Elurra stood in front of the large open window in her room, her face tilted into the slight breeze washing over the arid landscape. Even with her eyes closed, she could picture the land before her. Tall grass spanned for miles, turning the plains into a turbulent brown and green ocean when the wind swept over its rolling expanse. The final dying rays of sunlight bathed her face, warming her pale skin and shoulders. She knew a sunburn was inevitable. Snippets of conversation floated up to her from below while servants and residents conversed, filling the air with their strange dialect. In some cases, they’d created their own words in exchange for the ones she knew, leaving her struggling to grasp what anyone was saying.
She heard footsteps coming down the hall, which was odd because most of the Tipet residents didn’t wear shoes inside the castle. While on a tour that afternoon, Elurra had observed rows of sandals lining the walls at the entrances and exits, as well as an area to rinse dirty feet. When she asked Finila about it, she said sandals were only worn outside and never indoors. It was a custom of the country. The only people who wore shoes inside the castle were royalty and upper nobility. Elurra turned to her door as it opened, and one of the lords of the castle stepped inside.
Golden ornaments decorated his body. Rings and bracelets adorned his hands and wrists, and chains dangled from his neck. A swath of cloth draped over one shoulder and wrapped around his waist, securing another that dangled around his legs. Although the fabric concealed his lower extremities, it left most of his torso exposed. It took Elurra a moment to realize she was gaping at Terrin. After a stretch of silence, she could think of only one thing to say.
“Why you are wearing a skirt?”
His dark cheeks grew a shade redder.
“It isn’t a skirt. It’s a sh-end-y-t,” he said, stumbling over the pronunciation.
“A what?”
“Shen-dyt.”
“Shendyt. I see,” she said, rubbing her chin contemplatively and running her eyes over his outfit. He shifted uncomfortably under her scrutiny.
“That is definitely a skirt,” she remarked after a moment of study.
His blush intensified, and he covered his chest with his arms self-consciously.
“That’s what I said, but they insisted it was proper attire,” he replied grumpily.
“I see Lira has finally accepted you.” Elurra smirked.
Terrin rubbed the back of his head and averted his eyes.
“Yeah, but that’s not why I’m here.” His shoulders slumped tellingly.
“Unpleasant news, then? Has Lira declined my request to train?” Elurra’s stomach churned with disappointment and desperation.
Where else can I turn? Lira was my only hope.
“No, she has promised to teach you what you wish to learn,” Terrin reassured her.
“What is it then?”
He stood silently for a few more moments and gazed out the window, the sunlight gleaming off his jewelry. Finally, he leveled his sorrowful gaze at her.
“I’m leaving,” he whispered.
Elurra tilted her head, confusion contorting her sharp features. “Leaving? Where are you going?”
“Lira wants me to tour the kingdom and become familiar with the land and people while learning some of the necessary skills I missed out on because of my upbringing.”
Elurra felt her stomach heave.
“When?” she asked, struggling to keep her voice steady.
“Mother is holding a feast in honor of my return tomorrow. The day after, I will depart for the west to deliver rations to an earthquake-stricken area. Then, I will be heading south to visit some of the poorer villages. Finally, I will circle around and return to Zurgth from the east.”
“How long will you be gone?” Elurra dreaded the stretch of silence that inevitably followed her question, foretelling an unfavorable response.
“A month at least.”
She forced herself to keep her composure.
“I assume I will not be allowed to come with you?” She knew it was a foolish question, but desperation was clawing at her heart. She would be left behind in an alien culture with no one familiar, save a queen who had spoken to her once.
“I’m afraid not. Queen Lira assured me you would be assigned someone to help you with your training and the unfamiliar territory and culture. I, on the other hand, will be taking a crash course in everything Tipettian. I’m sure your training will be much simpler than mine,” Terrin said ruefully as he attempted to lighten the mood.
Terrin will not be training with me. He will be training to become a king.
A terrible thought came to Elurra, and her fake smile faltered.
“Is this the end, Terrin?” she asked, her voice barely surpassing a whisper. “Is this where we go our separate ways?”
She wanted him to deny it. She selfishly wanted him to turn his back on this life and finish the quest they began together to save her kingdom. But he was the Prince of Tipet now. He had his own destiny to follow. She saw the same realization in his eyes. His tortured gaze rested on her distraught face, a flood of emotions mixing in his eyes. She already knew the answer to her question. They both knew, but it was too painful to say out loud.
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“I don’t know, Snow,” he breathed.
Terrin took a few steps forward and wrapped his arms around her. She hugged him back, and they stood there for a long time, holding each other tightly.
“I am going to miss you,” she murmured.
“I’ll be back before you know it,” Terrin reassured her. He kissed her forehead softly before hastily leaving the room, his shoulders stiff with the effort it took to keep his composure. As soon as the door shut, silent tears dripped down her face.
She was alone again.
°◌°○●○°♣°○●○°◌°
“Long ago, my father cursed this land. He stole our property, our riches, our livelihoods, our food, our rights, and in some cases, our lives.” Lira’s voice rang out over the quiet crowd, which listened in stunned silence. “He killed all the people dear to me, including my mother and my significant other.” A wave of perplexed murmurs erupted from the crowd, and her advisers exchanged sharp looks of shock.
There must be a lot of scandalous rumors surrounding Raeya and Terrin’s parentage, Elurra thought, glancing over at the queen from her seat on the royal dais.
“Before his death, he even had the audacity to take my firstborn son. I thought I would never see him again, but one who was loyal to me smuggled him out of the country and hid him from my father in seclusion until the day he could safely return,” she continued. “Now that my son has reached the age of maturity, he has returned to me. My father’s curse has finally released its last dark hold on our kingdom. We will break the chains of bondage he forged during his reign and thrive once again!”
Lira raised one fist in the air in triumph, and the crowd copied her as a roar of approval rose from every throat. The people started chanting, defying the old king’s reign. Elurra raised one eyebrow.
Lira has restored her people’s pride in their country, and she has made Terrin’s return the symbol of that restoration, she mused with grudging admiration.
“It is my pleasure to introduce my firstborn, Terrin Orit’c, the lost Prince of Tipet!”
Cheers ricocheted around the huge courtyard, and the musicians started playing an upbeat tune. The sound was like nothing Elurra had ever heard before. Tambourines, flutes, and unfamiliar stringed instruments mixed with small drums and maracas. Terrin emerged from the curtain behind his mother as the flutes belted out high, wavering notes, and the crowd whistled and clapped. Golden chains glimmered on his dark chest and, to Elurra’s amazement, studded cuff earrings dotted his right ear. A golden crown studded with rubies sat on his head, and matching cuff bracelets encircled his wrists, covering his handcuff scars. Matching cloth draped over one shoulder and a pale orange fabric wrapped around his waist, creating yet another shendyt. All the other male lords on the dais wore them as well as most of the men in the crowd, although the grays and tans of the commoners’ outfits paled in comparison to the rich silks of the nobles’. Terrin looked exotic and regal.
He didn’t look like Terrin.
Her heart ached with sudden longing. She missed his threadbare pants and his crooked smile. Throughout their relationship, their societal roles had always caused some tension, but the chasm between them felt more prominent than ever now they were side by side. She wanted to be happy for Terrin, as he had finally found his place in the world, but the sharp pains in her chest left her feeling hollow instead.
Servers carrying food and drinks emerged. Elurra stood and filed out of the dais with the other nobles. She was unspeakably grateful for the shade of the staircase, although she’d been given a parasol to block her delicate skin from direct sunlight. Unfortunately, her relief didn’t last long. The royal party emerged from a doorway under the dais to a walkway lined with guards, clearing a path to the raised platform near the center of the courtyard. People fell to their knees and bowed before the queen and prince, who were at the front of the group. Lira gave the order to stand, and they all rose as the procession moved forward.
A canopy protected the platform from the sun, but it did nothing to stop the relentless heat. Elurra sat weakly on the low, lounging couches provided for the royal court and watched gloomily as commoners approached Terrin with gifts. Others looked at him from a distance with suspicion. He waved at a group of shy little girls who squealed with pleasure and bashfully retreated into the folds of their mothers’ skirts. Mercifully, a server brought Elurra a glass of water. She accepted it gratefully and drank it all, although it gave her little relief from the heat. Time dragged by slowly. Terrin never once had a chance to glance in her direction, even if he were inclined to. Right when she was sure she was doomed to mope for the entire evening, a young man approached her with a friendly smile on his face.
“Am I correct in assuming you are the princess from the north?” he asked.
The question was a formality; it was painfully obvious she was a foreigner. She stood out like a sore thumb among the dark-skinned, dark-haired people around her. Although Terrin was the first to draw attention from the crowd, Elurra’s appearance earned her a close second.
“I am Princess Elurra of the Isálte family. May I ask who you are?”
She was also going through the formalities. It was clear he was from one of the noble families of Tipet. The notable attire and jewelry adorned him just as it adorned Terrin, only he wasn’t wearing as much in deference to Terrin’s rank.
“My name is Lord Garen Hiacru Almasi, the first son of the fifth noble family of Tipet, third house from the throne. I am pleased to meet a rare beauty such as yourself,” he said as he bowed and kissed her hand.
If Elurra hadn’t been flushed from the temperature, she would have blushed.
“Thank you, Lord Garen. I am flattered,” she said.
He gave her a playful grin. “My pleasure, Your Highness. Would you care to dance with me?” He offered her an arm, but she hesitated.
“I have never been to a Tipettian celebration, and I am not familiar with your customary dances. There is a high risk of me embarrassing you.”
“Then we will go slowly, and I will teach you,” he said, unconcerned.
Elurra glanced over at Terrin, only to see him asking a girl from the noble Kanto family to dance with him. Elurra made up her mind and accepted Garen’s offered arm. As the party dragged on through the afternoon and into the night, she became more appreciative of Garen’s constant presence. He patiently taught her every dance step and murmured tips of advice when commoners approached with requests to touch her hair and skin. Although she would die of boredom and self-pity without him, she couldn’t help but question his motives. As the party dragged into the evening, she realized he was also prohibiting her from leaving. Every time she attempted to slip away, he’d appear with some sort of exotic food or random tidbit of gossip. She learned a lot about the inner relationships of the castle, but she wished he would let her disappear. She hadn’t seen Terrin in hours, and everyone was becoming drunk and rowdy. She didn’t remember leaving the party, but the next morning she woke in her bedroom with a splitting headache, still wearing her fancy attire.
I hate parties, she thought crossly as she got out of bed. As soon as she found her footing, Finila stepped through the door with a basket in her arms.
“Ah, you’re up! I was about to wake you. Her Majesty wants to see you this morning to discuss your training.”
The sound of trumpets from the outer gates distracted Elurra. She swung around to watch an over-decorated carriage depart the front of the castle. Royal guards flanked it, and a party of men and supplies followed behind. For a moment, she was painfully reminded of the last time she watched Terrin leave from the cliffside in Lur Alava.
He left without even saying goodbye.