Alanis thought letting go of her first love would be the most painful thing she would ever endure, but little did she know, the path the light goddess set before her, would be paved in heartaches beyond compare.
With her past and Berthold behind h...
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Outskirts of Ati Harei White Plains Late Afternoon
Alanis heeled her mount, keeping their pace matched to the prince's stallion. They galloped speedily through the pure, white plains that encircled Ati Harei. It was hard not to get caught up in the beauty of the moment. The cool wind in her hair and the afternoon sun kissing her cold cheeks, nearly made her feel reborn for an instant.
Faris smiled as they raced alongside each other. She had even caught the hidden fire that burned within his eyes as he rode, a look that she counted herself lucky to have seen. The next time he would call her by her title or make her feel like a fool, she would imagine him this way, with windswept hair and hands steady at the reins—his emerald eyes flaring as brightly as the summer sun.
By the time they reached the royal stables, Alanis was tired and ready for a hot bath and a change of clothes. She needed to ready herself for a planned meeting with the keeper of Ati Harei's prayer temple, Reoal'rin. The temple elder, Tyrell, had invited her the night before at the kings welcoming feast. He had asked her if she was interested in studying the philosophies of the north, she agreed, seeing it as a chance to broaden her horizon.
Alanis made her way through the great hall avoiding the captain's crew, knowing Fulton wouldn't be too far behind. She walked briskly towards the staircase, her battered cloak trailing behind her while she eyed her prize. But as she walked, she overheard Lord Rodrik, King Stronghold's eldest council, discussing the arrival of a raven that had flown from Berthold, and that it was in possession of several letters.
"It appears we have word from Berthold," the old council addressed Fulton's right-hand-man, Sir Aaron Sparrow.
Word from Berthold, Alanis wondered if there was a letter for her. She had written to James once, and that was a little over a week ago. The knight that helped her, told her the ravens were quick with their deliveries, averaging a week, give or take a day. She was hopeful enough time had passed and was eager to hear from home.
Faris walked through the congregation of men, with a pack slung over his shoulder. He made no effort to politely shoo the crowd, he simply shoved through them as he worked his way to Lord Rodrik's side. Sir Sparrow looked the prince over with great amusement as he joined them. The young knight's chin was held high, so he could look down upon him. Faris ignored his insult, as he did most attacks by Fulton's men.
"Anything from my sister?" Faris asked. His voice was strong, masking his concern.
"No, nothing from Berthold's Queen, your highness,"
Berthold's Queen. That sure stung, even worse than the cut Faris gave her. She sighed and looked up at the prince who had a disgusted look on his face. The thought of his sister's arranged marriage still ate at him as much as it did her, though they weren't grieving for the same person.
