The uncontrollable power lurking beneath Princess Alethia's skin can either be the savior of the Four Kingdoms or its destruction.
Princess Alethia was raised on three principles: (1) Mercy is for the weak, (2) Emotions are an unwanted distraction...
A/N: For once, I thought I would be able to write a whole chapter that wouldn't need to be broken up but atlas, here I am. This chapter will be broken into two parts for your convenience, lovelies. Enjoy the story! And as Ren would say, hit the bloody star and for skies sake, leave a comment or two.
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Ren was in the process of sharpening Alethia's sword when that cursed hissing sound filled the room. He dropped the sharpening stone in his hand to cover his ears. His eyes narrowed as he remembered the last time that sound had pierced through him. He stood quickly, watching Alethia do the same.
The barely healed cuts across his body throbbed with a familiar ache. He should have asked that praying queen to bring them a healer. Ren moved to the window, peeking his head out to search the ocean's horizon.
Just as he expected, there was a blurry outline of ships off in the distance. The flags flapping in the wind on top of their masts blended in with the fog of the Wasted Sea against the night sky. He turned back to the room where Alethia stood in the center, staring at him with a vacant look.
Ren had learned her tells, the body language she thought no one paid attention to. The slight twitch in her jaw, her stiff shoulders, and the impatient hand she laid on the hilt of her sword. She wanted to fight.
After reaching this conclusion, Ren cursed underneath his breath. "Thaw out, ice princess. There's no one to wave that little sword at until sunrise."
Alethia frowned before sitting back down on the rug, stretching out her legs with a wince. Ren considered healing her then thought better of it. She had acted weird the last time he offered to heal her while they were in the stables. It was the first time Ren truly had no idea what she was thinking. And he wanted to figure it out before he offered again. Something was telling him to proceed with caution.
But that didn't mean he couldn't get his own damn healer.
Ren sighed and shoved the loose dagger in his hand back into the sheath at his side. The little princeling had discarded plenty of weapons on his side table, and Ren didn't see why he shouldn't help himself to a dagger or two. He deserved that much after the hell he had been put through since the moment he stepped on the castle grounds.
The door banged open and a disheveled pair entered, slamming it behind them. Speaking of that fool of a prince, he had appeared, chest heaving as if he had run through the entire castle grounds. The red-headed princess next to him stood with her feet wide apart. Her arms were crossed tightly over her black skin-tight jumpsuit.
"The queen arrives in the morning," Aydin stated, wiping a hand over his forehead.
"Now that you've stated the obvious," Ren responded. "Do you have a point?"
Sephirah glared at him, frizzy red hair seeming to stick out even more in the process. "Are you always this rude?"
"Yeah, to fools." Ren rolled his eyes then directed his next words to Aydin. "We aren't helping until we get a healer."
