Page 23 of Warrior Princess (Blood Weaver Trilogy #3)

22

W e decided to spend the night in the Valorian refugee community and rest before continuing our journey to the border. Before the morning sun had crested the horizon, we’d already mounted our horses and were back on the trail.

Within minutes of leaving the refuge, the landscape subtly changed. The soft meadows of the refugee village gave way to rougher, more rugged terrain as we approached the border. The air grew crisp, the breeze carrying whispers of the coming change of seasons.

We’d been back on the road a half hour before I said, “He knew more.”

Ronan looked over at me with a raised brow. “What do you mean?”

“He knew who I was,” I said. “He all but warned me to stop asking questions.”

“Why didn’t you say anything last night?” Mykal urged. “We could have pushed him!”

I shook my head. “No. Severus plans to take that secret to the grave. I could see it in his eyes. He wouldn’t have told us a thing.”

Ronan nodded in understanding, his gaze fixed on the winding path ahead. “Sometimes the past is better left alone. Maybe he's protecting you in his own way.”

Mykal, riding a few paces ahead, turned slightly in his saddle to address us. “He might be right, you know. Digging too deep into old secrets can unearth things better left buried.”

“That’s exactly what he said,” I admitted. “But his warning only makes me want to dig even deeper.”

Ronan nodded. “Either way, we need to find out the truth. I have a sneaking suspicion that it’s the center of everything.”

I pondered his words, feeling the weight of the unknown stretching before us like the expanse of road under our horses' hooves. The early morning light cast skinny shadows across our path and tinted the sky with hues of orange and pink.

As we neared the border, the familiar tension that always seemed to accompany such crossings crept up on me. The border was more than just a line on a map; it was a threshold between what was known and the myriad possibilities that lay beyond. “We should be cautious.” I pulled my cloak tighter as a chill wind swept across the landscape. “Secrets don’t stay buried forever.”

Ronan reached over and gave my hand a reassuring squeeze. “We'll handle it together, no matter what we find.” The sense of solidarity was comforting.

The border finally came into view, a stark line demarcated by ancient stone markers, worn by time but still standing resolute. It was the first time in weeks I’d been back in Valoria. Not since Ronan and I were forced to flee.

“They’re not here yet,” Mykal said as we paused at the border crossing.

“They’ll be here. I’m sure of it.” I dismounted my horse and tied the reins to a nearby tree. Then I sat down to wait. Mykal and Ronan followed suit, while the rest of the Keldaran soldiers spread out to guard the perimeter, per Mykal’s orders.

Ronan could tell I was nervous and worried that Marcellus and my father would not arrive. “We made good time. They still technically have a full day to arrive,” he reassured me. “Be patient.”

Mykal shrugged one shoulder. “I can always send another message while we’re here. If you want to.”

I shook my head. “No, not yet. Let’s give them a little more time to arrive. It’s roughly a two-day journey with rest, especially if my father is not well.”

For hours, we sat at the border and passed the time with small talk that quickly grew stilted. The sun began to sink. The golden hour bathed the landscape in warm, serene light, making the rugged terrain of the borderlands between Keldara and Valoria appear almost welcoming.

The air was cool, carrying the faint scent of juniper and wild thyme from the nearby woods, a reminder of the natural divide between the complexities of human affairs and the simplicity of nature. The quiet rustle of leaves and the occasional call of a distant bird were the only sounds that filled the silence.

Ronan continued to scan the horizon from his spot beside me. His presence was a reassuring constant, and his hand occasionally brushed against mine in silent support. Mykal, on the other hand, couldn’t sit still. He paced closeby, his eyes occasionally darting to the path that led from Valoria, a clear sign of restlessness despite his suggestions of patience.

As the sky turned from gold to a deepening blue, the first stars began to appear, dotting the heavens with specks of light. The coolness of the evening set in, and I pulled my cloak tighter around me. Ronan noticed and moved closer to share his warmth.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” he murmured, gesturing towards the sky now ablaze with the twilight of sunset blending into the onset of night.

“Yes, it is.” My thoughts drifted to the forthcoming meeting. The beauty of the moment was tinged with the weight of what was to come—reunions and revelations that could change everything.

“Whatever happens, we’re in this together,” Ronan said, his voice firm yet gentle. His words were a balm that eased the knot of anxiety that had tightened within me throughout our journey.

“What if my father didn’t believe Marcellus and still thinks you poisoned me?” I asked worriedly. Marcellus had never reached out to tell us my father’s thoughts. I was afraid they’d show up with an army, all because of Caelan’s lies.

Before Ronan could answer, we heard the distant sound of hooves and our attention was pulled back to the path. Figures appeared on the horizon, slowly becoming more distinct as they approached. My heart raced. This was the moment of truth, the meeting that could unravel the tangled threads of intrigue and family secrets.

As they drew nearer, I saw Marcellus, my brother, leading the group. Relief washed over me, followed by a surge of anticipation. What news did he bring? What fate awaited my father?

“Looks like we won’t need that second message after all,” Mykal remarked, a slight smile breaking his stoic demeanor.

“Yes,” I agreed, standing as I prepared to greet my brother. “Let’s hope they bring good news.”

Past Marcellus was a carriage… no, two carriages, followed by a procession of soldiers. Marcellus rode across the clearing and stopped at the border without crossing, staring intently where we stood on Keldara’s side. When he dismounted, I was struck by how different he looked.

Marcellus stood tall with the confidence of a young man who was starting to come into his own. His dark hair was swept back from his face, revealing intense blue eyes that matched the azure skies of Valoria. His presence was commanding, yet his gaze was warm when he looked at me, with a protective glint that reassured me. The crescent moon birthmark, a proud symbol of our heritage, was prominently displayed on his forehead, a mirror to my own.

“Marcel!” I called out. The urge to hug him was strong, but I knew I needed to keep my composure.

“Lyanna!” he breathed. “You’re safe.” Relief made his body relax and we met at the border between Valoria and Keldara. A guard brought a flickering torch to light the path and stood a discrete distance away. “When I received your message, I was worried about you crossing Keldara with the current political climate.” He turned to Mykal and Ronan. “Thank you for escorting her safely.”

“Of course,” Mykal answered as Ronan nodded.

My attention was diverted from my brother when the doors to the first carriage opened. I watched as Viktor helped my father climb down the short steps and assist him as he walked toward us. Another guard walked on his other side, carrying a torch so his king could see.

My father, once a robust and vigorous king, was a shadow of his former self. His dark hair, usually so neatly combed, fell slightly unkempt around his face, which was more lined than I remembered. His blue eyes which had always been so full of life and authority, held a tiredness that worried me deeply. Like Marcellus, he bore the crescent moon birthmark that marked him indelibly as Valorian, but today it seemed less a mark of power than a reminder of the vulnerabilities that even a king could not escape.

As he walked closer, I saw the strain of recent hardships etched into his features, yet there was an undeniable resolve that kept him moving forward. The sight tugged at my heart, stirring a mix of relief at seeing him and concern for the evident decline in my father’s health.

“Father!” I called out.

He lifted his head and smiled wearily. “My Lyanna,” he murmured. Viktor handed him off to Marcel, who supported his elbow. Sending me a silent nod before stepping away. “I am so glad you are safe,” he sighed.

“How are you? Are you okay?” I said in a rush, wanting nothing more than to reach out and touch him. To check his pulse and see how bad he was.

“That’s what we don’t know, Sis,” Marcel said. “The healers at the palace have all checked him, but they say he is well and claim nothing is wrong, saying only that he’s suffering from severe fatigue.”

“I can tell by looking at him he is unwell. How could they say otherwise?” I said in shock.

“I think Mother is behind it,” Marcel grumbled under his breath.

Father proved there was nothing wrong with his hearing when he exclaimed, “Marcellus!” His sudden outburst forced a violent cough from which he struggled to recover.

“Father, calm down,” Marcel whispered as he patted our father’s back. “I told you—”

“Your mother would never!” our father countered. “How dare you speak of her in such a manner.”

I frowned, worried about his mental health if he truly didn’t suspect Mother even just a bit. He trusted her wholeheartedly, which was just as dangerous.

I stepped closer. “Can I check your pulse?”

Marcel nodded. “That’s why I brought him, so you could check him out. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have asked him to make the journey. Father is too delicate right now.”

“This is completely unnecessary!” Father blustered, though he couldn’t speak without coughing again. “I’ve just been overworking and I’m tired. Nothing else.”

“Father, please,” I begged. “Give me your wrist.”

Hesitantly, his blue eyes met mine and I saw fear in them. He worried what I would find, knowing it would give credence to everyone’s speculation. Realizing he had no other option, he held out his wrist. Before he changed his mind, I gently took his wrist and placed three fingertips on his pulse.

It took no longer than ten seconds to detect a volatile pulse that skittered sluggishly, a tell-tale sign of someone who had been poisoned. Any amateur healer could have figured that out, which led me to believe the palace healers were compromised.

I looked up at him. “Father, please stick out your tongue.” He tentatively complied and presented his darkened tongue. The progression of poison was obvious, even lit by only a flickering torch. If I noticed, the healers in the palace would have as well.

“What is it, Lyanna?” Marcellus urged. “Just tell us the truth.”

I nodded. “He’s been poisoned.” My father slowly closed his eyes in resignation.

“I knew it!” Marcel yelled, his hands tightening on Father’s arm. “So it was Mother!”

“No!” our father weakly exclaimed, barely staving off another coughing fit. “It can’t be.”

“Father,” I whispered, “we don’t know anything for sure, but Mother is a likely suspect. She checks your meals every day. If it’s not her, she at least knows who it is.”

He shook his head. “No. We cannot speak ill of her in this manner. She is the Queen of Valoria!” Coughs wracked his body.

Marcel turned his attention back to me, choosing to ignore Father’s protests of our mother’s innocence. “What do we do?”

“Honestly, I don’t know how to treat him until we find out what he’s being poisoned with. It could be a multitude of things.” I gnawed my bottom lip. “I’m going to give you a list of ingredients to get, which you’ll need to boil. Then, you’ll add this.” I pulled a small vial from my pocket.

“What is this?” Marcel reached for the vial and held it closer to a torch to see.

“My blood,” I answered calmly. “Once you’ve boiled the other ingredients, add my blood. But only after the other ingredients have been boiled. If you add the blood before boiling everything, the heat will diminish my healing properties and it won’t work. Do you understand?”

Marcel nodded. “Thank you, Lyanna.”

“Are you not going to return home, Lyanna?” my father asked sadly, his eyes pained. It broke my heart.

I smiled tightly. “Not yet, Father, but I hope to soon.”

My father nodded toward Ronan. “Is it because of him?”

I shook my head and gave a soft chuckle. “No, not because of him. Because of Caelan,” I insisted. “We need to take care of him before he does something he can’t turn back from.”

“You really believe he was the one who poisoned you?” he asked with furrowed brows.

“Yes. I know it for a fact,” I said, leaving out the fact that Henry heard Caelan admitting to what he’d done.

“Then could it possibly be Caelan who is responsible for poisoning me?” my father countered, trying to cast the blame on someone other than his beloved wife. “Your mother loves him; he could be tricking her!”

I winced. I didn’t want to tell him otherwise. It was highly likely that Caelan and my mother were working together, but what I couldn’t figure out was why . What would my mother gain if Caelan took over Valoria? Her dream had always been for Marcellus to become King. When did that change?

Instead, I replied, “I suppose anything is possible.” I clasped his sweaty palm. “Father, come with us to the Grasslands. I can help you there—”

Father stood a little taller. “I refuse to leave my kingdom. I would rather die than desert it!”

“He’s right, Lyanna,” Marcellus agreed with a grimace. “We can’t leave. If we did, it would just give Caelan the keys to the kingdom. I refuse to let him win like this.”

Understanding their predicament, I nodded. Retrieving the letter I’d received from Marcel, I flipped the parchment over and listed the ingredients, then handed him the letter back. “Make sure you get everything on this list with the exact measurements. Promise me, Marcel.”

Marcel took the letter and tucked it into his pocket. “Of course, Lyanna. I’ll do it as soon as we return.”

“From now on, you’re in charge of father’s meals. Don’t give them any more chances to poison him again,” I said, taking charge. “If he gets worse or the medicine doesn’t work, send word. We’ll meet here again.”

“Very well.” Marcel looked back at the carriages and then turned his attention back to me. “One more thing…” He motioned to one of the Valorian soldiers, who went to the second carriage and opened the door. “I brought them with me in hopes they could return to the Grasslands with you.”

To my bewildered delight, Selene and Henry clambered down from the carriage and walked toward us. My eyes widened at the sight of them. “You brought them with you!”

Marcel nodded. “It’s not safe for any of us, and if I can barely protect Father, I can’t guarantee I could protect them as well,” he said, sounding embarrassed.

“Marcel,” I whispered. “You’ve truly grown.” He didn’t understand my meaning and opened his mouth to retort when I laid a calming hand on his arm. “Few men would do what you’re doing. Knowing when to fold is a skill, not a weakness,” I said, attempting to reassure him. “You’re doing well, and I know whenever the time comes, you’ll be an excellent king.”

Our father patted him on the back, offering his silent agreement.

“I’ll look out for them, your highness,” Viktor said from the side.

“Thank you, Viktor,” I smiled, offering him a nod.

“Leila!”

“Miss Leila!”

Selene and Henry started running once they caught sight of me.

“You’re back, Miss Leila!” Henry was the first to cross the border over to Keldara. The last time I’d seen him, Caelan was torturing his tiny body. “We missed you!” He wrapped me in a bone-crushing hug.

I wrapped my arms around him and brushed his messy mop of hair back from his face. My wide grin stretched my cheeks. “I missed you both as well. What do you have there?” I asked, already smelling the pastries.

“Oh! I brought you some mooncakes.” The boy grinned up at me with a wide smile, displaying two missing front teeth.

I dropped a kiss on the top of his head. “Thank you, Henry. I truly missed them.”

Selene slowly crossed the border into Keldara and pulled me into an embrace, gripping me tightly with Henry sandwiched between us.

“Are you okay?” I whispered in her ear. She sniffled and gave a short nod. “Everything is okay, Selene. Don’t worry.” I rubbed her back.

Henry squeezed his way out from between us and approached Ronan, giving him a big hug. Ronan lifted him up as if he weighed nothing and hugged the boy tightly.

Marcel glanced meaningfully at Selene, then back at me. “Take care of her for me… please.” His face flushed a vibrant shade of crimson.

I nodded. “Always, Marcel. You don’t ever have to ask.”

“Thank you, Lyanna.” With a sigh, Marcellus added, “We should probably head back before anyone notices we’re gone.”

Just then, we heard running footsteps. I turned around and watched a Keldaran courier running toward Mykal. Out of breath, the man whispered in the commander’s ear. I watched Mykal’s eyes slowly widen little by little, until his gaze landed on me.

“What is it?” I asked, ignoring Marcel.

Mykal stepped forward, bowing to my father and Marcellus. “Your Majesty, Your Highness, apologies for not introducing myself earlier. Commander Mykal Kaiser at your service.”

“Pleasure,” my father said with a grimace.

At the end of the day, Mykal was still Keldaran, and they were our mortal enemy. But I hoped they wouldn’t be much longer now that Mykal was in charge.

“Unfortunately, I have dire news that all of you should be made aware of.” Mykal glanced at me and then to my family standing across the border. “King Alwyn of Eldwain has died.”

I gasped and Ronan reached for my hand. Shock encompassed Marcel and my father’s faces. We were all probably thinking the same thing.

“He’s going for it,” I murmured as Ronan held me close while still carrying Henry. “He’s going to take the throne.”

“What?” Marcel frowned. “What are you talking about? I thought Caelan wanted the Valorian throne?”

“He does,” I said. “But what he really wants is to rule all of Asteria. At this very moment, Caelan commands a secret army in Ellyndor.”

My father stumbled backward in shock. “No!” he whispered. “We must hurry.” He turned to leave, though he still leaned heavily on Marcellus. “We must get back to the capital and protect ourselves.”

Marcel waved goodbye and sent a meaningful look toward Selene before hurrying to help our father into his carriage. We watched in silence as the small envoy from Valoria disappeared back the way they came.

“That messenger just delivered the invitation to his funeral,” Mykal said once they were gone. “I assume Chief Aryan and King Malik will get them as well.”

Ronan squeezed my hand. “I have a bad feeling about this.”

“I do, too,” I whispered as I gazed out into the distance, already missing my family.