KINGSLAYER

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The wind blew fiercely next to the edge, making me pull the hood on my onyx cloak up around my face. Whipping around my face were tendrils of the black hair that had escaped from my intricate braid.

After almost slipping on the crumbling rock that surrounded the cliffs more times than I cared to admit, I encountered a pathway down the mountainside, just as Klymene had promised. It was treacherous, but I was nimble on my feet. The sleeping cities got closer as I continued to walk downwards. I thanked the Gods that I had not come from far up the mountain range; the ridge that cleaved across Oceana's center was beautiful yet deadly, especially for a lone person.

When I guessed the sun was still a few hours away from emerging from behind the sea, my feet finally found the limestone-block streets of the first major town. Though I was alone, I marched through the roads toward my destination with my chin high as if I had an army at my back.

The town—which I knew to be called Kyramnus—was a quaint little farming town that was usually busy with farmers and peddlers. But now, the shutters in all the bone-white cottages were all closed, the doors locked. Nothing but a soft breeze stirred in this premature hour of the morning.

My own booted footfalls were the only sounds that entered my ears. The silence was almost eerie. In the mountains, the wind was among always whistling away among the trees. It had never been as quiet and still as it was here. Not even the tall growing wheat or fennel—a leaf harvested for its healing properties—in the fenced crop lands rustled.

It felt as if the land was holding its breath—and awaiting my return.

My gaze swept over the sleeping city. Most of it was on my left side, while the right was mainly taken up by acres upon acres of farmland that ended on the beginning slope of the Ithara Mountains. In the distance, there was a series of perfectly-lined dark masses, which I knew to be the vineyards that brought Oceana much of its income—the rest of the world craved the wine we expertly crafted.

Soon, the fairly unfamiliar small shops and stretches of growing farmland changed to the familiar larger shops and houses made of white and silver. Luxurious public gardens grew exactly where I remembered them. Empty city squares with trickling fountains stood nearly everywhere.

I recalled the rare days I was permitted to run through the streets of Naxaros as a small, innocent child, taking in the colors and chaos of the city in wonder. Oceana was a highly prosperous nation, and the opulence of the capital showed it to the highest extent. With the streets devoid of wealthy citizens, its regal beauty was even more obvious.

The sounds of my boots on the limestone came faster now as I increased my pace. My hesitation and anxiousness had been left in the mountains, replaced by boldness and strength. No matter how my people would receive me, this was my dominion and mine alone. I had to be strong enough for whatever happened, especially now that my coronation would be in little more than a week. The days before my coronation would quite possibly be the most dangerous few days of my life.

I took a deep breath when I saw the silver gates that led to my destination. The shiny, ornate gates gave the passerby a taste of the luxury that was to be expected of the estate inside. Through the bars, I could see the massive edifice. My home.

As I fearlessly approached the gateway, four guards dressed in Oceana's navy blue and bone-white raised their razor-sharp spears towards me in a manner that warned me they would not hesitate to ram them through my heart. The strong-bodied guard dogs, however, failed to snarl at me. Liquid eyes sparkling, they sat harmlessly and panted, having remembered my scent.