Her audacity to accuse me of attacking the royals, to call me a murderer, was infuriating. If anyone knew my innocence in these attacks, it was Aleah. She knew me, intimately, more than anyone else, perhaps even more than I knew myself.
My gratitude to Brock was immeasurable. A public display of violence would have landed me in the dungeons, jeopardizing everything. I was here for a singular purpose, to find my kidnapped brother. This kingdom was my temporary prison until he was found, even if that meant marrying Aleah—a prospect I found myself surprisingly less opposed to with each passing day.
Now, I sat opposite Aleah in the carriage, Brock beside me, our shoulders brushing. The silence between us was thick, laced with an unspoken awkwardness. I watched Aleah, her gaze fixed on the passing scenery, and wondered what storm brewed beneath her calm exterior. I yearned to delve into her mind, to unravel her thoughts about the past, about today, about Amora... about me.
Did she truly love me, or was her declaration of our connection being a mistake, a plea to erase our shared history, genuine? I would honor her choices, always. But a deep current of desire pulled me toward her, and I sensed, just as strongly, that a part of her yearned for me too.
Perhaps the fear instilled in her since childhood, the constant narrative of my supposed villainy, still held her captive. I, however, felt no hatred for her.
The revelation in the dungeon—that no one in Atalar truly knew Aleah—nagged at me. It hinted at a deliberate concealment. Were her parents responsible? Were they hiding her, or perhaps her abilities, from the world, or even from herself? But why?
Why conceal her powers? Were they dangerous? My knowledge of history recalled only one royal who wielded Shadowfire: Prince Alexandros. My Trithian history books spoke of him destroying his own kingdom with such power. Was this the reason for Aleah's sheltered life, for Amora's relentless taunts? No. If Amora knew the true extent of Aleah's power, she wouldn't dare approach, let alone bully, her.
I studied Aleah across from me, her legs crossed, hands resting gently in her lap. The left side of her face was visible as she gazed out the window. The day was beautiful, the sky a pristine blue, the clearest since my arrival. I shifted, joining her silent vigil.
As the carriage entered the kingdom's villages, an eerie quiet settled. No children played, no villagers bustled. Shutters were drawn, and flowers adorned nearly every house and building. It felt like some solemn tradition. Not even the animals dared to break the profound silence of this beautiful, yet sorrowful, day.
YOU ARE READING
Crowned in Crimson Cinders
FantasyAleah has been told all her life that she is worthless and weak by her older sister, Amora. But, when Aleah finds out that she is going to be betrothed to the enemy prince, Darian, she finds out that she has ancient powers dating back hundreds of ye...
