Mira had a problem. Frustration and anger welled inside of her as she received the news, unable to say a word. She waited for the servant to close the door, then turned to face her parents. Her own shock was mirrored in their faces.
“How could they?” her mother whispered. “How could they?”
Mira walked to the chairs before the fire and sank into one, her body hot with indignation. In one hand, she clutched the piece of paper the servant had given her.
Her father, Lord Otus Escallon, who was sitting next to her, took the paper and scanned it quickly.
“It’s true,” he said, his thin face appearing more gaunt in the firelight. “It’s worse than we feared, Arianne.”
Mira’s mother snatched the paper from him, reading it herself. She scoffed in disbelief several times before throwing it aside.
“The priests have gone too far this time,” she said, her eyes bright. “Oh, Mira…”
Mira retrieved the paper and read it through again, mutely. On it was a message, written by the Thalist priests and signed by her great-uncle, King Sebastt of Mesia, that outlined changes to her wedding ceremony. She was informed exactly how she was to perform, what things to say, and what to wear. It appeared that the priests had somehow managed to ‘leave’ Mira’s wedding dress in Mesia, and that a much more modest and ‘appropriate’ gown would be produced for the ceremony once they arrived in Aleria.
“You would think, after spending a fortune on that dress, the king would understand why we should bring it,” Mira’s mother shot at her father.
“My dear, you know how easily he is swayed by the priests,” her father replied. “If they told him it should be left behind, he would make it happen. But they clearly have taken this opportunity to exercise their new power.”
“The treaty isn’t signed yet, and already they think they own everything they touch,” Lady Escallon muttered. Her round face twisted in despair. “You would have looked so beautiful, Mira. God knows what they will find instead.”
“In truth, Mother, the dress isn’t what bothers me,” Mira said through her teeth. She lowered the page, pointing to a spot near the bottom. There was a list written there of persons who should not be included in the ceremony. It contained only one name, written in bold ink: Prince Rhoden Toradian.
Mira took a deep breath, trying to calm her anger.
“The priests can’t honestly think they can ban a member of the royal family from attending the wedding, can they?” She looked incredulously at her parents. Both of them were grim-faced.
“They have been trying to convince the king to exclude Prince Rhoden from the ceremony for several months now,” Lord Escallon said quietly. “I believe they’ve finally succeeded, and on the cusp of our arrival. King Garazor will not be pleased.”
“Will this affect the treaty, do you think?” Mira asked, her heart quickening. The treaty between Mesia and Aleria was the reason for her marriage to Prince Cael. An agreement that mirrored the joining of families with the joining of kingdoms. It had been years in the making, almost her entire life.
“There is no stopping the treaty, unless both the Mesian and Alerian councils decide to,” said her father. “But, yet. I believe this demand will cause complications. Prince Rhoden is a prince, and to ban him is a snub in the face of the Alerian royal court.”
Mira’s mother sniffed. “His own father rejected him and he’s hardly a part of the court when he’s so frequently gone. Would it truly be so bad if he were not to attend?”
“Mother!” Mira snapped, anger flooding through her. “He’s not some monster from a fairy tale. He’s a man, like anyone else. I know how Cael feels about his brother. He would want him in attendance. As do I.” She glared at her mother. Lady Escallon held her gaze for a moment, then lowered her eyes.
“There’s nothing to suggest Prince Rhoden is anything other than unlucky,” Lord Escallon said. “Remember, my dear, it is what he does, not how he looks, that should be judged.”
“I’ll fight against this,” Mira said, holding the paper so tightly that it crumpled in her hands. “I’ll make certain the priests know I protest. I’ll even talk with the king, if I have to. I refuse to be a part of something so blatantly discriminating.”
Her mother sighed. “I suppose you’re right,” she said. “I just worry about you, and being so…close to him. You’ve never even met him. You don’t know what he’s like.”
“No,” Mira agreed. “But starting tomorrow, I will. And I’ll make my own judgements.”
Her father’s thin mouth twisted in a smile. “We never expected anything less from you, dear heart.”
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The next morning, their party began early. Mira did her best to repress the nervousness she felt. Though she had met Cael many times over the last few years and was long past her shyness, still, in these new circumstances anxiety rose in her. Her father had been unable to speak with the king last night or this morning, as everything had been a crazed flurry of final preparation. They hoped that, somehow, they would be able to speak with the king before they arrived and endeavor to change his mind. It would be difficult, though. The king was constantly surrounded by a group of Thalist priests, rallying around him like chattering chickens.
Despite Mira’s anxiety, the day dawned bright and clear, a beautiful reminder that winter was over and spring was spreading its abundance over the earth. Hope bloomed within her once more. Despite the demands of the Thalist priests, she was confident they would find a way to avoid conflict.
The Mesian party, consisting of Mira’s family, a large group of lords and priests, and King Sebastt himself had been traveling for the past week. They had overnighted in the manor of Lord Valmar Roth, one of the members of the Alerian Council of Lords, and a former companion of King Garazor. As Lord Roth’s land was situated within the fertile Plattanar Valley, less than a day’s journey to Aleria’s capital city, it had been an ideal location to rest.
The road from Mesia to Aleria was long and nearly devoid of inns, though, thanks to the treaty, the increase in trade between the kingdoms would surely change that. The Mesian party had had to camp a couple nights on the open ground during their journey. Mira’s mother had made certain to tell the Thalist priests that she felt it was entirely inappropriate for the future queen of Aleria—not to mention the king of Mesia—to sleep on dirt. Mira hadn’t minded. Over the years of traveling back and forth from Mesia to Aleria, she had grown accustomed to the temporary and not terribly uncomfortable travel beds.
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Lord Roth himself wished them well as Mira and her family piled into carriages and prepared to take to the road. In a thin voice, he apologized that he would not be joining them, as had originally been planned. His health had taken a bad turn recently and he was not in a fit state to attend the royal wedding, much as he would have liked to. Indeed, he looked pale and hollow, as though a large part of him had been carved away.
But still he managed to smile and introduce his daughter, Issamin, who would be accompanying them to the palace as Mira’s new companion. A couple of years Mira’s elder, Issa was pale and dark-haired, and had spent many years preparing for such a role. She bid her father farewell, promising to return soon, and the carriages departed.
The carriages were soon underway, a long procession of stamping horses and creaking wheels. Through the long hours, as her parents dozed and Issamin Roth read quietly, Mira entertained herself by looking out of the window.
Aleria was a beautiful kingdom, a series of connected valleys leading ever deeper into Ecthalon Mountains. Instead of the barren passes and rocky hills that had dominated the last week’s travel, the sides of the mountains within Aleria’s peaceful valleys were carpeted in green. Freshly turned fields lined the sides of the road, giving way to forests of endless trees. This early in the spring season it was still possible to see between the trunks as they flashed by. Mira knew that in summer these forests would team with life. Above all the treetops rose the everlasting white peaks of the Ecthalon Mountains.
The royal procession passed through the Plattanar Valley after a couple of hours and the road turned, curving up a shallow pass that then emptied into the largest valley of all, where the majority of Alerian’s lived. They rode through several towns and villages before they reached Torran, capital of Aleria. People stopped in the streets, peasants in worn clothing with faces in awe as they watched the dozen carriages pass. Mira found her heart racing with the swaying of the carriage as it drew her ever nearer to her future.
She spent some of the time speaking with Issamin, and found that her companion-to-be was prim, but kind, and preferred the name Issa. For part of her early life, she had been raised at the palace, and knew both it and the royal court intimately. Mira was grateful to have someone so knowledgeable at her side. She had studied Alerian politics over the last several years out of necessity, but Issa seemed to know things intrinsically. She would be an invaluable resource, and, Mira hoped, a trusted friend.
Issa talked a while about the court, which lords sided with whom, and some of the more recent gossip. After talking briefly about Prince Rhoden, and the far away college where he spent most of the year, they discussed the treaty and its affect upon Aleria’s main export: salt.
“Of course,” said Issa, after they had passed a village half-inhabited by cows, “my father’s trade will become more important than ever. He’s sold salt for nearly half of his life. It’s a shame his health has declined so rapidly.”
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After several hours, the carriages rounded a bend in the forest which had engulfed them, and the city of Torran was suddenly before them.
Surrounded by expansive fields, Torran was built upon a great hill, which itself was shadowed by the Crown, the tallest and most majestic of the mountains that surrounded the valley kingdom. Snow reached down almost to brush the city roofs. At the base of the hill was a stone wall, which had once enclosed all of the city. In recent decades, however, many new buildings had been built without it, inns with thick wooden beams and housing for craftsmen and peasants.
The rest of the city rose from the wall, a vast mass of roofs and smoking chimneys. Here and there were dotted trees, indications of gardens and walkways. The streets wound in and out of one another like a loom, meeting together and splitting apart. The main thoroughfare, much wider than the rest, led gradually to the top.
Two buildings were the most prominent. In the center of the hill was the enormous copper dome of the Citadel, a cathedral that far outdated the buildings around it. There, she would be married in a few short days. Mira gazed up at it as the carriage rocked. She had been to the Citadel only once before, as a small girl. Now that she better understood its significance, she relished the chance to be able to visit it more often. There was so much history there, right at her fingertips. It was said Renthalas, the Sun King, had caused the Citadel to be built. Having been raised in the belief that Renthalas was the very offspring of Ennis himself, Mira was elated to be so close to a building of such historical significance.
At the top of the city was the royal palace, a sprawling building of grey stone walls and towers which imitated the mountains that surrounded it. Some in Mesia had called it austere, being accustomed to the modern, grandiose buildings which were more common in the lowlands. Mira felt some trepidation as she gazed upon the palace. There laid her future, within those walls. There she was to to be married, to take her place as queen someday, there to raise a family, alongside her husband. The thoughts were as exciting as they were overwhelming.
Once through the main gates of the city wall, an escort of guards in navy livery joined the company of carriages. Here, the streets were lined with excited crowds. Mira swallowed her anxiety and sat forward, allowing herself to be seen, if only in a flash, to her soon-to-be subjects.
Their procession made its slow way through the city, coming ever closer to the palace. When they reached the center of the city and passed by the Citadel, Mira leaned forward, seeing the carved statues and beautiful arches that decorated the facade. The square before the Citadel was filled with people, who cheered and waved ribbons in the air as the carriages rattled by.
At the top of the city, the Mesian company came at last to the great iron gates and stone walls of the royal palace. The guards drew the gates aside, and they went along a drive lined with low bushes and large, sweeping lawns. Before the gray walls of the palace was a courtyard, into which the company passed. The drivers maneuvered the carriages around until they came to a stop at a wide stairway and the grand doors of the palace of Aleria.
On the steps were a great number of people. Lords and ladies in fine dress, a mass of Alerian King’s Guards in navy with the Toradian raven emblazoned across their chests, and servants of elevated rank. Mira saw Cael immediately, his hair shining golden in the afternoon sun like a beacon of light. He stood next to his father, King Garazor, who looked resplendent in robes of blue and silver. And next to them, standing almost as though he were the king’s shadow, was Prince Rhoden.
Mira tried not to stare as the carriages came to a halt and the footmen stepped forward to open the doors. Her parents left first, obscuring the crowd from view for a moment, but as Mira exited herself, she could see quite clearly.
She thought she had been prepared for her first glimpse of the so-called Shadow Prince, but his appearance still shocked her. In the bright daylight, and in sable robes, he looked almost like a statue carved of black stone. He seemed too dark to be real. Mira’s eyes flicked between Rhoden and Cael, remembering tales half-forgotten from her childhood: of the great Ren, warrior of light, and his dearest friend Tor, prince of the darkness. It seemed that those stories were coming alive before her eyes.
Once the Mesian party had disembarked, they gathered behind King Sebastt, facing their hosts. Mira met eyes with Cael and he smiled openly, a smile meant just for her. In an instant, her anxiety disappeared. The trouble will be solved, his smile told her. She ducked her head, hiding a smile of her own.
Her father whispered quietly to her, “This begins your test, Dear Heart. Are you ready?”
Mira looked once more at Prince Rhoden. His eyes were fixed upon his brother and his expression was unreadable on his dark face.
“Yes,” she murmured. Whatever was to come, she was going to face it with her heart open and her intentions honest. She was determined that she would think well of the young man who was soon to become her brother.
Her father gently touched her elbow and smiled.
King Garazor raised his hand before the crowd of disembarked Mesians.
“Welcome, King Sebastt, and your retinue,” he said in a loud voice. “Aleria greets you with honest friendship in this happy hour.”
“We are grateful to have traveled safely, and to have arrived in your charming kingdom,” said King Sebastt in return.
After a formal exchange of gifts, the crowd parted so that Mira and Cael faced each other. He half-bounded down the stairs, his smile like a ray of pure sunshine.
“Lady Miriandri,” he said, once he stood before her. “It is good to see you again.”
“And you,” said Mira, curtsying.
Matching his smile with her own, she took his arm and together they led both crowds, Mesian and Alerian. It wasn’t until later, after she had refreshed herself in her rooms, that she realized she had not seen Prince Rhoden among them.