The uncontrollable power lurking beneath Princess Alethia's skin can either be the savior of the Four Kingdoms or its destruction.
Princess Alethia was raised on three principles: (1) Mercy is for the weak, (2) Emotions are an unwanted distraction...
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Ren's hands tightened on the reins. They desperately needed supplies. There were only two other villages after Berkton, but they were closer to the coast. The exact area they needed to avoid because of the queen's soldiers. Berkton would be their only stop before heading straight to the desert.
He nearly groaned at the solution in his head. Ren could travel through the village freely if the damn fool of a prince vouched for him. The villagers wouldn't dare discredit their beloved prince. Ren had hoped to leave Aydin behind with Sephirah. It would have been quicker for him to go alone without them.
The rest of the journey through the foggy forest was uneventful. Regardless, the group continued zig-zagging through the trees, glancing repeatedly over their shoulders. When they reached the border of the trees that dipped down to expose a small village, they paused.
Ren's backside and inner thighs ached from sitting so long in the hard saddle. He observed the people mulling about in a small trader spot as others boarded up their homes in preparation for the inevitable arrival of the queen's soldiers. Dark grey smoke drifted out of chimneys, mixing with the dissipating white fog.
"Where's my money?" Aydin patted his sides, the space between his brows creasing with confusion.
Sephirah's eyes lit with mischief. "After the stunt, you pulled with the food, I think it would be unwise for you to keep the money."
"You stole it?" Aydin stared at her with disbelief.
"I would never." Sephirah touched her chest delicately, lips curling into a devious grin.
Aydin's eyes shifted to Ren, realization finally dawning on his face. "You insufferable piece of—"
"Shut up and sober up," Ren interjected, not bothering to look away from the village below them. The people shuffled about, shoulders slumped and heads lowered. "We're all going into the village. You need to tell the villagers I'm not a threat to them."
"So, you want me to lie?" Aydin asked sarcastically. "Your face is a threat to the eyes of every passing woman."
"Either lie, or I'll put an axe to your throat and use you as a hostage to get what we need," Ren snapped as he finally turned to glare at Aydin. "Your choice."
"You can try," Aydin growled, hand gripping his spear lifting up slightly. "I could beat you to a pulp even while drunk."
"Aydin, do what he says," Sephirah interrupted them, face tight with anger. "We don't have time for this."
"Fine," Aydin bit out, draining the flask in his head. Amber liquid flowed down his chin as he threw the canteen into the fog, wiping his mouth. Aydin swung off his horse and started walking into the village Ren and Sephirah followed suit, keeping pace with him while leading their horses behind them.
As they entered the trading spot of the village, the conversation tapered off until it was silent. Villagers paused in their actions, staring at the three of them. Ren knew they were not the most inconspicuous. Between Aydin's platinum hair and Sephirah's red hair, chances of them blending in was slim. His jet-black hair did nothing but label him as an enemy.
