Ruins And Royalty

The Conclusion - Chp 7 Part 3

After buying a horse off the first villager I came across and paying more than twice what it was worth, I finally returned to the Palace. My feet dragged up the marble staircase, each step a protest. Still, I forced my chin high, my posture rigid, my face unreadable. I could not afford to stumble into the Palace looking broken. Not when my thoughts seethed beneath my skin.

I fumed with rage, but forced it down, deep enough that my expression showed nothing more than the composed calm expected of me. Yet the closer I drew to those towering doors, the heavier the realization became and what awaited me next.

The road back had been merciless. With no companion but my own thoughts, every mile stretched into torment. I replayed the scene in endless circles. The druid’s mocking laugh, the smoke swallowing her whole, the amulet glinting once before it disappeared into her hands. An amulet that clearly belonged to my family name, handed over by my own damned mistake. I had been deceived like a child.

But worse than the failure itself was the dilemma it left me with. How could I go before the King and Queen of Emperos with this truth? To admit it would mean revealing that I lied about my so-called hunt, that I ventured instead into foreign affairs that were never mine to touch. That I aided, unknowingly, a neighboring kingdom in tipping the Game of the Gods, only to lose everything to a Dark Druid. That I alone handed over an artifact of power.

I paused halfway up the stairs, gripping the railing until my knuckles whitened. My chest tightened with shame and fury, each breath shallow. The Palace loomed above me, golden in the sunlight, but to me it felt like the mouth of a lion, waiting for me to step willingly inside.

I had reached one conclusion: this matter was mine to resolve, and mine alone. The druid would not live long enough to wield the amulet’s power. Dead, she was no threat.

“Aaron, are you alright?”

A voice broke through my thoughts as I stalked the Palace halls. My sister, Saurora, stood in the corridor, her brows knitting as she studied me. Her eyes lingered on my disheveled state... my hands empty, no sword at my hip, no armor, no trophy from the hunt I was meant to return from. Not even my horse at my side. How could I explain that? I would not disgrace myself with lies about thieves or raiders. I had more dignity than that.

“Never been better,” I answered, my tone sharp with sarcasm, my stride unbroken.

“Something happened,” she pressed, trailing after me, her voice low with genuine concern.

“No,” I bit back, the word a lie I didn’t bother softening. I did not want her concern. I was not in the mood.

“You are clearly lying, Brother.”

That stopped me. I turned on her, eyes hard, and her face flickered with hurt at my scorn.

“Why does it concern you?” I snapped, more provoked than I meant to sound.

Her expression stiffened, insult flickering across her features, but her voice carried a calm resolve that cut deeper than any retort. “Because I care, Aaron. Even if you think I don’t matter. You are my brother. Keep your secrets if you must, but understand this: the darkness you carry will swallow you whole if you refuse to let anyone in.”

Her words hung in the air like a curse, heavier than I wanted to admit. Before I could find an answer, if I even had one, she turned and walked away, her footsteps echoing down the corridor until I was left alone with the silence she left behind.

I clenched my jaw, brushing her warning aside. Her concern was wasted breath. My burden was not hers to share. I had greater enemies than shadows in my chest.

I pressed on, shedding her words as I made for my chambers. Only when I had bathed, eaten, and let exhaustion ease its grip did my mind clear enough to think. Still, one truth gnawed at me, I needed knowledge beyond my own. At that moment, I longed for Zander’s counsel. He understood enchantments, magic, and the dangers of meddling with them better than most.

But he was not here. And the Council? They were an option. No. This I would carry alone.

I knew the druid would return to Emperos after the Young Prince’s celebration. After all, she was still the Princess of Palisade in the eyes of the world, and duty would drag her back.

The thought of putting a blade to her throat the moment she crossed the threshold was tempting, but suicide. To everyone else, she wore innocence like a crown; striking her down would only brand me a traitor. No, if I could rip away her mask in front of the Kingdom, with Dayron at my side, he would see through her as I had and together, we could unmask Princess Hyathene for what she truly was.

But life rarely handed me simple answers. She could alter her eyes in a heartbeat, who was to say she could not change her very face? Illusion was her weapon, and it left every certainty jagged.

The other path was assassination. A far cleaner answer, though no less dangerous. She was guarded well, and any misstep would end with my corpse cooling in the sun.

Regret gnawed its way into me, coiling in my gut like a knot of iron. I had been blinded, lured by the promise of knowledge about the Game of the Gods, so intent on what she might reveal that I ignored the obvious: she had played me. Thoroughly. The realization burned, but I refused to let it cripple me. Frustration sharpened into something else, something dangerous.

Combat was in my blood. I had always thrived on it, and if the Princess of Palisade thought me a fool, then she had chosen the wrong man to deceive. She had given me reason enough to let go of restraint. And Gods, I longed for it... for a fight worthy of the rage boiling in my veins.

Killing her would take patience, calculation. I could not rush it. But one thing was already clear: my sword had shattered against her sorcery. Steel would not be enough. To slay a dark druid, I needed a weapon forged to answer her magic.

That decision carried me forward as I crossed the threshold into the barracks, my mind fixed, my path already chosen.