The Alliance

Chapter 11: The ambush

As the royal procession rolls out of Eldermere, Jasmine walks alongside the attendants, her steps slow and thoughtful. The sight of the bustling village they pass stirs an ache in her chest, pulling her mind back to a time when her life had been simpler—and love had seemed so pure.

She thought of Gareth, the boy with sandy hair and an easy smile who had worked as a carpenter’s apprentice in the village. They had spent countless afternoons together in the meadows beyond the town, laughing and dreaming of a future that now seemed like a distant fantasy.

In her mind, she replayed the day everything changed. Gareth had clasped her hands tightly, his voice thick with hope.

“One day, Jasmine, I’ll have my own shop, and we’ll have a home right above it. Just you and me.”

She had smiled, the warmth of his dreams filling her heart. But that was before the summons came. Jasmine’s beauty and poise had caught the attention of a royal steward, and she was chosen to serve in the palace as a maiden. She remembered the tears in Gareth’s eyes when she told him.

“Do you even want this life?” he had asked, his voice trembling.

“It’s not about what I want,” she had replied, holding back her own tears. “My family needs this opportunity.”

He had nodded, but the pain on his face haunted her to this day. She had promised to return, but the palace walls became her cage. Over time, the letters between them stopped, and Gareth became a memory—one she clung to on lonely nights.

Back in the present, Jasmine glances at the princesses riding ahead and sighs. If not for her position as a palace maiden, her life might have been vastly different. Perhaps she would be Gareth’s wife now, raising a family in a simple home. Instead, she is bound to a life of servitude and secrecy, caught in the orbit of royal scandals and schemes that seem to grow heavier with each passing day.

The royal caravan travels steadily along the forested road, its golden banners fluttering in the breeze. Princess Bianca, seated inside the carriage with her sisters; Aurora, Calista and Amira—- stares out the window, her heart heavy with dread for the wedding awaiting her in Mercia. Princess Astrid on the other hand, stayed behind with the king’s army to guard Eldermere from unforeseen attacks.

Suddenly, the steady rhythm of the journey shatters. A horn blaring in the distance, followed by the thunder of hooves and the panicked cries of guards.

“Enemies! Ambush!” a knight yells as arrows rain down from the tree line, striking the carriages and horses.

King Maises, riding ahead on horseback, unsheathes his sword, his voice booming. “Protect the queen and the princesses! Hold the line!”

The once-organized caravan dissolves into chaos as masked attackers surge forward, their dark armor marking them as mercenaries from Eldermere’s sworn enemies, the Kingdom of Vynra. Jasmine and the other attendants scattered into the forest to take cover while the guards secured the coach carrying the princesses.The guards fought valiantly, but their numbers were dwindling.

Hours later, with the enemy repelled but not defeated, King Maises and Queen Elenna holds a somber council in a hastily erected tent. The elders, bloodied knights, and frightened nobles gather around.

“We cannot continue to Mercia ,” Elenna says, her voice trembling but firm. “Our people are vulnerable. If we leave now, Vynra will take Eldermere without resistance.”

The king sighs, his face draws with worry. “Agreed. But Bianca’s marriage to Mercia is crucial to our survival. She must continue the journey. I’ll send word to the queen about what has transpired here, surely she will understand. We must secure the army of Mercia through this alliance for Eldermere to win the battle. We cannot afford to back down now.”

The decision is made. Bianca will travel onward, escorted by her sisters Aurora with her falcon in hand, Calista and Amira, a contingent of knights, and the elders. The rest will return to Eldermere to safeguard the kingdom.

Bianca’s mood darkens as the caravan resumes its course, smaller and quieter without her parents. The weight of her impending marriage feels suffocating, and her desperation grows with each mile. She cannot marry Prince Phillip. Not while her heart belongs to Sir Dorian—and certainly not when she carries his child.

In her chamber that evening, Bianca formulates a plan. She rummages through her supplies and finds a vial of a strong herbal ointment used to repel insects. She knows it will irritate the skin but hopes the ruse would delay or derail the wedding entirely.

By morning, Bianca’s face is a patchwork of redness and angry rashes, the result of the ointment she had poured on herself. She calls her sisters into her chamber, clutching a thick veil in her trembling hands.

Aurora frowns, her hazel eyes narrowing as she takes in Bianca’s covered face. “What’s going on, Bia? Are you unwell?”

Bianca nods, feigning distress. “I woke up like this… My face is covered in painful rashes. The sun burns my skin now—it’s unbearable. I can’t let anyone see me like this, not until the wedding.”

Calista steps closer, her concern genuine. “Let us look. Maybe we can help—”

“No!” Bianca exclaims, pulling the veil tighter. “No one can see me, not even you. If the prince sees my face like this before the wedding, he’ll reject me, and the alliance will be ruined. You must promise me—no one looks at me until after the ceremony.”

Aurora exchanges a glance with Calista. “You’re asking a lot, Bianca. But… we’ll do as you ask. Just rest, and we’ll see this through.”

Bianca’s shoulders relaxes, though her heart race with guilt. She knows she is deceiving them, but her desperation leaves her no choice. She only hopes the veil—and her resolve—will hold until she finds another way out of this doomed marriage.

The caravan presses on through dense forests and rolling hills, with Bianca hidden beneath her veil, her sisters keeping their promise to protect her secret. Her deception works for now, but as the wedding day approaches, Bianca knows she is only delaying the inevitable—and the price of her lies may be higher than she can imagine.