Just under three days of riding, stopping only to sleep, and Iona arrived at the soaring, ornate golden gates of the palace. She slid off the saddle and down Tower’s side before he’d come to a full stop. “Afternoon, Commander,” the nearest stable boy greeted her as she shoved her horse’s reins into his hands. With a nod his way, Iona turned and strode to the entryway, tugging off her gloves, and trying to ignore the soreness building in her thighs from the trip. Her face was a bit wind beaten and red, ponytail a mess, but she was too anxious to know why she’d been recalled to bother stopping by her bedroom to freshen up. Licking her palms and running them over her hair would have to do, as she pressed the flyaways down into submission against her scalp. Every step was swift and familiar; she could navigate this manor with her eyes closed.
Iona had lived at the palace in Chrysos’ capital city on and off since she was eleven years old after word was sent out to every domain in the kingdom that Theron was looking for a private tutor for the royal children. Her mother, Asa, being the finest teacher in the kingdom, took the job. She successfully convinced her father, Shome, that it was better for their daughter to go along with her to the palace for tutoring sessions than to stay in the village farming with him, hoping she would pick up some of the courtier etiquette taught to the King’s children. And here she was still, almost a century later.
Today was her first time back since the end of the War- marking almost ten years away from home. Depending on the subject of this meeting, I probably should visit my mom, she thought, who she also hadn't seen in a decade. Or maybe even longer. A familiar pang of guilt jabbed into her chest, the same guilt which compounded with each passing year that she didn’t make the trip to see her. It was getting more and more difficult to push it into the back of her mind.
She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to refocus. First, meeting. Then, Mom, she resolved. Reaching the foyer, Iona glanced around at the high ceilings, the walls draped with huge, intricately embroidered tapestries, and the bustling of the staff in and out of every room and hallway. Each chamberlain, attendant, guard, and laundress she passed tossed a happy welcome her way, and Iona sputtered out hello’s and how are you’s as quickly as she could.
Not much had changed since the first time Asa had dragged her into the manor. At eleven years old, she had been at a loss for words, overwhelmed by the size of it all, the extravagance and clear abundance of wealth in every sense. Iona was just a tiny fish flung into a vast ocean, clinging desperately to her mother, assuming that if she got lost, she’d never be found again. The smell of damp stone walls and roasting meats wafting up from the kitchens below were new to her, so different from her cottage in the hills. That day, a gentle voiced handmaid showed the pair around, walking them through the palace to the east wing, room after room filled with heavy looking furniture, old scrolls, and massive windows. Rooms meant for the King to meet with his High Commander and advisors, to plan how to run the kingdom and maintain peace. The final stop on their tour was an exception. Meant for Asa to tutor King Theron and Queen Margot’s children, Heston, Leonon, and Elia, the classroom was covered in wall to wall colored bookshelves, an assortment of books, cards, and craft supplies, and four oversized desks. Little Iona took a seat at the back of the classroom, and shoved her hands under her legs, her foot tapping away at the tiled floor in anticipation of the Royal siblings’ arrival. Up to that point in her life, she had never been much good at making friends. Asa always chalked it up to her competitive nature, just like her father, which ensured the other kids saw her as cold and combative. She tried and failed to stop her knees from bouncing up and down when the King’s only daughter floated through the doorway. Her hair was light and silky, reminding Iona of the tendrils that stuck to her fingers when she helped her father shuck the corn from their fields, and her pale skin glowed with palpable warmth as she marched straight up to Iona’s mother, bowing before her. “Thank you, Lady Asa, for coming to teach me and my brothers. I’m Elia- Heston and Leo will be joining us shortly.”
Asa bowed back, “It’s my pleasure, Princess Elia.” She gestured toward the back of the room, “My daughter, Iona, will be joining us during your tutoring sessions, as you’re about the same age.” Iona shot up from her chair as Elia skipped up to her with a smile brighter than the sun.
“It’s nice to meet you! I’m so excited you’re here!” Elia proclaimed, throwing her arms around Iona, “I didn’t know my lessons came with a friend, too!”
“I, um…you want to be my friend?” she asked, awkwardly stiff from the unexpected hug. Elia pulled away, nodding her head without a moment’s hesitation, “Of course!” Iona glanced at her mother, who was clearly eavesdropping from the front of the room. “I think my mom’s happy to hear you say that. I don’t really have any friends,” I admitted, her gaze dropping to the floor, and the tips of her ears heating from embarrassment.
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“Well, now you have me,” Elia responded, her bubbly voice coaxing Iona past her shyness. She grabbed Iona’s hand and pulled her into a seat in front of one of the large desks. As much as Asa had tried to facilitate friendships for her with the other schoolchildren, Iona was always too focused on school work or too ready to get back to the farm and assist Shome with his work around the fields. She tended to be headstrong and argumentative, which could be off putting to her classmates. Elia was her perfect opposite from day one- outgoing, sympathetic, and approachable.
The girls chattered along until Iona’s focus was stolen by two boys, the King’s sons, sauntering into the room. Unlike Elia, neither appeared too excited to be there. The taller, older looking boy had matching features with Elia, but the younger, scrawny one had olive skin and fiery amber hair. They breezed past Asa, and took their seats. “Careful, Elia, don’t suffocate that girl with your desperation for friendship” the younger boy jabbed. His pompous attitude made Iona’s hands curl into fists, despite the fact she’d never hit anyone before. His sister had been nothing but welcoming and kind, and he had no right to make her feel badly for it. Maybe this boy would be the first.
“Don’t speak to your sister that way,” she hissed, protective of her new friend, “And she’s clearly the only considerate sibling in your family. You’ve both rudely ignored my mother, who traveled a full day to be here to teach you dolts.” The comment led to a swift scolding from Asa, but Elia snickered, and the older boy, Heston, looked nothing short of amused.
Redness broke across the younger son’s face, and his nostrils flared, but he stood from his chair and gave his new teacher a slight bow of his head. He introduced himself as Prince Leonon, and thanked her for traveling to the palace before plopping right back down. Heston also stood and greeted Asa, informing her that he was only there to supervise the other two on their first day. An icy glare was shot between Leo and Iona- the first of many.
Besides the initial lesson, Heston wasn’t around much, since he was in near-constant training to become Theron's head advisor and succeed his father as king. Asa tutored him separately every once in a while, when time permitted. Heston was about twenty years older than Elia and Iona, while Leo was only a year older, so his presence was more consistent at tutoring sessions, much to her chagrin. The two were not friends in any sense of the word.
It had been over ninety years since then.
Shit!
Iona’s hand flew up to her shoulder, the fabric of her tunic snagged on the corner of the wall she ran into taking a turn down a hallway too tight while her mind wandered. She had been taking instinctive, hurried strides through the palace, but the impact of the hard stone brought her thoughts back to the task at hand. She’d reached the courtyard, almost perennially full of blooming violet-hued wisteria, ivy vines, and the lushest green grass. In the years before the start of the War, Iona lived at the palace full time to train, and she would often lounge on this very grass during her limited free time to absorb a small feeling of home. No time for that today.
A few more staircases, twists and turns later, and she arrived at the one place outside the training field in which she felt like she belonged- the war room. This was the room in which the King, Heston, and Iona spent twenty years figuring out how to win the first war in their land in over a thousand years. It was full of old arguments, heated debates, and late night deliberations. During that time, Leo would travel back and forth, leading Chrysos’ deployed legions. Iona would join them with her troops from the palace as needed, often if the units were stretched too thin or a particularly large battle was looming.
After the end of the War, Iona was hopeful that Chrysos was poised to fall back into harmony for another thousand years or more. But the failure to locate the remaining hostiles, loyal to the Ladrons, means that wasn’t the case quite yet- a failure that nagged at her like a piece of shrapnel lodged beneath her skin. Every so often, the hostiles launched minor attacks, mostly robberies for supplies, but they often disappeared as soon as troops got near. The attacks were more of a pestilence than a true threat, but they were unacceptable all the same. Iona was determined to root them out and put an end to anything tied to the Ladrons’ terror to prevent further pain and suffering, but reconstruction from the War kept her tied up. On top of everything, the King’s health was fading quickly from what she’d been told, and peace would be tenuous so long as the hostiles remained at large.
As she approached the door, she took a second to pause and brace herself for whatever information was about to be relayed. Has a skirmish broken out into something more threatening to the kingdom? Has the final rebel stronghold been located? Is a rebuilt village under attack? There was that spiraling again. Wringing her hands, Iona took in a sharp breath through her nose, and breathed out with as much control as she could.
Whatever it is, I’ll handle it. Chrysos was home to everyone Iona ever cared about, and she would do whatever it took to keep it safe. With one more attempt at a calming exhale, Iona turned the knob, and walked into the war room.
What the hell?