𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐈𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐀 𝐒𝐔𝐂𝐂𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘. 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐈𝐒 𝐀 𝐑𝐔𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍.
It's the beginning of a new age when Jaylah Imperatrix seemingly returns from the dead to reclaim her throne. And in perfect timing.
In her absence, evil has be...
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Act 1 Chapter 19 JAYLAH
Three days later, the Hochov Mountains were more than just uneven ridges on the horizon line. They were so large and imposing they took up the entire view out the carriage front—a looming giant to signify all the things we would have to work through. This was the first time in our journey that I was genuinely concerned.
Ever since I was young, I had heard stories of Ition's infamous mountain range, which was home to the tallest peaks in the known world. Between frigid winters, under-preparation, and the creatures lurking in hidden caves, this place claimed hundreds of lives every year.
I glanced to the supplies Lorenzo sent with us. He may have been clever and he may have grown up here, but nature was unpredictable. I was not stupid enough to think myself above her wild temperament.
Crossing my legs, I pulled my limbs in closer. We were only on the very beginning of the rocky slope, and yet a cool draft was coming in from the latched door.
Sitting across from me, Alexander showed no sign of concern. His pose was languid and sprawling as he turned bored eyes to the view outside. But the longer I observed, the more I realized his nonchalant form was something of a front, for there was tension hidden in his limbs. Interesting. Perhaps it was something he picked up from being an assassin.
Or perhaps it was heightened due to my knowing his true social status. If he hadn't enough desire to kill me before, he certainly did now. It was impossible to decipher what he was thinking, but I was almost certain he still doubted that I had intentions to change myself and the path my father set for us all. I had told many mistruths in my time, but refusing to turn him in was not one of them. I would not stoop to the depths everyone expected me to.
The journey continued for another hour at a steady incline as the carriage began to weave the winding path upward. It only paused when the driver's voice came from the front. "The path ahead is too narrow for the carriage to fit through. This is where we part ways."
He helped us unload the supplies into two packs—one for either of us. Each pack was filled to the brim with dried food, water, firesticks and covered over the top by a rolled bag for sleeping.
I did not watch him leave down the path we came from, instead began the long, long trek as the sound of the horses' hooves receded into nothing. My boots gritted against the gravelly path. Both bluffs on either side pressed in so close they seemed to fuse together in the far distance. Looking up, I could only make out a strip of blue sky mirroring the path we were meant to take. Thank the Gods I was not claustrophobic.
After a small decline, the trail converged even further. No longer able to fit two bodies side-by-side, Alexander shifted behind me to narrowly avoid hitting his head on a jagged edge. The silence with which he moved never failed to astound me. Then it hit me like a blow to the face: royal maids were meant to stay out of sight and hearing range. Were slaves expected to do the same?
