Spirit Warrior - The Keeper Of The Northern Gate

The Keeper of the Dying Land - II

I stand and wait respectfully as my father and the king make the proper greeting, curtseying and exchanging gifts.

My sky blue eyes are veiled down with just the right amount of modesty, but although I can't help but peak out from under my dark lashes. I sneak a glance at my betrothed. For once the rumors are true, the King is indeed very handsome. I search his striking features for any flaws but find none.

His eyes are so dark that I can't see the pupils. They remind me of a night sky, with only one star in them, the light cast from the sun above us. His mouth is just the perfect size fitting perfectly underneath his sharp nose. Despite the battle scars, his slightly tanned face seems to match perfectly with the rest of his muscled body. Maybe for the same reason, one glimpse just wasn't enough. His hair is a dark brown, but different from the men from Tuath-tir, he keeps his hair short.

Just as I can find no fault with his appearance, nor can I find any fault in his manner. The way he stands straight but not stiffly. The way he speaks betrays neither any arrogance nor timidity, and he says no more than he needs to say.

His grave expression seems better-suited for someone way older than him. Though as perfect as he seems, the one thing scares me the most is that I cannot read him. Every move he makes is calculated, no energy is wasted on any unneeded movements. Not because he's lazy, almost like he's saving the energy.

At the sound of my father's voice, I know my turn has come at last. I raise my head and bow it to the king, speaking the carefully rehearsed words. I will not give him the chance to find a fault with me. I'll bring Tuath- tir and my family honor. I can do this, I know I can. I've done this with hundreds of important men that my father would bring back with him, from business travels.

"It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, my king. I hope you find me agreeable. To be chosen as the future queen is a great honor for my family and I,"

The words taste sour in my mouth, I don't believe in a single one of them. It is not an honor to me but a sentence. This will never be my home; it will be nothing but a prison to me. A home is with people you love, people that you are loyal to. I know, that by doing this, I trade my chances at finding love. The only thing I can hope for is; that we'll come to understand each other but that's only a thing I can hope for.

"To you as well my lady, I have no doubt in my mind that Theas and Enyadell will be a welcoming home to you," His words are few but well chosen and spoken. His demeanor is still indifferent, he doesn't even bat an eye.

Lies, nothing but lies. I will not let him give me false hope and let him enjoy crushing them again just as easy. Although, how I long to finally believe in someone but the fear of getting hurt like so many times before stops me from believing.

The King holds out a muscled arm for me to grasp onto. I gently lay my hand in the crook of his elbow, making sure that I only touch him as much as I need to. I'm sure he'll barely be able to feel my fingers there, but as we are about to leave he gently wraps his giant paw around my hand pulling it up so that my hand is locked at the crook of his elbow instead of merely resting there. As we start walking I'm sure he'll let go of my hand he has insisting on covering with his own but he does not.

I look up from under my lashes as I walk by his side. His strong jaw is covered in a short-kept beard, which only adds to his mysterious look. His eyes are constantly scouting for any dangers ahead.

He seems to be alert at all times like nothing can take him by surprise. For a man at such a young age, he is a well-trained warrior.

He leads me from the docks and from the safety of the ship I arrived on. I cast a longing look over my shoulder at the lovely wooden ship which is safely tied to the wooden pier. The king must have noticed because he gives my hand a squeeze with his own warm one.