There’s only one way to find out, and that’s to keep moving, with her at my side.
To Kiss a Prince
Thirty years before the East’s attack on the
Northland Valley, an old king met a
new prince.
It did not end well.
Or did it?
1
COLDEN
The Eastland Territories are much like I expected, thanks to Alexus’s first-hand knowledge and detailed descriptions.
The Mishan port is as intimidating as he claimed, what with its near-constant shadows, spitting rain, and black, jagged mountains being the welcoming site. The people working the docks are watchful when we arrive. Curious and cautious, yet kind and accommodating. As we travel deeper into the kingdom, I find that same curiosity and hospitality with every stop, exceeding anything I could’ve imagined, even once we reach Quezira.
Our driver delivers us to an inn along the edge of the lower quarters, one whose owners have already prepared for our stay. People loiter nearby, as though waiting for a spectacle, but seeing us must be enough, because once we’re spotted, they scatter. It seems the whole of the territories knew we were coming.
After we’re settled, I head out into the rainy night and roam the cobbled streets and taverns for a few hours while Alexus burrows alone in his room with his books and journals. He insisted on accompanying me for this trip, but it’s clear that being on Eastland soil again, even after so many years, is difficult for him. He once had a life here, an existence he only partially remembers, though it seems he recalls enough to make this visit quite painful. Sadness and loss have etched their way into his expressions, ever since we spotted the Eastland shore from our ship.
Quezira at night teems with more people than any city in the North. I drink too much and flirt too much, but I end up chatting with a barkeep about the rainy and humid weather in Quezira and her favorite summer and autumn festivals before heading back to the inn.
The next morning, we leave just after dawn, much to my pounding head’s displeasure, careful to bypass Min-Thuret, a temple Alexus won’t even acknowledge with a glance, much like the rest of this city. Per my request—for my friend’s sake—we’re to meet the newly crowned Prince of the East at his home in Vale instead, a town further inland, and a place Alexusdidvisit as a child and later as a young adult, but one that holds no bad memories.
That he recalls, anyway.
We’ve already been on the road for eight days, and our driver says it will take another week to reach Shara Palace from Quezira. It’s a journey that leads us across rugged yet beautiful landscapes of forests and rolling green valleys, the land verdant and lush. Though our driver is determined to outride the clouds, we stop and rest a few times at various villages, each one just as prepared for us as the people of Quezira had been.
“I truly imagined they’d all want me dead,” I say as we begin the last stretch to Vale on a blessedly sunny summer morning.
Chin resting on his loosened fist, Alexus sits across from me, staring at his former homeland through the window of our fine carriage, a vehicle sent to the Mishan harbor by the prince himself.
The memories in Alexus’s eyes shine bright as we pass a few wary villagers shepherding sheep, watching our conveyance rumble along the road. “You’re a legend to them.”Like he used to be.“A mythical being mentioned only in their fireside stories about the Land Wars. Now they’re seeing you in the flesh, a man who bested King Gherahn’s forces. A man blessed by the gods.” He glances my way, his rugged face softening. “They’re fascinated, my friend. Not murderous.”
By his letters, their new prince seems fascinated too. No more fascinated than I am when it comes to him, however. This unknown prince who swayed an entire kingdom to seat him as ruler.
Not a king. Aprince.
It’s strange, to say the least. Strange enough that I felt the need to leave Winterhold and investigate in order to ensure King Regner’s former treaty with the North would remain intact after his death. That’s the greatest security I have for my people outside of our meager defenses. We simply don’t have the masses to build an army that could endure war with the East. We have magick. Veils. Shields. And the Northland Watch along the coast. But I don’t trust that any of it is enough.
I’m asleep when we actually cross into Vale’s borders that afternoon. Alexus wakes me with a few nudges of his boot against mine.
“Damn,” he mutters as he stares out the window. “She's just as I remember."
I scrub my eyes and study the lay of the land. The landscape is flat, the city sprawling around what must be Shara Palace, a massive white stone structure perched regally on the only hill for what must be miles. At each corner of the edifice stands a round bastion tower, replete with tall cupolas crowned in shimmering gold. Multiple chimneys protrude from the central rooftop, and rectangular and arched windows delineate the six floors of this monstrous residence that has been passed down to Thamaos’s kings and queens for centuries.
We cross through the gatehouse and over the moat, until soon, our carriage approaches the graveled courtyard. As we circle toward the entrance, I spot an entourage spilling from the main doors.
Alexus points toward the palace. “That must be him.”
My gaze snags on a young man stepping from the palace into the sunlight, straightening his fine, green jacket as he runs his fingers through short hair that’s as thick and dark as the night itself.
“My, my. I certainly hope so.” When the carriage turns and the man vanishes from view, I look over to find Alexus watching me with narrowed eyes and a smirk. “What?” I shrug. “I didn’t picture such a dashing fellow, that’s all. It’s nothing.”
