Ruins And Royalty

An Early Hunt - Chp 6 Part 3

Dayron all but dragged me out of the amphitheater, his grip tight on my arm, forcing me through the nearest archway and into the open air. He didn’t stop until we reached a garden just beyond the arena walls, where a lone tree cast a patch of shade over damp grass. The sky above had turned heavy with gathering clouds, and the first drops of rain tapped against the leaves, falling in slow, uneven rhythms before settling into a faint drizzle.

“Have you completely lost your mind?” Dayron snapped, spinning to face me. His voice was sharp enough to cut stone. I stood there with my arms crossed, my chest burning with irritation. Of course, he’d scold me, when the fight hadn’t even been mine to begin with.

“Starting a fight with a royal from another kingdom doesn’t just reflect badly on you,” he pressed on, fury etched into every word. “It reflects badly on Emperos, on the King and Queen, and on the very people who trust us to represent them.”

“I did not start that fight-” I shot back, my own anger spilling out now. “In fact, there was no fight. We didn’t even lay hands on each other!”

“There was a sword striking,” Dayron countered hotly, his voice rising with mine. “I saw it with my own eyes from across the arena.”

“One strike!” I retorted, throwing my hands up in disbelief. “And it wasn’t mine, it was Prince Mykhailo’s. If Zander hadn’t interfered, yes, maybe I would’ve landed a punch, but it never came to that. I didn’t start it, he did.”

“You should have walked away,” Dayron bit back, his tone lowering but no less sharp. His chest rose and fell as though he were restraining himself, reigning in the volume of his anger. The drizzle thickened, rain peppering the garden around us, cooling the heat of our words but not the fire raging between us.

Dayron stepped closer, his eyes narrowing, voice low but carrying the weight of authority. “Listen to me, Aaron. You’re not a child anymore. Every action, every outburst, every little spark you throw into the world. Someone sees it, someone interprets it, and someone suffers for it. Do you think father and mother would overlook this? Do you think the King and Queen would see it as anything less than reckless?”

I stayed silent, fists clenched, knowing he wasn’t finished.

“You’ve spent years training your body, your skill, your mind,” he continued, pacing slightly, rain dripping from his shoulders. “But all of that means nothing if you can’t control yourself. Strength without control is chaos. And in our world, our Kingdom, chaos doesn’t go unpunished. Do you understand that?”

I met his gaze, hard as steel, but the words sank into me despite myself. He wasn’t just lecturing; he was warning, trying to anchor me to the consequences I’d been too reckless to consider. Too arrogant to notice.

“I’m not saying don’t fight when it matters,” he said, softer now, though the edge in his tone remained. “I’m saying, choose your battles. Don’t let your anger dictate your actions. You’ve been given skills, Aaron, talents that others would kill for, and yet here you are, letting pride and impulse lead you. Do you want that to define you?”

The rain slid down my tunic, cold and steady, grounding me. I let out a slow breath, finally letting the tension in my shoulders ease, realizing the truth in his words.

“Control,” he finished, stepping back, his tone a mix of frustration and care. “It’s what separates those who are remembered from those who are forgotten. Don’t let the fire inside you burn everything around you to ash before it’s even your time.”

I opened my mouth to respond but found no retort strong enough, only the weight of his words pressing against me, forcing reflection I hadn’t known I needed.

“You don’t need to worry about me; I’ll be gone on a hunt in a few days,” I said finally, breaking my gaze from him. The words felt like the only thing ready to escape my lips. Everything else was trapped behind a wall of deflection. “You will be free of me.”

Dayron studied me for a long moment before replying, “Take that time to reflect on yourself.” He huffed and turned away, and the relief that flooded through me was immediate. I tilted my head back, letting the soft drizzle touch my face, cool against my skin, contrasting the lingering warmth in the air.

“Are you alright?”

I opened my eyes and found him there. Prince Zander. Quiet and watchful, standing just a few steps away.

“I’ve never been better,” I muttered, looking away, sweeping my thick black hair back from my face.

“I don’t mean to pry,” he said cautiously, a hint of tension in his posture, “but I heard you’re going hunting?”

“Yes. I’ll be gone for a few days,” I replied, trying for calm, though part of me burned with the desire to ask him to come. I didn’t dare.

“Were you in trouble for what happened in there?” he asked, shifting the conversation gently, but his eyes lingered on me, searching.

I hesitated, a flicker of vulnerability passing through me. “Not trouble… just a lecture. From my brother, Dayron.” My lips curved into a faint, almost embarrassed smile. “He’s very good at making a man feel small when he wants to.”

Zander’s expression softened, and for a moment the rain, the garden, the distant bustle of the palace. It all seemed to fade.

“Well, all is forgiven… as long as it doesn’t happen again,” he said casually, the tension in his posture easing.

“You shot at me… with fire?” I asked, finally letting the memory settle in, my tone half incredulous, half amused.

“It was the only way I could think of to stop a fight from happening,” he replied, cheeks tinged with red as he avoided my gaze, hand rising to the back of his head in a self-conscious gesture.

I couldn’t help but notice the muscles tensing in the arm he lifted. The definition and strength a stark contrast to the elegant, luxurious robes he usually wore. Combat suited him, sculpted him in ways the royal finery never could. Of course, he’d look like that... he’s an archer. Yet somehow, knowing that, my thoughts still lingered longer than they should.

“Speaking of… I probably won’t be here when you return,” he said, a shadow of realization crossing his features. “I’m heading back to Yarrow to celebrate my nineteenth birthday.”

“When will you be back?” I asked before I could stop myself, a flicker of unease threading through my voice.

“Three weeks, at most,” he replied, calculating silently.

The thought of him leaving unsettled me in a way I didn’t expect, but I shook it off quickly, forcing my expression neutral. “I see,” I said bluntly, trying to sound indifferent.

“I’ll be back just in time for your birthday, at least,” he added with a playful lilt, a small smile tugging at his lips, as though trying to lighten the weight of the moment.

My twenty-third birthday wasn’t far off either, just a couple of months apart from his. I remembered vividly when we were children. The Windane Royals had visited during my mid-summer celebration. I had spent the day dressed in finery, showered with gifts from all corners of Pandora. Zander, on the other hand, had been confined to a bed, his condition keeping him weak. I recall that night vividly, sneaking into his room to show him each present, ranking them from worst to best. It seemed trivial now, but the smile that lit his face that evening was priceless, a memory I carried with me still.

“This year, I’ll be able to celebrate properly with you,” he said, his voice warm and unguarded, a heart-bright smile cutting through the gray drizzle of the day.

I noticed how the light rain had dampened his hair, droplets clinging to the ends of his blonde strands over his forehead. Instinctively, I stepped closer, brushing my fingertips gently against his face, moving the wet strands aside, tracing a path down his cheek. He froze under my touch, eyes widening slightly, swallowed hard, and waited as if time itself had slowed around us. His gaze held a serenity that could still even the most turbulent waves, and I found myself caught in it.

I let my thumb linger briefly over his slightly parted lips, taking in the soft, rosy contrast against his fair skin. His expression shifted, a mixture of panic and alarm.

I immediately pulled back. The awareness of my boldness striking me.

Turning my back to him, I tried to compose myself, masking the flutter in my chest with calm detachment.

“I’ll see you when you return from Yarrow,” I said quietly, letting him know I wouldn’t see him off before my hunt, or for the remainder of the time I had left. Without waiting for a response, I walked away, my heart still echoing with the warmth of his presence.

***

The moon waned, and the flickering stars gradually dimmed against the deepening cloak of night as I made my way to the stables, where a horse awaited me. It was early, the hours just before dawn, and the lingering chill from the recent rains bit at my lungs with every breath. The cold was unexpected for summer; usually, rain brought only a heavy, stifling warmth that clung to the air, but today, the world seemed sharper, colder, more alert.

I set out sooner than I had planned, eager to leave the confines of the Palace and descend the mountainside into the Woodland of Solovey. Taking the long, less-traveled paths, I wound through roads likely abandoned over time, relying on the memory of these lands that I knew as well as the lines of my own hands. Navigation was never a worry, but solitude always sharpened the senses.

As the meticulously structured city fell behind me, I found myself on a dirt road flanked by untamed shrubs and towering trees, their branches swaying gently in the light morning wind. The sky was still grey, yet the rain had ceased, leaving the earth damp but the journey unburdened by mud or storm.

In a few days, I was to meet Princess Hyathene, and I resolved to return when the time came. For now, I rode on until a serene clearing beside a calm river emerged. Tall cattails swayed at the water’s edge. I dismounted, leading my horse to drink before settling near the river to set up a small camp. I took a hunting knife from my pack and began sharpening it on a whetstone, each scrape of metal against stone echoing softly in the stillness.

The tranquility was almost disquieting, a quiet too perfect, as if the forest itself were holding its breath. My instincts remained taut, waiting for some disruption, but hours passed, and the stillness claimed me. I allowed myself to relax, letting the sounds of nature wash over me, the gentle lilt of bird calls, the whispering current of the river, the trees sighing as the wind moved through their leaves. For the first time in days, I could breathe without thought of courtly expectations, battles, or the weight of magic waiting ahead. The forest seemed to fold me into its rhythm, and I found a rare, fleeting peace near the heart of Solovey.

“I should have left sooner,” I muttered to myself, letting my fingers trace the edge of the river as I absentmindedly skipped a few stones across the water.

The quiet weighed heavy, though my thoughts were anything but still. I couldn’t reconcile what had come over me the day before, approaching Prince Zander with that sudden intimacy. The memory of his eyes, the way they widened, the subtle tremor in his lips, made my chest tighten. I had acted without thinking, and now I wondered if I had irreparably damaged the fragile trust between us.

My horse shifted beside me, nudging my shoulder with a warm nose. “Perhaps I’m overthinking it,” I said softly, more to fill the silence than expecting an answer. The animal snorted in reply, nudging me again as if to say it understood. I found a faint, bitter smile tugging at my lips. “Better company than half my family,” I murmured, glancing at him. “No. Better than any of the court, the King, the Queen… or all of Emperos itself.”

The horse whinnied softly, a sound that seemed to echo in agreement, and I shook my head, exhaling through my nose. I had always trusted animals more than people, and now I realized why: they did not judge, they did not carry the weight of expectation, and they did not mistake a moment of care for weakness.

“If only the rest were that simple,” I muttered under my breath, my voice tinged with regret. “Or perhaps I am the one who complicates things.”

I leaned back against the saddle, staring at the river’s gentle curve, and let the horse nudge me again, grounding me in the present. At least here, away from the court, away from stares and whispered gossip, I could think clearly… if only about what I wanted most, and what I had no right to seek.