Rise of Heroes

Chapter 12 - Wreath of Secrets

“Fire? What fire?” Isabelle asked, suddenly pulled back into the conversation. She had been so lost in her thoughts that she failed to hear almost anything Lydia had said in the past few minutes. When she turned to her, Isabelle realized that her distraction didn’t go unnoticed. Lydia, her lifelong friend, and lady-in-waiting was staring at her, ready to frown.

“I was just saying that even if there is a fire right under your nose, you may still fail to see it,” she said in a chilly tone. “Something is bothering you,” Lydia nudged, slowing down her pace. Isabelle had convinced Simon, her Guardian, to take the day off, at least until the gathering later, and now she and Lydia were strolling aimlessly through the castle. The day was not even half done and the sun outside shone in bright, cheerful colors in perfect unison with the brewing excitement around the castle. The word of Elaine’s engagement and the wedding soon to follow had spread like a wildfire, giving people a new reason to gossip and an unnecessary one to fill the streets and dry out the taverns of liquor. “What is it, Isabelle? Is it Elaine’s betrothal?”

That was troubling Isabelle well enough, but there was something else that made her skin crawl, an unnerving feeling that something bad was about to happen. Isabelle nervously slid her arms down the skirts of her dress in an unnecessary attempt to straighten them. She had been having dreams again, after all this time, more vague and confusing than before.

Lydia was watching her carefully under her thin, perfect eyebrows, her full lips pursed together, almost making her mouth disappear.

“I’m just trying to figure out… why Roder?” she said, hoping that answer would make her friend drop the subject. “I mean, I understand the need for a betrothal. I do. But I can’t figure out our father’s choice. What does Roder have that we so desperately need?”

“Soldiers?” Lydia shrugged, her forehead wrinkled as she tried to come up with a better answer. “They are all soldiers, are they not? Trained, raised, and bred to fight. You know the saying, right? Fighting like a Roderian?”

“Yes, but that does not answer the question. Elador has soldiers as well. And they have a more strategic trade position and bigger population — that means more soldiers. Even Nezzalon has a powerful military and navy. I just can’t make sense of it.”

“Nobody knows the mind of the king,” Lydia said with a shrug, so Isabelle just nodded distractedly. This wasn’t the first time she failed to see through her father’s intentions and plans, but more often than not, he had been right. But this was Elaine they were talking about — her life, her happiness, her future. This wasn’t something they could easily fix if his calculations had been wrong or his plan failed. She could be ruined. She could die. “Besides, didn’t your father tell you to stay out of it? He will stop you from going if he finds out you’re planning something.”

“I would like to see him try,” Isabelle mumbled. Lydia shook her head.

“Fine, do as you wish! But would you at least tell me what is really bothering you?”

Isabelle didn’t answer at first, patiently waiting for the two servant girls to pass by them on their way down the corridor. The maids lowered their heads, slowing down their pace as if to catch a word or two from the conversation. Isabelle waited until they were far enough, grabbing Lydia by her arm and pulling her slowly forward so they could start walking again.

Maybe Lydia was right, maybe it was just all the worry and the anger from the current events taking a toll on her. She hated feeling so powerless, so useless. Sending Elaine to Roder was the last thing she would have done had she been the one on the throne. Not only because Elaine was her sister, but also because the alliance itself, as it was presented to her, made no sense.

“It’s nothing. Let’s go check on the preparations. I promised father I would make sure everything is perfect,” Isabelle added quickly, pushing aside any disturbing thoughts of the future. Dreading the uncomfortable silence and any more of her friend’s questions, she changed the subject. “So, should I expect your father to have you wed by the time I get back?” Lydia’s cheeks flushed with color. Her porcelain skin made it even more obvious, and she lowered her head to let her dark, wavy hair cover her embarrassment. “I’ve heard you’ll be meeting a suitor tonight. Lord Tadeo Gedrim? He is a good boy, and he comes from a good family. He’ll make a fine husband.”

To her surprise, Lydia pushed her hair back, grimacing at her words.

“Yes, a boy indeed. I’ve met him once already. He looks and acts like a boy. And he also has three older brothers, two of which still unwed. It raises the question of why his father would be in a hurry to marry off his youngest son,” she said in a single breath. “Something must be terribly wrong with him.” She added, following Isabelle into the next corridor. The stream of servants passing them back and forth had grown thicker, which suggested they were almost at their destination. “He is from a wealthy family, I agree, but I wonder how come he is even a suitable match! I know I am not from the royal family, but I have Niabard blood running through my veins and I am your lady! Father could marry me up! I can’t understand what he is thinking!”

Isabelle nodded silently, unsure of what more to say. Apart from being her lady-in-waiting, Lydia was her cousin as well. Isabelle’s grandfather and Lydia’s grandmother had been siblings and therefore Lydia was carrying the Niabard royal blood. Her family had lost most of their wealth in the past decade — they had vast lands but nothing grew and therefore they kept on losing and losing their fortune. Still, Lydia was a good party, even for a prince. Nathan Crewien would have been a good match, Isabelle thought. Marriage into the royal family of Keldar was a magnificent prospect, and Isabelle could use a friend when her time came to settle among the Crewiens.

With an even sourer mood, Isabelle slowed down while trying to put aside those dark thoughts. Her last visit to Keldar two years ago was supposed to be a new start for her and Reuben, a chance for them to find out what their future held. She had always known that he was going to be her husband, but it was hard to imagine something so far into the future when they were both just children.

On her last visit, Isabelle had just turned sixteen and as she was traveling toward her betrothed, she had been so terrified. It had turned out Reuben was the same boy she had played with years ago, but older, taller, and much more handsome. Isabelle had started to hope that their union wouldn’t have to be simply a contract between two kingdoms, a nightmare dressed in gold and satin.

“Isabelle?” Lydia’s voice took her out of her sudden reminiscence, and the princess decided it was high time for her to get her act together. She had sworn to herself that she wouldn’t be led by her feelings anymore and whatever her fate would bring, she’d face it with a clear head and do what she must for her people. Love was the most expensive currency, and kings and queens could rarely afford it.

“I’m sorry, Lydia. I just have a lot on my mind.”

Her lady-in-waiting sighed in defeat.

“As I said, my father won’t marry me off without your blessing. He can’t, I suppose. I am your lady and if you say ‘no’, he can’t just go against your will. He would not dare make the future queen of Keldar angry,” she said hopefully. Isabelle almost laughed, sensing the silent plea in her friend’s voice.

The two of them finally reached the main hall, only to find it crowded with servants and soldiers. Half a dozen men were raising new banners on the opposite walls of the accommodation ⁠— the lavish emerald green of Anamir immediately capturing the eye, the proud Anamiran eagle stretching its wings as if catching the wind the men caused by adjusting the flag; further down, the Roderian flag hung, heavy and dark in comparison to its new ally.

Isabelle was surprised that they even got one for the occasion, but as it seemed, it was a day to remember, so miracles were to be expected.

A few more servants pushed past them, quickly apologizing while trying to balance shiny plates with fruits, sweets, and refreshments. Most of the space was cleared out and the few round tables that remained were carefully positioned in areas where they would be out of the way. Her father’s throne sat proudly under the gigantic stained windows depicting a majestic scenery in gold, orange, and red. The smaller seat next to it, intended for the ruling queen, seemed somehow insignificant, forgotten due to the long years of vacancy.

Isabelle had sat in it on a few rare occasions when her father insisted on her attending official meetings or rituals, but it felt strange, uncomfortable. Nickolas and Elaine never even stepped close to it as if they were afraid they’ll vex their mother’s spirit ⁠— a fear that most likely originated from Alana’s spooky stories that were supposed to stop them from doing anything foolish.

“Who is that?” Lydia asked, her voice finally gaining a tone different from worry and irritation. Isabelle turned to follow her friend’s gaze, only to find that a group of nobles had formed a circle around an unfamiliar person who was politely smiling at them.

Isabelle narrowed her eyes at the tall, handsome man who carried himself with such confidence and grace that she felt foolish for not remembering his name. He was wearing a pair of dark trousers and an overcoat embroidered with a golden thread on the chest and sleeves that shone almost as bright as his blonde hair. His clothes looked expensive, with a Kalevian cut, accentuating his broad shoulders and slender waist. His face was long and insanely proportionate, with a pair of striking blue eyes. The ease with which he commanded the attention of the small crowd around him was astonishing.

“Do you know him? He is gorgeous!” Lydia whispered, her cheeks flushing with color again. She turned around to hide in case he glanced in their direction, but Isabelle kept staring at him instead, trying to figure out why she could not recall his name. She had memorized all the important noble family trees years ago and while she did have to refresh her memory once in a while for any new members, this man was older than her, so he should have definitely been on her list.

The stranger looked in their direction and even though they were on opposite sides of the hall, she could tell he was staring back. He neither smiled nor nodded, he didn’t give her any form of acknowledgment at all. He simply stared ⁠— a long, appraising glance that made her uncomfortable in her own skin. And then it was over ⁠— the stranger excused himself with an elegant bow and left the hall in a rush.

Lydia had composed herself at that point and turned around to find the crowd dispersing. Her eyes filled with disappointment, and she let out an exasperated sigh. Those who noticed the two girls quickly greeted them with respectful nods or curtsies, but Isabelle’s grim expression stopped them from starting a conversation.

“Where did he go? Did you see him? Who was he?” Lydia continued her one-sided questioning, her calm and composed self suddenly overcome by a foolish gabbing. Isabelle was frowning at the space where the man had disappeared, trying to recall the familiarity of his face. His hair, pure gold mixed with light brown, reminded her of Reuben and his family. Most of them had taken likeness to their mother’s light hair and skin, which was not that uncommon among the Keldarians. There was something else in the features of the stranger, though, a certain sharpness, and an unnerving, pernicious look in his blue eyes.

“His name is Claus, and he is from Kalevia.” A voice announced behind them and the girls turned, almost jumping in surprise. Nickolas stepped closer, hands behind his back as if he was wearing the weight of the world on his frail shoulders. Isabelle found it extremely sad ⁠— at his extremely fragile age, her brother seemed so burdened, so distressed. Despite his soft features and childish expression, his eyes held maturity a few thirteen-winters-old could possess. “If you must know,” he added, nodding at Lydia, who rewarded him with a generous smile.

“Aren’t you full of information?” Isabelle said sarcastically, immediately regretting her rude tone. She had stopped being angry at Nickolas a long time ago because she knew very well how intense their father could get when he wanted a secret to remain a secret. She had to keep way too many things from her siblings and she hated lying to them, but she still did as commanded, more often than not.

‘They are better off not knowing, Isabelle, trust me,’ her father always said.

Nickolas’ smile faltered, but he tried to keep it up for appearance's sake. Nobody looked at them directly but Isabelle could feel every set of eyes in the hall secretly stealing glances at them, eager to find something to gossip about. A quarrel between the crown prince and the future queen of Keldar seemed like an interesting subject. She was sure that by midnight there would be rumors about how Anamir and Keldar would declare war on each other, each army led by one of the two estranged siblings.

“As a matter of fact, I am,” Nickolas said evenly, his enthusiasm irreversibly gone. Lydia looked around awkwardly as if sensing the sudden change of mood. “I already had the pleasure of meeting him. I hear he is here with his cousin, Byron, the oldest son of the House Britton. I thought you’d be interested to hear about this, Isabelle, but apparently, I was wrong.”

The boy glared at her for a moment, his stubborn jaw clenching tightly as he tried his best not to show his frustration. It took him a few seconds to compose himself, and Isabelle was truly impressed by the control her baby brother had over his emotions. She sometimes had a hard time keeping them bottled up, which often led to disasters.

“I’ll go find Corelle,” Lydia said with a hesitant smile, her eyes jumping from one to another. “And I’ll order a bath prepared for you, Izzy, so don’t be long. Your dress is probably ready as well. Excuse me, Your Grace,” she smiled at the boy before swiftly passing him by. His eyes followed her departing figure with silent admiration, and this time Isabelle refrained from any comment. Her brother was young and while he was good at keeping calm in meetings and following their father’s orders, he was completely lost when it came to the wonders of a woman’s beauty.

“Nickolas,” Isabelle called his name, and he jumped, turning to face her. He swallowed loudly, pretending that nothing had happened. “I didn’t mean to sound rude.”

“Of course you didn’t,” he said in the same flat tone. Isabelle felt her anger snarling at the back of her mind, but she silenced it, tilting her head to the side. “I came here, against my better judgment, to share with you something, but apparently I’ve made a mistake. It won’t happen again!”

He turned to leave, but Isabelle carefully caught his arm. She did not move or try to stop him, but he froze, slowly turning in a few seconds. She raised an eyebrow, urging him to carry on. Isabelle could not remember how many times she had been told that a queen does not apologize or admit a mistake. Doubt and hesitation were deadly for one’s reputation, and she was the future queen of the most wealthy and powerful kingdom in the world. She had forgotten what an apology felt like.

“Fine,” Nickolas sighed and his sister immediately unhanded him, taking a step closer as he lowered his voice. “You know that father allows me to attend all of his meetings, take part in the assemblies and listen to their decisions?” Isabelle nodded impatiently. “I just found out that I’ve been allowed to attend only some of them.”

She made him a sign to continue.

“I was looking for father last night. I had a few things I wanted to discuss with him when I stumbled upon two of the guards in front of his study. They did not let me in. They said he had a meeting, and they were not to let me or anyone else in. But as you know, two guards are not something that can stop me.”

Isabelle smiled at the same time her brother grinned, and for a moment the whole tension and unspoken apologies that hung in the air disappeared. Then the moment passed.

“You know the secret servant door we found a few years ago?” Nickolas asked, a spark of excitement glimmering in his eyes. Isabelle nodded. “Well, I snuck in and tried to find out what the meeting was about.”

“So, what did you find?” Isabelle crossed her hands impatiently, which brought a pleased smile to Nickolas’ face.

“They almost caught me while I was trying to get closer. I’m pretty sure father knew I was there, but he did not say anything and when I saw him today, he said nothing as well.” Isabelle cleared her throat, and he nodded, rolling his eyes. “Alright, alright. They were speaking about Elaine’s wedding,” the princess frowned, almost ready to get angry at her brother for wasting her time when he continued, “your wedding also, and mine. They were planning the dates and father insisted that Elaine’s had to happen first, even before yours. He even mentioned that king Reid had sent a very aggressive letter after learning that he is letting Elaine marry while he keeps postponing your wedding.”

Isabelle stared, dumbfounded.

“He has been postponing my wedding?” she exclaimed louder than she intended, and Nickolas glanced cautiously around. “Why? Not that I am in a rush to marry, but... I thought Keldar was delaying, not us.”

“I did not stick around to hear the reason, but that was what he said. He said that Roder had to be secured first, that they needed us more than Keldar did. I didn’t understand that, to be honest, but who knows what goes on in the mind of a king?” Isabelle was tired of hearing people saying that. Her mind kept jumping from one speculation to another, and her temples quickly began to throb.

“There is more,” Nickolas added, her attention quickly returning to her brother. “There were less than half a dozen advisers with him. When was the last time he excluded his own advisers from a meeting?”

“He doesn’t trust all of them,” Isabelle whispered. Not that she was surprised; she hardly trusted her own maids not to gossip around, but comparing a servant to any powerful nobleman from her father’s Council was laughable. All of those men were heads of mighty families, wealthy, old, well-respected families with connections, aspirations, and their own network of spies. If any of them found out the king had excluded them from any such event, or let alone — that he planned to replace them — then King Reid’s aggressive letters were going to be the least of Animir’s worries. “You can’t repeat this to anyone, Nickolas, do you hear me?”

He pulled back, an offended look quickly covering his face.

“I know, I’m not stupid!” he snapped. “This is not the first time I risk everything to give you information, Isabelle. You seemed to have forgotten that.”

“I assure you I have not,” she replied quickly, rubbing her temple for a second before raising her chin and planting a smile on her face. “Thank you. I’ll see what else I can find. Let me know if you discover anything else.” She reached out and squeezed his shoulder fondly. “We should go. We both have a ball to prepare for.”