Page 25 of Warrior Princess
As we rode through the undulating landscape, the rhythmic thud of our horses’ hooves against the soft earth provided a calming backdrop to my turbulent thoughts. The sun steadily rose and bathed the fields in a warm, golden light. I couldn't help but notice the concerned glances Ronan kept casting my direction as he rode alongside me. His brow was furrowed, and there was tension in his posture that spoke of unvoiced questions.
Finally, unable to bear the burden of his stares any longer, I broke the silence. “What is it?” I looked over at him with aplayful smile, trying to lighten the mood. “You look like you’re dying to ask me something.”
Ronan’s expression softened slightly, but his eyes remained serious. “We haven’t had much time to talk since I arrived in Keldara,” he said, his voice carrying a hint of caution. “But I’m curious about the life debt Mykal mentioned. Why does he owe you one?”
I shrugged nonchalantly, eager to deflect his inquiry and hoping to steer our conversation away to less sensitive topics. “I saved the queen. What else could it be?”
Ronan shook his head, clearly unconvinced. “When I first arrived and we were in the thick of battle, you said Mykal saved your life. That's hard to reconcile, given you're a powerful blood mage.”
I tensed at his words, realizing I’d inadvertently wandered into dangerous territory. I wasn’t ready to discuss what happened to me in that room, especially when my emotions were still raw. “That’s because I didn’t have my powers,” I whispered, the admission harsher than I intended.
Ronan abruptly pulled on the reins and brought his horse to a stop. He turned to face me fully, concern etching his features. “What do you mean, Leila? What happened?”
I sighed deeply, realizing there was no point in evasion. I pulled on my horse’s reins and our procession grounded to a halt. “Keldara has a material called Aetherite,” I began, my voice low. “It mutes a mage's power.”
Ronan’s reaction was immediate; his eyes widened in shock. “What?”
“I learned about it while I was in the Central Plains, but I had forgotten all about it. I haven’t even warned my own people,” I admitted, feeling a pang of guilt.
“Did... did the king bind you with it?” Ronan asked, his voice barely above a whisper, dread lacing every word. I noddedsilently, not trusting my voice. His expression darkened and I heard the creak of leather as his hands tightened on the reins. “I’ll kill him,” he growled fiercely.
I rolled my eyes. “He’s already dead.”
“Then I’ll kill him again!” Ronan muttered through clenched teeth, his anger palpable. “If you had told me sooner—”
I fought my rising frustration. “What would you have done, Ronan?” I interrupted, my voice rising slightly. “Would you have refused to make a deal with Mykal? Because none of this was his fault. He saved me!” I defended vigorously. “The king was on a mission of his own. No one could have stopped him, but Mykal did. If anything, I owehima life debt. Not the other way around.”
As Ronan gazed at me, the anger in his eyes slowly gave way to understanding. He nodded and the fight drained from his posture as he grasped the complexity of what I had endured. “I’m sorry,” he said simply, his voice thick with unspoken emotions. “I wish I could have protected you.”
“I know,” I muttered. “But it’s all in the past now. We can finally move on… just you and me.”
Uncertainty radiated from him as he bit his lower lip. I wondered if there was more behind his inquiry. “Don’t you want to return to Valoria?” He tilted his head. “Your father has not responded, but I’m sure we’ll hear back soon.”
I sighed and sat up straighter. “I do… just not yet. Before I left for Keldara, I spoke with Shiro and he promised me something.”
Ronan frowned. “What did he promise you?”
“That he would teach me blood weaving.” I looked down at the scars on my wrists that had not begun to fade, still fresh from little more than a week ago when Chief Aryan bled me out. I could only imagine what my neck looked like beneath the scarf.
“What is blood weaving?” His voice was hesitant, as if afraid of the answer.
I smirked. “Something that will make me extremely powerful.”
12
We made good time back to the Grasslands, pushing our horses hard over the rolling plains and lush, green expanses that stretched endlessly under wide, open skies. As we approached Ronan's village, the familiar thatched roofs and smoke curling from hearths painted a welcoming picture. The air was crisp, filled with the earthy scent of rain-soaked soil, a reminder of the recent showers.
Silas was there to greet us. He stood just outside Ronan’s homestead, a noticeable figure with his broad smile and an envelope clutched in his hand. As Ronan and I dismounted, Silas stepped forward to take the reins, looping them around a wooden post where troughs of fresh water and feed awaited our weary horses.
After ensuring the horses were comfortably settled in, Silas approached, his smile unwavering. “You both did it. We’re free!” he declared with a proud puff of his chest.
Ronan gave a brief nod, his face shadowed by fatigue. “For now, yes, we are. How was the news received here?”
Silas’s smile faltered. He glanced around and dropped his voice to a whisper. “Chief Aryan is beside himself. Many are talking about replacing him with you as chief.”
Ronan scoffed and rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s too soon to name me chief. They’re just excited about our people returning home.”
Silas gave a noncommittal shrug, then his expression brightened. “Either way, your father is not happy… Oh! I almost forgot. Leila, you received a letter from Valoria.” He extended the envelope toward me with an almost ceremonial gesture. “It arrived two days ago.”
