Avenge Me {Book 1}

Chapter Two

The journey to the capital of Imera usually took three days— if you were hellbent on following the King's road. However, due to the nature of this particular journey and the company's particular cargo, the powers that be had decided upon following a more discreet route.

What could have been three days had now turned into five. At first glance, the mapped route didn't seem daunting, but even the sweetest Princess would start to sour after a few days navigating the indecisive northern terrain. Luckily, we had navigators to do the navigating. It still didn't stop me from complaining and it certainly did nothing in terms of helping Brenna feign a dignified smile once in a while. For her sake, I tried not to notice.

At first glance, one could excuse the expressions she pulled when she was lost in her own thoughts. Brenna's entire life was going to change. She had been prepared for this ever since the scriptures were signed and bolted safely away. Still, I knew better. It was often ironic how one could never seem to make peace with their destiny, especially if it had all been neatly chosen and laid down at their feet. It would be as easy as slipping into a new pair of polished leather boots and no matter how ornate and delicately thought-out, breaking them in would always promise discomfort. I knew plenty of people on the outskirts of Northark who desperately needed a new pair of shoes, and yet I still felt sadness for Brenna.

A s big as the manor house was, it could seem so small when you were almost certain that you knew of all the things that were carefully being hidden away.

As the company passed through endless narrow roads, forests and valleys, I only watched Brenna. She hid it well. In another life, she might have fancied herself an actress in Mannia Lane, performing for the mix of common folk, peddlers and sailors passing through Fairharbour. In this life however, she was groomed to sit pretty next to an Ashai prince to quell all conflict of years passed. Unity at the price of a life. She wouldn't die, but the same could not be said for any hopes and dreams she harboured.

It was on the third day I'd truly noticed the difference. Yes, Brenna was Imeran royalty. She always had been, and yet even now there was a shift in mannerisms around her. Things seemed more serious now. Guards and the like were referring to her as though she was the natural Queen of Imera already.

When I thought about this, I felt a pang of familiarity in my chest. They used to talk to my brother with such a manner— to the King that never was. I tried to ignore the feeling growing inside myself. It was not jealousy like some would assume, but rather fear. I could lose Brenna too, and then who would I be? A bastard daughter of an Imeran lord whose brother was King. My uncle had named my older brother Arden his successor when it was apparent Brenna was his only heir, after much pressure from the Witan.

The Witan was a group of old noble farts who thought themselves powerful enough to make Kings fall at their mercy. Whenever Imera's future was called in to question, the old lords that presided over the lands would gather and hold council with the King. Many threats were made when Brenna was heir apparent. And so, the compromise was Arden. He was of the blood, and he was a true-born Malvern. So, he was sentenced to a life of listening to the old men prattle on and quelling skirmishes at the borderlands.

Sometimes I'd count myself lucky to have only a Malvern for a father and not a mother too. I'd remember this fact when I longed to know where I'd gotten my eyes of emerald green and my crooked smile from. Still, Arden's mother had been kind enough to me through the years.

However, it didn't make all these transitions any easier. I watched Brenna. It had been hours into the day's ride and her back was still straight, or rather stiff. There were a million thoughts racing around behind those brown eyes, and if we had been alone I'd have paid a penny to hear every single one if it made her shoulders ache less.

As we passed through the thick forests at the base of Evermount, I found my own mind racing. There was so much to see, so much life and greenery. Yet, why did I feel so lifeless? I watched as a leaf fell from an overhanging branch and let out a laugh underneath my breath. Nimble would love to chase the fallen leaves. There was often a time where Nimble had chosen to hunt leaves and bring them back for me, leaving them proudly displayed on my pillow. I'd humour her and keep them stored between the pages of my favourite books, flicking forward or backwards just to see the little pinpricks in the surface where her teeth had once been.

"Cheer up, Thyria. It will be time for lunch soon." Brenna whispered.

I closed my eyes. Another day of stew. All I could think about now was how much I craved potatoes. When I reached Whitestone, my first order of business was to find the nearest tavern and order a platter of potatoes with assorted pies that had thick and buttery pastry that melted in your mouth. It was really no surprise Brenna was smaller than me. I could hear the abbesses chide me about being contempt in the name of faith now, but no amount of remarks would make me forsake a good potato when I saw one.

Still, when the company finally stalled to a halt for lunch, I ate every morsel of bean stew and mopped the remaining liquid with my bread, not forgetting to thank my Gods before and after. I think— though I really could have been delirious at this point— that Brenna even genuinely smiled before handing me the remainder of her own bread.

I supposed that there were pockets of happiness here and there, even in times of turmoil. I decided consciously that I would enjoy these movements, however brief and fleeting they were because one day they would become distant memories. Brenna's smile would become a distant memory.

That night, I lay awake in my tent for what felt like hours. There was so much yet so little time and I felt like I was trying my best to catch it in my hands, but it spilled through the cracks in between my fingers like sand.

That night, when I finally drifted off to sleep, I dreamt that I was back in the gardens at the Manor house. I was sat on the edge of the fountain with Selene. She was scratching down something in her leather bound book and every time I tried to sneak a glance at what she was doing, she flipped the page.

"Thyria." a low voice called out.

I looked up and saw Caine standing a few feet away, crossbow pointed towards us. Towards me. Selene had stopped her scribbling. She was looking eerily at me now.

"What are you... planning to do with.. that?"I tried to speak but the words weren't coming fast enough. In fact, they didn't seem to be coming out right at all.

Caine's eyes darkened and as he stepped forward again, I noticed there was blood on his hands. Something told me that this had nothing to do with his apprenticeship. I tried to stand up but I couldn't, so I tried again and this time Selene stopped me.

"You can't forfeit your path." she said with a voice that didn't seem like hers at all.

I let out a sharp yelp.

Caine... had... shot me? Caine had shot me. Caine had shot me with his crossbow and I was falling backwards into the mouth of the fountain. I could do nothing to steady myself, so I braced myself for the impact of the water and I waited for the pain. Yet it never came. Instead, I found myself falling into a pit of sand. Where water should have been, there was now sand. All I could do was look up at Caine's face as he peered over me. As I bled and I bled.