Michrinor: The Fates of The Heirs

Chapter 35 - The Silent Choice

Ava sat alone in the dimly lit chamber that had become her sanctuary and her prison. The cold stone walls seemed to close in on her, and the flickering candlelight cast long, wavering shadows that danced across the floor. She had been hiding here for days, kept away from the growing unrest in the fortress as the rumors about her continued to spread. The Naitseers and the rebels had assured her that it was for her safety, but the isolation gnawed at her, feeding her fears and insecurities.

She spent her days trying to train, to focus on the tasks at hand, but her mind was plagued by the whispers that had taken root among the islanders. How had things come to this? Just weeks ago, they had celebrated a hard-won victory together, united against the Queen's tyranny. Now, those same people who had cheered for her were calling for her head. It was almost too much to bear.

One evening, as Ava stared out the small window of her chamber, watching the last light of the sun fade beyond the horizon, she heard a soft knock at the door. She tensed, her hand instinctively moving toward the small dagger that Harvan had insisted she keep nearby. She wasn't expecting any visitors—Taci and the others had left her alone for the night, wanting to give her some space.

"Who is it?" Ava called out, her voice steady despite the unease curling in her stomach.

There was a brief pause before a voice answered, soft and unassuming. "It's only the baker, my lady. I've brought some fresh bread and sweet rolls, thought you might like a little something to cheer you up."

Ava frowned. She didn't recall ever meeting a baker in the fortress, and it was unusual for anyone to come to her chamber unannounced. But the thought of something sweet after days of bland rations was tempting, and the voice on the other side of the door sounded harmless enough.

"Come in," she said cautiously.

The door creaked open, and a man stepped inside, carrying a small basket covered with a cloth. He was of average height, with unremarkable features and a kind smile. His clothes were simple and worn, those of a commoner—a baker, indeed. But there was something in his eyes that made Ava's instincts prickle, a sharpness that didn't quite match his gentle demeanor.

The man set the basket on the small table in the corner of the room and turned to face her, his smile never faltering. "I thought you might appreciate a little treat. The fortress can be a lonely place, especially for someone in your position."

Ava studied him, her unease growing. "Thank you, but... who are you? I haven't seen you around before."

The man's smile widened, but there was no warmth in it. "I'm just a humble baker, my lady. I've been around, though I prefer to keep to the shadows. Less chance of trouble that way, you see."

Ava's hand tightened on the hilt of her dagger, though she kept it hidden in the folds of her cloak. "You didn't answer my question."

The man's eyes flickered with something unreadable, and then he sighed, the pretense dropping. "You're a sharp one, Ava. Very well, let's dispense with the charade."

Before Ava could react, the man's entire demeanor changed. The kind smile faded, replaced by a cold, calculating expression. His posture straightened, and his eyes gleamed with a dangerous intelligence. He was no baker—that much was clear.

Ava's heart raced as she realized she was alone in this chamber with someone who was not what he seemed. "Who are you?" she demanded, her voice firm.

The man's lips curled into a thin smile. "I am a messenger, sent by the Queen herself. I've been watching you, Ava, ever since you arrived on this island. My mistress has a keen interest in you."