Page 7 of Warrior Princess (Blood Weaver Trilogy #3)

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T he vibrant colors and lively chatter of the bustling marketplace enveloped me when I stepped into the village center. I stopped by Hana’s stall, where the aroma of freshly baked lotus cookies mingled with the spicy scent of herbs hanging from the rafters. I picked up a packet of the cookies, their familiar sweetness promising a small comfort for the journey ahead. Next, I visited a nearby fruit stand, selecting a handful of fire berries. Their bright, flame-like appearance and tangy taste would be a vivid reminder of my time here with Ronan, even if that time was all too brief.

As I was carefully choosing the juiciest berries, I suddenly felt strong arms encircle me from behind. Momentary shock rippled through my limbs until Ronan’s familiar scent filled my senses—earthy and reassuring.

“Why so many snacks?” he whispered into my ear, his breath warm against my skin as he planted a soft kiss on my neck.

“In case I get hungry on the way to Keldara.” I paid the vendor and took the bag of fire berries, then turned within his embrace and held up my purchases like treasures. “A little reminder of home.”

His smile broadened and amusement lit his eyes. “Home?”

I nodded. “You said this would be a home away from home, did you not?”

“I did.” His eyes crinkled at the corners as he fought to keep his smile from overtaking his expression.

We started walking toward his home. “Why are you here? Is Mykal here already?”

“Yes, he’s waiting for you at the ritual hall.” Ronan took the bags from my hands and intertwined his fingers with mine. “Are you sure about this, Leila? Why don’t I accompany you?”

I shook my head firmly. “No. The whole purpose of me going as the peace delegate is to keep everyone from the Grasslands safe. The minute you cross the border, you’ll be at risk.”

“Leila… no one knows much about King Eduard. I just…”

“I know,” I reassured him softly. “But it will be fine. I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself.”

Ronan exhaled deeply, his brow furrowed with concern. “You’ve put your life on the line one too many times for my liking, Leila. I just want you safe.”

I stopped and wrapped my arms around him, then reached up to plant a quick kiss on his lips. “I know,” I murmured against his mouth. “But I promise this is the last time.”

He shook his head, his crimson gaze filled with frustration and fear. “Leila,” he whispered hoarsely, “you have no idea how I felt when I woke up and heard you were dead. I don’t want to ever feel like that again. Please…”

“You won’t,” I whispered back, my fingers gently brushing stray strands of his hair from his face. “You’ll never experience that ever again. I promise.”

“You can’t promise me that, Leila.” He turned away, his voice strained.

“Yes I can,” I stated firmly, determination steeling my voice. “I’ll make sure of it.”

“And I promise to protect her,” came Mykal’s voice unexpectedly close. We both turned to see him approaching, his presence solid and imposing. His short brown hair was tousled, as if he’d been raking his fingers through it in frustration. His tall, muscular frame cast a long, thin shadow in the afternoon sun.

Ronan’s gaze narrowed in suspicion. “What are you doing here? I told you I’d bring her—”

Mykal gave a nonchalant shrug. “I got tired of waiting. You were taking too long.”

Ronan started to protest, but Mykal’s intense, honey-colored gaze cut him off. “The king waits for no one, and I don’t have time to sightsee. We really should get going, Princess,” he addressed me directly as his eyes lingered on the scarf strategically placed around my neck.

I swallowed hard and my heart pounded with a mix of anticipation and trepidation. Could we – or rather, could I – trust Mykal? Doubts clouded my mind, but it was too late to turn back now.

Ronan turned to face me, his expression a complex tapestry of worry and resolve as he took my hand. Despite Mykal's looming presence just a few steps away, he leaned in close, his voice a hushed whisper meant only for me. “It’s not too late to change your mind,” he said, the urgency in his eyes betraying his composed tone.

“Stop,” I murmured softly. Placing my hand over his chest, I felt the steady thump of his heart beneath my palm. “Everything will pan out. I’ll go to Keldara, meet with the king, and broker a peace treaty for the Crimson Clan. Then I’ll return, Ronan.”

Ronan's face twisted with fear and resolve. He squeezed my hand, his eyelids fluttering shut momentarily as if trying to block out the reality of the situation.

“Ronan, look at me,” I whispered, my other hand gently caressing the side of his face, coaxing him to meet my gaze. When his eyes finally opened, I offered a reassuring smile. “Everything will be fine. But if I don’t return and you haven’t heard from me in five days, I give you permission to come and get me.”

His jaw locked and he narrowed his gaze. “If I don’t hear from you, I won’t just come to get you, Leila. I’ll be coming for you with an army. So make sure you maintain contact unless you want me to start a war,” he growled.

The promise hung between us, sealed before Mykal as a silent witness, offering Ronan a sliver of solace. His concern was not unfounded. King Eduard was a mystery, and General Thomas’s cautionary words that even he couldn’t guarantee my safety against the king echoed in my mind, a stark reminder of the risks involved.

Feeling Ronan's tension slightly ease with the contingency plan, I released his hand to take the bags of snacks from him. I pressed a quick, firm kiss on his lips, a silent promise of my return, and held his gaze. “If you hear from my father, let me know. I want to make sure he got my letter.”

“Of course.” Ronan nodded with a semblance of calm restored.

“Leaving so soon?” Chief Aryan called out from behind us. We whirled around to face him. “I can’t imagine you’d leave without saying goodbye.”

I grimaced and subconsciously took a step back, my hand fluttering to my covered throat. “I shouldn’t linger,” I muttered. “It’s best if I leave now and return quickly.”

Chief Aryan smirked. “Right. Of course. We all appreciate everything you’ve done and will do for our clan, Your Highness. The Crimson Clan always repays its debts.” His words were cryptic, delivered with a raised brow as he looked between me and Ronan.

I swallowed and nodded, then offered a weak smile. Ronan took my hand and pulled me back and away from his father, turning his back to him. I looked up at his craggy face and itched to wipe the worry from his brow.

“Ignore him, Leila. Have a safe journey. We’ll be in touch.” Ronan crushed me against his broad chest and folded me into a hug.

After a final, lingering kiss, I turned to Mykal, who had been waiting with a patience I hadn’t expected.

“Ready?” he asked, an eyebrow arched inquiringly.

“Yes.” Without looking back, I stepped away from Ronan and walked beside Mykal. We cut through the lively marketplace, its vibrant noise now a dull backdrop to the gravity of our mission. As we passed the familiar stalls and I waved briefly to a handful of familiar faces, a sense of solemnity settled over me.

We angled north towards the outskirts of the village, the path leading away from the safety and warmth of the Grasslands and towards the uncertainty of Keldara. Each step was heavier, laden with the potential consequences of this journey not just for me, but for all involved. As the village receded behind us, I steeled myself for what lay ahead, committed to my mission yet mindful of the promises I needed to keep.

As we prepared to leave the familiar surroundings of the Grasslands, Mykal led me towards a small stable at the edge of the village where a couple horses were waiting. The stable was a quaint, thatched structure nestled among a cluster of elder trees whose leaves whispered softly in the gentle breeze. The air was filled with the earthy scent of hay and horse, a comforting aroma that brought back memories of earlier, simpler days spent in the countryside.

Mykal walked over to two sturdy horses, one a dappled grey and the other a rich chestnut. He expertly checked their tack, adjusting the saddles and ensuring the bridles were secure. His movements were smooth and practiced, revealing his familiarity and ease with horses. “Here, let me help you.” Mykal took ahold of my bags and secured them to the saddle.

Extending his hand, he gestured towards the chestnut, which he seemed to have chosen specifically for me. I appreciated the thoughtfulness in his choice. The horse had a calm demeanor and gentle eyes, suggesting it was well-suited for a potentially long and strenuous journey.

Gratefully, I placed my foot in the stirrup he held steady for me and swung my other leg over the saddle with a grace born of years of riding experience. Settling into the saddle, I adjusted my grip on the reins, feeling the familiar leather under my fingers. Mykal watched for a moment, ensuring I was comfortable and secure before he mounted the grey horse with an agile leap.

As we rode out of the stable area, the landscape of the Grasslands stretched out before us like a vast, open canvas. The grass swayed in rhythm with the wind, creating waves of undulating green that rippled as far as the eye could see. Wildflowers peppered the meadow, their hues of blue, yellow, and red dotting the sea of green with cheery bursts of color. The sounds of the Grasslands were a symphony of rustling grass, distant bird calls, and the occasional chatter of a squirrel or rabbit darting through the underbrush.

The air was crisp, the late afternoon sun pitching long shadows that danced playfully around us as it began its descent toward the horizon. A sense of peace settled over me despite the uncertain journey ahead. The beauty of the Grasslands was a balm to my apprehensive spirit.

Mykal set a steady pace as he led us along a well-trodden path that meandered through the fields. “We'll cut through the Central Plains by sunset, if we maintain this pace,” he said over his shoulder, his voice carrying back to me on the wind.

“Lead the way.”

As we rode, the rhythm of my horse’s movements synced with my heartbeat. Mykal and I slowly left the Grasslands behind, the familiar scent of wet earth and wildflowers gradually giving way to the dusty, dry aroma of the Central Plains. Sweat trickled between my breasts as the sun beat down upon us. The leather reins in my hands were warm, almost hot to the touch, and the rhythmic thuds of our horses' hooves kicked up small clouds of dust that clung to the fabric of our clothes.

The landscape of the Central Plains stretched out before us like an endless sea of golden grasses, occasionally broken by the silhouette of a lonely tree or a distant hill. The air was filled with the droning hum of insects, and an occasional breeze carried the faint sound of a bird's call across the vast openness.

Mykal rode with easy confidence, his posture relaxed but alert. Every so often, he glanced over at me as if ensuring I was still there.

“Never thought I'd see a Valorian princess turning diplomat,” Mykal commented, breaking the silence between us as his horse trotted comfortably next to mine.

I smiled and looked out over the vast expanse. “Neither did I,” I admitted. “But circumstances change, and sometimes we have to step into roles we never imagined for ourselves.”

“True enough,” he replied. "Although, you’re not responsible for the Crimson Clan. I urge you to cut ties with them after this. For your own safety.”

I snorted. “I’m sure you do, but that won’t happen.”

Mykal looked at me for a moment before sighing. “Do you really think you’re prepared for what’s waiting in Keldara?"

I took a deep breath, tasting the dry air of the plains, which carried a hint of the upcoming winter's chill. “As prepared as I can be. Negotiations will be tricky. King Eduard is known for his... unpredictable nature.”

Mykal nodded thoughtfully. “Unpredictable is a polite way of putting it. He's as temperamental as the northern winds.”

“Nonetheless, the Crimson Clan deserves to be freed from the clutches of Keldara.” I glanced at him momentarily. “I’m sure you can agree.”

Mykal nodded. “Yes, but it doesn’t need to be you who saves them, Leila. Don’t tie yourself down to those who might one day get you killed.”

Our conversation lapsed into silence again. Minutes turned into hours, and we finally approached the border of Keldara. The scenery began to shift—sparse grass gave way to rocky terrain and the air grew colder, a stark contrast to the mild warmth of the Grasslands. The mountains of Keldara loomed ahead, their jagged peaks cutting sharply into the sky.

As we entered Keldara, the ground beneath our horses' hooves became rocky, the sounds echoing off the surrounding mountains. The chill in the air intensified, carrying the pine-scented sharpness typical of Keldaran forests.

“How do the people of Keldara feel about the current treaty?” I pulled my cloak tighter around me as a brisk wind swept through the pass.

“They're tired, just like everyone else.” Mykal kept his eyes on the winding path ahead. “War has drained us. If your words can bring peace, it will be a welcome change.”

I nodded, absorbing his words. The responsibility weighed heavily, but it was a weight I was ready to carry.

“Just remember, no matter what happens, stay true to your cause,” Mykal advised, his voice serious. “King Eduard respects strength, even if it comes wrapped in diplomatic terms.”

“Thank you, Mykal.” I was grateful for his guidance and the subtle reassurance it brought. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

As we continued our journey through the increasingly rugged landscape, the sounds of our horses' steady breathing and the occasional call of a distant eagle were our only companions. The path ahead was fraught with uncertainty, but a burgeoning sense of resolve steadied my heart. Whatever challenges awaited in Keldara, I was determined to face them head-on, for peace, for the Crimson Clan, for Valoria, and for my own sense of duty.