The next day we left, steadily walking down the path to the Khisfire Palace, where Rylan and his family lived.
The palace was a grand gesture of sweeping emerald arcs that slid across the sky gracefully, and curling roofs that swept upward as if carried by some invisible gusts of wind. The palace, though hardly as grand as the House of Heaven, was nonetheless one carved with immense precision, and history was written all over its walls.
"Home sweet home," Rylan said. He exhaled as we neared the castle guards, his arm still around me, leaning his weight down on me for support. We slowly hobbled up the stone pathway, to the large gates that stood before us.
"State your name and purpose!" A guard said from the side of the gate.
"Do you not recognize me, Marlo?" Rylan cut in before I could say anything. "I haven't been gone that long, now, have I?" He gave the guard a winning smile.
The guard's eyes widened. "Prince Rylan has returned!"
The gates were immediately opened, giving us free passage in. Rylan strolled in leisurely, lazily waving to the crowds of people who stood around us, gawking at Rylan, whispering half formed kernels of gossip that would spread like wildfire around the village.
I kept my head down, smiling demurely like a tame housecat, not wanting to draw attention to myself. Which was silly, as Rylan was still leaning heavily on me for support. "Why do I feel as if I'm intruding in on some really big family reunion?" I muttered to him.
"Perhaps because you are," he said simply. "Prepare to meet my parents, dear guest."
"I'm not sure our relationship is quite at that level yet," I whispered back, holding back a smile. "See, I haven't even prepared any conversation starters for this."
"We could talk about our daring adventures, and frightful encounters."
"The perfect topics of conversation with one's parents."
Rylan shot me a quirky grin, and we were ushered along the marbled corridors to the throne room to greet his parents.
A guard blew a note on a long, silver flute to get our attention. "Introducing their Majesties, Queen Bessa King Aron of Khisfire!"
His mother, Queen Bessa, was a tall, willowy lady with a cold, calculating look in her eye. She sat down on her throne haughtily, with a proud glint in her eye. His father, King Aron, was a plump, red faced man, who looked jolly and happy. They were both dressed in bright turquoise silk.
I stood awkwardly at the side while Rylan and his family crowded around each other.
"Mom, Dad," Rylan greeted. "How's it been?"
They gawked at him for a good long moment. I gazed at Rylan from the corner of my eye, hardly daring to open my mouth in case a large squeal of uncomfortable laughter came out.
"Dear son," the queen said at last. "Are you injured?"
"I had a little tumble, is all."
"Goodness, he's limping," the king said, turning to his wife. "The boy is hurt! We need a healer in here!"
"Dad," Rylan interjected. "I'm alright. Still healing, though."
"Where have you been all this time?" His mother asked weakly. "We were so worried. Your father and I, we are used to your sudden comings and goings, but you didn't usually leave for such a long period of time."
"I apologise for worrying you," he said, sounding sincere. "But I had Nima to look after me, so it all worked out perfectly."
"Nima?" The king looked up, scanning the room until his gaze fell on me. "Why, hello there, dear."
YOU ARE READING
Count the Stars
Fantasía'Give her immortality. Give me a life worth living. You know how I have waited long enough for it.'
