Rena took a final calming breath outside the arched entrance to the banquet hall, her hand resting on Gareth's forearm for balance. Light and music floated out from within, a cheerful façade masking the court's simmering tensions. Servants and guards hustled along the corridor, adjusting last-minute details—making sure the torches were lit, table linens were straight, and everything sparkled with regality. In her gown of soft sapphire-blue tonight, Rena felt both regal and exhausted. She'd used more of her healing gift in the last two days than in months of her prior life, and the strain still weighed on her limbs. Yet her father's words echoed in her mind: Our people need hope. That truth alone propped her up when weariness threatened to topple her.
Gareth gave a discreet nod. She understood it as an unspoken question—Are you ready? Her heart fluttered, but she lifted her chin in response. They stepped through into a grand scene: the expansive banquet hall, framed by tall columns and richly woven tapestries, buzzed with an undercurrent of anticipation. A large table extended down the center, laden with gleaming goblets, fresh flowers, and ornate platters waiting to be filled. Musicians plucked at lutes along one wall, providing a soft, melodic hum. The high windows showed the indigo sky beyond, where the moon glowed faintly behind drifting clouds.
At the head of the table, Queen Maribel stood, welcoming guests with warm yet measured smiles. Beside her was a space presumably reserved for King Darius—he was absent for now, which Rena hoped meant he was simply resting until the night's formalities required his presence. She wished he could remain free of these courtly pressures long enough to truly heal, though she knew that was a luxury neither of them could afford. Spotting Rena, the queen gestured her closer with a graceful lift of her hand.
Rena walked the length of the hall, conscious of every eye turning her way: courtiers with subtle glints of curiosity, foreign envoys from Imlera and Drenvale who had witnessed her healing, and Silverstrand's own nobles who whispered rumors about how she had saved the king and a visiting retainer in quick succession. Behind her, Gareth's presence offered a certain reassurance. The conversation quieted in little waves, only to pick up again as onlookers whispered fresh commentary about the lost princess who commanded a mysterious power.
Queen Maribel greeted Rena with a slight embrace, the tension in her own posture betraying the day's mounting weight. "My dear, I'm so glad you've come. How do you feel? You look a bit pale."
Rena mustered a small but resolute smile. "I'll be all right, Mother. I just need to keep steady through the evening."
The queen nodded, pressing her daughter's hand gently. "We'll keep the festivities measured, I promise. King Darius may join us briefly if he feels up to it."
At that, Rena's gaze flicked to the empty seat. A pang of concern stirred in her chest. She wished she could devote her energy solely to healing him, but the kingdom's needs forced her to divide her focus. He's improving, she reminded herself, recalling the calmer expression he'd worn earlier. Every hour of rest and every subtle use of her power made a difference.
A herald announced the arrival of the envoys, and Rena turned to greet them once more. Ambassador Kaian of Imlera, wearing a new robe of deep teal, gave a short bow alongside Lady Cassira, who smiled warmly. Lord Arturin of Drenvale approached next, followed by his retinue, including the guard Briand—looking healthier than ever, despite the previous day's near tragedy. The cluster from Drenvale included several other minor lords, their eyes shining with curiosity whenever they glanced Rena's way. She offered them polite smiles, hoping her posture betrayed no hint of lingering fatigue.
Dinner commenced with the usual formalities. Attendants presented wine and light dishes first, allowing conversation to flow easily around the table. At Queen Maribel's side, Rena found herself seated near Lady Cassira, who asked after Haris, the Imlera guard with the injured leg. Rena explained that she had done what she could and that he seemed to walk with less pain. Cassira thanked her again for the gesture, remarking that it had made a strong impression on the entire delegation—some who had once scoffed at "miracles" now spoke more kindly.
Between spoonfuls of a fragrant broth, Rena noticed a hush ripple through the hall. Head lifting, she spotted a swirl of motion near the double doors. King Darius appeared, led by two guards, and though he leaned heavily on them, he managed to walk on his own feet. A wave of relief and caution swept the room in equal measure—relief because their monarch was upright, caution because everyone knew the fine line he trod between strength and collapse. A seat was brought for him at the head of the table beside the queen, and a subdued hush lingered as he settled in.
Queen Maribel stood to address the gathering, voice resonating across the hall. "We thank you for joining us this evening to celebrate the spirit of cooperation. Our friends from Imlera and Drenvale have traveled many miles in hopes of forging bonds of trust and mutual benefit. Let us continue these discussions in good faith, with open hearts."
Polite applause followed. The foreign envoys bowed slightly, and then the queen gestured to King Darius, who mustered a dignified nod. "I echo the queen's sentiments," he said, his voice low yet clear. "Silverstrand welcomes those who come in peace. Let us share this meal and our hopes for the future."
As the next course arrived—roast fowl served with a medley of herbs—Rena quietly exhaled the tension she'd been holding. Her father's condition was still precarious, yet here he was, leading by example. Across the table, she saw Lord Severin, who had arrived late but unobtrusively. He watched the proceedings with calm composure, occasionally murmuring something to the nobles beside him. When their eyes flicked Rena's way, she sensed a faint undercurrent of wariness. The steward said nothing openly, but his presence felt like a cool draft winding through the candlelit feast.
Gareth, seated at a respectful distance near some other court messengers, offered Rena a faint, reassuring nod. She returned a tiny smile in gratitude. In between bites, Lady Cassira inquired about Rena's upbringing beyond the castle walls—what life in Whisperwood had been like, how she discovered her gift for healing. Rena shared a polite sketch, omitting painful details of uncertainty and near-isolation. She described Aunt Sorren's gentle mentorship and her early experiences helping injured wildlife. Cassira listened intently, occasionally glancing at King Darius with wonder, as if trying to picture a royal child raised far from the court.
Lord Arturin joined the conversation, praising Rena for saving Briand. He asked if she intended to travel beyond Silverstrand's borders someday, perhaps to extend her healing or learn from other lands. Rena hesitated, unsure how to respond. The notion of traveling excited her—she had seen so little of the world—but she also worried leaving her parents' side might expose them further to Severin's maneuvers. "I'd like to someday," she answered softly, feeling the weight of half the table's attention. "For now, I must focus on Silverstrand's immediate needs."
As conversation ebbed and flowed, Rena noticed King Darius periodically closing his eyes, likely battling fatigue or pain. Queen Maribel signaled one of the royal attendants, who discreetly approached Rena. The attendant explained that King Darius might soon retire for the night, given his fragility. Rena nodded, her chest tightening with worry, but she knew pushing him too far would be reckless. She resolved to keep an eye on him for any signs of sudden relapse.
Partway through the meal, the hall's tall doors opened yet again. This time, a palace guard appeared, bowing low and waiting for permission to speak. Queen Maribel granted it with a subtle wave of her hand. The guard stepped forward, voice pitched to carry across the hush of onlookers. "Your Majesty, a messenger has just arrived from the northern frontier post. He brings word of renewed bandit sightings, though details are still sparse. They request guidance, uncertain whether they should fortify the post or send for reinforcements."
A tremor of tension flickered along the table. Rena immediately thought of Severin's earlier push for heavier taxes to fund expanded city guard deployments. Was he behind these reports, or at least eager to exploit them? Beside her, Lady Cassira frowned slightly, and she caught Gareth's glance from across the hall—a silent warning that this development could shift the night's tone.
King Darius tried to straighten in his chair. "We anticipated trouble from that region. Captain Loran is in command there, if I recall. He knows to maintain cautious defense until we clarify the threat."
The guard nodded. "Yes, Your Majesty. Should I dispatch a swift messenger with your orders?"
Before the king could answer, Severin rose from his seat, bowing respectfully. "Your Majesty, may I suggest we reconvene a smaller council tonight to address this bandit issue? Our envoys have come to discuss trade routes and protection for them—this matter intersects their interests as well."
Rena clenched her jaw, seeing how smoothly he inserted himself, weaving the envoys' presence into an argument for immediate control. She glanced at her father, noting the pallor of his face. He looked on the verge of surrendering to fatigue, yet he would try to persevere if forced. Queen Maribel's composure faltered only slightly; she recognized the trap, that refusing a "council" might appear negligent, but forcing King Darius to remain in a grueling debate might harm him.
Sensing a potential compromise, Rena spoke up, her voice steady. "Father, perhaps we can hold a brief discussion with the necessary parties—Lord Severin, the envoys interested in trade security, and whomever else you deem essential—while you rest. Mother and I can represent your stance. Then we'll bring you a summary for final approval."
King Darius studied her with appreciation, relief gently surfacing in his eyes. "Yes… that might be wise. I don't wish to leave this matter unresolved, but I'm afraid I cannot exert myself too greatly tonight." He cast a wry glance at Severin. "If our steward insists on an immediate session, then so be it, though it shall not last long."
Severin pressed a hand to his chest in a show of understanding. "Of course, Your Majesty. We only aim for swift action to protect our borders. A short session, then."
Queen Maribel signaled for the guard to depart and deliver a brief message to Captain Loran—maintaining a defensive posture until new instructions followed. She then offered a gentle smile to the envoys, apologizing for the interruption. Cassira and Arturin looked intrigued rather than offended, murmuring that they'd gladly join any meeting that concerned safe passage for merchant caravans. Rena saw the flicker of alignment forming in their eyes—they might support a plan that secured trade roads, as long as it didn't harm local villagers.
With the guard gone, dinner resumed, though the earlier festive air had dimmed somewhat. Rena tried to sip her wine calmly, reminding herself that if she panicked, it would only embolden Severin. She risked a glance around the table: Gareth stood near the periphery, now deep in quiet conversation with another messenger. Likely planning how to coordinate a late-evening meeting. King Darius attempted another spoonful of soup, but his hand shook, and he set the spoon down instead. The queen leaned in to whisper something, perhaps urging him to conserve his strength.
Lady Cassira, noticing Rena's tension, asked softly, "Do you believe the bandits are as dangerous as rumors claim? We've heard conflicting stories."
Rena chose her words carefully. "Some bandits certainly prowl those roads, but whether they're massing or just a small band remains unconfirmed. My concern is that if we overreact, we might impose harsh measures on villagers who can't afford it. On the other hand, ignoring the threat might place travelers in danger—including your caravans."
Cassira nodded thoughtfully, seeing the balance at stake. From across the table, Lord Arturin also listened, occasionally exchanging quiet remarks with his retinue. Rena sensed their willingness to join any late-night discussion, as travelers' safety was crucial to forging alliances.
Once dessert arrived—delicate pastries filled with sweet preserves—King Darius attempted to stand, assisted by Queen Maribel and a servant. Apologies murmured around the table as he announced he would retire for the night. He expressed gratitude to the envoys for their cordial presence, then turned to Rena and gently placed a hand on her shoulder. "I leave this matter to you and your mother, my dear. Exercise caution and compassion."
She bowed her head. "Yes, Father. Rest well."
As the king was helped out of the hall, Rena could almost feel the collective eyes of court turning to her. The princess, newly returned and newly proven as a healer, now had a voice in deciding how Silverstrand would respond to potential threats. Severin, still standing near the far end of the table, dipped his head as the king departed. Rena disliked the triumph she sensed beneath his outward politeness.
With King Darius gone, the feast began to wind down. Queen Maribel suggested a pause before the proposed council session, inviting the envoys to take a short walk in the moonlit courtyard or refresh themselves in the guest quarters. Rena stayed briefly to exchange a few words with Cassira and Arturin, confirming they'd reconvene soon in the smaller council room. Gareth passed by, quietly confirming to Rena that he would coordinate the gathering, ensuring the right individuals were summoned and no more than necessary. He promised to keep it brief, just as King Darius wished.
Rena felt a spike of gratitude—Gareth's competence was a steady anchor in a sea of shifting alliances. She caught Lady Halene's eye and inclined her head, silently inviting her to help as well. The older woman responded with a resolute nod, evidently already preparing a list of topics and references for the discussion. Meanwhile, nobles drifted from the banquet hall, some openly speculating on how the princess and the steward would clash on the bandit issue, others quietly offering to weigh in if needed.
Stepping into the corridor, Rena found herself momentarily alone except for Gareth, who'd circled back to escort her to her chambers. "We have maybe half an hour before the council meets," he said, voice low. "Use it wisely—gather any notes or rest if you can. It might be a long night."
She pursed her lips, mind racing. "Half an hour. All right. I'll speak with Mother quickly, too." They began walking down the passage, the tapestries along the walls dancing with torchlight. "Tell me, do you think we'll learn the truth about these bandits, or will Severin just push his agenda as usual?"
Gareth's response carried the weight of realism. "He'll do what he can to secure more funds and power for the guard. But with the envoys present, he can't be too blatant. They might question why Silverstrand would impose burdensome taxes if we're claiming to welcome trade. He'll have to tread carefully—or attempt another angle."
They arrived at the door leading to Rena's personal wing, and she paused. "All right. I'll ready myself, then meet you near the council chamber." Her eyes met his for a second, reflecting a mutual understanding that each new council, each meeting, was another battlefield in the ongoing struggle. She squeezed his arm in gratitude, then slipped inside her chambers.
Inside, she found attendants quickly tidying the room, refreshing the basin of water, and laying out a simpler wrap in case the princess needed more comfortable attire for a late-night session. Rena thanked them, dismissing them after a few more instructions. She splashed her face with cool water, gazing into the mirror at her own reflection. The shadows under her eyes had deepened, testimony to days of healing and navigating court drama. Even so, she reminded herself that she'd come far: from a nameless orphan in the forest to a recognized daughter of the king, forging alliances and defending the vulnerable.
She dabbed her skin dry, sank into a cushioned chair, and closed her eyes for a heartbeat. Half an hour, she reminded herself, yet her mind buzzed with possible scenarios. She pictured how Severin might push for immediate tax hikes, how she might counter by proposing limited redeployment of existing guards, how the envoys might add their voices in urging balanced solutions. A flicker of hope stirred—maybe she could use her bond with Imlera and Drenvale to block Severin's extreme measures. If foreign trade partners insisted that harsh levies would hamper cooperation, he might be forced to concede. But be prepared for him to pivot, a voice in her head cautioned. He was cunning, after all.
A light knock rapped on her door. She rose, crossing to open it, expecting Gareth or a servant. Instead, Queen Maribel stood there, her regal gown partially obscured by the hallway's dim light. The queen stepped in, and Rena offered a respectful dip of her head.
"Child, how are you holding up?" the queen asked softly, resting a hand on Rena's shoulder.
"Drained, but determined," Rena admitted. "I'm sorry we must handle this so late—Father needs rest, and I know you could use some peace as well."
Queen Maribel shook her head, lips curved in a faint, affectionate smile. "Peace is in short supply these days. But your father and I are immensely grateful for the strength you've shown. Tonight's council must happen, if only to ensure we're not caught off guard by the northwestern troubles."
They moved to the small sitting area near the windows, where torchlight flickered against the heavy drapes. Rena hesitated, then voiced the worry gnawing at her. "What if Severin uses these bandit sightings as a wedge, to force new taxes or muster more authority for himself? Father's too weak to argue all night, and if I overexert myself, it might look like inexperience."
Maribel's eyes gleamed with maternal empathy. "Severin is skilled at cornering people. But you have allies now—the envoys, for one, who won't want excessive demands on local villagers. Some of our nobles might also speak out if they see an opportunity to gain favor with you instead of Severin."
A swirl of conflicting emotions roiled in Rena's chest. She disliked the idea of nobility jockeying for influence as if her father's health and the peasants' livelihoods were mere pawns in a game. Yet she understood that in this realm, building coalitions was a necessary dance. Her mother's gentle hand touched hers.
"Remember, you're no longer alone. Find a path that aligns with Silverstrand's genuine needs—stability without oppressing our people. You've won hearts already with your healing gift. Show them that mercy and wisdom go hand in hand."
Rena swallowed hard, a surge of pride and fear mingling. "I will try. Father said we must remain compassionate, or risk losing the kingdom's trust. I believe it. I just hope I can… carry that message clearly, so Severin can't undermine it."
A faint nod from the queen signaled her approval. Outside the windows, night pressed against the glass, the moon partially veiled by drifting clouds. Time was running short. Another soft knock on the door informed them the council members were gathering. Lady Halene's voice floated through the wood, announcing that everything was set.
Queen Maribel leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to Rena's forehead. "Go, then. Show them what a true princess is made of. I'll join you soon, once I ensure your father is settled."
Rena stepped into the corridor, her heart thrumming. She could hear faint echoes of footsteps converging elsewhere in the castle. Gareth awaited her a short distance away, exchanging final instructions with a pair of guards who would stand watch outside the meeting. On seeing Rena, he offered a nod and led the way through twisting corridors lit by torches that crackled in the hush. From a nearby window, she glimpsed the courtyard bathed in moonlight, the fountain glistening like liquid silver.
At the entrance to a smaller council chamber, Rena paused, inhaling deeply. Voices were already audible inside—Lord Severin's smooth timbre, Lady Halene's measured responses, a few unknown murmurs from lesser nobles. She glanced at Gareth, who gave her a look of steady confidence, then pushed the door open.
Inside, around a polished oak table laden with scattered maps and parchments, a cluster of individuals stood or sat in readiness: Severin, Lady Halene, Ambassadors Kaian and Cassira, Lord Arturin and one of his aides, plus two or three Silverstrand nobles whose loyalties were still shifting. All turned to acknowledge Rena's arrival. Severin bowed theatrically, gesturing for her to take a seat near the head of the table. "Princess," he said in his ever-silken tone, "shall we begin?"
She noted with relief that a place was indeed set for Queen Maribel at the table's head, but it stood empty for now. Rena moved calmly to her own seat and settled. Gareth took a subtle position behind her, the same quiet sentinel he had been in her father's chamber. Lady Halene offered a small, supportive smile, as if to say We have your back.
Rena rested her hands lightly on the table. The bandit reports, the potential trade ramifications, the looming question of new taxes—these swirled in her mind, a test of her ability to hold fast to compassion and logic. She recalled Aunt Sorren's patient voice in Whisperwood: A healer's heart sees the wounds beneath the anger. Here, that meant seeing how fear might drive some to seek harsh measures, and how greed might push others to exploit fear. She had to disentangle one from the other, forging a path that defended the kingdom without harming the innocent.
Her voice emerged steadier than she expected. "We're convened on my father's behalf to address these bandit sightings. Let's keep our focus on facts and our goal on safeguarding travelers and villagers alike, rather than punishing them."
Severin's eyes narrowed slightly at her words, but he inclined his head, feigning compliance. The envoys—Cassira, Kaian, Arturin—leaned in, grateful for an immediate mention of the villagers' well-being. Lady Halene gestured to a map pinned at the table's center, marking the northwestern region where sightings had been reported. The meeting was set. As tension knotted in her stomach, Rena reminded herself that every choice here mattered. She would not let Severin hijack the discussion. Whether by empathy, strategy, or unwavering resolve, she intended to stand firm. The future of Silverstrand depended on it.
Though the hour was late, her fatigue receded under the bracing call of responsibility. Outside, the moon drifted past shifting clouds, its light blending with the chamber's torches. Within, conflicting agendas mingled like crosscurrents in a restless sea. Rena, gathering her thoughts, anchored herself to the promise she'd made: To protect the kingdom, heal what she could, and guide Silverstrand with compassion that could outlast any storm.