The Queen of Luania

Chapter 16- Azalea

Yazmin's POV

As I neared the castle, I could see smoke rising over the Eastern Mountains. There was no way that Col had won the battle. Not against Vidal, not against Isla.

A small part of me feels bad for her. She had been pushed away from her entire family, and was forced to come to Luania when she was around my age. The only person she had ever truly loved had died in her arms. She loved James to the point where it destroyed her. The only thing left in her cold heart was a love so strong, yet so warped by vengeance. Arabella wanted revenge as well, but she had become preoccupied with learning to rule a country. Neither of them forgave, and neither of them forgot.

Rothsburn was a mountainous province, with snow-capped peaks reaching up into the sky. In the summer, you could always hear birds singing, see animals running about, and feel the soft grass between your toes. But now, in the middle of winter, everything was grey. There were no leaves on the trees, no birds singing, no animals, and the grass had been covered in feet of packed snow.

I had been careful to keep at least a few hours between me and Horatio, so he could never catch me. By the time I reached the castle, it would be too late to send me back. As I rounded my horse around a frozen waterfall, I saw the castle.

My castle was built hundreds of years ago by my ancestors. It sat in a valley, in the shade of the mountains. But despite that, life flourished here. The gardens were always filled with various berries, flowers, herbs, and vegetables. Ivy would trail up the stone walls, and open windows allowed for fresh air inside, where even more plants lay. But in the middle of winter, everything was cold, grey, and dead. Usually at this time of year, we would have evergreens and holly, but even the trees looked dead. No one is walking around, so I figure my uncle is preparing for war already.

I ride down into the valley and into the gardens. The snow crunches under my horse's hooves, it must be old. But still, there were no footprints. No sign that anything was here.

When I get to the stables, I lead my horse into a stall and go to find some fresh hay. There's some in a closet, so someone had been here recently. But not recently enough to leave footprints. There were also horses in almost every stall, so no one had left.

After giving my horse some well-deserved hay, I walk towards the castle. The grand wooden doors are shut, but there is a smaller wooden door that is unlocked. I enter through that one, into the Great Hall.

I hadn't been here for at least 2 years, but it felt like nothing had changed. The tapestries and paintings were the same, the rugs were the same, and the plants were arranged the same way. There were smooth, wooden stairs that ascended to the floor above. On the left of the stairs was a door that led to the kitchens, and on the right a door that led to the servant's quarters. The Hall was filled with candlelight, so someone was still here.

As I ascended the stairs, I started to hear muffled voices. The stairs opened up to a large hallway, at least 15 feet wide. Chandeliers dangled from the ceiling, sending their cool glow across the hall. A red rug stretched down the hall. I remember when we got this rug. It had been a gift from Calia after we supplied them with new dies for fabrics, almost 10 years ago.

The voices are coming from a door at least 50 feet away from me. I walked slowly on the rug so I didn't make any sound, and pressed my ear against the door.

"We have to act now," someone said.

"We don't have enough soldiers. They will slaughter us like they slaughtered Zione's fighters," someone shouted.

"Who do we have?" another person asked. I recognized this voice. Horatio.

"7,000 within the province. 3,000 within 50 miles.," someone answered. A voice I recognized, but hadn't heard in months. Aunt Sylvia. "Most have gone south because of the winter. Lots of crops failed."