Red Waters: The Unseen Alliance

Chapter Seven

As the Moonlit Festival reached its zenith, the royal carriage gently rolled through the grand gates of the palace, its ornate carvings gleaming in the soft light of lanterns and torches that lined the cobblestone path. The vibrant hum of celebration faded behind them as the Queen, elegant in her deep blue gown, and Prince Arto, clad in a regal attire of silver and navy, stepped out of the carriage. The palace's towering spires and grand archways loomed above them, casting long shadows in the moonlight.

The Queen and Prince Arto walked up the marble steps, their footsteps echoing softly in the cool night air. Maids and palace staff hurried about, ready to attend to the needs of the royal family. The festivities had been a whirlwind of joy and gratitude, with subjects showering them with love and admiration. Arto had enjoyed every moment of it, yet as the night deepened, a weight hung over him.

As they entered the opulent palace, the grandeur of the entrance hall greeted them. The high ceilings were adorned with intricate chandeliers, and the walls were decorated with tapestries and portraits that celebrated the kingdom's history. The soft hum of activity from the servants and staff contrasted with the quietude that enveloped the royal family.

Arto, who had been subdued throughout the evening, finally broke the silence. "Will I be able to see Father tonight?"

The Queen's steps faltered. Her gaze, usually filled with warmth, turned distant and troubled. She paused, her hands clasped tightly in front of her, as if drawing strength from them.

King Zyran's absence was an open wound within the royal family. Rumors had circulated about the mysterious curse placed upon him by mermaids—an ancient magic that had left him bedridden, after Arto was born. The curse had cast a long shadow over the royal household, a stark reminder of the bitter history between their people and the sea folk.

The Queen finally turned to her son, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "Arto, dear... Your father... he is not well enough to be seen tonight. The curse has taken a toll on him."

Arto's expression hardened with concern. "But I need to see him, Mother. It's been too long. I want to understand what's happening to him."

The Queen's gaze softened with sorrow. "The curse is not something easily overcome. We are doing everything in our power to break it, but it requires more time. The palace healers and sorcerers are working tirelessly, but..."

Her voice trailed off, leaving the weight of her words hanging between them. Arto, struggling with his own frustration and helplessness, looked toward the grand staircase that led to the private quarters. The thought of his father, isolated and suffering, gnawed at him.

"I understand," Arto said finally, though his tone was filled with determination. "But I want to do something—anything—to help."

The Queen's eyes, filled with sorrow, softened. "I know, my dear. But tonight, please focus on the joy of the festival. It's been a beautiful celebration for our people."

Arto's fists clenched in silent frustration. The Queen continued, her voice tinged with a mix of resignation and bitterness, "Merfolk have always been treacherous, their cruelty etched into our history. Their actions still sting us after centuries. The torment feels endless."

Gently, Arto took his mother's hand, trying to offer comfort despite his own inner turmoil. "You don't need to worry about them tonight. The festival has been perfect, and Father will get better. You'll see."

The Queen's eyes glistened with tears as she embraced her son, holding him close for a moment. "Thank you, Arto. Your strength and hope mean more than you know."

With a heavy heart but a resolved spirit, Arto pulled away from the embrace. He nodded, determined to make the most of the night despite the shadows lurking over them.