Page 76 of Lost Heir
Ronan’s eyes widened in horror. “Leila, what are you saying?” he whispered.
“I’m saying yes. I’ll awaken the fox demon.”
Before I even finished my sentence, he was already shaking his head. “No, Leila. Trust me when I tell you, I want to help my people more than anyone, but … things are different now. My father is different. I don’t know what it is, but something rubbed me the wrong way when I saw him at the banquet. It had been months since I last spoke to him, and I don’t think we’re in agreement any longer.”
I frowned. “What do you mean?”
He sighed and ran a hand through his tousled hair. “I believe he wants to sacrifice you and then use the wish on something else.”
My stomach plummeted. “But he can’t do that without your permission! It’syouwho holds the wish, and I trustyou,Ronan. More than I’ve ever trusted anyone. So let your father scheme all he wants. He won’t get his way.”
“We’re running out of time!” Mykal called out. “If word arrives to the King of Keldara that the son of Chief Aryan crossed the border and we let him go, much less that Princess Lyanna of Valoria crossed with him, there will be hell to pay!”
I looked deeply into Ronan’s eyes and took his hands in my own. “Please, Ronan. Let me go with you,” I whispered.
I saw the conflict in those crimson eyes and his burningdesire to reject my offer, but in those same eyes I saw a small part wanted to agree. He wanted to save his people no matter what it took.
He sighed. “Fine. Let’s go.” Gripping my hand tightly, Ronan pulled me over to where Mykal stood, holding the reins of our horses.
“So what’s the plan?” the commander asked.
“She’s coming with me.” Ronan squeezed my hand. “Thank you for your assistance.”
Mykal looked conflicted as he looked between us warily. “Leila … this isn’t a good idea. What Chief Aryan has planned –”
“I know. You told me,” I said with a roll of my eyes. “But just trust that I know what I’m doing.”
He turned his ire to Ronan, his expression darkening. “Are you truly willing to sacrifice her? I’m usually not opposed to sacrificing one for the sake of thousands, but—”
Mykal looked at me with something akin to caring in his eyes. Did he actually care whether I lived or died? I had to turn away.
“You can trust that I’d never let anything happen to her. She won’t die,” Ronan declared, his jaw locking as he stared Mykal down. “I assure you, I can take care of my woman.”
“I doubt King Malik would agree with that sentiment,” Mykal gritted between his teeth.
I tried to diffuse the situation. “This ismydecision, and like you said, there’s not much time. I appreciate your help, Mykal, but we need to go.”
After a beat, Mykal nodded and handed us the reins of our horses. “Fine. Just don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Without another glance, he climbed atop his horse, digging his heels in its sides and leaving us at the border.
24
After crossing the small patch of land of the Central Plains, the journey into the Grasslands revealed a stark contrast to the regimented landscapes of Keldara. Here, the terrain sprawled wide and wild, a rugged expanse that seemed both untamed and inviting. Vast prairies stretched under an expansive sky, dotted with clusters of dense woods and interspersed with winding rivers that sparkled under the sun’s bright rays.
As we ventured deeper, the occasional homestead appeared, their structures built from the very earth they stood upon, blending seamlessly into the natural environment. These homes were surrounded by patches of cultivated land where members of the Crimson Clan worked together, their movements synchronized in a dance of communal living.
“The Grasslands breathe with the life of its people,” Ronan explained, his voice carrying a mix of pride and sorrow. “We live by the land, and the land lives by us. It's more than a home—it's part of who we are.”
The closer we got to the heart of the Crimson Clan'sterritory, the more vibrant the landscape became. Wildflowers in a myriad of colors blanketed the fields, creating a mosaic of hues that danced in the breeze. Occasionally, we'd pass a group of Crimson Clan members, their distinctive tattoos a vivid declaration of their identity, their greetings warm but measured as they recognized Ronan.
“Every clan member learns to harmonize with the environment here,” Ronan continued, gesturing towards a group of children herding sheep using traditional techniques passed down through generations. “Our ways might seem primitive to some, but they're crafted from centuries of respect for the wilderness that sustains us.”
As the sun began to set, casting long shadows over the grassy plains, the true beauty of the Grasslands revealed itself. The horizon lit up in fiery oranges and pinks, reflecting off the rivers like trails of molten gold. It was a land that demanded respect and offered solace in return, a land that fiercely protected its own.
“This is why I fight so hard to protect our way of life,” Ronan said, his gaze fixed on the horizon. “It's not just about survival. It's about preserving a legacy that will outlive us all.”
“It’s beautiful, Ronan,” I said as we passed another group of members who looked at me with open curiosity.
