Mira sat astride her horse and breathed in the rich spring air. She felt a measure of the tension she so often carried with her these days melt away. The morning was brisk and clear. The forested path wound ahead as a brown line through a burst of greenery and the gray trunks of ancient trees. The back of her horse was solid and comforting beneath her. Several feet ahead, a lone guard rode in silence.
Biani trotted up to her side, red hair already escaping the maid’s attempt to control it. She grimaced.
“Mira, you’re so slow today!” she said, complaining.
“I’m just enjoying the morning,” Mira murmured, smiling back.
“Let’s race to the top of that hill,” Biani said, shifting the reigns in her hands so that she held them more tightly. She motioned her head toward where the path rose out of sight and grinned. “Ready?”
Mira turned her head to look at the other guard escort riding behind them. “I don’t think that would be a very good idea,” she said, but too late. Biani kicked her horse forward with a laugh and began to canter away. After a second of hesitation, Mira followed.
They passed the guard ahead within moments. He cried out, but the two sisters ignored him, flashing by. Soon, Mira drew level with Biani and together the two of them climbed the hill. At the last moment, Biani drew ahead, and they reigned in at the crest, laughing.
“That’s how our morning rides should be,” Biani said. “I’m tired of the forest. I want the fields.”
Mira smiled, glancing back at the guards, who were nearly upon them. “I know,” she said. “But for the time being, the forest is what we get.”
The guards gave them a stern lecture about how they were never to pass them again, and then their party made their way back down the mountain and through the forest toward the palace. Mira felt the joy from the ride fade slowly as they descended. This was the one time each day that she could escape from the oppressive stone walls of the palace and the endless worry they brought her.
Though it was now several days from the attack at the Citadel, Cael had not improved. Every day, it seemed he slept longer and longer, hardly waking at all. Mira heard the worried whispers of the physicians and felt her heart break like porcelain as Cael’s cheeks grew more and more sunken with each passing hour. He barely ate, and his sleep was often restless. As the days passed, so it seemed his will to live deteriorated along with his body.
Mira had begun her vigil over Cael with hope, but that hope was now a fragile thing. It took all of her will to keep it alive.
She tried not to think about the future, or the despair it brought her. They had not yet heard from Mesia, or her father, and she did not know whether to trust that an answer would come. The Mesian kings were known for jumping to conclusions and solving disputes with violence. She prayed nightly that it would not come to war, but she did not know how to prevent it. Each moment she remained in Aleria seemed like a mistake. But she was in no position to do anything about it. The fact that she and Biani must be escorted for a morning ride was proof that they had no power within this court.
Her mood thoroughly soured, she did not notice Prince Rhoden until they were nearly on top of him. They were once again within the walls of the palace grounds, almost to the stables. Rhoden and his retinue, of which Croftin Meran was a part, moved off the path to allow room for the horses.
“My apologies, ladies,” Rhoden said, bowing low. “I trust your ride was invigorating this morning?”
“Oh, yes!” Biani said with enthusiasm.
Mira simply nodded her head but said nothing. There was an awkward pause, and then both parties continued on their separate ways. When they reached the stables and grooms came forward to help them dismount, Biani moved to Mira’s side.
“Why were you so rude?” she demanded. “It was just a question. You should have answered him.”
“I—”
Mira was at a loss for words. The indignant look on her sister’s face gave her pause. She had been wrapped up in the gloom of her own thoughts, and that, mixed with her wariness of Prince Rhoden, had caused the too-familiar dislike to well up inside of her. But she found that she no longer felt that dislike as strongly as she had. She had spurned him merely out of habit.
Yes, she had been offended when he had questioned her so forcefully about her reason to stay, but over the past several days she had observed that there didn’t seem to be any guile in his words or actions. She assumed this was because he had never been raised within the royal court, for this kind of behavior from a courtesan was rare, indeed. Her first instinct was to be surprised by this revelation, but then she remembered how often Cael had written about his brother, and the high praise he had given. He had always said that Rhoden was unlike anyone he had ever known, and not because of the color of his skin.
Deep shame rose up in her and her cheeks flushed. Why was she continuing to reject someone who was proving to be as guiltless as he claimed? He had denied all connection to the beast who had killed his father, and the Ennist priests had confirmed it. Although she was not of their faith, she wanted to believe that their conclusion was true. The more she thought about it, the more it seemed that Prince Rhoden was, indeed, merely the victim of circumstance, as horribly coincidental as that might seem.
She looked back down at Biani, who was still gazing at her with anger in her eyes.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’ll try to be better. I won’t be rude to him any more.”
Biani nodded her head once and turned away. “You know, he’s not as scary as everyone at home said he would be,” she said, pulling off her gloves. “He looks funny, but that’s not his fault. He’s actually really nice.”
“Yes,” Mira murmured. “Yes, he is.”
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
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Later that day, she received both pieces of news she had been longing for. A letter was waiting for them after she and Biani returned from their ride. Biani eagerly tore it open and crowed, “It’s from Father!”
Mira took the letter and read it through quickly. Though long-expected, it was very short.
Dearest daughters, it read.
We trust that you are together and safe. Mother worries after you, as is her right. We pray daily for your safety. We have arrived home and are working constantly on a way to bring you back to us. With the grace of Thalas, this will be soon.
All our love,
Father
The letter awoke a homesickness within Mira that she had not expected. In her mind’s eye, she saw the neat stone manor that had always been her home, saw the round figure of her mother pacing back and forth along the dining room floor, heard the sounds of her sisters playing instruments in the rooms above, smelled fresh bread wafting in from the kitchen. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes.
Biani bit her lip, evidently trying not to cry herself. “I miss them,” she whispered.
Mira drew her in close. “I do, too.” For a moment, the two of them held one another and mourned the separation from their family.
Then, Biani frowned and stooped down, picking something off the ground.
“It’s for you,” she said, handing a smaller note to Mira, which had been wrapped inside the first note. Her name was written in their father’s hand across the top. With shaking hands, Mira opened it to find cramped writing filling its entirety.
Dear Heart,
Things go poorly in the court, more poorly than we could have anticipated. As this letter is to travel with the King’s missive, I am sure you will soon learn what I mean, if you have not already. My uncle is in a rage unlike any I have ever seen, not even when Basti left. Please tread carefully, daughter. Do not act rashly or without great consideration of the consequences. Keep Biani safe. We hope to see you both home soon.
Father
The letter occupied the rest of their morning. They discussed it, thought of possible ways to get back home, and wondered how long it would take. Then Mira suggested that they both write and assure their family that they were well, and Biani scuttled away, eager to find pen and paper..
Mira was in the middle of composing an answer back to her father, explaining their situation and her belief that Rhoden was innocent in the attack, when a summons came for her to join the Alerian Council of Lords. Biani continued to write her own letter carefully as Issa Roth promised Mira she would be well looked after.
Though she had only been present for one meeting of the lords—shortly before she was to have been married—the feeling of this one was drastically different. There was palpable tension as she entered the room. The lords muttered to each other across the long rectangular table, or in groups in the corners of the room. Lord Crasmere welcomed Mira warmly and sat her on the right hand of the carved chair where Prince Rhoden would sit. A moment later he arrived, took his seat, and the meeting began.
The only item of business was the missive from King Sebastt which Mira’s father had alluded to. Mira felt her heartbeat quicken as Lord Crasmere unrolled the scroll and read it aloud. To her dismay, and the dismay of every lord around the table, King Sebastt asked for no explanation as to what had happened within the Citadel that night; and, from his tone, it seemed no explanation would be suitable enough. He instead saw the attack as aimed deliberately against Mesia and the royal family. Ignoring the fact that Aleria had lost its king, or perhaps being ignorant of it, Sebastt demanded that his Thalist priests, along with Lady Miriandri and her sister to be returned to Mesia or risk the consequences that would follow.
After Lord Crasmere was finished reading, the room sat in stunned silence. Mira’s mind raced with the condemning history of her country. Mesia was a large kingdom, and feared very little threat. Its great power had come through the aggressive expansion and invasion of every smaller and weaker kingdom around it. Aleria had escaped this merely because of its distance within the lofty mountains, and because the kings of Mesia had learned through bitter experience that invasion into the deep mountain valleys was impossible. The treaty had also served to benefit both sides—giving Mesia the resources it wanted, and Aleria a promise that they would never need fear the threat Mesia posed.
That promise now seemed null. As she looked around the table, Mira saw the white faces and felt their fear. At the same time, she cursed her great-uncle and his myopic mind.
Conversation broke out along the table almost at once. Several of the lords protested loudly that the Mesians should pay for believing that the Alerians were to blame for the death of their king. A round-faced man with many rings on his fingers was foremost among the these.
“It is obvious what we must do. We must send them back at once!” he commanded, his beady eyes glinting with fervor. Mira disliked him immediately. “They are of no use here. They would better serve as an appeasement to King Sebastt’s demands.”
“But what of the treaty?” another lord cried. “Does this mean that it is void? My thralls were expecting to gain a great deal from trade with Mesia. As were we all.”
“This is an act of war!” yet another shouted. “The Mesians mean to conquer us, as they did to Gallatros and Romanstra!”
Rhoden raised his hand, but it was several moments before the table would settle down. Mira clutched her hands in her lap, her heart racing. She sat unspeaking in the whirl of noise. At last, Lord Crasmere banged his hand against the table and silence fell.
“Contrary to what you believe, Lord Ignatus, this is not an act of war,” said Rhoden, and his voice, though quiet, reached every ear. “King Sebastt has merely made us aware of his demands. He felt threatened and wants retribution. Lest we act in haste and cause the very thing we fear, let us consider our next actions carefully.”
“The Mesians have blamed us for the attack!” the round-faced man spat. “They should pay for that insult.”
“To provoke Mesia into a war would be unwise,” said Rhoden. “We have no real grievance against them, and we can help them see that they have none against us.” As he spoke, Mira marveled that he could be so calm in the midst of the anger and disbelief of the Council.
“We cannot let this slight go unchallenged!” the man repeated.
“We can,” said Rhoden simply. “I refuse to rise to Sebastt’s anger. There is no slight that can possibly justify the horrors that such a conflict would bring.” He looked to Lord Crasmere at his side and another elderly lord across the table. “I’m certain you would agree, my lords.”
Both men nodded their heads solemnly.
“War is a terrible burden,” said Lord Crasmere softly. “One that lies on the shoulders of young and old alike.”
“I agree with Prince Rhoden,” said a dark-haired man who sat across from Mira. “We should not antagonize Mesia the way they have antagonized us. I believe that if we were to explain what truly happened, this hostility would lessen. We should send our answer back as soon as possible.”
“You think Sebastt will change his mind, simply because we write him a letter?” the round-faced man scoffed. “If you believe that, Redes, you’re a bigger fool than I thought.”
Lord Redes flushed.
“I’ve spent my life among the written word,” Rhoden said, and once again his clear voice cut through the silence. “When properly applied, I’ve found it has some of the greatest power in the world.”
The disagreeable lord sat back, watching the table with slitted eyes, but did not argue further.