by Jayden Woods
Tomorrow night marked the winter solstice. The wedding plans neared fruition. The ceremony was practiced, the script written. Tomorrow morning, Chief Abrax would ride into Dearen with his one thousand hordesfolk. He would take Fayr’s hand in marriage and thus the two nations would unite.
Fayr’s maids tried to hold a celebration for her on the night of her wedding. But no matter how hard she tried, Fayr could not throw her heart into the festivities. She bathed in milk and drank spiced vino. The maids braided her hair and traded naughty tales of their adventures with men. Princess Fayr had told no one of her own experience with Darius, as strange and forbidden as it had been. She most certainly would not do so now.
Eventually, she felt she would not be able to hold in her tears, so she asked them all to leave. Only Jeevu, who Fayr had allowed to partake in some of the games, stayed behind. He stayed with her by the window and played a melody for her as she gazed upon the stars.
“Princess,” he said suddenly, stopping in the middle of a song. “Perhaps you should not marry Chief Abrax.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Jeevu!” she snapped. “It’s what I must do. You must not weaken my resolve right now. I am too fragile as it is without the poison of your sentiments!”
“But Princess, all the kingdom looks to you now for happiness. If you are not happy, then what are we?”
Fayr scoffed at the irony of it all.
“Majesty.” Jeevu bowed down before her, wrapping her cold hand with his slender fingers. His copper hair flowed in waves along his arms. He looked up at her with eyes that would melt an iceberg. “Beautiful princess. Did you know I’ve made a new friend of late?” He drew back slightly with a blush. “I’d like us to be more than friends, actually, but I’m not sure if he feels the same as I do. Anyway, can you guess who he is?”
Fayr tossed her shoulders with a violent shrug. She couldn’t care less right now about Jeevu’s romantic adventures.
“He is Gregor. Chief Darius’s slave?”
She froze with surprise.
“Even though he was Darius’s slave, he is nearly as destroyed by his master’s disappearance as you are. Well, maybe not as much, but the fact remains: he had grown rather attached to Darius as a master. He also seems somewhat obsessed with the events of the day your brother … er, the day so many people died. He says he’s determined to get to the bottom of it all, for he’s certain there’s more to it than meets the eye. The strangest part is that he talks as if he knows Chief Darius is still alive.”
Fayr could not help herself. Her heart fluttered with hope. Her hands gripped Jeevu’s a little more tightly. “But the bodies in the dungeon ...”
“Gregor says he saw Darius bring more bodies than Leonard Khan’s into the dungeon. He has gone over the details with me many times. He is obsessed, you see! And I listen to him ramble, just to be nice.” He smiled shyly at this, but he could see that Fayr was not amused, so he pushed on gravely. “Well, he says Darius spoke as if he was preparing to leave the palace. As if he knew he might never return!”
“I don’t understand.” Fayr’s nails dug into Jeevu’s skin.
He winced a little, but continued. “Darius told Gregor to collect his things and meet him at one of the gates. So Gregor went there and waited with Darius’s horse. He says that out of nowhere, someone knocked him out and rode off on Darius’s horse. He doesn’t remember much other than that. But he suspects it was Darius. He says that Darius’s steed was quite picky, you see, and kicked almost anyone off other than the chief himself!”
“Stop!” Fayr threw Jeevu’s hands from hers and rose to her feet. She turned away from him in a whirl of white silk. Then she clawed at her ears with her fingers. “I won’t listen to any more of this! It is foolishness! The whole palace was in an uproar that day! Who knows who it might have been?”
“But Princess, don’t you think it’s possible that—”
“GET OUT!” The slap of her hand against his cheek sent a resounding crack through the chamber. She had never stricken an inferior like that, especially someone she loved as much as Jeevu. But tonight, her heart was one of stone. What good was it to love anyone right now? She snarled through her teeth to repeat herself once more, for the minstrel had gone stiff with shock. “Get out.”
He picked up his harp, clutched it to himself like a shield, and finally obeyed.
Fayr sat down on her bed and remained there unmoving. She no longer even felt the need to cry. She felt almost nothing at all. If this was how she must remain to survive, so be it.
She did not know how long she sat there. She did not want to sleep; she did not want to dream. Instead she watched as gray clouds crawled across the moon and stars. The night thickened and cold frost crept over the stones of her window. Candles melted to their sticks and flames drowned in the churning wax. Fayr sensed the dawn soon upon her. She could feel it crawling into Dearen like a rat scratching at the walls. Not long from now, she would receive word of Abrax’s army. It was only a matter of time.
At last, knuckles rapped against her door.
“Come in,” she said without emotion.
She had expected Sir Gornum, and there he was. But to her surprise, Jeevu stood next to him, as did the fellow he had talked so much about: Gregor. The slave wore a strange expression on his face, stern and resolute, as one who has just found proof in his convictions.
“It’s true, Princess!” cried Jeevu. “Gregor was right!”
“My master lives,” said the slave.
Fayr turned desperately to the Master of the Royal Guard, whose face was white as a sheet. “Gornum?”
“It’s true,” rasped Gornum. “Chief Darius … he has returned.”