Ayla kept staring at him until the King finished his training, sheathed his sword, turned, and looked straight at her, his eyes full of anger. Was he still upset about what she had told him the previous day? She got away from the window as fast as she could. She could not believe he caught her staring at him like she was some kind of Peeping Tom. For the remainder of the day, Ayla kept her distance from the window, scared that King Rhobart would still be in the Royal Garden. So, she sat on the bed and read or napped. The next day, when the maid brought her breakfast, she also brought a book. Ayla picked it up, excited to read it. She wondered if it was full of stories about Paladins and dragons or princesses that went on adventures. The maid left, leaving Ayla alone. She sat at the table, smiling until her eyes fell on the title—”Manners and Etiquette: A guide for proper ladies.” ‘How dare he? Bastard!’ Ayla thought before throwing the book across the room. She forg
Ayla couldn’t believe she was thinking about it, but this was the perfect opportunity to get close and listen to the conversation. She needed to know about Myrthana. The King clenched his jaw, and Ayla knew he was angry. Too bad. ‘We are Longthorn, and we bow before no one. Better dead than serving another,’ her father’s voice echoed in her head. She almost snorted. Galian sold her on the first occasion he had. Ayla was a Longthorn, and she…. She was King Rhobart’s slave, after all, and his guests wanted more wine. Ayla walked fast, and before she had a chance to think about what she was doing, she was already at the table, grabbing the pitcher. Gorn stood and pulled a chair. Tizgar choked on his wine. Milton’s eyes widened when he noticed what she was doing. “What are you—?” The King stopped Milton before he could finish his question. “Let her do what she wants. She is bored and wants to draw attention. Sit down, Gorn.” Ayla wondered what would happen to
Close to dawn, Nordmar was already blooming with activity. Hunters were departing to track game in the dense forests, woodcutters were sharpening their axes, or fishermen were returning from nearby lakes. The Royal Palace was as busy as the rest of Nordmar. From the cook preparing breakfast to the maid serving it. From the butcher bringing fresh meat to the stable boy preparing horses for riders. It was during this time that Ayla, dressed in dark brown pants made from the hide of a mountain troll, a matching jacket, warm black boots and gloves made from the hide of a buffalo and stuffed with polar bear fur, and a white cloak made from the fur of a shadowbeast, stepped out of the castle and headed to the Royal Stables. A young servant accompanied her. The Royal Palace of Nordmar was in the heart of the kingdom. Long before the First War with the Orcs, only Snow Elves lived in Nordmar—the Frozen Land. When humans crossed the Jade River and claimed the North belonged to the
Milton was waiting for her in front of the Royal Stables, wearing a new magic robe. A messenger bag was in his hands—a beautiful messenger bag if Ayla was sincere. The servant bowed before making his way back to the palace. Milton gave her a friendly smile. “Good morning, my Lady,” he said. Each time Milton called her lady, she wasn’t sure if he was mocking her or trying to be polite. Perhaps the latter. “Milton,” she greeted him. The Fire Mage extended his arms. “I wanted to give you this before we go inside the stables.” Ayla’s eyes widened. The messenger bag looked expensive, something that someone of a high ranking would have. While she has only caused problems since arriving in Nordmar, she wanted to start working so she could pay her debt and, in time, earn her freedom. If she took the messenger bag, how many years would she have to work for it? “I don’t think I can accept this. This is too much.” Milton muttered something under his breath in old Nordmari
The King approached her. “I always knew you were spoiled, but for you to have never mounted a horse. If you expect to sit in a carriage with your ass on a velvet cushion, then forget about it!” Ayla tried to reason with the King. “I will slow everyone down.” “I am aware, and I am already starting to regret taking you with me. Gorn, bring me her horse.” The Paladin brought a chestnut mare. “Then let me stay in the palace. I will work and....” Ayla said fast. King Rhobart chimed in. “Work? You? You can’t even sew, not even if your life depends on it.” Ayla blinked. Did Galian tell King Rhobart how useless she was? That no matter how much she tried and practiced, her attempts to embroider looked worse than those of a five-year-old child? Her grandma had Ayla sew so much that she now hated doing it. But it still hurt to know how little the King thought of her. But damn if she would let the King show how much his words hurt her. The King kept speaking. “
When they passed close to a place in which at least a battle took place, and bones or broken weapons were still scattered around the snow, Ayla lowered her head, the hood of the cloak covering her face. She felt as if everyone was glaring at her, accusing her, hating her for being King Amul’s daughter. It was almost dark when the King said that they had finally reached the camp. Ayla was so relieved to hear she could finally get off the mare. Even if all she did all day was to be on top of Star, doing nothing, Ayla felt exhausted. All she wanted to do was to curl up under a warm blanket and sleep until the next day. The moment her feet touched the ground, muscles she did not know she had hurt so bad that she yelped. It wasn’t just her legs that hurt. Even blinking brought discomfort. Her legs shook, and she fell to her knees. Tizgar took Star away while Milton called her name, but she was too tired to reply. She closed her eyes, thinking how perfectly happy she would be
Ayla slept poorly that night, not only because her ass felt as if it was on fire but because she could hear Milton and the King arguing in low voices. She wished she could have understood them, but it was a bit difficult when they kept talking in old Nordmarian. It was a strange language with difficult pronunciations, but Ayla was determined more than ever to learn it. When they would return to the Royal Palace, she would spend as much time as possible in the Royal Library studying books in old Nordmarian. Maybe she would find someone to help her learn it. She knew she could always ask Milton for help, but she didn't want the King to learn of her plans. When Gorn and Tizgar woke up, Ayla was still ashamed of what had happened the previous night. But she knew she could not hide beneath the furs and hoped everyone would magically forget what had happened. She gritted her teeth, got up, arranged her cloak and gathered her furs and blanket, and tied them to Star's saddle. After that,
After Ghost left, a parchment from the King in the metal cylinder, the small party resumed the journey. Earlier, the King talked with Gorn and Tizgar about hunting, but ever since he received the parchment from Droyn, he appeared to be worried. Very worried. ‘What could have contained that message to make him this worried?’ Ayla thought while she kept stealing glances at him. Tizgar and Gorn talked in low voices while the King sat on his horse in silence. He kept looking at the trees every five minutes, his brow furrowed. Ayla nudged Star to get closer to Milton’s horse. “What is he looking at?” Milton, who was lost in his thoughts, blinked at Ayla a few times and asked, confused, “What?” “The King, he keeps looking at the trees, then forward, then back at the trees as if they hold the answer to some riddle.” “They do. Well, in a certain way. Old Nordmarian runes and symbols are painted or carved on certain trees, or ropes with knots or colored beads are t