Page 14 of Warrior Princess
“How do the people of Keldara feel about the current treaty?” I pulled my cloak tighter around me as a brisk wind swept through the pass.
“They're tired, just like everyone else.” Mykal kept his eyes on the winding path ahead. “War has drained us. If your words can bring peace, it will be a welcome change.”
I nodded, absorbing his words. The responsibility weighed heavily, but it was a weight I was ready to carry.
“Just remember, no matter what happens, stay true to your cause,” Mykal advised, his voice serious. “King Eduard respects strength, even if it comes wrapped in diplomatic terms.”
“Thank you, Mykal.” I was grateful for his guidance and the subtle reassurance it brought. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
As we continued our journey through the increasingly rugged landscape, the sounds of our horses' steady breathing and the occasional call of a distant eagle were our only companions. The path ahead was fraught with uncertainty, but a burgeoning sense of resolve steadied my heart. Whatever challenges awaited in Keldara, I was determined to face them head-on, for peace, for the Crimson Clan, for Valoria, and for my own sense of duty.
7
The air grew even cooler as we approached Keldara's capital, a stark fortress city built against a backdrop of towering mountains. The city's walls, which were constructed from the gray stone of the surrounding peaks, stood imposing and formidable against the twilight sky. As we neared the massive gates, the clatter of our horses' hooves echoed off the stonework, announcing our arrival.
Guards in heavy armor with stern faces under the shadow of their helmets manned the gates. They scrutinized us closely but stepped aside the instant they recognized Mykal, their expressions shifting from suspicion to respectful wariness. Mykal nodded slightly, a silent command that was promptly obeyed, and the heavy gates creaked open to grant us entry.
Inside, the capital was a blend of rugged aesthetics and stark functionality. Stone buildings lined the cobblestone streets, their structures utilitarian and fortified, designed more for defense than beauty. Torches flickered against the stone, casting a warm light that flickered across the banners of Keldara—depicting a bear and a crown—fluttering in the evening breeze.
We dismounted in the palace courtyard, a vast expanse surrounded by high walls and watchtowers. Servants hurried forward to take our horses and Mykal led the way across the cobblestones towards the grand entrance of the palace. The doors were enormous, carved from dark wood and reinforced with iron. As they opened, a gust of warm air scented with spices and hearth smoke wafted out.
The inside of the palace was a stark contrast to its austere exterior. Rich tapestries hung from the walls, depicting the storied history of Keldara—battles won, alliances forged, and kings crowned. The floors were covered with thick, plush carpets that muffled our footsteps as we walked through the opulent halls.
The hallway led to a grand audience chamber where the throne of Keldara stood—a massive chair of dark wood and iron perched atop a dais lined with red velvet. The room was dimly lit by iron chandeliers, their candles casting a soft glow that illuminated the throne and the intricate mosaic on the floor, made of colored stones portraying Keldara’s emblem.
Mykal spoke quietly as we approached the chamber. “This is where you'll meet King Eduard. He's a man who appreciates directness and strength, so be forthright with him. Your only hope rests on this meeting, Leila.”
I nodded to show I understood, even as a sense of unease began to form. “Okay... so when will he arrive?” My voice echoed slightly in the vast, empty throne room.
Mykal cleared his throat, a hesitant gesture that did little to ease my growing apprehension. “Well... I haven’t told him about you yet,” he murmured, his eyes not quite meeting mine. “He doesn’t know you’re here.”
My eyes widened in disbelief. “What?” I exclaimed, my voice reverberating off the high stone walls. “You brought me here without his permission?”
He grimaced, and an expression of regret flashed across his features. “Sometimes it’s better to ask for forgiveness than permission,” he offered, his words sounding more like an excuse than reassurance.
“Not with a man as unpredictable as King Eduard!” My astonishment was tinged with a hint of panic. “He’s going to kill me,” I murmured half to myself as the reality of my precarious situation sank in.
Mykal quickly grasped my shoulders and turned me to face him. His grip was firm, intended to steady both my body and my spiraling thoughts. “No, he won’t,” he asserted with conviction. “I won’t let that happen.”
My face must have paled at his words because his expression softened slightly. “He’s the king, Mykal. If he wants to kill me, there’s not much you can do.”
He wore a determined expression. “I’m his adopted son. There’smuchI can do. Don’t worry. Now, stay here while I go speak with him. I won’t be long.” He gave my shoulders a final reassuring squeeze before he turned away and strode towards a door set deeply in the shadowed wall, presumably leading to the king’s private quarters.
Left alone in the throne room, I took a deep breath and allowed my gaze to wander up towards the towering ceiling. The room was an architectural marvel, built to intimidate and impress. Vaulted ceilings soared overhead, supported by vast columns that lined the room, their surfaces carved with intricate bas-reliefs depicting Keldara’s storied past. The air was cool and smelled faintly of old stones and lingering incense, a scent that seemed to permeate the very walls of the palace.
As the enormity of Keldara's palace enveloped me, I felt both awe and a profound sense of isolation. The room had been artfully designed to exude power and authority, yet it felt like an opulent cage. Each decorative tapestry and echoing footstepreminded me that I was very much alone in a foreign land, waiting on the whims of a mercurial king I had never met, in a place where the grandeur of the past loomed large over the present.
As minutes stretched into hours, a gnawing worry began to consume me. Mykal had assured me he wouldn't be long, yet there I was, abandoned in the echoing vastness of the throne room, each tick of the clock amplifying my unease. The delay could only mean that King Eduard was displeased with my unannounced arrival, an ominous sign not just for me but potentially for Mykal as well. If the king chose to punish Mykal for his unilateral decision, I would be truly isolated in a land that remained a steadfast adversary to Valoria.
Just as the weight of my isolation pressed down upon me and tempted me to flee back to the safety of the Grasslands by any means necessary, the heavy doors at the back of the throne room swung open. A young servant, all skin and bones, her dull brown hair escaping in frazzled wisps from a hastily tied bun, entered carrying a tray. On it was a single goblet and a decanter of what appeared to be wine.
“Your Highness,” she greeted with a slight bow, extending the tray toward me.
Curiosity about Keldaran wine flickered within me, but under the circumstances, indulging in alcohol seemed unwise. I needed a clear mind to navigate the complexities of my current predicament.
I stepped back to maintain a polite distance. “No thanks.”
The servant looked surprised, her eyebrows arching high. “Your Highness, Commander Mykal insisted—”
