Ignoring the renewed attention from the crowd, both negative and positive, Jahrra finally dared to look at the prince. He was no longer gazing down the long throne room, but watching her. That fierce look in his eyes had softened, his jaw not clenched so tight any longer. Jahrra stiffened and lowered her eyes while lifting her chin. She dared him to chastise her for her outburst. In fact, she almost wished he would. She was all geared up for a fight and ready to take on the most dangerous opponent. Right now, that was the prince of Oescienne.
Instead, he only ducked his head, a gesture of respectful acknowledgment, and resumed his place on the throne after returning his sword to its scabbard.
“Let us continue,” he drawled, his deep voice carrying throughout the hall.
Ellyesce returned to his place behind the podium, and Denaeh, who had remained silent during the entire exchange, slowly sat down in her own chair. She cast a concerned look at Ellyesce, but he only gave a small shake of his head, a tiny smile curving the corner of his mouth.
Midday melted into early afternoon, but no one else came before the prince making exorbitant demands. Jahrra once again subsided into a numb cloud, paying little attention to the droning of Resai, Nesnan, human, and even dragon citizens stepping forward to meet their monarch.
Jahrra was ready to inform Denaeh she couldn’t sit still for much longer when someone declared before Prince Aeron, “Your highness, we have come to bid you welcome, but to also beg a boon of you.”
Jahrra’s eyes, which had been closed while she rested her head against her chair back, flew open. There, kneeling before the king, were two other Resai elves, also a brother and a sister. But this time, the joy that suffused Jahrra’s heart was real and pure and most welcome.
“Gieaun!” she cried, jumping to her feet. “Scede!”
The young man and woman who had been bowing their heads to the prince in respect, glanced up to smile at their friend. Jahrra watched as tears welled in Gieaun’s eyes.
“What my sister is trying to say, your highness, is that we’d like to escort Jahrra to Lake Ossar for the rest of the afternoon.”
The prince eyed them, his expression curious as he glanced to Ellyesce. The Magehn merely lifted his eyebrows, the only change to the sober expression on his face.
“That decision isn’t up to me,” Aeron finally replied. All the steely authority he’d used with Eydeth and Ellysian gone.
As he turned his eyes onto Jahrra, she stared back, trying her best not to look too eager. Perhaps she was mistaken, but something shivered across his expression then. The tightness in his features, the hard line of his mouth softening. The corner of his lips curved up, almost a smirk if not for the crinkling around the corners of his eyes. If Jahrra didn’t know any better, she’d say the prince was as pleased as she was for the offer.
Shaking off the sudden tingling in her arms and legs, Jahrra dropped her gaze back to her best friends. She hadn’t seen them since before that day she and Jaax left Oescienne. They had been the tether to keep her grounded so many times during her childhood, and no matter how many times she led them into trouble, they always stayed by her side. She could feel the tears swelling in her own eyes. If she were ever to heal, perhaps Gieaun and Scede could be the starting point.
“Jahrra is more than welcome to take her leave and join you if she wishes.”
As if she would obey him if he commanded otherwise. Jahrra leapt from her spot behind the desk, and darted forward, wrapping her arms around both Gieaun and Scede at the same time. The trio laughed in delight, causing quite a scene, at least until Jahrra led them from the grand hall and up to the suite Denaeh had showed her to earlier that day.
“My extra clothes should have arrived by now,” she said with a smile as she led her friends inside.
Gieaun gawked at the spacious room, and Scede whistled as his fingers traced the fine writing desk set against one wall.
“I can’t believe you’re actually here,” Gieaun breathed, falling against the giant bed in the center of the room. “We heard so many stories pouring in from Lidien, then Nimbronia, and just before you arrived back in Oescienne, from Dhonoara.”
She sat up and cast her brother a haunted look, one he returned.
“We were so worried about you,” Scede admitted, coming to sit next to the two young women on the bed. “We didn’t know if you’d survive the war or not. And then, we got word about Jaax.”
His voice caught, and Gieaun’s lip trembled. The emotion Jahrra always kept at bay jerked against its chain, threatening to break free. Trying not to think about her guardian, she instead studied her friends. They looked almost the same, except for a little maturing around the eyes. Scede sported a short beard and mustache, and Gieaun’s face was a little slimmer. But the Resai woman was still her joyous, affable friend and the young man who was her sibling still exuded that quiet pensiveness he’d always possessed.
Before she could start crying again, Jahrra clapped her hands together. “Please, let’s not talk about the war just yet. We are wasting daylight. Let’s go!”
The three of them found Phrym, as well as Bhun and Aimhe, Gieaun’s and Scede’s horses, in the royal stables. Phrym, according to Gieaun, had greeted them with a rather enthusiastic whinny when they first came riding up about an hour before.
“He was happy to see us, too,” she piped as they took the reins from the attentive stable hands.
Before long, the three of them were racing down the Great Sloping Hill, the guard tower, like the castle, fully restored and occupied by men who had been called to form the royal guard. When they finally did reach Lake Ossar, the sun was only a couple hours from setting.
“We can’t stay long, I’m afraid,” Jahrra complained. “I just moved into the castle today, and I’m sure Denaeh and Ellyesce have plans to get me settled in.”
They dismounted their horses, then found a comfortable patch of grass beside the shore. Autumn was in full swing, but the weather had not yet turned stormy, so they enjoyed the warm sunshine while they could. For a few hours, the three of them took turns filling one another in. Jahrra learned Gieaun was helping her parents with their ranch, while Scede had recently become engaged to Kihna. Both Jahrra and Gieaun teased him, but he only brushed aside their lighthearted taunting. Jahrra’s tale was much longer, and although she wasn’t able to tell them the entirety of it that afternoon, she covered most of the main events: going to the University in Lidien with Torrell, Senton, and Dathian, her adventures on the road to Cahrdyarein and Nimbronia, meeting the Creecemind dragons, and finally, the journey to Dhonoara and the war. She didn’t speak much about the war, and her friends didn’t push.
By the time the three of them returned to the castle, twilight had settled in. Jahrra hugged her friends goodbye, promising to spend time with them in the future, when she got the chance, then gave Phrym one more scratch before heading back into the stone fortress. As she approached, she slowed her pace and took a moment to admire the castle from the outside. It was truly a beautiful fortress, especially lit up with the many torches and candles gleaming from the windows and crenellated walkways. As she continued towards the main gates, the guards stepped aside, recognizing her on sight. Jahrra waved to them as she passed, and when she finally stepped into the main entrance hall, she found Dervit waiting for her.
“There you are!” he exclaimed. “Everyone is in the dining hall, waiting for you.”
Jahrra froze, the pleasant aftermath of spending the afternoon with her dear friends evaporating away in an instant.
“Who is waiting for me?”
“Ellyesce, Denaeh,” Dervit ticked off on his fingers. “Prince Aeron and his court.”
Instantly, and inexplicably, Jahrra’s irritation spiked, and she was back to where she started before Denaeh dragged her into the throne room that morning. She would not deny the prince, so far, had proved to be a fair and attentive sovereign, but there was still the fact she had just moved into the castle and hadn’t even had a chance to e
xplore yet, let alone settle in. And, he expected her to attend a formal dinner with the courtiers and delegates? After spending almost an entire day listening to a parade of people welcome him home? Jahrra had had enough of nobles and their politics for the time being. Besides, a small voice within her crooned, you can’t forget the fact he let others fight his war for him.
Jahrra gritted her teeth. Ah, yes. That little detail she had been keeping at the back of her mind to avoid just this sort of mood. It was too late now. With a huff of exasperation, Jahrra waved Dervit off and muttered, “I’m tired and not hungry. I ate with Gieaun and Scede at Lake Ossar. I think I’ll get cleaned up and go to bed early. I’d like to explore the castle in the morning.”
Dervit gaped at her. “But they’re expecting you!”
Jahrra wheeled on him, and the limbit leapt back with a cry of surprise. Her tightly-capped anger burst forth with her words.
“I am not some spectacle, Dervit! I am not a treasure to be gawked at by the citizens of Oescienne, some of the same people who once dismissed me as nothing more than a poor, orphaned Nesnan unworthy of their time or concern.”
She drew in a deep breath, trying to calm this sudden rush of anger, but a quick glance at Dervit had Jahrra dropping her face into her hands. Who did she think she was fooling? Those three days spent in the swamp, reflecting on her unsettled emotions, had not been enough. She had been an idiot to think moving into the castle would help her get her life back on track. All the glamour and luxury of the palace of Oescienne was only a ruse. New and cursed no longer it may be, but that did not erase the fact the castle had once been nothing but a ruin. And the somewhat normal exterior she displayed to the world was the exact same thing: a mask to hide the turmoil within. Her time with Gieaun and Scede had been a gift, and for a few glorious hours, she had almost forgotten all that had happened to her during the war.
Now, being in the castle and around all those people happy and free of their curse, she was reminded every single minute of what was missing in her life. And, being around the prince only made it that much worse. If anything, if anyone, represented the bitterness that now plagued her heart, it was him. The prince returned, unmarked by the war, to live the life her lost friends should have had.
“But, Jahrra,” Dervit muttered quietly, eyeing the silent guards standing along the walls throughout the grand hall, “Prince Aeron asked me specifically to find you and bring you back.”
Jahrra lowered her hands, and with them the calm facade she had been struggling to keep in place. “And, you can tell him, he is perfectly capable of enjoying his meal without me.”
She turned and began walking towards the massive staircase leading up to the upper floors.
“But he’s the prince of Oescienne!” Dervit shouted after her. “He is the rightful sovereign of this province. You can’t just ignore him, or avoid him! If not for you, the Crimson King would still be alive and quite possibly wreaking havoc in the provinces in the east. Your actions freed the Tanaan prince. You freed all of us! He just wants to show his appreciation, Jahrra.”
Jahrra spun on her heel and snarled at the limbit, “And if not for him, Jaax and Kehllor and everyone else who fell beneath Ciarrohn’s wrath might still be alive! He can show his appreciation by leaving me alone.”
Dervit went utterly still, his ears drooping a little, his brown eyes growing sad. Jahrra hadn’t noticed before, but the vest he now wore bore the colors of the royal house of Oescienne: rich green and gold, in the same pattern she’d seen on the livery of the other servants and soldiers residing in the castle. For some reason, it reeked of betrayal to her. Yet, Dervit hadn’t been the only one. She hadn’t missed those colors on Ellyesce in the throne room earlier, or how Denaeh had greeted the prince with the warmth of an old friend. How could her friends fall so easily to Aeron’s charms? It only twisted the knife deeper.
“Goodnight, Dervit,” Jahrra said, her voice cool, calm. “Tell the prince whatever you want. I don’t care.”
And then, she fled up the stairs, the tears gathering at the back of her throat pushing their way free as she sought the solace of her room. Once there, she fell into her bed and cried until sleep took her.
-Chapter Thirty-Three-
A Rather Eventful Evening
For the next few days, Jahrra managed to avoid the prince as she took her time getting to know the castle. Not that it mattered. She didn’t plan on staying forever, just long enough to convince her friends she had given this new life a decent try. In the evenings, she would retire to her suite, claiming she was tired or didn’t feel well. Behind those doors, she would sit on her grand bed and stare at the fire, for the nights had grown cool enough to require one. She would go over the past months of her life and think about her lost friends, especially Jaax. With the dragon scale pendant clutched between her fingers, she would turn inward and contemplate what he would think of her now, unable to shake her sorrow and that ever-present rage. Why the anger was there, she couldn’t tell for sure. Anger at Ethoes, perhaps, for taking Jaax away from her. Anger at Jaax for leaving. Anger at the prince for having the audacity to live happily in his human form once again. Anger at herself for surviving when her friends had not.
Even spending time with Gieaun and Scede, exploring their once favorite places in Oescienne, wasn’t helping her heal. Jahrra would drift off to sleep, late in the night, feeling empty, only to wake in the morning to start the cycle all over again.
As hard as she tried to brush everyone’s concerns aside, one person in particular wasn’t fooled. After a week of dodging the residents of Oescienne Castle, Denaeh cornered Jahrra around tea time, insisting the two of them have a little chat. The Mystic had already sent out for tea and refreshments to be delivered to Jahrra’s suite, so there was no escaping her.
Denaeh didn’t waste any time. She got straight to the point as she poured fragrant tea into two awaiting cups. “I know what you’ve been doing, Jahrra, and although it seems the easier way to deal with your pain, it won’t help you in the end.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jahrra argued, crossing her arms in stubborn defiance.
The Mystic only lifted a dark red brow.
“You are avoiding everyone in order to wallow in your own self-pity, and placing blame for your pain on those who do not deserve it.”
This time, Jahrra glared at her friend in silent outrage. “And who exactly do you think I’m blaming?”
Topaz eyes lifted to meet her own. “Prince Aeron.”
Jahrra’s nostrils flared, and she pressed her lips together. Denaeh claimed she could not read minds, but sometimes Jahrra wondered if that was the truth. Still, she said nothing. She only sat there and seethed. She would not admit her Mystic friend was right.
Denaeh sighed and stood. “When you believe someone wrongs you, Jahrra, you hold it within you for a long time where the bitterness slowly turns to anger.”
Jahrra shot her friend a harsh look, this time drawing a breath to argue, but Denaeh held up a hand.
“Hear me out, for I am your friend and wish only the best for you. You hold your pain and anger close to your heart and have a hard time letting it go. It is just who you are, and I’ll admit it was a mistake to think three days was long enough to cool that anger and ease that pain. But, it is not Aeron’s fault what happened. If you would just talk to him, hear his story, then maybe you would begin to understand.”
“Understand what? Why he let others fight his war for him? Why he thought it necessary to come to my rescue when I was perfectly capable of defending myself against my childhood bullies? Why he can’t just leave me be? I just want to be left alone, by everybody!” Jahrra spat, coming swiftly to her feet. “Don’t I deserve that, after all I’ve done, after all I’ve been through?”
Denaeh stood as well, and although she was not as tall as her human friend, she was just as determined to get her point across.
“Curse it, Jahrra!” she snapped, her citrine eyes blazing. �
��I know you are unhappy with the way he just showed up to reclaim his throne, and believe it or not, I understand that! But to allow that bitterness and anger to take control of your life? Do you think Jaax would want you to waste away like this? To give up after all that has been done? He made the ultimate sacrifice for you, can you not understand that? And how do you repay him? By pining away and letting the sorrow devour you? He would hate himself if he knew this is what you’ve decided to do with your life.”
Jahrra wanted to rage against her friend; to scream at the Mystic to leave her be. But deep down, she knew Denaeh was right. This dark, haunted feeling would drag her down a path she could not return from. It had already begun to do so. Jahrra thought back to the day she left the cave to join her friends in the castle, and tried to muster up that sense of determination once again.
Taking a deep breath and squeezing her eyes shut, Jahrra said with a tight voice, “I’ll meet with him over dinner tonight, that is all. If it will get you off my back.”
Jahrra felt more than noticed Denaeh’s relief.
“Thank you, Jahrra. I will let him know.”
Before leaving the room, Denaeh turned in the doorway and asked, “Would you like me to help you get ready?”
Jahrra shot her an acidic glare. “I am perfectly capable of dressing myself.”
Denaeh nodded and strode from the room. Feeling a bit defeated, Jahrra crossed her arms and headed towards the patio attached to the western wall of her private chambers. It was one of the best rooms in the castle, she couldn’t deny that. A peace offering from the prince of the Tanaan, maybe. Jahrra wanted to dislike it, just as she wanted to dislike the prince for all eternity. But, curse it all, Denaeh was right. She wasn’t avoiding living so much as she was resisting moving on. With a sigh, she picked up the dragon scale hanging around her neck and gazed off into the distance. The sun was beginning to hang low in the western sky, and the dunes, hills, forests, and farmlands were taking on a gilded hue. How could she be morose with such beauty to charm her? If she wasn’t careful, she’d soon find herself despising Oescienne itself.
The Legend of Oescienne--The Reckoning (Book Five) Page 47