The next morning dawned bright and clear, a pale sun illuminating the rolling fields as Rena and Gareth set off from the roadside inn. A few wisps of mist still clung to the low ground, drifting across the road in ghostly trails. Despite her lingering anxiety, Rena felt a flicker of excitement stir in her chest—today, she would finally see Silverstrand's fabled capital with her own eyes.
They rode at an easy canter, the horses no longer showing signs of weariness from the previous day. The highway came alive with travelers: merchants transporting goods, itinerant peddlers singing out their wares, and farmers driving carts laden with fresh produce for the city markets. Rena kept her hood drawn, wary of strangers who might recognize her silver-white hair or overhear gossip about the missing princess.
She couldn't keep herself from glancing up every so often, searching the horizon. Sure enough, within an hour, the ramparts of Silverstrand's outer walls appeared. They rose from a slight incline, stretching in a wide arc to protect the city within. Banners in pale blues and whites fluttered at intervals along the battlements, bearing the crescent moon and lily crest. Rena's heart skipped a beat at the sight of that familiar emblem.
Gareth pulled his horse alongside hers, voice low. "Once we pass through these gates, we'll be in the outer city. The castle is deeper inside, on higher ground. We'll likely need to show my royal messenger seal to get past the inner walls."
Rena nodded, letting out a slow breath. "And after that?"
His expression turned grim. "We present ourselves to the castle guard. King Darius has an official receiving chamber for visitors of state, but in our case, they might take us directly to the throne room—especially if word spreads that you're…who you are." He paused, looking at her with gentle concern. "We should expect skepticism. Not everyone will celebrate your return."
A shiver of nerves rippled through her. For all her readiness to help Silverstrand, she still felt utterly unprepared for courtly ceremonies, let alone the possibility of facing Lord Severin's hostility. Tightening her grip on the reins, she reminded herself of Aunt Sorren's words: Your kindness is your strength. She hoped that would prove true in the days ahead.
They fell in line with other travelers at the massive city gates, where a handful of armed guards inspected wagons and checked papers. Two lines of traffic fed through the towering archway, the echo of clattering hooves bouncing off thick stone walls. The gatehouse itself bustled with scribes, messengers, and the occasional city official. A couple of children darted through the crowd, giggling as they weaved between horses and carts.
When Rena and Gareth reached the front of the queue, one of the guards held up a hand. He wore a polished breastplate and carried a halberd that gleamed in the sunlight.
"Halt. State your business in Silverstrand," he said in a bored monotone, as though he'd repeated the phrase a thousand times that morning alone.
Gareth drew out a small leather wallet and produced a medallion stamped with the king's seal. "I am Gareth, a royal messenger. I return from a mission with urgent news for His Majesty."
The guard's expression sharpened. He scrutinized the medallion, then looked at Rena. She kept her hood low, offering only a polite nod. For a tense moment, the guard seemed torn between waving them through and asking more questions. Finally, he motioned them forward.
"Very well. Proceed. But mind yourselves—rumors are flying these days, and tensions are high. Keep the peace, or the city watch will see to it."
Gareth thanked him curtly, and they passed beneath the archway into Silverstrand's outer city.
Immediately, Rena was struck by the sheer scope and energy of the place. Cobblestone streets extended in twisting patterns, lined with tall, close-set buildings of stone and timber. Shutters flung open revealed shops and apartments; vendors crammed the sidewalks, hawking everything from steaming pastries to polished trinkets. The air filled with the noise of haggling merchants, barking dogs, and clattering wagon wheels. Colors seemed to swirl everywhere Rena looked—fabric awnings in vivid hues, painted signs swinging overhead, flower boxes bursting with late-summer blooms.
She breathed in the mingled scents of fresh bread, perfumes, and horse manure with a sense of awe. Whisperwood felt like another world compared to the thrumming heartbeat of this city. Even Gareth, who'd clearly been here many times, glanced around cautiously, likely scanning for any sign of Severin's men.
"We'll keep to the main avenues," he said, guiding his horse toward a wide thoroughfare that curved uphill. "The city center is closer to the castle district. By midday, it can get crowded—stay close so we're not separated."
Rena nodded, urging her horse to match Gareth's pace. Despite the bustle, she couldn't help craning her neck to take in every new sight. Street performers juggled at corners, children sold flowers from woven baskets, and city guards patrolled with watchful eyes. Occasionally, Rena caught glimpses of architecture she'd only heard about in rumor: ornate facades carved with celestial designs, stained-glass windows that caught the sunlight in brilliant sparkles, and statues of past monarchs erected at intersections.
Gradually, the road's incline grew steeper, and the buildings took on a more imposing look—tall, arch-windowed mansions and guarded townhouses lined the streets, each sporting its own crest or flag. A second set of walls loomed ahead, smaller than the outer wall but fortified nonetheless. Beyond that, on a rise of pale stone, soared the main castle: multiple towers reaching skyward, crowned by fluttering banners. Rena's chest tightened at the sight, her heart pounding with anticipation and trepidation alike.
As they neared the inner gate, a pair of guards in ornate armor stepped forward. These looked more disciplined than the ones at the outer gate—each wore a surcoat bearing the king's crest and carried a polished longsword at the hip.
"Halt," said one, her tone firm. "Entrance to the royal district is restricted."
Again, Gareth produced his seal, speaking in a low, clear voice. "I'm Gareth, messenger to His Majesty. We come bearing information of the highest importance."
The guard examined the medallion, her gaze flicking suspiciously to Rena, who kept her hood in place but allowed a bit of her silver hair to show—perhaps as a subtle hint. The guard's eyes widened slightly, but her expression remained professional.
"Very well. We'll escort you to the palace gate. The final checkpoint is there."
With that, they led the way through the second wall and onto a broad boulevard lined with meticulously pruned trees. Fine carriages rattled by, carrying noblemen and women in embroidered finery. It was a stark contrast to the bustling outer city—a place of hushed elegance and wealth. Rena's stomach churned. She felt as though she'd wandered into a lavish stage play without knowing her lines.
Soon, they arrived at a set of grand gates forged from iron and gilded with swirling motifs of lilies and moons. Towering above was the main entrance to the castle proper—its high arches flanked by statues of past monarchs in flowing robes. Rows of guards stood at attention, and beyond them stretched a massive courtyard with gardens, fountains, and marble pathways.
One of the gate guards stepped forward—a stern-looking man in his late forties with graying temples and a neatly trimmed beard. A captain, judging by his insignia. He scanned Gareth's seal, then fixed a penetrating gaze on Rena. "And who is your companion?"
Gareth dismounted carefully, wincing at his shoulder's twinge. "She's… someone His Majesty will wish to see immediately," he said, voice firm. "It's a matter of royal lineage."
The captain's brows rose, a flicker of curiosity and suspicion crossing his features. "Royal lineage, you say?" He studied Rena again, perhaps noticing the silver hair against her hood. "We'll take you to the main hall, but understand this: if there's any deception, you'll answer to the Crown for it."
Rena's mouth felt dry. She wondered if the news would spread like wildfire through the castle—if Lord Severin already had ears at these very gates. Still, she nodded, echoing Gareth's seriousness. "I… I understand. There's no deception."
He gave a curt nod. "Stablehands will see to your horses. Follow me."
Escorted by the captain and two other guards, they passed through the iron gates. The courtyard inside was breathtaking—ornate flowerbeds framed stone walkways, and fountains trickled water into shallow pools. Statuary and carved benches offered serene nooks beneath flowering trees. The palace itself rose beyond, each wing adorned with balconies and tall, stained-glass windows. Rena felt a swirl of awe and dread. So this is the heart of Silverstrand.
Gareth walked at her side, keeping his voice low. "Once we're inside, be prepared. They'll either take us straight to the throne room or to a receiving chamber. The king and queen may not be together, but they'll hear of our arrival soon enough."
A flush crept up Rena's cheeks. She imagined the king and queen—her possible parents—sitting on gilded thrones, poised and regal, while she stumbled through formalities. In her mind, she replayed Aunt Sorren's gentle advice: Don't let them intimidate you into hiding your gift. Squaring her shoulders, she tried to stand a bit taller.
They climbed a series of wide marble steps leading to a set of imposing double doors. Guards there saluted the captain, who signaled them to stand aside. The doors swung open, revealing a grand entry hall. Polished floors reflected the morning light streaming through stained-glass panels high above. Hallways branched off in multiple directions, likely leading to private wings, banquet halls, or the palace chapel.
The captain led them to the right, down a corridor lined with tapestries depicting scenes of Silverstrand's history—a battle against foreign invaders, the founding of the kingdom, and a regal couple holding a newborn child under a glowing moon. Rena's throat tightened at the last image. Was it merely a symbolic tapestry, or had it once celebrated the birth of a long-lost heir?
Finally, they reached a pair of tall doors embossed with the same crescent-and-lily insignia. Two guards stood watch. At the captain's knock, the doors opened inward, revealing an expansive chamber filled with shelves of official ledgers and scrolls—an antechamber or meeting room of some sort. A few palace clerks in fine robes scurried about, whispering updates to each other. Rena's pulse quickened.
The captain cleared his throat. "Sir Gareth, you and your companion will wait here until summoned. You understand the importance of protocol in these halls."
"Yes," Gareth said, shooting Rena a reassuring glance. "We do."
Nodding, the captain departed with two of his guards, presumably to alert higher authorities of their arrival. The doors closed behind them, leaving Rena and Gareth alone with a handful of onlooking clerks, who soon scurried away to resume their tasks. The hush that followed crackled with anticipation.
Rena scanned the chamber—beautiful vaulted ceiling, polished marble floors, and large windows letting in beams of midday sunshine. Yet for all its grandeur, she felt caged, as though her fate rested on the next few moments. She removed her hood slowly, letting her silver hair tumble free. One of the clerks paused, blinking in surprise, then hurried off as if to carry some news.
"How long do you think we'll wait?" Rena whispered, heart pounding.
Gareth exhaled. "Not long. Trust me, word of a lost heir travels fast." He placed a cautious hand over his bandaged shoulder, voice dropping to a near-murmur. "Get ready, Rena. The next doors you walk through might lead you right in front of King Darius himself."
She pressed a hand to the pendant under her cloak, feeling the shape of the engraved lily and crescent moon. A swirl of uncertainty and hope churned in her gut. She closed her eyes briefly, remembering Aunt Sorren's parting embrace and the forest paths she'd called home. I can do this, she told herself. I have to.
And so she waited, each tick of her racing heart echoing the promise of what lay beyond these castle walls.