Chapter Eight

The warm summer breeze floats across the nape of my neck as Alexander and I step out of the palace doors.

An unfamiliar feeling sweeps over me as a stray lock dances on my brow and I remember that I'm without the weight of the crown, in both senses of the word. Dressed in a simple eggplant day gown that Nuelle and I agreed isn't abhorrent, I feel lighter than I have in centuries. Although my lady's maids argued that my raven curls should be left unbound to further conceal my identity, I'm certain none will recognize me. Seeing that the crown is tucked away in my trunk for when I need it, I push away any lingering anxious thoughts.

At this moment, I'm Queen of no kingdom, rule no subjects, and bear no title. I'm just another common-born woman.

Slowing my steps, I tilt my head skywards and close my eyes. The warmth that radiates from the afternoon seeps into my skin and flows to my soul. With a deep breath, the scent of a season that's soon to change fills my nose. The musk and sweetness swirling about the air speak of the flowers that bloom to life during these months. Another breath and notes of cedar and pine wash over me. It's a familiar scent, one that reminds me of the days when the breeze turns cool and frost kisses the earth beneath my feet. It smells like home.

Though the lids of the trunks housing my emotions are shut, a whisper of fear threatens to rise at the thought of using my powers. While I acknowledge its presence, I don't allow it to consume me. I have no wish to be met by death's withered hand, so I focus on the confidence I have in our battle plans.

I frown when Alexander clears his throat, interrupting my peace. Peeling my eyes open, I blink against the strong rays of sunlight and angle my head down. Sianna bounds up the narrow staircase that leads to the palace entrance, a wide grin splitting across her face as she scans me from head to toe.

"What," I say nonchalantly.

"It's strange, that's all," she calls. The slit that creeps up the right side of her indigo gown parts as she ascends the final step. Closing the distance between us and wiping a bead of sweat from her brow, the Risian princess' smile stretches impossibly wider. "You look like a proper common lady, Your Grace."

The corners of my lips threaten to twitch upwards, but I roll my eyes. "That's the point, Sianna."

Her giggle sails through the air as Alexander inclines his head and takes his leave to ready our mount. A comfortable silence settles in the thick summer air as Sianna moves to stand at my side. For a long moment, we stare down at the bustling city streets below.

While I'm no longer a sentimental woman, I know goodbyes are hard for Sianna. With the little notice she was given before departing Risian, she was never afforded the proper chance to say farewell to her family. Although she's been a guest at my court longer than I've ruled as Queen, I know her heart remains back in Risian with her loved ones. She remained in Minalis out of friendship and loyalty.

If I allowed myself to feel, I imagine I would empathize with her. Few in all the kingdoms understand the tides of grief as well as I do.

Sianna turns to face me, sorrow lying in the depths of her eyes as she searches my gaze. "Take care of yourself, Ella," she says after a long moment. "Do what you must, but know that, in my brother's mind, time and distance are the true enemy."

Tenderness rushes through me and swells inside my chest. Before I'm given the chance to respond, Alexander appears in the distance. The steed's lustrous blonde coat shines in the golden afternoon rays, as the General leads our mount through the gates of the palace. The wide breadth of its muscular legs are a sign of its sole purpose in this realm. While the mount I rode as a young princess was meant for leisure, it's clear this steed was born and bred for battle.

"The party awaits our leave, My Queen," Alexander says as he approaches. "Whenever you are ready," he adds, bringing our steed to a halt at the bottom of the staircase.

With a final light touch on my arm, Sianna turns and disappears through the palace doors without a second glance. Although she disagrees with my decision that will see her left behind, the knowledge that Warwick will remain here to ensure her safety lessens the weight upon my shoulders. My guard was also displeased with my command, insisting he can't uphold his oath to protect me from such a distance.

Despite their protests and disappointment-stricken features, I have faith that the General and his most trusted soldiers will keep me from harm. Alexander has vehemently sworn that I won't be out of his line of sight, on or off the battlefield. I have no reason to think otherwise.

With a final glance over my shoulder, and no sign of Warwick or Sianna, I descend the staircase and nod to Alexander. He cups my jaw and tilts my chin. Adoration shines in his chocolate eyes.

"It's going to be fine," he murmurs.

I have the urge to chastise him for such a public display of affection, but thoughts of doing so melt away as he leans down and softly kisses my cheek.

"I know."

Planting a final light kiss on my jaw, he places his hands on my waist and hoists me onto the steed. The stallion huffs in annoyance when he releases his hold on me and I settle onto its back. I stroke its coarse mane in silent apology when Alexander ties a satchel to its back and mounts. His strong arm encircles my waist as he positions himself behind me and leans forward to grab the slack reins.

I allow my spine to relax when he tugs me backward and the warmth of his chest seeps into my back. Readjusting to a more comfortable position, the curve of my rear nestles his hardening length. I suppress a shudder as his nose skims the side of my neck and he inhales deeply.

"Ready?" he whispers into the shell of my ear, sending a wave of delicious heat to my core. Keeping my eyes trained ahead, I nod.

Few townspeople spare glances in our direction, but trepidation follows me as we wind through the streets of Solei. With dusk creeping up on the horizon, many of the vendors are selling goods and services to their last customers of the day.

Children race to their homes as their mothers call for them, intent on seeing their little ones safely indoors before the pale moon rises and the city comes alive.

A man wearing rags holds a small leather pouch out in front of him as we pass, pleading for coins. A pang of emotion I'd locked away long ago lances through my chest. Though it's not an unusual sight, the gray tunic he wears is much too large for his malnourished frame and billows in the summer breeze. Despite his wide, sunken eyes that plea for food, Alexander shakes his head at my back when the man makes to step in our path.

I raise my hand and cover my nose as we ride past the town square and venture farther into the capital. It's of little use. Despite my efforts, the scent of urine and the stars know what else comes to rest on my tongue when I inhale through my mouth.

Small cottages with thatched wood and straw roofing sit so close to one another they nearly touch. The gray-washed cobblestone streets stretch to their doorsteps and leave no open land for summer grass to grow. Lanterns hang from iron hooks on small wooden porches bathing the cobblestone in faint golden light. A thin piece of string extends across a cottage's porch to my right. It sags beneath the weight of freshly laundered clothing left to dry.

Alexander's hand tightens on my waist when we round the corner and roars of boisterous laughter float through the air. A large group of men stand outside of the establishment just ahead, tipping silver flasks to their lips.

"No matter what they say, don't speak," Alexander murmurs in a low voice.

Cursing under my breath, I squint and crane my neck to read the letters on the wooden sign that sways in the breeze. The Laughing Glass.

On the outside, the tavern looks dark and uninviting. Thick logs and large stone beams make up most of the building's structure. A layer of dust cakes its stained glass windows. Despite the linen curtains that make it impossible to see inside, lively music and drunken ruckus seep into the night.

Conversation dies and silence crowds the air as each of the men turn their heads in our direction. Alexander stiffens at my back when their gazes flicker from him to me. As we draw closer, their guarded and distrusting gazes morph into curious stares. The General's free hand moves to the sheathed sword at his hip in silent warning when one man stumbles forward.

Tugging at the collar of his cream tunic, the man pins me with his stare in spite of his drunken state. Unease roils low in my belly as his hazel eyes peruse my form. Disgust replaces my apprehension when his eyes drop to my chest and his tongue darts out to sweep over his bottom lip.

A carnivorous, crooked grin splits across his lips as his eyes return to my face. He tilts his head to the side. "And who might ye be?"

The skies open up and cool rain slides down my temples as I hold his gaze. I refuse to show him fear. I've crushed ants beneath my slippers who are more of a challenge than him.

"She's with me," Alexander growls. The drunken man's gaze flies over my shoulder. "I've already purchased her for the night."

It takes all the strength I can manage to avoid whipping my head around and glaring at the foolish General over my shoulder. While I understand he says such things for my protection, rage flares to life with the insinuation. Women are free to do as they see fit with their bodies, but I'm no whore.

Our steed throws its head back and whines as a loud crack of thunder booms in the distance. The man holds the General's gaze for a long moment before his eyes slide back to me. "Best be on yer way then, storm's a rollin' in."

Feeling the General give a sharp jerk of his chin at my back, he lifts the reins and leads our mount into a steady trot. The tension in the air lifts as we ride past the tavern entrance and the group of men huddle beneath the awning and return to their conversations.

My shoulders sag in relief and sheets of rain become a light drizzle when I look over my shoulder to find them in the distance.

A silver crescent moon and bright stars illuminate the sky as we reach the outskirts of the capital.

Save for offering me his cloak to combat the chilled night air, Alexander remains quiet for most of our ride through the city streets. With the encounter at the tavern lingering in the space between us, I don't mind. The less attention we draw to ourselves, the less likely I'll be recognized.

A sense of foreboding spreads through my chest when Alexander points out four men lying in wait in the alley just ahead. I can't make sense of the feeling, seeing that these men have been paid well to ensure my safety.

They dismount and bow at the waist like fools when we approach and the General brings our mount to a stop. One of the four men, who has a long, unkempt beard and striking gray eyes, gapes at me. He averts his gaze and finds interest in the cobblestone beneath his feet the moment I narrow my eyes upon him.

A small wooden cart is being pulled by another man's sable-colored steed. Barrels of fruit and vegetables take up most of the cart. I twist at the waist as Alexander swings his leg over to dismount and wordlessly passes our trunks to the man. The pale older man keeps his eyes trained ahead as he loads them into the remaining space on the cart.

In two long strides, Alexander closes the distance, speaking in hushed tones to the man who I assume is the leader of our party. The auburn hair that touches his shoulders lifts in the breeze as he nods in understanding. While his navy tunic and breeches are plain, the wrinkles that rest upon his forehead tell me of his battle prowess. A man doesn't live to see old age without having some sort of skill in wielding a sword.

A nervous energy accompanies the thoughts of war that swirl in my mind as Alexander settles behind me once more.

Among the other matters that were discussed before our departure, Alexander had formed a response to Commander Lathing with specific instructions on the positioning of our men. The vast majority of Brealan and Minalese forces will remain in the ruins of the Dorston Keep until our arrival. I'm not well-versed in cartography, but the General helped me to understand that we'll be camped no more than two miles from where the King of Risian awaits me.

His long-standing thirst for blood aside, I have no doubts that my mirror soul will step onto the battlefield. Not when I'm all but to insert myself into his path. The element of surprise will no longer be ours, as the moment I'm within an undetermined proximity to him, the bond will alert him to my presence.

The only hope that remains is that the thread in my chest won't take notice of its mate until I'm standing before him. It's a calculated risk, one that Alexander has resigned himself to disagree with me on.