Page 71 of Warrior Princess
I nodded, grateful for her presence but still uneasy. The anticipation of waiting for the Crimson Clan and the uncertainty surrounding my family's safety gnawed at me.
“We must be patient,” Avery continued, her eyes scanning the horizon as if she could will our allies' arrival with her stare. “Once everyone is assembled, we'll be stronger. Unified. A force to be reckoned with.”
I drew in a deep, cleansing breath, the crisp mountain air filling my lungs and slightly easing the tightness in my chest. “You're right,” I conceded. “Patience isn't exactly my strong suit, but I understand its necessity.”
Avery chuckled softly. “Nor is it mine, Lyanna. But we learn and adapt. That's how we survive and eventually, how we win.” Looking out across the camp, I felt a surge of hope. Despite the challenges ahead, with allies like Avery and the impending arrival of the Crimson Clan, we were building a force that could truly make a difference. Now, all we needed was the final piece of our alliance to arrive and complete the picture.
I ushered Avery and Ronan inside our tent, and we settled in to discuss battle tactics. The air was cool inside the tent, a sharp contrast to the bustle and occasional chilly winds blustering outside. Our temporary sanctuary was sparsely furnished but functional. Maps of Asteria and specifically of Eldwain were spread across a table, weighted down by stones at each corner. Lanterns hung from the tent's support poles, casting a warm glow that flickered gently, softening the harshness of our planning and strategizing.
Ronan and I settled into a pair of worn but sturdy chairs, while Avery perched on the edge of a supply crate, her posture alert and ready for action. The canvas walls of the tent flutteredslightly as a breeze snuck in, carrying the sounds of the encampment's life—the clatter of armor, distant conversations, and the occasional ring of metal on metal from soldiers maintaining their weapons.
“Were you able to convince Mykal to join our cause?” Avery finally asked.
I shook my head. “With Keldara embroiled in a civil war, it’s impossible for him to spare his forces. But he provided me access to his spy network.”
She nodded. “That’s good. Although his army would have been better.”
“True, but if he joined us, he might not have had a nation to return to after it was all said and done,” Ronan chimed in. “He must think about what’s best for his people.”
“How were you spared from the massacre?” I asked Avery, changing the subject.
She sighed. “After the funeral ceremony, Caelan escorted me to my palace with the flimsy excuse that I needed to rest. I honestly didn’t know what he had planned. Had I known, I would have stopped him. That’s probably why my palace was surrounded by fae. That was my first clue that something was wrong. By the time I realized what was happening, it was too late.”
“Did he say why he spared you?” Ronan asked.
Avery shrugged. “He said he loved me and didn’t want to see me get hurt.” She scoffed disdainfully. “I don’t think he’s capable of love.”
For some reason, our conversation made me think about Marcellus and how I still hadn’t heard from him. I was worried. More than worried, and it showed.
“Would you like me to send a scout to Valoria?” Avery suggested as she watched me intently. “We’re near. I can have them there and back in three days.”
Avery's offer lightened my mood.
Ronan’s tone was warm, appreciative. “That’s a good idea. You should consider it, Leila.” He turned to Avery, gratitude evident in his expression. “Would you do us that favor?”
“Of course,” Avery responded without hesitation. Her decisiveness was reassuring, a stark reminder of why she was a leader. “I’ll notify the scouts right away.” With a nod, she stood and briskly exited the tent. Her cape caught the light as she moved, a silent symbol of her resolve and commitment.
Left in the quiet tent, Ronan reached across the table and squeezed my hand, offering a silent message of support. His eyes followed the tent flap through which Avery had disappeared. “She's impressive.”
“Yes, she is.” I was both relieved and anxious about receiving news from Valoria. “I hope this brings us some good news. We need it.”
Ronan nodded, his gaze meeting mine with a mixture of determination and concern. “Everything will work itself out.”
The fabric of the tent rustled again as another gust of wind swept through, reminding us of the transient nature of our shelter and the ever-present threats beyond its walls. But inside, for that moment, there was a semblance of peace—a brief respite as we braced for the challenges ahead.
Sensing my rising disquiet, Ronan dropped to his knees in front of me and took ahold of my hands, which I was nervously wringing. “Marcellus will be here,” he whispered. “I may not know him well, but he seems loyal. Not just to you, but to your father. He wouldn’t let you handle this on your own.”
I bit my lower lip. “What if… what if he has no other choice? What if my mother has already taken control? He could need our help!”
Ronan shook his head. “No. Marcellus is not weak. He’s a strong blood mage.”
I knew he was right. My mother wasn’t a blood mage, and she wouldn’t be able to subdue him. Not unless Caelan’s army was backing her up.
“No!” I shot to my feet so fast, Ronan almost tipped over. “I need to go to Valoria myself and see what’s going on—”
Ronan stood and placed his hands on my shoulders. “Listen to me, Leila. Wait until Avery’s scouts return andthendecide. Let’s not be rash.” Ronan's touch was both steadying and gentle. He pulled me closer, his eyes searching mine for understanding. “Leila,” he said softly, his voice almost a whisper, “you're not alone in this. I'm here, and we will face whatever comes, together.”
His words, full of conviction and warmth, melted away my fears, if only for a moment. I leaned into him, feeling the solid strength of his presence and allowing myself to draw comfort from his proximity. “I know you're right. It's just hard to wait here, feeling so helpless.”
