Valencia Esmeray

𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 - VIII : Tangled In The Night

Valencia stood at the edge of the forest, her lamp barely cutting through the dense fog. The night air pressed in around her, cold and unnerving. Every breath felt thick, weighted by the darkness. She had prepared for this-poisons and blades hidden within her cloak, ready for whatever awaited in the shadows. But even with all her precautions, fear gnawed at her resolve.

A sudden chill ran down her spine as something-someone-grabbed her by the waist from behind.

"Don't move," a voice whispered at her ear, the breath hot against her neck.

Her heart stopped, her body frozen in place. Her first instinct was to fight, but the voice was soft, commanding. Something in it pulled her deeper into terror, a paralysis she couldn't explain. She squeezed her eyes shut, her mind racing as her body remained immobile.

"Close your eyes," the voice whispered again, soft and low, the tone both calming and chilling. She obeyed, even though every instinct screamed to break free.

As she closed her eyes tighter, she felt the hand on her waist shift slightly, guiding her forward, step by step, deeper into the unknown. Each step felt like an eternity, her heartbeat the only sound filling the otherwise deafening silence.

"Don't be afraid," the voice continued, coaxing her along. She could barely breathe, the fog in her mind as thick as the mist around her. The ground beneath her seemed to change-grass giving way to hard stone. The cool air became sharper, and she could feel the height in her bones, the sensation of being led closer to the edge of something.

Finally, she was told to stop.

"Open your eyes," the voice whispered.

Valencia opened her eyes slowly, blinking against the darkness. When her vision adjusted, she gasped. She was standing at the edge of a cliff, overlooking a breathtaking view. The moon bathed the landscape below in a silvery glow, casting a serene beauty across the valley. The stars twinkled above like scattered diamonds, and in the distance, she could hear the faint ripple of water far below.

But what truly sent chills down her spine was not the view. It was the figure standing before her, his blonde hair illuminated by the moonlight, almost glowing. He stood with his back to her, gazing at the scenery.

"Ian," she whispered, her voice trembling.

The prince turned, a smile curling at the corners of his lips. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

Valencia's fear gave way to a hot rush of anger. "I was terrified!" she snapped, her voice rising. "You think this is a game?"

Ian chuckled softly, his laugh low and warm. "You've never looked more alive, Valencia. I wanted to show you something beautiful." His eyes gleamed with mischief, but there was something deeper in his gaze, something playful and affectionate. "My family would die if they knew I brought you here. They think I should avoid women who dress as if they're in mourning every day."

Valencia crossed her arms, her anger simmering beneath the surface. "You think it's just my clothes? They wouldn't approve of me because I don't fawn over their ridiculous titles or care for their shallow banquets. They think I'm some sort of witch."

"Well, they certainly do," Ian said with a grin, his eyes twinkling. "But I don't think you're a witch. You're far too pretty to be one."

Valencia gave a dry, half-hearted laugh, still trying to shake off the lingering fear. "People always judge what they don't understand. If it's not my clothes, it's my silence, or how little I care about their rules."

Ian's smile softened, and for a moment, he seemed to be genuinely thoughtful. "There's something happening in the kingdom. My father is worried about the unrest in the southern territories. Crops are failing, and the people blame the crown. They believe we're ignoring their suffering."

Valencia's eyes flickered with curiosity. "And you don't have a plan?"

Ian shook his head, his expression turning more serious. "We've tried sending aid, but it's not enough. There's talk of rebellion. We need something more than food and gold."

Valencia considered for a moment, her mind whirling with ideas. She could see the problem clearly, the pieces of the puzzle forming in her mind. "If the people don't believe you care, nothing you send will matter. You have to go yourself. Show them you see their pain. Offer not just aid but real solutions-perhaps irrigation channels, or investments into new crops. Something sustainable. And..." She paused, her eyes narrowing thoughtfully, "...bring someone with you. Someone who represents the kingdom's care. A symbol of hope."

Ian raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "And who do you suggest I take?"

She tilted her head, her lips curving into a sly smile. "Well, if you ask me, someone with a reputation for being mysterious and resilient might work. Someone who the people already whisper about, who stands outside the usual pomp and fanfare."

Ian stared at her for a moment before breaking into a laugh. "Valencia Esmeray, you never cease to amaze me. You're not only beautiful, but brilliant as well."

She smiled, though her mind was elsewhere, caught in the tide of memories. Of course, she thought to herself, I was a leader long before you were born. Almost 180 years ago, she had been the daughter of a powerful Duke, ruler of a land far from here, a place she barely remembered anymore. Knowledge had been her escape from the mundane, from the expectations placed upon her. She had devoured books and strategies, always seeking more. Even now, after so many years, she never tired of learning, of understanding the world around her.

"I'd make a better leader than half the council," she muttered to herself, though Ian overheard.

"You would make a fine queen," he said softly, his eyes serious now. "My family doesn't see it, but they're missing out. Judging you for your clothes and silence. They don't understand what you're capable of."

Valencia looked away, the weight of his words unsettling her. Before she could respond, Ian reached into his coat and pulled out a small bunch of lilies, the delicate white petals shimmering in the moonlight.

"For you," he said with a smile. "I gathered them on the way here. And if you like them, I can get you more."

Valencia blinked in surprise, momentarily thrown off by the unexpected gift. "Why?"

Ian grinned, stepping closer. "Well, aren't we lovers now? We did kiss, after all."

She felt the air catch in her lungs. Her mind raced back to the night of the prince's party, when, intoxicated and confused, she had kissed him in a moment of recklessness. She had been drunk-both on wine and on the idea of forgetting Cassian. But it hadn't meant anything. Not to her.

"That kiss was a mistake," Valencia said hurriedly, taking a step back. "I was... not myself that night. I have to go." She turned to leave, her pulse quickening.

But Ian caught her hand, pulling her back toward him. His grip was firm, but gentle, and his eyes searched hers with an intensity that made her heart skip a beat.

"Your eyes," he said softly, his voice dropping to a whisper. "They don't lie. You were in love that night. I could see it. You still are."

Valencia's breath faltered. He was wrong. She hadn't been in love, not with him, not with anyone for years. She had been intoxicated, swept up in the moment, but love? No. Her heart was too hardened for that.

Before she could respond, Ian leaned in, his lips brushing against hers in a soft, lingering kiss. She felt herself freeze, her mind screaming that this was wrong, that she didn't feel the way he did. But her body betrayed her, sinking into the kiss for just a moment longer than it should have.

When she pulled away, breathless, her mind raced. "I can't... I need to go," she stammered, and this time, when she turned, she didn't let him stop her.

She ran, her heart pounding in her chest, confused and conflicted. She knew she wasn't in love. But something about Ian's touch, his words, made her question what was pulling her back. What was drawing her closer to him, despite everything?