Page 12 of Warrior Princess (Blood Weaver Trilogy #3)

11

A s Ronan and Mykal coordinated efforts to stabilize the situation in Keldara, the palace grounds transformed into a makeshift field hospital. The aftermath of the skirmish was grim, with many wounded soldiers and warriors. I hadn’t seen Shiro, but the toll of his ferocity was visible everywhere. Gardens that once bloomed with vibrant life were marred by the scars of battle, and the air was thick with the iron tang of blood.

In the wake of King Eduard's death, a peculiar silence descended. No one asked too many questions about his death, which I wasn’t sure was a blessing from the goddess or something that would haunt us later on. Either way, I tried not to think about it much. For the moment, I focused on our immediate needs and pushed deeper questions about the king's demise to the back of my mind.

Before I visited Queen Sariyah, Mykal insisted on removing the Aetherite bracelets that stifled my powers. As the last bracelet clinked to the floor, a rush of energy coursed through me, reigniting the strength I'd been forced to suppress. Feeling re-energized, I made my way to the queen’s wing of the palace, a section cloistered away from the world, shrouded in secrecy and sorrow.

Upon approaching her chambers, my path was barred by guards, their faces stern and wary. “By the order of Commander Mykal Kaiser, I’m here to see Queen Sariyah,” I stated clearly, presenting them with the written decree Mykal had provided. Their eyes scanned the document, skepticism etched into their brows. According to Mykal, no one had been permitted to visit the queen for nearly a year.

With a nod of approval, they reluctantly stepped aside, unlocking and opening the heavy doors to the queen’s quarters. The room bore the neglect that whispered of the king’s abandonment. A stale, musty odor permeated the air, the scent of illness and unattended quarters. The curtains were drawn, casting the room in a pallid, gloomy light that seemed to swallow all hope.

Queen Sariyah lay motionless on her four-poster bed. The linens were drawn up to her chin, her face ashen and her breathing shallow. Her once lustrous hair was tangled and unkempt, framing her face like a tangled web of despair. The room felt like a tomb, with stale air redolent with the burden of prolonged suffering.

I approached her bedside and hesitated a moment while I surveyed her frail form, wondering if my abilities could indeed bring her back from the brink of death. Mykal's words echoed in my mind. Her survival was not merely about her wellbeing, but it was crucial for stabilizing Keldara, especially with the lurking threat of loyalists who might still cling to the old king’s memory.

Gently, I reached for her hand, her skin cold and fragile under my touch. “Queen Sariyah,” I whispered, hoping my voice might rouse her. With firm resolve, I was ready to do whatever I could to help. Mykal and I had discussed the potential of using my blood to heal her, a prospect that seemed both daunting and vital.

As I prepared to administer my blood, I silently prayed it would be enough to revive her; to bring back not just her strength, but perhaps a semblance of peace to a kingdom that teetered on the edge of a knife. The future of Keldara might very well depend on what happened in this room over these next crucial moments.

With a deep breath to steady my nerves, I gently positioned Queen Sariyah's head to make her as comfortable as possible. Her breathing was faint, each breath a shallow whisper against the quietude of the chamber. Knowing the risks but also the potential of my abilities, I reached for the letter opener hidden within the folds of my dress and used it to make a small cut on my palm, the pain sharp but fleeting.

Carefully, I pressed my bleeding palm to Queen Sariyah's lips, tilting it so a few drops of my blood seeped into her mouth. The only sounds were our breaths – one quick and one faint – and the distant echoes of the palace settling around us. I watched her face intently, looking for any sign of improvement or reaction.

Minutes passed, each one stretching longer than the last. Just as I began to doubt the efficacy of my attempt, there was a subtle change. The queen’s chest rose with deeper breaths and her eyelids fluttered—a slight but unmistakable movement. Encouraged, I continued to hold my palm near her lips, allowing more of my blood to trickle into her mouth.

Gradually, Queen Sariyah's eyes opened, though they were clouded with confusion and weakness. She tried to speak, her voice a raspy whisper that barely stirred the air. “Wh-where...?” she murmured, her gaze flitting around the room, trying to piece together her surroundings.

“It's alright, you're safe,” I reassured softly, withdrawing my hand and wiping it on a cloth beside the bed. “My name is Leila. I'm a friend of Mykal’s.”

Queen Sariyah's eyes settled on me, a flicker of awareness crossing her features. “Leila...” she repeated, her voice gaining a sliver of strength but still laden with weariness. “Why...?”

“I’m here because Keldara has been through much turmoil, and your people need you,” I explained gently, monitoring her reactions to ensure I didn’t overwhelm her. “There has been a change in leadership, and I believe your presence could help stabilize the situation.”

She attempted to nod, her movements tentative and weak. “I feel... strange. What did you do?” Her eyes narrowed slightly—not in suspicion, but in an effort to understand her sudden shift from the brink of death.

“I used my blood to heal you,” I admitted, deciding that honesty was necessary to gain her trust. “It has properties that can heal, and I hoped it would help you recover.”

Queen Sariyah took a moment to process my words, her eyes searching mine for sincerity. I saw the moment when she realized... “Princess Lyanna,” she finally whispered in shock. “You’re the lost princess!” she gasped. “ Thank you .” Her words carried genuine gratitude, but also the weight of her vulnerability.

“Of course.” I offered a small smile. “For now, rest is crucial for your recovery. We can discuss more when you feel stronger.”

She nodded weakly and closed her eyes again, this time in a natural rest rather than a forced torpor. As I stood by her side and watched her steady breathing, I felt a flicker of hope cautiously blossom. Her awakening was the first step towards a new dawn for Keldara, one that could bring healing not only to her frail body, but also to the entire fractured kingdom and eventually, the Crimson Clan.

The days passed with a flurry of activity as the aftermath of the conflict in Keldara was addressed. Wounded soldiers and civilians required care, and the remaining members of the Crimson Clan who had been forced into servitude needed to be freed and repatriated. Shiro, with his formidable presence and unwavering determination, led the effort to guide them back to the Grasslands, ensuring their safe return.

Meanwhile, Mykal and Ronan were deep in negotiations, drafting treaties and forging agreements designed to foster peace and mutual prosperity between Keldara and the Grasslands. They worked tirelessly, their discussions often stretching into the late hours, surrounded by scrolls and parchments in the palace’s war room.

When at last they finalized the agreements, Mykal and Ronan stood and stretched, the burden of their responsibilities momentarily giving way to a sense of accomplishment.

“I guess this is it.” Mykal extended his hand to Ronan in a firm handshake. “Will the Crimson Clan be able to make their own weapons?”

Ronan nodded confidently. “Yes. We have many skilled blacksmiths in the Grasslands that we can put to work. Our primary need is for war horses, which you will continue to supply in exchange for crops.”

“I appreciate your cooperation,” Mykal responded with a nod, a trace of relief visible in his expression.

“Will you be okay after all … this ?” Ronan asked, his tone shifting to concern. “You haven't rooted out all the loyalists yet. You could be on the brink of a civil war.”

Mykal exhaled heavily, the reality of his situation settling back over him. “I know. But for now, this is all we can do.”

“Well, if you need any help, don’t hesitate to reach out to us,” Ronan offered. His gaze shifted to me as he intertwined his fingers with mine, a silent gesture of support.

“That is much appreciated, but I think it’s best if we handle our matters internally.” Mykal’s eyes briefly met mine. “I am truly sorry, Leila. I owe you a life debt.”

He didn’t mention his mother, and I assumed he wished to keep my role in her healing private. I shook my head gently. “You don’t owe me anything, Mykal. Just take good care of the queen and, of course, yourself. I’m sure this won’t be the last time our paths cross.”

He managed a wry smile. “No, I don’t think it will be.”

With final goodbyes exchanged, Ronan and I began our journey back to the Grasslands, accompanied by the remaining members of the Crimson Clan’s forces. The horizon stretched before us was painted with the soft hues of dawn—an earthly symbol of new beginnings. The instant we crossed the threshold of Keldara’s borders, I felt an overwhelming sense of relief. The path ahead would undoubtedly hold new challenges, but for now, the weight of recent events began to lift and allowed hope to take its place.

As we rode through the undulating landscape, the rhythmic thud of our horses’ hooves against the soft earth provided a calming backdrop to my turbulent thoughts. The sun steadily rose and bathed the fields in a warm, golden light. I couldn't help but notice the concerned glances Ronan kept casting my direction as he rode alongside me. His brow was furrowed, and there was tension in his posture that spoke of unvoiced questions.

Finally, unable to bear the burden of his stares any longer, I broke the silence. “What is it?” I looked over at him with a playful smile, trying to lighten the mood. “You look like you’re dying to ask me something.”

Ronan’s expression softened slightly, but his eyes remained serious. “We haven’t had much time to talk since I arrived in Keldara,” he said, his voice carrying a hint of caution. “But I’m curious about the life debt Mykal mentioned. Why does he owe you one?”

I shrugged nonchalantly, eager to deflect his inquiry and hoping to steer our conversation away to less sensitive topics. “I saved the queen. What else could it be?”

Ronan shook his head, clearly unconvinced. “When I first arrived and we were in the thick of battle, you said Mykal saved your life. That's hard to reconcile, given you're a powerful blood mage.”

I tensed at his words, realizing I’d inadvertently wandered into dangerous territory. I wasn’t ready to discuss what happened to me in that room, especially when my emotions were still raw. “That’s because I didn’t have my powers,” I whispered, the admission harsher than I intended.

Ronan abruptly pulled on the reins and brought his horse to a stop. He turned to face me fully, concern etching his features. “What do you mean, Leila? What happened?”

I sighed deeply, realizing there was no point in evasion. I pulled on my horse’s reins and our procession grounded to a halt. “Keldara has a material called Aetherite,” I began, my voice low. “It mutes a mage's power.”

Ronan’s reaction was immediate; his eyes widened in shock. “What?”

“I learned about it while I was in the Central Plains, but I had forgotten all about it. I haven’t even warned my own people,” I admitted, feeling a pang of guilt.

“Did... did the king bind you with it?” Ronan asked, his voice barely above a whisper, dread lacing every word. I nodded silently, not trusting my voice. His expression darkened and I heard the creak of leather as his hands tightened on the reins. “I’ll kill him,” he growled fiercely.

I rolled my eyes. “He’s already dead.”

“Then I’ll kill him again!” Ronan muttered through clenched teeth, his anger palpable. “If you had told me sooner—”

I fought my rising frustration. “What would you have done, Ronan?” I interrupted, my voice rising slightly. “Would you have refused to make a deal with Mykal? Because none of this was his fault. He saved me!” I defended vigorously. “The king was on a mission of his own. No one could have stopped him, but Mykal did. If anything, I owe him a life debt. Not the other way around.”

As Ronan gazed at me, the anger in his eyes slowly gave way to understanding. He nodded and the fight drained from his posture as he grasped the complexity of what I had endured. “I’m sorry,” he said simply, his voice thick with unspoken emotions. “I wish I could have protected you.”

“I know,” I muttered. “But it’s all in the past now. We can finally move on… just you and me.”

Uncertainty radiated from him as he bit his lower lip. I wondered if there was more behind his inquiry. “Don’t you want to return to Valoria?” He tilted his head. “Your father has not responded, but I’m sure we’ll hear back soon.”

I sighed and sat up straighter. “I do… just not yet. Before I left for Keldara, I spoke with Shiro and he promised me something.”

Ronan frowned. “What did he promise you?”

“That he would teach me blood weaving.” I looked down at the scars on my wrists that had not begun to fade, still fresh from little more than a week ago when Chief Aryan bled me out. I could only imagine what my neck looked like beneath the scarf.

“What is blood weaving?” His voice was hesitant, as if afraid of the answer.

I smirked. “Something that will make me extremely powerful.”