Ruins And Royalty

A Twist in the Tale - Chp 2 Part 2

Closer than I expected, a face appeared before me so striking it might have been plucked from an oil painting. His eyes, arresting and impossibly clear, seemed to pierce straight into me, and for a moment, I stood frozen, feeling exposed in a way I hadn’t felt in years.

“Prince Zander,” I finally said, my voice measured, betraying none of the surprise curling in my chest.

“Prince Aaron,” he replied, soft yet unmistakably clear. Hearing my name spoken aloud knotted my stomach, and I forced my gaze toward the horizon, willing myself to focus on the rolling greenery instead of the weight of his presence.

“I’m sure Yarrow is just as charming,” I said curtly, a shield of indifference in my words.

“Indeed…” he murmured, stepping closer, and I felt an unbidden tightening in my chest as he came to stand beside me. He didn’t need to speak to unsettle me, just being there did it, and I hated that I couldn’t explain why.

It wasn’t his beauty that unnerved me, though that was undeniable, but something else, something ineffable, that left me flustered and disoriented. I searched my mind for logic, for the part of me that could justify such a reaction but found nothing.

“The palace is bigger than I remember,” he said, breaking the silence, words gentle yet deliberate. I could feel his gaze probing, and I wrestled with the urge to meet it.

“It feels like I was only here yesterday,” he continued, and I sensed the conversation threading toward shared memories, memories I no longer wanted to revisit. My mind had changed, and I preferred that he not see the child I had once been.

Why he would attempt to speak with me after my deliberate distance was beyond me.

“To me, it feels like a lifetime,” I replied, vague and careful, hoping my tone made it clear that I was not interested in delving deeper.

“I was looking forward to seeing you again,” he said unexpectedly, his voice calm but carrying a weight that made my chest tighten. His words hit me like a sudden gust of wind, and I swung my head toward him, betraying my surprise.

“I hope that you looked forward to seeing me as well?” he continued, eyes searching mine, as if trying to map the thoughts behind my carefully guarded expression.

I felt unmoored, caught off balance, my tongue suddenly useless. I had expected talk of childhood memories, not this directness.

I had rehearsed my response a thousand times in my head: dismissive, aloof, a brush-off that would cut the conversation short and keep him from prying further. But now, standing here, all my carefully laid plans dissolved.

“I- I…” I stammered, my mind a blank canvas. His face fell, concern knitting his brows as he tried to read me like an open scroll.

“You do remember me?” His voice wavered slightly, a quiet edge of worry threading through the words.

“N-no, unfortunately, I don’t…” I lied. The truth was vivid in my mind, memories sharper than ever, growing more defined with each passing day. Yet the words escaped my lips before I could stop them, and I startled myself with the lie.

He stepped back, breaking the intensity of his gaze, turning his head away. A flush rose to his cheeks, the warmth of embarrassment colouring his skin. I could see the hurt etched across his features, and regret slithered through me like winter’s breath down my spine. I wanted to undo it, to erase the lie, but before I could speak, he found his voice again.

“I apologize… I thought-” He faltered, stumbling over the words. “Forgive me for disturbing you.” Then, with a quiet finality, he spun on his heel and walked away.

I watched him go, tugging at my onyx hair, and exhaled sharply.

A wave of unease washed over me, a turbulent current I could neither halt nor name. Shame, guilt, and confusion mingled, leaving me hollow yet restless. What is done, is done.

I lingered a moment, rooted to the spot, before turning toward my quarters, hoping to avoid any interruptions. I walked briskly, my thoughts tangled: Should I apologize? Or let it rest and move on?

Before I could decide, a palace guard intercepted me, bowing deeply.

“Prince Aaron, you are requested in the throne room,” he announced, and the weight of the moment pressed down on me, heavier than any guilt or confusion I had carried so far.

***

“A group of bandits has been spotted south of the main watchtower, near the forbidden Erebryn Forest,” a deep voice rumbled, heavy with irritation.

I stood at attention before my father, who reclined in his throne with an air of controlled composure. My eldest brother, Dayron, stood rigid beside me, his eyes sharp and alert.

“How can we assist, Father?” Dayron asked, concern flickering across his features as he caught the tension in the King’s seated stance.

“I’m certain a handful of our warriors could handle this without issue,” I claimed bluntly and dismissive. Bandits were minor nuisances at best, mere shadows compared to the predators lurking in the forest, creatures that made grown men tremble.

“Do not mock me, boy,” my father growled, his patience thinning. “These bandits have been seen conversing with a druid and have lingered near the Erebryn forest for days.”

“Is that why you called for us, father?” Dayron asked calmly, undeterred by my insolence.

“Yes. The two of you will ride out tonight, scout the area, and gather any intelligence you can,” he commanded. “We cannot tolerate troublemakers, not with the competitors arriving soon.”

“And should conflict arise… you know what must be done,” he added, dismissing the matter with a wave of his hand.

A scholar approached, handing us maps and the necessary information to carry out the mission. Soon after, Dayron and I made our way to the armoury, securing our weapons before heading to the stables where our horses already awaited.

“We’ll take the backroad,” Dayron said, his voice calm, eyes scanning the horizon. “We don’t want to be seen too early. Let’s not spook them just yet.”

The sun dipped low, casting gold and amber across the dirt road. Our horses moved like shadows, gliding effortlessly along the path that stretched endlessly ahead. We skirted the main road, preferring the seclusion of the trees.

“Do you think it’s a powerful druid?” one of the riders asked, breaking the silence.

“Why, are you afraid?” I huffed, keeping my gaze forward.

“N-no, my Prince…” he stammered, cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

“Calm yourselves,” Dayron interjected, a knowing glance aimed at me. “We’re here to observe, not to fight... at least, not yet. Not unless they make a move”

“But if things go south, we were ordered to execute,” I added, letting my eyes linger on my brother, who simply scoffed.

Nightfall had fully settled by the time we reached a clearing. We tethered our horses to a nearby tree and pressed on into the forest on foot, the shadows swallowing our movements. Soon, the flicker of a fire appeared, golden and dancing between the trees. We slipped behind a massive boulder, crouched low as murmured voices reached our ears.

Dayron peeked around the edge of the rock, scanning the scene. The flickering firelight revealed the figures of men moving with cautious precision, the silhouettes unmistakable.

He looked back at me, nodding subtly. The bandits were exactly who we had come to find.

“When will the druid arrive? I hate carrying this on me…” a voice muttered, tension threading every word, only to be hushed by another.

They lowered their tones, speaking in whispers, but Dayron and I could still catch fragments of their conversation.

“She’ll be here soon. Then our task is done,” one of the men said, relief in his voice.

My heart thudded, steady but insistent, as if mocking my attempt to remain calm. Every instinct screamed to charge forward, but I held myself back.

“What do we do if she shows up?” another voice whispered, shaky now. It was the rider who had been mostly quiet until this moment. Dayron and I remained unnervingly composed.

Magic users, druids, witches, and the like weren’t rare in our lands, but they were always dangerous. Cursed tablets, amulets, enchanted potions, even hexed dolls… a single misstep could cost a life.

A sudden chill rustled the treetops, a warning in the night. I narrowed my eyes at the group of men who seemed frozen, waiting. Then she appeared.

The firelight flickered across her, revealing a sharp, porcelain-like face framed by long, crimson hair cascading over a juniper-green dress, its sides held together by a delicate golden cord.

Her eyes, glowing yellow and sharp as daggers, pinned me where I stood. A cold knot tightened in my stomach.

“This was not easy to retrieve,” one man muttered. “Lives were lost.”

“The amulet is worth more than the lives of bandits,” she replied, lips curling into a cruel smile.

“It better be… and our names?” another asked nervously.

“Cleared,” she answered bluntly, before tossing a bag of coin to his feet.

Another stepped forward, presenting a bejeweled box. She accepted it eagerly, tracing her fingers over the intricate carvings and shimmering stones. With a delicate motion, she opened the box, and a collective gasp escaped the men.

“M-my Lady…” the man stammered, awe and fear in his voice.

Even the two riders observing with us had stiffened, breaths shallow and rapid. I caught one with a glance, gesturing subtly to calm himself. He nodded and forced control over his panic.

From the box, she withdrew a snake. The men stumbled back, wary. The serpent slithered along her hand, then coiled up her arm, muscles flexing as it climbed. In a fluid, unnatural motion, the snake transformed into a golden amulet, ruby eyes glinting in the firelight.

Dayron and I exchanged silent shock, but neither of us reacted outwardly. The bandits, however, were visibly unsettled, stepping back and reaching for weapons. The two riders with us, unaccustomed to such displays, fumbled nervously, snapping twigs underfoot, betraying our position.

“We’re being watched! Disperse!” one shouted, and the bandits scattered into the darkness, disappearing among the shadows of the forest.

I clenched my jaw, irritation flaring at our cover being blown—but a smirk tugged at the corner of my lips for now, finally, I had reason to strike.

Dayron, however, stayed calm, his eyes narrowing, clearly weighing his own approach differently.

“To the horses!” He barked, and the others surged forward. I leaped ahead, sword unsheathed and ignoring my brother’s commands.

“Not without the head of the druid,” I growled satisfactory. In a blur, I darted after her, the shadows swallowing her form as she slipped through the darkness.

The moon above was a lone lantern in the night, casting pale silver streaks on the forest floor. I sprinted, heart hammering, following the faintest whispers of movement. She could not have gotten far; the moonlight would betray her.

Soon, laughter. Soft and cruel echoed through the trees. I swung my head side to side, searching, until the glint of crimson caught my eye. She led me to a small clearing, cradled by high cliffs in a half-moon of pale light. Her back was to me, serene and mocking at once.

“You have nowhere to run, witch,” I declared, sword leveled. A cautious distance separated us. Relief washed over me. I had caught her quickly, and we were dangerously close to the forbidden forest’s edge.

She pivoted slowly, lips a shade of red that drew the eye, yellow eyes piercing like twin lanterns in the night. I felt a chill ripple through me.

“Oh? Is that so?” she claimed, tilting her head, a predatory smile curving her lips.

“I have you trapped,” I insisted, holding firm.

“Too bad,” she murmured, voice honeyed and dangerous, “I would hate to take the heart out of your chest.”

“Not if I take your head first,” I spat back, unflinching.

“Interesting…” she purred, stepping forward. I shifted back, the ground beneath me gritty and uneven.

“Your eyes,” she said suddenly, voice soft, yet cutting, “they are different than the rest.”

“My eyes?” I asked, wary. “Yours glow like the golden-hour sun.”

“And yours…” she leaned closer, amber light flickering in her gaze. “…as still as the moon over the ocean, but it is the darkness within that peers out.”

I narrowed my eyes, frowning. Her words clawed at the edges of my mind, elusive and unnerving.

“Eyes as loveless as yours should be by my side,” she continued, circling me like a hawk sizing up a cornered rabbit.

“I would never,” I replied, blunt, holding my ground.

“You’ve seen the darkness, young prince of Emperos,” she whispered, certainty lacing every word. I remained silent, waiting, wary.

“You must have sleepless nights, having entered the Erebryn forest?” Her tone was rhetorical, yet it cut deeper than a blade.

My eyes widened, and my grip on the sword tightened as I pressed the tip to her throat. She did not flinch, unshaken by the steel so near.

“How do you know that?” I asked, my voice betraying the slightest edge of unease. That was an incident I had buried long ago.