Beyond the Tower

| Twenty | Another Prince

I hadn't thought it would be possible but it is: the next days are far more awkward than those preceding. With what feels like a betrayal of the highest sort, I decided to adhere to Grandmother's request and to with Leon. He told me that he is returning to the palace, and I must confess, I do wish to see what the Krwenian palace looks like. I remember that day in the market so long ago when Liliana was telling me of all it's splendor.

Leon promised me that I could stay in the palace for a while before I figured out what to do next. For a few days, he said. I'm not sure what I'm going to do. I do know that I have to get back to Mirshcon to help Snow. And after that, I need to figure out just why I have this magic. And the only way to figure that out, I've decided, is to go back to see who I really am. I know that it's a huge risk, but I want to go back to Styluna, and maybe even find my tower again. But I know I can't go alone, and unprotected. Mother already tried to kill me once, I'd prefer she doesn't finish the job.

We've been out of the desert for several days now. Everyone we've passed has looked up at Leon and myself with reverence. Well, not really me, but I am sitting next to him so I can believe that. It certainly is a nice feeling, after all. To be something of value.

The few days that we've stayed in local inns were unbelievably awkward. Everyone wanted to meet Leon, and honestly, I'm surprised that I didn't figure out that he's a prince earlier, in Dawsburg. Or even with Grandmother, or passing through places with other people. I guess it's because we were only in Dawsburg for one day, I'm not really sure. And after the people got over their fascination with Leon, they all wanted to know about me, and who I am. I kind of sat there hesitantly out of place as he deflected questions, brushing it off by saying that I'm a family friend (not really true but I'm not complaining) and returning the conversation to the people, which pleased them immensely. I guess it's a great feeling having a prince want to know about you.

Honestly, seeing the way that all the people fawned over Leon made me wonder why he's bothering with me, why he didn't just leave me in Mirshcon, or at the very least drop me off at Dawsburg. And he's so good with the people, talking to them, not trying to use abuse his status (unlike a certain Lady Liliana).

Nothing though, could prepare me for actually reaching Krwenia City. It's like Liliana said: huge. Buildings rise on the horizon, far past the eye can see, and I can see people bustling in every directions. There seems to be everything here; small peasant cottages, large manor houses, vendor tents in the market, large shops with brilliant window displays, small alley shops: everything. My senses are overloaded with the surplus of sounds, from calling parents to giggling children to whinnying horses and calling birds, with the plethora of smells, some bad but mostly wonderful, so real I can nearly taste them.

But all of that palces in contrast to the palace. Rising high above everything else, with beautiful blue and purple turrets and towers above a silvery, gold base; it's something straight out of a fairytale. I give an involuntary intake of breath. "You live there?" I ask Leon.

"I do," he says, and for the first time in days, I can hear the smile in his voice.

As we ride through the streets, everyone seems to stop what they're doing to look up and point at us. And I can hear the word travel, some in a hushed whisper, some in an excited cry. Cries of, "It's the prince!" and, "Prince Leonardo has returned!" and, "Come look at Prince Leonardo!" The variations are endless and though at first I'm exhilarated, it soon dissipates. I'm beyond nervous. I don't know what I'm doing here. I'm just a peasant, and one from another kingdom at that. One that's gotten her friend killed, and encouraged a prince to start a war. I don't deserve to be up here. But I've nowhere to go for now, so I just stay and keep my eyes ahead so I don't have to hear the whispers of, "Who is she?"