Elurra enjoyed the trees growing along the walkways atop the walls of the castle. In the morning, the heat was almost tolerable in their shade. She closed her eyes, reclined against a trunk, and tried to lose herself in the whistling wind. She felt guilty. Lira had asked her to practice with her sword to gain mastery over the connection, but she couldn’t bear his voice. With every passing day, she missed Terrin more and more. After three days without Garen’s company, the subtle sadness grew into a constant ache. She tried to explore the castle to distract herself, but she couldn’t get her mind off her home, her pressing need to confront Nitiri, and Terrin.
If only I could stop thinking.
Someone cleared their throat, startling her. She jumped and glanced over to find a messenger awkwardly standing above her, a letter in hand. She hadn’t heard him approach and idly wondered how long he’d been standing there.
“This arrived for you from Amora, my lady.”
Elurra extended her hand, and he delicately placed it between her fingers before bowing and rushing away. She smiled as she deciphered the writing on the front of the letter, addressing it to “tha princess of tha Land ah Snow.” She opened the letter and took a few minutes to adjust to Rowan’s sloppy writing.
Dear Princess,
I gotta holda Blade as ya asked me ta. He says tat he ’n tha otha fellas r ’round Lur Alava keepin’ tabs on things if ya need em. What should I tell em r yer orders?
Yers, Rowan
I should have gotten Tristen to write the letter, she thought ruefully. It would have saved me a headache.
She lingered for a few more moments before reluctantly leaving her perch in search of parchment and ink so she could compose a response.
Dear Rowan,
I will be coming for you soon. Tell Blade to infiltrate Tor’ac Roh and create rumors of my return and stories of Nitiri’s intentions to summon an army of Demons. Stir up the people and create a rebellion. Find anyone who can use Magic in my kingdom and enlist their help. Capitalize on the people’s unhappiness and any complaints they have. Learn as much as you can from the many masters living in Amora. You will need all the skills you can get. Tell Snore to keep his eyes open, make sure Plague stays healthy, and encourage Tristen whenever you can.
–Elurra
As soon as she finished, there was a knock on the door. She folded the parchment and tucked it away before beckoning the requester to enter. Garen’s head appeared around the corner, a smile on his face.
“There you are, Princess! You are a hard girl to track down.”
Elurra straightened and gave him a genuine smile. “Lord Almasi. I am very happy to see you are feeling better.”
“And I am glad you did not chop off my leg. As much as I enjoy the idea of being carried in a litter instead of walking for the rest of my days, I am sure it would extremely inconvenient in every other facet of life.” His normal joking smile played across his lips.
Elurra flushed and looked down at her hands. “I apologize again for my actions. I got extremely carried away.”
Garen dismissed her apology with a wave of his hand. “Think of it no more. Did you miss me?” he asked as he sat down beside her on the low cushion at her writing table and casually draped his arm over her shoulder.
She winced when she spotted the obvious scar on his leg. “Actually, I did. It got rather lonesome without you around.”
“I missed your company as well, even if you are merciless with a blade. I will never underestimate your swordsmanship again.” Despite his teasing tone, there was a layer of respect in his voice.
“What brings you to my chambers?”
“I am here to formally ask you on a date. Her Majesty asked me to take you into town when I recovered, so I have come to escort you to the markets.”
Elurra clapped her hands in delight. “When can we leave?” She tried to keep the obvious joy from her voice, but she did a poor job.
Garen beamed at her. “Right away, if it pleases you.”
She immediately bounced up and grabbed her parasol. They were both in high spirits as he led her through the castle to the outer gates, which loomed stories above them like a gaping mouth. The likeness to a monster’s jaws extended to the metal spikes peeking out from the top of the entryway like iron fangs.
Garen spotted her uneasy glances.
“That is the enforcement gate. It only comes down when there is an imminent threat of invasion. The entire population of Zurgth can fit inside the castle, which is built to withstand a siege. That is what all the courtyards are for. They can easily be farmed to grow food. There are even huge storerooms underground that can hold a year’s worth of supplies if needed. When that gate falls, no one gets in or out unless the queen herself gives the order.”
Elurra felt uneasy until they left the castle. A huge marketplace dominated her view. Carts lined the road and spilled into the outer courtyard. Higher quality merchandise resided inside the walls, but the bulk of the marketplace crowded the wide road, competing for attention.
The general clamor almost overwhelmed her. The cacophony of shouting street merchants, hushed murmurs of gossiping old ladies, and the general buzz of conversation mixed in a great din around her. Then, there were the smells. Spicy fragrances tickled the nose and competed with flowery perfumes; sweaty body odor battled the savory scents wafting from countless food stands. Elurra froze and stared at the spectacle in wonder. She completely forgot about Garen. In her mind, she was back in Glan’ak with Ramer and Terrin. She was so small and insignificant then, but now, a few months later, the commoners gave her a wide berth and reverently bowed their heads.
“Come along, mi’lady. I do not wish to lose you.” Garen took her hand and led her through the throng of people. He noticed her expression and paused. “Is something wrong, Princess?”
She shook her head and tried to smile.
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“Not at all.” He gave her a questioning look, but she quickly diverted his attention. “Look at those baskets! The craftsmanship is superb!”
She dragged him over to examine them, only to get distracted moments later by another booth selling scarves. They flitted from cart to cart, their interest in each product dissipating like smoke when another caught their eye. After an hour of shopping, her mood improved, and she started to shake off her nostalgia. Garen was a charismatic shopping companion. He thrived at interesting conversation, and his charm got them the lowest prices any sane salesman would offer nobility. He seemed to enjoy shopping as much as she did.
“Come look at these!” he called from a few stalls over.
She picked her way through the crowd and came to a stop beside him. Beautiful hairpins glittered before her, all made from sculpted metal. An intricate wire snowflake perched on its metal frame caught her eye. She wanted to pick it up and examine it, but she knew anything so beautiful would cost a fortune, and she only had a few silver coins left from her travels. Garen saw her interest and lifted it up.
“How much is this one?”
“Fifteen gold coins,” the salesman replied.
Elurra’s breath caught in her throat.
“Fifteen? It is a wonder you stay in business, sir. You know as well as I do that no one would pay such an extravagant price. Are you attempting to cheat me?” Garen asked, a hard edge in his voice.
“Of course not, my lord. I am simply trying to make a living.”
“Fifteen gold coins is more than a living by far. I will give you eight.”
“Lord Almasi! Now you try to cheat me!”
“Then tell me, what would be a fair price to pay for a piece like this?”
“Ten gold coins is very fair, my lord.”
“I will take your word for it.”
Elurra tried to protest, but Garen hushed her and gave the dealer his coin. The man thanked them, and Garen turned away with a smile.
“A fabulous piece is it not?” he asked, offering it to her.
“It is, but you did not have to purchase it for me!”
She felt her cheeks grow warm. He smiled, and for the first time she felt like it was genuine instead of part of his charming façade. He leaned closer and brushed her hair back gently.
“I can spend my money on whom I please. All I ask in return is that you enjoy my gift,” he said in her ear as he secured the pin in her hair.
“T-Thank you.”
Garen grinned.
“Embarrassed, Princess?”
“What could I possibly be embarrassed about?” she said as she averted her gaze.
He chuckled warmly and offered her his arm. She took it with only a slight hesitation, and he escorted her to the next cart.
°◌°○●○°♣°○●○°◌°
Nitiri glared at the struggling peasant, boredom clearly scrawled across her features.
“What are his crimes?” she asked, twirling her scepter nonchalantly between her fingers.
“Treason against the crown, Your Majesty. Complaints against taxes and slander against your person. He has been spreading rumors you are the one behind all the earth tremors, my liege,” one of her men explained.
Nitiri knew the Demons’ presence had caused the small earthquakes scaring the commoners, but she was not about to admit it.
Anyone claiming I have summoned Demons is a threat. I don’t need the commoners revolting.
She quickly decided the man’s fate.
“Charges worthy of death. Execute him publicly as an example to others,” she ordered calmly.
“You tyrant!” the man screamed, “You do not deserve the crown!”
“Remove him!” Nitiri ordered.
Her guards started to drag him away, but the man kept shouting.
“King Simon was a hundred times the ruler you will ever be! Long live King Simon and Queen Iara! May their ghosts haunt you till the day you die!”
“Stop!” Nitiri called, anger pounding through her veins. She descended from her throne and slowly approached the man until she was only a foot away from his face. She could smell his filth from there, and it was as close as she ever wanted to be. “Never speak of things you do not understand, urchin. Simon was a fool. He was weak, and so was his pathetic wife. They deserved death, and that is what they received.”
The man spat at her without warning. She recoiled in horror, and one of her men rammed the hilt of his sword into the man’s stomach. He doubled over, but between his moans of anguish he laughed pitifully.
“Say what you want, witch, but your reign will not last,” he gasped through labored breaths. “The Snowborn Princess belongs on the throne, and she will return.”
“The princess is dead!” Nitiri shouted, her composure forgotten.
The raggedy man raised his head so she could see the flaming defiance in his eyes as he started chanting:
“The throne belongs to one who mourns;
The kingdom’s fate rests with the Snowborn.
Through death, through life, through age she defies.
She will bring peace when the Demons rise.
She will conquer greed, power, hatred, and pride;
The creators sent her to change victory’s tide.”
Nitiri’s lips curled over her teeth, and her eyes grew dark as she growled, “I see you enjoy writing poetry to falsely inspire the masses.”
“You know the rumors are true. I can see the terror in your eyes. Everyone has heard the tales and rumors. Princess Elurra will return and reclaim her throne.”
“Remove this garbage from my throne room.”
The guards roughly dragged the man away, but Nitiri could still hear him singing all the way down the hall. She seethed for a few moments, and then spun on one of the guards near the door.
“Go tell Captain Belrek I want anyone who speaks of that stupid poem or says the word ‘snowborn’ put in jail permanently. That includes any use in religious services. I will not have her compared to the creators.”
The guard nodded and hastily left the chamber. She ordered the rest to follow him. Her men left without a word. As soon as she was sure they were gone, she pulled the Kutsal Stone out of her pocket and breathed a summoning spell in the Demons’ language. When he did not appear immediately, she screamed, “Tiberius? Have you made progress?”
The shadows grew, and the red-eyed Demon emerged from the darkness like a nightmare.
“The rift is not stable enough. We need another piece of the Kutsal Stone,” he hissed.
Nitiri screamed in frustration and looked for something breakable to throw, but all the fragile items in the room had been sacrificed during previous fits of rage.
“I need to capture that little brat of a princess. She has my Kutsal Stone. I can feel it,” she muttered as she stormed out of the throne room though a servant’s door. “She must’ve taken it with her or hidden it somewhere clever.” She quickly made her way to her room, where she picked up her mirror and chanted:
“Mirror, mirror, of those who have mourned,
Show me the princess whom they call Snowborn.”
Nitiri growled, fed up with rhymes. The surface swirled, but it came up blank. She glared angrily at her reflection.
“Mirror, mirror, forget the bad luck
Show me the eleven-year-old, or your ending will suck!”
Again, the looking glass shifted but showed nothing. She knew it meant Elurra was in a protected area. Or the girl was dead, but she doubted she was so lucky. She considered throwing the mirror, but quickly quelled her fury.
Maybe she is with Terrin.
“Mirror, Mirror, show me the luckiest boy alive.
To kill by Demons, spells, and slavers I tried,
But he lives on, refusing to die.”
Nitiri grimaced at her awful poetry, but the mirror understood her request. White swirls fogged the glass, and Terrin's face appeared moments later. He was smiling and talking to someone. She assumed it was Elurra.
“Mirror, mirror, not just his face;
Back out and give me more space.”
To Nitiri’s amazement, the girl across from Terrin was an unfamiliar, dark-skinned beauty. Terrin was obviously flirting with her, and the girl was soaking up the attention like a sponge. Nitiri smiled.
“Mirror, mirror, show me no more.
I have all I was looking for.”
Terrin has left Elurra’s side, but they’re never too far apart. It looks like he’s in Tipet, so Elurra must be in Zurgth if I cannot see her. She’ll be vulnerable without Terrin. This is perfect.
Nitiri yearned to retrieve her niece personally, but she knew leaving the kingdom with so much civil unrest could have disastrous consequences, and teleporting was out of the question due to the capital city’s protection against magic.
I need someone who is indifferent to Lur Alava's political situation. I cannot have this venture take months, so they must have some magical capabilities, tracking skills, and extensive travel experience. No one can flash as far as I can, but anyone with magic can speed up the trip.
Her stipulations narrowed her choices down to one man. She pulled the bell chord dangling from the wall. Nitiri eagerly perched on the edge of her chair, a malicious smile plastered to her lips. Within a few minutes, a servant appeared and bowed.
“Summon Zek to my chambers.”