Page 55 of Warrior Princess
Selene gasped and covered her mouth with trembling fingers. “But then how… If Chief Aryan sacrificed you, how did you come back to life?”
I smiled grimly. “The instant the demon fox saw Ronan, he knew what had happened. As the rightful owner of the wish, Ronan pleaded for him to resurrect me, and he did,” I explained.
“Thank the gods,” she murmured. “Was the demon fox… scary?”
I laughed. “No, not at all. Actually, he’s helped me out a lot since he arrived. He obviously knows a lot about the Moon Goddess. With his help, I’ve learned blood weaving.”
“Just be careful, Leila.” She took a drink of the wine and handed it back to me.
We spent the rest of the night talking about recent events and laughing and reminiscing about our time in the Central Plains. A simpler time. It was nice to forget about all our struggles and hardships and just shoot the breeze. I needed my best friend to help me forget about my worries, even if it was just for one night.
24
As dawn painted the sky in streaks of vibrant pink and orange, the Grasslands came alive with the sounds of preparation. Horses neighed and the chatter of the warriors traveling with us echoed through the crisp morning air. Ronan and I, alongside Chief Aryan and Shiro, were gearing up for the journey to Eldwain for King Alwyn’s funeral. The mood was somber, yet tinged with a sense of urgency.
Chief Aryan, a formidable figure with his stern demeanor and battle-scarred leathers, was the first to mount his horse—a robust stallion that seemed as eager as its rider to set out. Shiro, ever the enigmatic figure, chose to transform into his fox form, saying it was easier to travel long distances this way.
In his fox form, Shiro was a stunning creature with fur as white as fresh snow. His coat subtly glimmered with faint hints of silver, which lent him an ethereal quality. His eyes, deep and perceptive, remained a piercing shade of amber, standing out starkly against his pale fur. The creature’s movements were fluid and graceful, with a tail that swayed like a plume of smoke behind him. Despite his serene appearance, there was an unmistakable air of ancient wisdom and formidable powerthat clung to him, marking him as much more than merely a beautiful animal. I couldn’t take my eyes away from the majestic creature… until Chief Aryan spoke.
“We’ll skirt around Ellyndor, go through the Central Plains, and move south into Eldwain,” Chief Aryan instructed as he adjusted his cloak. “Keep a sharp eye. We’re not traveling through friendly territories.”
Ronan nodded and checked the tie down straps of our saddles before helping me mount my horse. “This will be a long ride,” he warned, then softened it with a reassuring smile. “Let me know if you get tired and we’ll rest.”
We rode out of the Grasslands, the familiar rolling hills slowly giving way to the flatter, more open landscapes of the Central Plains. The air grew cooler as we progressed, and the sparse vegetation of the Grasslands was replaced by the occasional bustling market town and expansive farmlands of the Plains.
As we traveled, I felt the weight of the unknown pressing down on us. “Do you think we’ll find Abigail in Eldwain?” I asked Ronan quietly, riding close enough to speak without straining.
“It’s our best chance,” he replied, casting a glance at the horizon. “Whatever secrets are lurking, Eldwain will be the place to uncover them.”
Our path took us near Ellyndor’s border, a land shrouded in mystery and tightly closed off to outsiders. We kept a respectful distance, knowing that crossing into Ellyndor uninvited could provoke a diplomatic incident.
Chief Aryan rode at the head of our small caravan and kept his vigilant gaze on the path ahead with practiced caution. “We’ll stop at Marsten for the night,” he called back to us, referring to a small town known for its hospitality towards travelers in the Plains.
Running agilely alongside us, Shiro seemed unaffected by the long journey. His fox form allowed him to conserve energy, and his keen senses were an additional safeguard against potential threats.
That evening, we entered Marsten. The town’s modest inns and taverns provided a welcome respite from the day’s travel. The locals were wary but respectful, offering food and lodging without delving too deeply into our reasons for passing through. King Alwyn’s death might still be a secret from the general population.
After taking a moment to settle in and wash off the grime of our ride, we sat in a quiet corner of the inn’s dining hall. Chief Aryan curtly established the rules for our trip to Eldwain. “No funny business,” he advised. “Eldwain is in mourning. The funeral will have many eyes turned towards it, and the last thing we need is to stand out. Do I make myself clear?”
Ronan agreed, his expression serious. “We’ll attend the funeral, pay our respects, and prepare to return to the Grasslands. We won’t start any trouble.”
I nodded, understanding the delicate balance we needed to maintain if we intended to quietly ask around about the midwife. “I’ll be careful,” I assured him, feeling the dual burden of putting not just Valoria, but the Crimson Clan at risk if I started any trouble.
Night fell in earnest and the travelers retreated to our rooms, each step laden with the responsibilities that awaited in Eldwain. The instant Ronan closed the door behind us, our room became a temporary sanctuary from the intricate web of politics and secrets enveloping Asteria.
“Do you think your father has any idea what we’re planning?” I asked quietly, my voice barely a whisper as I changed out of my travel-stained clothes and into my nightgown.
Ronan watched me for a moment, his eyes thoughtful. “I doubt he knows the specifics about Abigail, but he’s sharp. He might sense that we’re hiding something.” He slowly unbuttoned his pants with deliberate movements, each motion seeming to underscore the seriousness of our conversation.
I stepped closer and helped him out of his leathers. “We don’t have to search for Abigail if it’s too risky,” I offered, looking up into his crimson eyes and searching for any sign of hesitation.
He caught my hands in his and brought them to his lips for a gentle kiss. “Leila, finding Abigail and uncovering the truth—if it’s important to you, it’s important to me. We’ll be cautious, I promise.” His voice was firm, yet the underlying tenderness made my heart flutter.
With my dust-worn clothes lying in a heap on the floor, I finally felt the tension from the day begin to melt away under his gaze. Ronan finished undressing and joined me by the bed, his presence a comforting constant. We climbed into bed, the sheets cool against our skin.
“With everything going on, I’m just... really glad you’re here with me,” I admitted.
Ronan pulled me into his arms, the warmth of his tattooed body a stark contrast to the chilly night air seeping through cracks in the walls. “I’ll always be here, Leila. No matter what we find out, no matter where this journey takes us,” he whispered, his breath tickling my ear.
