Watty's Shortlist 2023
"I have been waiting a long time to meet you."
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When two warring kingdoms hear of a magical object that will end the conflict once and for all, two rival heirs embark on a quest to retrieve it and bring their...
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Midmorning appeared suddenly, as if the moon and stars desired to make as quick an exit as she had. A very cool breeze was blowing, but the icy chill in the air had subdued. The city had woken up hours ago, and people began to bustle around as they faced yet another day under a cloud of war.
Aila was surprised the alarm bells hadn't yet rung to signify her absence. The palace would definitely have known she had left by now, with the rope dangling from her window and the lack of her presence at breakfast. She hoped her father had reassured her mother.
As her stomach grumbled loudly, she grimaced and suggested taking a break. Castor chuckled and slung his rucksack off his back, beginning to rifle through it.
"What do you want for breakfast?"
"No Cas," Aila surveyed the shops around them; with still being in the middle of the city, there were a wide range of buildings and services. "We have to save the supply food for the desert and the forest. We've got enough places to eat in till we get out of the city."
She had meticulously planned her travels and resources accordingly. After withdrawing some currency from her pack, she passed it to Castor and nodded towards the main square.
"I'll have anything," she waved him off.
She sat down on the cobblestones and stretched her legs before her, noting the position of the sun to keep track of time spent idle. She closed her eyes, listening to the sounds of the lively chatter around her and frowning as the sudden sound of a commotion met her ears.
Aila strolled a few metres around the corner, before she made out the profile of a tall man with dark hair held at scythe point by the owner of an elanir stall. A group had gathered around them and everyone was shouting, pure rage radiating off her people. She pushed her way through the crowd, the words becoming more coherent as she neared.
"He's an Ashwood!"
"Kill him!"
"Torture him!"
"Cut his throat Jeff!"
"Perador will perish!"
The crowd began taking up a chant of the last exclamation, creating a rhythm to the beat of their anger. When Aila reached the centre, she could see the man speaking in a hurry, with his arms up to show his defenselessness.
She cleared her throat loudly and raised her arm, turning to face the crowd. The chant began to die down as people recognised their heir. The stall owner and the man turned to face her, startled by the sudden silence.
When the man's eyes met hers, she inhaled sharply. Recognition flared in his gorgeous eyes, eyes that were a sea blue in the centre near the pupil, but created a gradient, the iris gradually growing darker until a limbal ring of royal blue framed them. Shock slapped her in the face, as her jaw dropped and she fought to regain her composure.
