DEMON CRY

50.

Chosen Heir Amara knew there would be consequences for her act of rebellion. Going against the Council and the Dithrai monarchy, she found herself moving toward Tracovia. She could only hope that the King and Queen would understand her decision. After reading an awful lot on the Lornis' art of resurrection, she knew that someone was playing a very cruel game with Queen Seyanora. 

Why didn't she bring her family back? 

Amara knew the answer very well. For someone to be resurrected, their body must be unscathed. Someone had stolen the Demon King's head. She was certain that something similar had happened to Demon Prince's corpse.

There hadn't been much time to approach the monarchs and inform them about the development. She hoped that the letter she had left for them would help them understand that she had not abandoned them. 

The Ministers would want her head and upon return, she would have to face them.  There was no room for failure. 

It was too late to turn back. 

Presently, she was hiding inside the war wagon that was lugged by horses. It was a dark and uncomfortable spot and the wild swaying that accompanied it didn't make it any easier. They were well past the castle and deeper into the forests. The temperature had dropped drastically as they moved toward Tracovia. 

Amara utilized the time to come up with a plan. If anything went wrong, she would don the crown she had in her satchel. It was a cowardly move but it would help her to pull ranks if anyone gave her a hard time. Her mind iterated on the combat spells the Supreme Sorceress had taught her despite having spellbook with her. If she were attacked, she couldn't exactly tell them to stop and search for an appropriate spell to cast. In a perfect world, such they would wait. 

In a perfect world, Damien would be with her. 

She shook her head. 

The world wasn't perfect. She had lost so much. If she failed, she would lose it again- and she was certain that it would destroy her. 

'I hope you understand,' she whispered picturing Queen Ravenna as she held her knees close to her chest. The Queen had guided her like she was her own. It would break Amara's heart to disappoint her. 

She couldn't lose. 

She had sworn to put the people before her. 

Tears welled in her eyes as frustration built in her chest. 

She was going to bring back the Prince. 

No matter the cost. 

She buried her head in her hands and cried silently. 

Would they take her back? 

What if she had acted impulsively? 

Had she thought this through?

She had no reason to go to Tracovia except that nagging feeling that she should! 

What would Damien do?

It was terrifying when she realized that she didn't know what he would do. 

The cart halted all of a sudden and she stilled. She listened closely holding her breath. Some incoherent words were travelling around.

'Finally!' She heard one of the warriors. Her blood ran cold when she realized how close he was to the wagon. 

'I thought we were going to go through the night,' another replied. 

'I'm beat, man. Riding horseback sucks.' 

The other laughed loudly. 'Another day. You'll get used to it.' 

'Why are we even going to Tracovia? It's not important!' 

Just like that, all the joy was sucked out of the air. Amara trembled. Another mistake! She had felt so confident when she presented her plan to send the troops to the bordered province. 

The other whispered, 'I heard that the Prince's betrothed sent us.' 

'What her name again? I can't remember.' 

'Amaryllis?'

'Like the flower?'

'I don't know, man. I can't remember. They haven't made it public yet.' 

'I wonder what they're waiting for.'

'The hell should I know. She wanted to lead us.' 

The warrior snorted loudly, 'Doesn't she have anything better to do?' 

'Hey! Watch your mouth, someone may hear us!'

Tears rolled down Amara's cheeks. She felt so lonely and cold. In the castle everyone had supported her! Had it been a lie? The King and Queen liked her, didn't they? She ran her hand down her face feeling the wetness on her cheeks. 

Why did Damien have to disappear? Her chest burned with agony. 

'Why are they so quiet about her anyway? I mean, it's a big deal, right? Crown Prince Damien choosing his bride? Makes me wonder why there wasn't any celebration.' 

'Maybe they aren't happy with her?' 

Amara couldn't hold back another sob. 

'Did you hear that?'

'Hear what?'

She held her breath. 

'Someone was crying.' 

The warrior laughed, 'I've been crying because of my back. Are you sure it wasn't me?' 

The heavy guffaws that followed hammered down her heart that was filled with icy loneliness. Doubt crumbled whatever faith she had left. 

She was going to end up with nothing. 

Wiping the tears with the back of her hand, she shook her head reminding herself that she had vowed to protect the people of the Dithrai Kingdom. Gritting her teeth, she reminded herself of her mother's words: No matter the cost.

⋄

The First Warrior made her way toward the Queen's chambers where she had been sumoned. 

'You called for me, my Queen, my King?' 

The Queen seeded upset as she acknowledged her with a slight nod, her eyes fixated at the dark sky the loomed outside. The King was there too, standing next to his wife as she sat on her armchair, looking crestfallen. 

'What's wrong?' Felicia asked reading their expression. Her heart raced frantically. Had something happened to Prince Damien?

'Amara is gone,' The King replied gazing at his Queen. 

The Frisir had not expected that. 'What?' 

'She left for Tracovia with the troops.' 

'Against the Coucil's orders? She'll die out there! She's not prepared to fight alongside them!'

'That's why you and the First Battalion need to go and bring her back unharmed,' The Queen got to her feet. 

Felicia nodded gravely, 'I will leave immediately.'

'Worry not for your son. I will take care of him myself.'

She bowed, 'Thank you, my Queen.'

She was near the door when the King called out her name. 

'Keep this quiet.'

'As you will, Your Highness.'