The Angel Project

Divinoria

"What do you mean you're leaving now? Why not wait?" Bonne protests Weylin's words, "Please, stay for dinner, truly!"

"We must leave now, I have a kingdom to tend to."

Adelaide's glare could have cut through bone. Shivers wrack through Odilia's body just from the memory. It must have reminded her of her first husband. The whole situation was uncannily similar. The clack of their shoes against the floor echoed the same as hers did on her wedding day. She was the last to give Odilia a parting hug, lingering for longer than the previous sisters. Odilia's ear is still warm from her whisper: I will be your advocate. I'm in your corner should you call. There is only so much her sisters can do; in the eyes of the law, she belongs to Weylin now.

That was three days ago. Ilyrion was far from Divinoria. Odilia and Weylin travel separately as customary. According to him, Odilia's carriage rides in the front while a fake carriage rides behind her. Weylin's carriage is elsewhere, though the information on where was not given to Odilia. Guards flank the sides of the carriages, armed or on horseback. It would be a long, boring ride if not for the lady-in-waiting traveling with Odilia.

The lady-in-waiting, Xylia Arleah, sits across from her. Dryads weren't uncommon in Ilyrion; the Ilyrian and Elarian kingdoms were nicknamed sibling cities by the people. They are similar in structure and beliefs; both house magic unique to the holds, are typically vegetarian and are directorial republics. Colleges in the two kingdoms have exchange programs so that the students can learn from both magical weaves. It is of no surprise to Odilia that her lady-in-waiting is Elarian.

"Have you heard?" Xylia leans in, her honey voice hushed by the rocking of the carriage, "There's a war in Divinoria. They're calling it Cogahd na Saoirse. Itasholyra isn't happy since they took the northern part... I can't blame them."

"You lie! I've heard nothing of this." Odilia protests, but Xylia shakes her head, "You are too sheltered. I hear they've been attacking Divinorian convoys. Did Weylin say anything about it?"

Odilia gapes at the tall woman, brushing spirals of dark moss hair out of her face, "No? Certainly, if he didn't say anything, there would be no worry, yes? Plus! Guards surround us; we should have no fears."

Xylia hums with a wink of her syrupy brown eyes, her wood finger pressed to the side of her mouth, "We'll jinx ourselves if we talk about it too much." Large trees tower over the carriage as it rolls by, cloaking it from the lilac sky above. Odilia raises her fingers, pushing the red curtain away from the window, tawny eyes peering out the glass to watch them wave past.

A flash of green among the trees catches her eye, something or someone weaving through the trees. Had they jinxed themselves? Lanterns snuff from the carriages, and silence envelopes the air around the convoy. Xylia's wide eyes meet Odilia's. Hands fly out to grab Odilia from the curtain, pulling her down from the windows. Xylia's body is heavy against hers. The smell of oak floods her nostrils.

The shuffling of clinking armor approaches the carriage, and a guard raises the window from the side, his words whispered as he walks along, "Your majesty, stay here until you're escorted else-"

His words are cut short with a twang, his eyes blown wide. Blood splatter dapples the already red curtain. His body hits the carriage with a metallic thump, crimson dribbling down his chin and out his nose. Odilia catches a glimpse of his emerald eyes, watching her as he falls out of view. Xylia's hold on the queen consort tightens.

"Shit. They're here!"

Shouts erupt from the sides of the carriage. It's quiet again, other than the sound of singing blades. The guards wait for the enemy to break the tree line. They don't have the advantage here. The attacker does. Odilia's ability to breathe is ripped away; her mouth dries like cotton. Her heart hammers against her ribs, yet she can't keep up. Her stomach churns as the smell of copper overtakes the oak scent of Xylia's embrace in a gorey dance. They're sitting ducks. They can't run. Thoughts flash and flee through Odilia's vision.