It was warm, and the air smelt of grapes and warm bread, yet the council of leaders sat at the edges of their gilded seats.
The mid-day brightness poured in through several ceiling-lengthened windows, giving the room a golden glow.
Occasional jingles of the chandelier high above the round table were the only chip in the deafening silence of the room. Even the birds of the air dared not make a sound at a time like this.
"Is this to be her legacy?" One of the leaders said, his bearded chin resting atop his palm as his ruby-colored eyes avoided the empty seat beside him.
"We have yet to consider that the words of that prophecy could, in fact be balderdash." Another spoke, the blonde weaves of his hair covering the whiteness in his eyes.
"Ahh…I understand your grievances, my dear Hildens." The man at the head of the table spoke, his voice calm yet catching the attention of the wary Hildens. "But I believe there must be a reasonable explanation."
"We dwindle further in number every day, Arcan. What she did is unacceptable, there is simply no room for such behavior. I still don't understand why you did not let her be punished. What sort of example are you setting for the people?" The bearded man spoke agitatedly.
Arcan heaved a sigh. "Detmold, I am in no way going to tolerate what she did, I assure you. She will be punished but on my terms. I cannot let the people see their princess and savior be dragged to the cells in chains."
"And what are your terms, if I may ask?" The blonde asked.
"You may not." Arcan scoffed. "Kathani would easily agree with me, I don't see why I need to continuously curry your misguided favor when I'm the one in charge here. Have my actions as the steward of this great realm not brought you this far? Have a little faith. She is Elaran after all, so she belongs here."
Detmold swallowed his next words, his fists clenching in restraint. "Very well. The ball is in your court then."
"Thank you." The steward nodded slightly, his gloved hand scratching his stubbled chin.
"And what are your plans concerning the…' empress' who has repeatedly made herself absent from these meetings?" The blonde spoke, his features remaining mostly obscured by his long hair.
Arcan took in a deep breath, letting it out a second later, the many colors in his eyes glinting mischievously. "I have none. She will come to us…eventually. For now, our focus is obvious…we teach the girl our ways…train her into what we need."
"A bit presumptuous of you to think she'd follow your orders considering her current reputation." The ruby-eyed man chimed, a smile dancing along his lips.
"Bold of you to even think she's still where you left her." The blonde spoke, his flawless hands rapping along the table.
"In due time, my Hildens. In due time." An impish smile danced along the steward's lips, his eyes glinting under the glimmer of the room.
~~~
Thora paced back and forth about the room, her steel eyes occasionally drifting to the unconscious princess beneath the covers.
She murmured irritatedly under her breath, her hands together at her back, the diamonds in her cream dress reflecting the brilliance of the noon glow.
Maraja stirred, the bed covers following her slow movements.
"Nawi." Thora stood beside the large bed and called out to her.
"Hmmm." A groan escaped her lips, a troubled frown appearing on her brows.
"Maraja." The elfyn repeated, bending slightly towards the Nawi.
~~~
"Huh?" I sprung up, my bushy mess of hair covering most of my face. "Thora?" My eyes roamed the strangely grand room suspiciously. "What…where am I?"
"That's not even on the list of our concerns right now. Why on earth would you do that?" The half-breed princess whispered loudly at me.
"Why on earth would I do what?" I stared at her in bewilderment.
"Are you serious right now? You're going to play dumb, behave as if you didn't almost kill a Hilden the moment you got here."
My eyes widened in shock. "I did what? Thora, I don't know what you're talking about. Why would I do that?"
Thora's eyes glinted as she perched carefully at the side of the bed. "You don't remember?"
"I don't." Her eyes searched mine, an insightful glow about them.
She nodded slightly, in what I saw to be understanding before speaking. "What is your last memory before waking here?"
My mind was foggy, events drifting in and out as I forcibly tried to put them in order. "I…I was in Naiad, in the clan." Suddenly remembering the ghastly holes that plagued my body, I quickly rolled up the sleeve of the black silk on my arm.
"You are completely healed, you have nothing to worry about. Continue." Thora prodded.
"Uhhh…" I resumed thinking, more memories coming to light. "I was down on all fours, the strange scalding rain burning into my skin."
"The burning rain…" the elfyn trailed off, her eyes calculating and recollecting before nodding once again for me to continue.
"Mason, he carried me…" My string of thoughts halted, a blank space heavy in my head. I looked up at Thora. "That's all I…remember." A strange feeling settled at the back of my head, and I couldn't help but feel that there was more.
Thora groaned in thought, as she stood up. "Get up. You need…a…bath, a thorough one, and clothes."
"I don't smell, do I?"
"That is arguable. I'll call the servants." Her dress trailed behind her, as she made her way to the door, turning slightly back to me. "You need not speak or believe anything the maids say. Just let them do their job." With that, she left the room, the door closing gently behind her.
I stood and treaded barefoot to the full-sized mirror in the wall beside the bathroom. A horrified gasp slipped through my chapped lips as my eyes settled on my hair. The tangled and unclean mess worried me, but not as much as the surface bruises that dotted my skin.
"Ugh…"
~~~
"Where's my brother?" Maraja asked, her dark hair bouncing along with her hurried movements.
"That is where we are headed, Nawi," Thora answered.
The two females shuffled along the dimly lit corridors of the Eryndian castle, their dresses streaming behind them on the shiny floorboards.
Guards and maids littered the pathways, filling themselves up with whispers of gossip as they hurried past the princesses.
A disarming scent of flowers riddled the air, shortly before it was desecrated by a foul stench. The Nawi bristled, turning to her chaperone in question.
The half-elf rolled her eyes before stopping in front of an unsightly pair of doors.
"Nawi, I need you to listen." She turned to Maraja, a stern look in her eyes. "You need not always act on emotion. Your blackout in Naiad…you weren't in control because you let your emotions have control instead. That should not be." She looked back at the doors. "While this isn't in any way ideal, it is a sufficient test. You must be in control, not the other way around."
The Nawi watched the door creak open, her face a playground of unsettlement.
"I thought we were going to meet my brother?"