A Royal's Tale [COMPLETED]

Chapter 6 - "You'll both have to come with us."

Lydia

Lydia knew that it shouldn't matter. But still she couldn't help feeling another part of her ripping away. Closing her eyes, she pressed her face into Windchaser's neck, breathing in his horsey smell and feeling the heat that clung to his coat. Remaining like that, she could almost imagine that the voices of Wilder and the land owner bartering were not there.

Instead, she stood in the palace stables. Any second the doors would open and her father would charge inside, his stride confident, steady, and impatient. At his wit's end of dealing with the tasks of being king, he would smile at Lydia and that would be all the invitation she needed. They were cut from the same cloth, wild spirits, and adventurous hearts. Trailed by guards, they'd race their horses beyond the city borders.

Windchaser twisted his neck and nudged Lydia's shoulder as if sensing his mistress's distress. She knotted her fingers in his coarse mane, fighting the memories. She would not cry, she wouldn't. Wilder needed her to stay in control. Already she'd failed him that morning.

She'd heard the men approaching, their horses' hoofs clattering on the stone ground. But when she reached for the dagger, revulsion petrified her. The dagger in her hand the same one that jutted out of her brother Reen's chest. As the men rushed towards her, the dagger slipped from her numb fingers. A dark part of her wished they'd cut her down, let her join her family again.

But they'd only grabbed her. When she tried to scream for Wilder, the sound stayed trapped in her throat. Only as she'd seen the terror and panic in Wilder's eyes, did she snap out of her stunned state. She could not fail Wilder now. Not when he saved her again and again.

"Ly."

At the gentle touch of Wilder's hand on her shoulder, Lydia pulled herself away from Windchaser, silently saying goodbye.

"Mathis says he has an old suit of clothes that belonged to his son and might fit you."

Lydia followed Wilder and Mathis to his house, not daring to look back and watch Windchaser getting led away.

The house showed off the land owner's wealth in high ceilings, a rounded staircase, and detailed tapestries. It was the type of home where Lydia would have been welcomed with pleasure, and given a place of honor. Now she entered dressed as a ragged boy and eyed with suspicion.

In the foyer, Mathis gave orders to a servant who scampered away. As they waited, he regarded the pair silently. Their ragged appearance didn't fit with owning a full-blooded Kalish stallion, but Wilder's array of weapons kept the questions back.

When the servant returned, Lydia accepted a pile of clothes and followed the servant to a room offering seclusion and a looking glass. The shirt and trousers fit Lydia well, no longer making her look like a child playing dress-up. As she walked to the mirror, she tested the boots. Though a bit big, they would work better than her dancing slippers.

She started at the sight of a dirty-faced stranger staring back at her with her eyes. The girl from the night before in a shimmering gown who laughed with her sister no longer existed. As Lydia fingered the rolled sleeve of her shirt, she looked over her reflection's shoulder waiting for Vienna to step into view and appraise her, comment on her vagabond appearance.

"There you are vagabond princess," Vienna said.

But her sister wasn't there. Only her memory spoke.

Renewed grief crashed into Lydia and she stumbled forward as if hit from behind. Struggling to breathe, she braced herself against the mirror. She squeezed her eyes shut hating the empty space where her sister should be.