Page 13 of Warrior Princess
I grimaced and subconsciously took a step back, my hand fluttering to my covered throat. “I shouldn’t linger,” I muttered. “It’s best if I leave now and return quickly.”
Chief Aryan smirked. “Right. Of course. We all appreciate everything you’ve done and will do for our clan, Your Highness. The Crimson Clan always repays its debts.” His words werecryptic, delivered with a raised brow as he looked between me and Ronan.
I swallowed and nodded, then offered a weak smile. Ronan took my hand and pulled me back and away from his father, turning his back to him. I looked up at his craggy face and itched to wipe the worry from his brow.
“Ignore him, Leila. Have a safe journey. We’ll be in touch.” Ronan crushed me against his broad chest and folded me into a hug.
After a final, lingering kiss, I turned to Mykal, who had been waiting with a patience I hadn’t expected.
“Ready?” he asked, an eyebrow arched inquiringly.
“Yes.” Without looking back, I stepped away from Ronan and walked beside Mykal. We cut through the lively marketplace, its vibrant noise now a dull backdrop to the gravity of our mission. As we passed the familiar stalls and I waved briefly to a handful of familiar faces, a sense of solemnity settled over me.
We angled north towards the outskirts of the village, the path leading away from the safety and warmth of the Grasslands and towards the uncertainty of Keldara. Each step was heavier, laden with the potential consequences of this journey not just for me, but for all involved. As the village receded behind us, I steeled myself for what lay ahead, committed to my mission yet mindful of the promises I needed to keep.
As we preparedto leave the familiar surroundings of the Grasslands, Mykal led me towards a small stable at the edge of the village where a couple horses were waiting. The stable was a quaint, thatched structure nestled among a cluster of elder trees whose leaves whispered softly in the gentle breeze. The air wasfilled with the earthy scent of hay and horse, a comforting aroma that brought back memories of earlier, simpler days spent in the countryside.
Mykal walked over to two sturdy horses, one a dappled grey and the other a rich chestnut. He expertly checked their tack, adjusting the saddles and ensuring the bridles were secure. His movements were smooth and practiced, revealing his familiarity and ease with horses. “Here, let me help you.” Mykal took ahold of my bags and secured them to the saddle.
Extending his hand, he gestured towards the chestnut, which he seemed to have chosen specifically for me. I appreciated the thoughtfulness in his choice. The horse had a calm demeanor and gentle eyes, suggesting it was well-suited for a potentially long and strenuous journey.
Gratefully, I placed my foot in the stirrup he held steady for me and swung my other leg over the saddle with a grace born of years of riding experience. Settling into the saddle, I adjusted my grip on the reins, feeling the familiar leather under my fingers. Mykal watched for a moment, ensuring I was comfortable and secure before he mounted the grey horse with an agile leap.
As we rode out of the stable area, the landscape of the Grasslands stretched out before us like a vast, open canvas. The grass swayed in rhythm with the wind, creating waves of undulating green that rippled as far as the eye could see. Wildflowers peppered the meadow, their hues of blue, yellow, and red dotting the sea of green with cheery bursts of color. The sounds of the Grasslands were a symphony of rustling grass, distant bird calls, and the occasional chatter of a squirrel or rabbit darting through the underbrush.
The air was crisp, the late afternoon sun pitching long shadows that danced playfully around us as it began its descent toward the horizon. A sense of peace settled over me despite theuncertain journey ahead. The beauty of the Grasslands was a balm to my apprehensive spirit.
Mykal set a steady pace as he led us along a well-trodden path that meandered through the fields. “We'll cut through the Central Plains by sunset, if we maintain this pace,” he said over his shoulder, his voice carrying back to me on the wind.
“Lead the way.”
As we rode, the rhythm of my horse’s movements synced with my heartbeat. Mykal and I slowly left the Grasslands behind, the familiar scent of wet earth and wildflowers gradually giving way to the dusty, dry aroma of the Central Plains. Sweat trickled between my breasts as the sun beat down upon us. The leather reins in my hands were warm, almost hot to the touch, and the rhythmic thuds of our horses' hooves kicked up small clouds of dust that clung to the fabric of our clothes.
The landscape of the Central Plains stretched out before us like an endless sea of golden grasses, occasionally broken by the silhouette of a lonely tree or a distant hill. The air was filled with the droning hum of insects, and an occasional breeze carried the faint sound of a bird's call across the vast openness.
Mykal rode with easy confidence, his posture relaxed but alert. Every so often, he glanced over at me as if ensuring I was still there.
“Never thought I'd see a Valorian princess turning diplomat,” Mykal commented, breaking the silence between us as his horse trotted comfortably next to mine.
I smiled and looked out over the vast expanse. “Neither did I,” I admitted. “But circumstances change, and sometimes we have to step into roles we never imagined for ourselves.”
“True enough,” he replied. "Although, you’re not responsible for the Crimson Clan. I urge you to cut ties with them after this. For your own safety.”
I snorted. “I’m sure you do, but that won’t happen.”
Mykal looked at me for a moment before sighing. “Do you really think you’re prepared for what’s waiting in Keldara?"
I took a deep breath, tasting the dry air of the plains, which carried a hint of the upcoming winter's chill. “As prepared as I can be. Negotiations will be tricky. King Eduard is known for his... unpredictable nature.”
Mykal nodded thoughtfully. “Unpredictable is a polite way of putting it. He's as temperamental as the northern winds.”
“Nonetheless, the Crimson Clan deserves to be freed from the clutches of Keldara.” I glanced at him momentarily. “I’m sure you can agree.”
Mykal nodded. “Yes, but it doesn’t need to beyouwho saves them, Leila. Don’t tie yourself down to those who might one day get you killed.”
Our conversation lapsed into silence again. Minutes turned into hours, and we finally approached the border of Keldara. The scenery began to shift—sparse grass gave way to rocky terrain and the air grew colder, a stark contrast to the mild warmth of the Grasslands. The mountains of Keldara loomed ahead, their jagged peaks cutting sharply into the sky.
As we entered Keldara, the ground beneath our horses' hooves became rocky, the sounds echoing off the surrounding mountains. The chill in the air intensified, carrying the pine-scented sharpness typical of Keldaran forests.
