Descendants of the Kings (Book 2)

Ch 8: Darkness afoot

CW: Blood, death, mild gore and violence

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The moon reflected on the snow-covered grounds, painting everything a silvery blue. Icicles frosted craggy tree branches, and white dusted pines, like piping on cake.

When Ella and Callan arrived on the desolate road, it had barely begun to snow, light dustings falling on the group of men awaiting them. At the snap of their arrival, they all looked up.

It was Ser Gawain the first to bound up, gloved hands removing his hood and revealing a relieved smile. "My Lady, it is good to see you safe and sound. We have come here to escort you home," he signalled the rest of his men, who she recognised as a few of the guards that rotated duties in the castle. It was a small retinue, only three.

"Thank you, Ser," Ella said timidly, cheeks pinkening. "I am sorry you have been here looking for me in the cold."

She felt like a spoiled little princess who had to be retrieved after running off in a strop. She hadn't wanted to inconvenience anyone. When she'd left, it had not been her intention to have a search party launched, and for the poor guards to be scouring the lands in such a climate. It made her feel like a cosseted brat.

"It is no bother whatsoever!" ser Gawain refuted, as if offended she would think that, or even apologise.

"It is our duty to serve the Royal Family, highness. A high honour!" Ser Cadrillen, another one of the guards piped up, earning a grunt of approval from the others.

"Have you met trouble, my lady?" ser Gawain continued, valiantly looking around the peaceful, forest-lined road, as if expecting monsters to come out at any moment. "We are here to protect you and take care of any harm. I have heard of terrible ruffians prowling the area!"

"I hear thieves and rogue beasts are roaming, sacking poor villagers," Ser Osren added fiercely. "Loathsome men."

"They ought to show their faces! Maybe then they wouldn't be so bold!"

The men chattered animatedly, egging each other on. Callan cleared his throat, a mild sound, but the knights quieted at once.

"That'll be enough, Ser Gawain," Callan interceded easily, seeing as the knights were already getting riled up. "We ought to get going if we wish to leave before the snow worsens."

"At once! I will retrieve the carriage from where we left it and arrange it for the Lady," he said dutifully, marching off ahead with Ser Osren, leaving Ser Cadrillen behind.

As soon as he left, Ella deflated and pressed a gloved hand to her forehead. "Good grief. I didn't mean to cause such an upstir."

Callan gave a low chuckle. "They are thrilled. It is the most action they've had in decades. I believe they almost wished something sinister would happen, just so they could have an excuse to unsheath their swords."

She could see the men, still chattering about what mighty foes they might encounter. At least they'd had fun.

"I'm sorry. I should have written, I did not mean to worry you," she rambled. "I didn't realise at the time and--"

"There is no need to apologise," Callan halted her calmly. "You were hurt. You did what felt necessary to protect yourself. No one faults you for that. Do not fault yourself either, then."

Ella exhaled and nodded hesitantly. "Alright." She tucked her hands into her pockets and looked off to where the knights had gone off to. "Where has Ser Gawain gone?"

"To bring the carriage. We did not wish to raise suspicion, so we left it in a town nearby. We will use it to go back to Lindow, the nearest town with a petrium, where we will leave the horses with their caretaker and take the Petrium back home."