A prophecy was given to the Realm of Valeera, but only one kingdom took heed to it and set forth a law that would divide the people into two groups. The Fair and the Strange. One group possessed a promise from the gods while the other is doomed for...
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By the time he finished his last rounds and made his way through the North Wing, nightfall had finally claimed the sky. He exited the grand entrance of the palace onto the porch area, where it appeared as if the palace had vomited its occupants. People were everywhere. From nobles and officials to his slaves dressed in their best attire, waiting to serve whoever was in need. Knights, soldiers, and guards stood or sat on horseback in their designated spots by carriages lined purposefully up the royal pathway to the palace wall.
"Where's mine?" Gris said when he finally reached the larger carriages decorated in gold, emerald, and crystal gemstones.
Ser Garret, the king's Knight Escort, faced him and gave a stern look. "Yours is three carriages back," he said, then pointed to the one painted black with a gold rooftop.
"Great," he mumbled, noticing again how he was purposely displaced from the family.
As he walked by the other royal carriages, Prince Gideon arrived with a pretty noblewoman as a companion. They went to the carriage directly behind the king and queen's, and Gris didn't have enough energy to be upset. He was still trying to settle down from the incident in the infirmary, the anticipated pain of witnessing Mageia die, and the fact that no one came to him concerning Hasana and Orlan. They were both nowhere in sight.
These very thoughts petrified him. A horn blew somewhere at the front of the convoy where the councilmen, judges, officials, and nobles sat in their carriages, waiting to ride. The convoy was so long that it disappeared beyond the wall of the royal grounds, where onlookers waited cheering excitedly to see their royal family.
Relana climbed into her carriage with Eron's assistance as he passed by, and he shook his head, wanting to explode. Everyone and everything was bothering him. When he finally climbed into his carriage, he locked eyes with Eron, still standing beside his carriage. The bloody Fiisen gave him a mischievous smirk. Something eerie about it sent chills up Gris' spine.
Oh, no! What if he has Hasana?
If he had Hasana, it meant she had to have given him the location of where to deliver Mageia's letter. Panic conquered him, replacing his anger and annoyance until he spotted Dargany. Out of mockery or jest, the commander had placed him in the outer protection on foot without his horse. Gris could feel the shame of the position, supposedly given to a guard, and knew the soldier wished he were on his horse in his proper place.
Gris knew he was the last person he'd want to see or speak to, but Gris needed him.
Once Eron had settled in his carriage with Relana and her noble friend, he turned for the soldier.
"Dargany," he said, starting out in a slight whisper, only to rise higher until the man gave a sigh of annoyance. He glanced at Gris, who gestured for him to approach, but he cautiously glanced at the commander instead of obeying.
"Come here," he said.
The soldier puffed out his bottom lip and approached with confidence to avoid suspicion. "Speak quickly."
