about the Crimson Clan? What about the ones who are enslaved in Keldara? What you’re doing is wrong!”
Mykal coughed into his closed fist and looked away sheepishly. “Things have been done this way for over a century, Leila. Change doesn’t happen overnight. You must know that.”
I stepped away from Ronan and edged closer to Mykal. “And what change are you trying to implement? I don’t see you doing anything!”
Mykal sent me a glare. “You don’t know anything about the politics of Keldara. Don’t make assumptions.”
“Leila,” Ronan said, turning my attention back to him, “as much as I want to disagree with him, Mykal is right. You should return to Valoria and let your family know you’re safe.” He turned to Keldara’s commander. “I trust you can get her back safely and quickly?”
Mykal nodded.
I took ahold of Ronan’s arm and dragged him a few feet away. “Listen,” I whispered, “I know you want to protect me, but I can protect myself. After seeing your people in Keldara, I can’t go back to pretending I don’t know how they’re suffering. Either you let me speak to my father for an alliance, or you allow me to cross the border with you and help the only way I can.”
