Episode 10 + 3 - Icelynn
503 Words
Elowyn seemed to be on cloud nine since the supposed miracle.
Her eyes were bright. Not cold. Not calculating. Just relieved. The herb of Marucus incident seemed to had done some positive effects on her. She looked ten years younger and ten years older at the same time.
She stopped in front of Ayla. Not in a confrontation. Rather to appease her for the previous misunderstanding.
"Apologies, my child," she said. "I misjudged you."
Elowyn hoped she could understand she naturally wouldn't want complications for her husband's predicament.
Then she shot a look at me. "You too."
Not angry. Not now. Just… acknowledging.
Flora appeared from nowhere, bright in her element.
"Yes great job, big brother," she said, bouncing on her toes. "You brought her! You were right!"
King Asher cut in as well, smiling.
"Yes son, you made the right call," he said. His hand came down on my shoulder. Heavy. Warm. Real. "Seems you’re all grown up now." He squeezed once. "If you have any requests all you have to do is ask and don’t be polite!"
The old Asher. Storm and stone, but proud.
But Ayla knew better.
She bowed. Proper. Not court-deep, but honest. "Thank you, your majesty," she said. "It’s my honor."
No demands. No gold. No title. Just that.
Elowyn’s eyes softened a fraction more.
She had the servant take Ayla away, probably to show her new room.
"Take her to the east wing," Elowyn said. "Clean water. New clothes. Food that isn’t hall scraps."
Ayla, servant, Flora, mother and father left.
Flora chattering the whole way. "You can see the gardens from there! And the kitchens! Do you like honey cakes? I do.."
Then so did Levi with his mischievous smile lingering.
He passed me, slow. "Well," he murmured. "Looks like the forest won this round, Aiden." His eyes were bright. Not kind. Interested.
Oliver, his hard stare at me.
He didn’t say a word. He just looked. Cold. Measuring. Like he was filing this under problems for later.
And Ralph, something like fury hidden under his mask of humility.
His hands were folded. His head was bowed. But his jaw was stone. He walked past without looking at me. The perfect son, walking away from a miracle he couldn’t control.
I only stood and watched their retreating backs.
The corridor emptied. Torchlight on stone. The echo of footsteps fading.
But then I realized something and turned back.
There she was.
Icelynn.
Steps away.
Arrogance came back to me. I scowled.
She hadn’t left. She hadn’t followed. She’d stayed.
With a scrutinizing look.
Like she found something others didn’t.
Not the miracle. Not the king. Me.
Her eyes tracked from where Ayla had been, to my hand, still half-lifted from where I’d almost touched Ayla’s arm. To my face.
She saw the dither. She saw the almost-words. She saw the way I’d looked at Ayla when I thought no one was watching. Most disturbingly she saw past my arrogant face.
I knew this didn’t mean good.
- Writer
