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Chapter 8 - Lord Edric

The grandeur of the study in Verdantia's palace was not lost on Lyanna, even as she stood resolute before Lord Edric Blackstone. Sunlight filtered through the stained-glass windows, casting a kaleidoscope of colors across the polished marble floor. The room, lined with towering bookshelves and adorned with the banners of both their houses, seemed to hold its breath for the meeting that could alter the fate of two kingdoms.

"Princess Lyanna," Edric began, his voice smooth as the velvet cloak that draped from his shoulders. "I must extend my apologies for the absence of Captain Thane at your side. It was... an oversight."

Lyanna's gaze held steady, her caramel eyes reflecting the sincerity of her mission. "Lord Edric, while I value Captain Thane's company, I am here to speak of peace. His presence is not required for us to reach an understanding."

Edric nodded, the gesture calculated, and motioned toward the high-backed chairs arranged before the ornate fireplace. As they settled into the seats, the crackling fire provided a gentle symphony to underscore their parley.

"Peace is a noble pursuit, Princess," Edric said, steepling his fingers. "Yet it often demands more than just fine words."

"True," Lyanna conceded, smoothing the fabric of her gown, a blend of Crestfall's blue and Verdantia's green. "But I believe in the power of understanding and cooperation. We have seen enough bloodshed, enough loss. It is time we bridge the divide for our people's future."

"Your optimism is...refreshing." A wry smile tugged at the edges of Edric's lips. "But can you convince me it's grounded in more than wishful thinking?"

"Isn't it worth trying?" Her hands gestured expressively, echoing the passion in her voice. "Imagine our kingdoms united, sharing resources, knowledge—"

"Power," Edric interjected, his eyebrow arching provocatively.

"Prosperity," Lyanna corrected firmly, her golden hair shimmering as she leaned forward. "And yes, strength, but not for dominion—for defense against common enemies, within and without."

Edric regarded her thoughtfully, the play of firelight accentuating the sharpness of his features. He was weighing her, measuring the depth of her conviction. Lyanna met his scrutiny unflinching, her own clarity of purpose as unwavering as the stone walls that protected her home.

"Suppose," Edric mused aloud, "we do entertain this notion. What kind of assistance can Crestfall give towards the war against the witches?"

"An open border for your troops," Lyanna replied, her tone imbued with the weight of her royal lineage. "as long as each witch is sent to trial first. Simply to avoid persecuting an innocent person, of course."

"An open border could definitely help," Edric mused, almost to himself.

"We could elect officials and form a trial council to represent both kingdoms," Lyanna offered with a sense of solemnity and hope, her heart resonating with the same fierce determination that she had seen reflected in Elara's eyes—a determination to change the world.

Lyanna watched as Edric paced before the grand hearth, his shadow an ominous specter that danced across the tapestries lining the walls of the study. She steeled herself against the chill of doubt that seemed to emanate from him, a stark contrast to the warmth of the fire.

"Your vision," Edric began, turning on his heel to face her, "is noble, Princess. But it's draped in the finery of idealism." His voice was a low rumble, a distant storm threatening to breach the sanctum of their parley.

"Is it idealism to seek peace?" Lyanna countered, her fingers tightening around the arms of her chair, knuckles whitening like the first frost. "Is it idealism to prevent the bloodshed that plagues our borders?"

"Peace," he scoffed, fingers drumming against his silk-clad arm. "A silk thread easily severed by ambition or betrayal."

"Then we must weave stronger ties, Lord Edric." Her voice was the drop of a gauntlet, challenging the skepticism that veiled his gaze.

"Or entangle ourselves in a web from which there is no escape," he retorted, his eyes narrowing. "Verdantia has enemies who would see such a union not as strength, but as opportunity."

"Every alliance carries risk," she admitted, rising to meet him eye-to-eye. "But it is through unity that we fortify our defenses, share the burden of vigilance."

"Unity," Edric murmured, circling her like a wolf assessing its prey. "Or perhaps a single point of failure should Crestfall falter in its resolve."

"Are you so certain of your own kingdom's steadfastness?" Lyanna queried, her caramel eyes holding his dark ones captive. "Or do you project Verdantia's fragilities onto us?"

"idealism again, Princess?" Edric's lips twisted into a semblance of a smile, though it did not reach his eyes. "You speak of unity and yet draw lines of division."

"Only if you insist on painting them," she replied sharply, the air between them thick with the tension of clashing wills.

"Assurances can be broken, alliances undone," Edric said, stopping his prowl to stand before the towering windows, hands clasped behind his back.

"Then let us bind them with more than words. Let us forge them with actions, with shared triumphs and endured hardships," Lyanna proposed, following him, her reflection a ghostly echo beside his in the glass.

"Shared hardships," he repeated, his tone contemplative. "An interesting choice of words, considering the ease with which trust can shatter."

"Trust is the foundation upon which any worthwhile endeavor is built," Lyanna affirmed, her interior monologue a litany of hope over fear, faith over cynicism.

"Foundations can crumble," Edric pointed out, his gaze drifting to the stone below them, as if contemplating the very ground upon which they stood.

"Then we rebuild, stronger," she insisted, her heart hammering a fervent rhythm against the constraints of rib and decorum.

"Rebuild," he echoed, turning to face her once more, a challenge lurking within the depths of his eyes. "Or be buried beneath the rubble."

"Believe me when I say, Lord Edric, I am no stranger to the rubble," Lyanna declared, her words edged with the steel of her resolve, the same metal that forged crowns and swords alike. "But from it, I have learned to rise. And I believe our kingdoms can do the same—side by side."

"Side by side," he mused, the corner of his mouth quirking, as if the very concept were a puzzle to which he held the missing piece. "Forgive me, Princess, but are you suggesting a marriage?"

"If its necessary," she breathed, the quiet intensity of her statement hanging in the air, a banner unfurled in the silent chamber.