Flowers on the Path

Chapter III-1

The next morning, Dalia woke to a room steeped in darkness. Even though she knew it was daytime, nothing outside the window suggested it. Heavy, swollen clouds loomed, ready to burst the moment they stepped outside. She sighed, knowing that Mariella and Lucia would ride safely in the carriage while she wouldn't have such luxury.

Only a few more hours separated them from Renil, and there would be no more opportunities to change. With a quiet sigh, she began undressing. As she turned to grab her decorated belt, she caught Lucia's wide eyes staring at her. Their gazes met for a fleeting moment before Lucia burrowed deeper under the covers. Dalia doubted that Lucia had slept a full night since their journey began. She lingered over the belt for a moment. It was adorned with intricate metalwork, a testament to the craftsmanship of their order. A striking accessory, but it chimed with every step like wind chimes. She had only worn it once during her initiation and had kept it safely at the bottom of her chest since. Deciding not to wake the princess just yet, she slipped out of the room to fetch some breakfast.

The hall looked different in the morning light. Without the evening's noisy crowd, it seemed small and cozy. A woman Dalia hadn't seen before bustled behind the bar, and the sound of boiling water hummed pleasantly in her ears. At a table near the window sat Marius, sipping from a shabby mug. Despite the early hour, he was already fully equipped, with his helmet and sword neatly placed on the table before him. Slivers of light managed to break through the clouds, casting shadows over his somber face. Hunched over and solid, he reminded her fondly of Rosa.

"Good morning," she said cheerfully.

"Good morning," Marius straightened, awakened from his thoughts. His voice was warm against the crisp morning air. "Weather's not looking promising, is it?"

"We'll get soaked," she agreed, taking a seat across from him. "But I'm just eager to get out of this cursed forest."

"Hmm," he muttered after a moment, breaking the silence. "Have you noticed we haven't seen any birds since we set out?" He gestured towards the low-flying swallows outside. "These are the first. And those shifts... plus what happened on the road..." He trailed off, a shadow of concern crossing his features.

"The princess seems to be a truly lovely girl," he remarked suddenly, changing the subject.

Dalia followed his gaze to the swallows darting through the overcast sky. Their frantic, restless flight mirrored the tension of the past few days.

"She is," Dalia replied with conviction. "I've known her since she was a child. People judge her unfairly."

Marius smiled faintly, warmth flickering in his eyes.

"I have three daughters of my own," he said, taking another slurping sip from his mug. "Three little devils. And their mother..." He waved his hand with a fond smile. "Arranged marriages can be happy. If not for my wife, our land would be barren. Hardworking woman." He looked at Dalia kindly. "I ordered breakfast for you all."

"Thank you," Dalia said with a warm smile, though she knew he couldn't see it. The girl behind the bar placed plates of food on the counter. "Are the others still asleep?"

"Only Torus and Rady. The boys had quite a drink last night. Don't worry, they'll be presentable by evening," Marius replied, watching her over the rim of his cup.

Carefully, she picked up the tray laden with food and drinks, making sure not to spill the steaming brew. Climbing the stairs, she could hear the inn waking up — the creak of boards, the murmur of conversations, laughter.

When she opened the door to their room, she found Mariella seated at a small, ornate mirror with a brass frame. The princess looked as stunning as ever; her golden curls cascading over her shoulders, shimmering in the morning light like liquid gold. Lucia was feverishly brushing her hair, trying to perfect the style. Her small hands moved with practiced skill, though it was clear she was under pressure. Combs, ribbons, and pins were scattered across the vanity, signs of their rushed and tense preparations.