The drive was a much-needed change from the last few days. They were headed east of the palace, a direction she hadn’t been yet. At first there were towns with houses and shops that zoomed by her window, but the scenery eventually changed to open, green fields with the occasional farmhouse. The mountains surrounding them had changed too. In some places, there weren’t any mountains at all. In other places, the mountains were brown and desert-looking instead of stacked with pine trees. Eventually, Renna could see the ruins off in the distance. A few dilapidated buildings scattered the skyline beyond.
“It must have been a city,” she said as she slammed the transporter door behind her.
Mangum looked around at the scene. “Yes, a small one, I think.”
Renna ran toward the rubble, calling behind her as she went, “It’s amazing!”
For more than an hour, she climbed through the area, touching structures, examining parts of buildings, imagining people coming and going. It was the most significant area with the tallest fragments of buildings she had ever seen. Ruins were commonplace, but not like this, not this much in one area. Mangum was always close behind her, warning her to be careful, telling her not to climb on that, telling her things were unstable, or too sharp to touch. She had to laugh at his fatherly ways.
She sat atop stairs that were still intact, like a bird perched on a tree branch. The remains of the rundown city square sprawled across the land around her. Behind her, decaying pillars threatened to tumble over from years of neglect. A diamond and the words Bank of Colorado were etched into what was left of the building.
Desolation—so much emptiness and destruction. The last few days had been her own personal desolation. She was empty, hollow, and ruined everywhere. She thought about the pre-Desolation world and its people. They’d had it all, and then everything had come crumbling down. They’d lost everything. Renna had been like that pre-Desolation world. She’d had everything she could ever want with Trev. Then he had been ripped away by external forces, and there was nothing she could do about it.
She wondered about the Desolation survivors. Would she ever be able to rebuild again like they did, to start completely over with nothing? There would always be fragments of Trev that remained—cutting into her mind and heart like the jagged pieces of metal and concrete that jutted out of the ground before her. He was a part of her story now, but he wouldn’t be the only chapter. She knew, sitting there, that she couldn’t let this experience cripple her. She was a survivor. She had already lost somebody she loved once before. Nothing would ever hurt as much as losing her father had, and she had survived that. She would survive this too. She would rebuild again. Her unconquerable spirit would see her through.
A soft breeze blew through her hair, cool enough to remind her that summer was over. The warmth would soon fade, allowing room for something new. She would miss Trev like she missed summertime when in the depths of winter, but winter ice eventually thawed into a beautiful spring, a new beginning. She just needed to figure out what her new beginning would be.
“Miss Renna? Are you ready to go?” Mangum asked from the steps below.
She looked at Mangum. For the past four years, he had been steady, helping her, coaxing her along in her new life at the Government Center—always trying to keep her safe. And yet, she didn’t know anything about him.
“Mangum, have you ever been in love?” She hoped her question didn’t sound too personal.
He seemed surprised but answered anyway. “Once.” He climbed the steps, so he was right in front of her.
“Who was she? What happened?”
“Jarie Swire.” Slowly, he lowered his body, sitting down next to Renna. “And I married her.”
“I didn’t know you were married. Where is your wife now?” Renna wanted all the details.
Mangum rested his elbows on his knees. “There’s a lot about me you don’t know.”
Renna watched him patiently, hoping he would tell a piece of his story to her.
“There’s not much to tell. We were in love, got married. I left King Bryant’s service to go and work on the Swire Farm. We were happy.” His voice trailed off as if his mind was lost in another time.
“What happened?” Renna pressed.
“We had a baby. A beautiful little girl named Paulette.” Mangum looked at Renna, his eyes full of lost love. “She would have been just a little older than you. The cutest little thing, but she didn’t live long. She was born with a crooked back, and who knows what else. So we just loved her. Made her comfortable. We had three good years with Paulette.” His eyes filled with tears. “They were my best three years.”
Renna’s heart broke just looking at him. Sometimes she felt like she was the only one who went through hard things but talking to Mangum made her realize that everyone had heartache. All you had to do was ask.
“We tried to move on after Paulette passed, but Jarie and I saw things differently. Grief consumed her, and there was no consolation. After a few years, we decided it would be best if I left and went back to King Bryant’s guard. She stayed at the farm.”
“Is she still there?”
“Yes.” His voice grew stronger like he was over the worst part of the story. “I visited her a year ago. We’re still married—but it’s not the same.”
Renna put her hand on his arm. “I’m sorry.”
Mangum shrugged. “Sometimes, life comes from behind and scares you so badly that it takes your breath away.” He patted her hand, leaving his on top. “But don’t worry. You will breathe again.”
Renna leaned her head against his shoulder, missing her own father more than ever. She was grateful for Mangum—grateful for his comfort and words of advice. He wasn’t Kimball Degray, but he didn’t need to be. He filled a void in her heart, and his assistance couldn’t have come at a better time.
She was ready to breathe again.
39
Trev
Smoke swirled and faded into the orange sunrise hovering above the Axville camp. Albion soldiers circled around fires savoring the heat against the chilly morning air. Two miles away, at the enemy’s camp, Trev could see similar patches of smoke dancing upward, most likely warming Tolsten soldiers. Albion had been fighting for the last few weeks, pushing back Tolsten soldiers who crossed the border, trying to take residence in Axville.
The town was unrecognizable. Houses and factories were partially burned. Roofs were scorched. Windows were broken, leaving a spray of glass everywhere. But none of that even compared to the tragedy of the missing girls, taken by a group of Tolsten soldiers. Eight teenage girls were missing. They had been gathered together by the riverbank, friends chatting after a long day of work in the factory. The soldiers had watched them, waiting to make a move. The girls hadn’t stood a chance. And now, there were still no answers to their whereabouts. King Adler denied Tolsten’s involvement, claiming the girls could have been taken by anyone, but Trev knew better.
“It’s mighty good of you to come, Your Highness.” A skinny-to-the-bone woman squeezed Trev’s hand, pulling him out of his own thoughts. “We’ve been scared out of our wits for our young girls.”
“I’m scared too,” Trev admitted. “But we’re doing everything we can to find them.”
A tall man spoke up. He was balding, hanging on to his last pieces of hair, spreading them across his scalp like sprawled out fingers. “What’dya think Tolsten meant by it? Kidnapping our girls like that. Do they want war?”
Concerned murmurs rippled through the crowd of villagers.
“I want to promise that Tolsten can’t hurt you, but I can’t do that. Your village knows how relentless Tolsten can be. You had to live through their invasion a few weeks ago. You had to see your young girls dragged away.”
Trev’s eyes swept across the people listening intently to his voice, hanging on every last word. From the bottom of his heart, he wanted to help them, to find their daughters, to give them hope of a better future. “What I can promise is that you won’t be alone. Our soldiers wil
l stay here and help protect you while we get things straightened out so you can have your land and your homes back. I can also promise we are doing everything in our power back at the palace to keep the peace between Tolsten and Albion so that this doesn’t end in a war.”
“What about the election? Your father is out in a couple of months,” a young man shouted from the crowd.
“Yeah! Who will protect us then?” another man stepped forward.
This was the perfect moment to make an election pitch, to say something energizing like, Rah, rah! Vote for me! That’s what his father would do, what his father would want Trev to do. But that’s not what these people needed. They needed something they could hold on to and believe in. They needed confidence in their government and the Council of Essentials.
“Axville matters to me. Your families, your jobs, your lives all matter to me. As long as I have a say, your village will be protected,” Trev replied.
“You have our vote, my lord!” the crowd cheered.
“Don’t worry about that right now.” Trev didn’t want this visit to be anything about the campaign. He truly was concerned about the welfare of these people. “We have set up a tent with supplies. Please visit the officers over there for anything that you may need. If we don’t have something, let them know. I’m sure we can send for more supplies if necessary.”
He spent the afternoon among the people. Trev and his men helped rebuild parts of homes and barns that had been damaged by Tolsten soldiers. It felt good to work, to get his hands dirty, to think of others before himself. When he laid his head down later that night, his body tired from heavy labor, he was sure he would fall right to sleep, but rest wouldn’t come, not with thoughts of Renna filling his head.
The weight of his marriage and his future were like a ton of bricks on his chest. He rolled to his side, trying to ease the suffocating feeling, but nothing worked. When he had promised Seran he would let go of Renna, he’d meant it. But the inescapable ache inside his heart made Trev wonder if he had what it took.
Forgetting her should have been easier than this.
40
Renna
Renna sat with Seran’s friends in the dressmaker’s room, waiting for Seran to appear in her wedding gown. Fluffy pink couches had been brought in and positioned in a semi-circle around the long mirror. In front of the sofas, trays of food had been laid out for the women to snack on.
“Oh, this is so much fun!” Lizanne’s excitement bubbled out of her like an overdrawn bath. “I can’t wait to see Seran’s dress. I know it’s going to be exquisite.”
Jenica plopped a strawberry in her mouth but still managed to get an insult out. “Would you calm down? It’s not your wedding.”
Lizanne’s voice was timid. “I know. I’m just happy for my friend.”
Renna gave Lizanne an encouraging smile, admiring how Lizanne’s beautiful red hair stood out against her pale skin.
Sheridan leaned forward, taking some grapes. “Did you know they had the fabric for her dress brought in from the kingdom of Cristole?”
“We were all there when she told us that,” Jenica sneered.
Queen Mariele popped her head around the curtain. “Okay, ladies. Are you ready for the big reveal?”
There was genuine excitement in her mother’s voice—something that had never been present for Renna. It was strange watching her mother act like that for someone else. The curtains were pulled aside, and Seran gracefully stepped in front of them.
The room of women, including Renna, all gasped in unison. Seran looked beautiful in her simple, yet elegant wedding gown. White silk hugged her body, coming up high to the base of her neck then squaring off across her collarbone and shoulders. Billowing sleeves ended just below her elbows. Her tiny waist was accentuated as if it had been cinched together by the dress itself. Silk fabric fell straight to the floor barely above her toes in front, but in the back, it trailed long behind her. Pearls and crystals lined the edges of the dress in a classic way. Seran’s black hair was slicked back at her forehead, the veil resting on top. The rest of her glossy, straight hair rested neatly around her shoulders and chest, the coal-black contrasting perfectly against the white dress.
Renna always thought it was odd that a culture that attached so much emphasis and prestige to color would choose to wear a white wedding dress. It was one of the pre-Desolation traditions that had stuck all these years later.
Her friends jumped to their feet, gathering around her, gushing over every detail. Renna slowly followed behind. She stared with admiration at Seran until her mother caught her eye. There was the pity look again. Renna put on her best smile to reassure her mother. She didn’t want to ruin this moment for her mother or Seran.
“You look stunning,” Renna said from the back of the crowd.
Seran glanced at Renna, a timid look in her eyes. “Do you think he’ll like it?”
Why was Seran asking her?
“How could he not?”
It was true. How could Trev not think she was the most beautiful woman alive when she walked down the aisle toward him? The thought of that moment flashing through her mind made Renna realize something; she didn’t want to be there. There was no need for her to be at the wedding—no need for her to see how the story would end. Her father had told her enough fairy tales for her to know that they would live happily ever after. At this point, she was only a distraction—a hurdle in the way of Seran’s happily-ever-after.
The luncheon was cleaned up. The dress taken off. The room cleared out, except for Renna. She remained on the fluffy couch, planning her future.
“There you are. I thought you had gone to your room.” Her mother walked toward the couch, sitting on the edge next to Renna. They had fallen into a polite routine since the night of the ball. They hadn’t spoken of the kiss or any of the other problems between them, but here her mother was. She had come back for her. That was more than Trev had done.
Renna stared at Queen Mariele, the woman who had held so many secrets and heartaches for years. Renna used to pray that her mother would let her guard down. Pray that she could understand what was going on in her mind. Now she did. She was more like her mother than she had ever thought. Mariele was the one person who could understand her pain. The one person who knew what it was like to love a prince and give him up. The realization flooded her with heavy emotion. Her nose tingled as her eyes welled up with tears.
“I’m sorry, Mom,” she said, her voice ragged.
“Oh, Renna.” Her mother grasped her shoulders, pulling her close. “Don’t cry.”
But it was too late. Tears rushed down her cheeks, rolling onto her neck, wetting her mother’s hair and shoulder.
“I know how much you’re hurting right now, but all is not lost. You will find happiness again.”
Renna shook her head against her mother’s neck. “It took you a long time.”
Mariele stroked the back of her hair as she spoke. “You have your father’s strength inside you. You’re much stronger than I ever was, and you’ll be okay.”
Renna pulled back and wiped at her eyes. “I want to ask you something.”
Her mother nodded for her to continue.
“I’d like to move back to Wellenbreck Farm. I own it, after all. Father left it to me.”
Mariele looked perplexed. “Why would you want to do that? The Government Center is so much more comfortable than Wellenbreck. And . . . you’d be all alone.”
“I wouldn’t be alone. I’d have Nellie and Preetis with me.” Renna swiped at her cheeks again, brushing away the last remnants of her tears.
Her mother shook her head. “No. No, we couldn’t possibly do that. The next few months are going to be difficult for you. You should be surrounded by people that love you.”
“I’ve never felt like I fit in in New Hope and I can’t bear to be there when Trev and Seran come to visit for the Council of Essentials in January. I can’t do it. I belong at Wellenbreck now more than ever. Please, let me
go home.”
Her mother let out a sigh. “I suppose you living at Wellenbreck for a little while wouldn’t hurt.”
Renna lurched forward, giving her mother another hug. “Thank you!”
“Don’t get too excited. This isn’t permanent.”
“I know, but I’m still excited.”
Her mother pulled away but kept her hands resting on top of Renna’s. “Would you like to leave before the wedding?”
Renna bit her lip as fresh tears pooled in her eyes.
Her mother swallowed back her own emotion. “I couldn’t have watched Bryant marry Isadora.”
“I don’t think I can do it either,” Renna admitted, fighting to keep the tears in her eyes.
“I’ll arrange everything,” her mother said, squeezing her hand. “Don’t you worry about a thing.”
41
Renna
The week of the wedding had arrived, despite the groom’s absence. Renna had no complaints, though. His absence gave her the space to breathe freely, and to roam around the palace.
Guests were beginning to arrive. The palace staff was busy preparing rooms, decorating for the wedding, and cooking lavish meals. The feeling throughout the place was electric. Renna even found herself getting caught up in the buzz. It was easy without Trev around. Easy to pretend this wasn’t his wedding. Just Seran’s.
“Your Majesty.” Mangum bowed excitedly before the queen. The New Hope women were gathered in the royal sitting room after a lovely Sunday brunch with some of the wedding guests. “A New Hope rider just arrived. King Bryant will arrive shortly.”
Mariele clapped her hands in joy. “Oh!” She looked at Seran with the happiest of smiles. “He’s here! We must go greet him.” The queen jumped to her feet. “Did you notify King Carver of his arrival?”
Mangum nodded. “Yes, they are preparing for him now.”
The Promised Prince: A YA Dystopian Romance Page 26