“He wants whatever power he can gain from King Randor?”
“He can forcefully take that. His armies are growing like a plague. He could easily start a war with the North and more than likely win. There is something he can gain by marrying the princess.”
“What?”
“That’s what I hope the Elders can tell me.”
“When will you return?”
“I don’t know. As you know, the road to Vallis is long, and time there is not the same as here. I cannot give you an exact time frame, but I can guess that I will be gone at least a month. I have prepared myself for a long time away.”
They stood from their chairs, and although Alekzand’r dreaded leaving the peaceful warmth of the fire, he knew he must be on his way. If Melenthia got too far ahead of him, he might miss her. He could not let that happen. He had to have her in custody and be on the road through the Sorcerers Wood before nightfall tomorrow. He made a promise to Kevaan that he would keep her safe, or die trying, and he vowed not to fail. He would make sure she reached Drydon Keep safely. It would be up to Dain to keep her safe from then on.
Sol and Alek shook hands. Alek put his gloves back on, the sound of the now warm leather creaking as he flexed his fingers.
“Thank you, Sol, for this,” he said patting his chest where the map was under his cloak. “Wish me luck. The princess’ life depends on it.”
“Take care, Alek, and make haste. I fear whatever dark magic Fallon might be dabbling in may be upon us before we know it. We have to be ready. I will contact you when I return from Vallis.”
“Good luck to you as well, Sol. Be safe.”
“I will.”
Alek opened the door, grabbed his horses reins and swung up into the saddle. He turned him around and walked off into the woods slowly, for the path was narrow and the sun was setting. The darkness of the woods chilled his soul for some reason tonight, but he shook it off as he rode through the gloom of the trees. He headed back to the entrance of the secret path and thought about the task that was ahead of him. He hoped that he could find the princess before she got out of reach and that Fallon would not be on her trail. He needed time to get to the Sorcerers Wood road, and if Fallon’s men followed too close, they would all be lost inside the hidden forest. He had to get in ahead of them so that the door would close behind him. That was the only way he would escape with her. He could not fail. He would not fail. He kicked his mount into a gallop and flew like the wind down the road.
CHAPTER 6
When dawn was approaching and Kevaan had not yet returned, Melenthia made the decision to take matters into her own hands. She crept down the dark hall and down the back stairs to the kitchen. She peeked out the doorway to see if anyone was up. The hearth was still cold and the oil lamps were not lit. She figured she still had about an hour before the kitchen staff would be moving around, just enough time to sneak out the back doors and talk to Lucan in the stables. She crept across the inner courtyard, past the guardhouse that was, at the moment, quiet. The night watchmen were on the battlements, watching for approaching visitors, and if she stuck to the inner wall, she knew they would not see her in the pre-dawn gloom. She went to the back door of the stable, and went inside. The horses were quiet, and all the stable hands were still asleep. She went into the small bunkhouse and tip-toed over to the cot where her best friend slept.
Being a princess it was expected that she have friends in the court, but no one understood her. Her only friends growing up were usually the workers in the castle or local villagers that she spent time with against her father’s wishes. Lucan was only two years older than her, but as children they had become close. They would swim in the orchard pond, and he taught her how to ride. His father had been the head of the royal stables, but now he was old enough and skilled enough to be in charge of training any new hires that came in. He was her confidant; she told him everything. He was the only one, besides Kevaan, that understood her or loved her for who she was.
She quietly approached his cot and gently shook him. “Lucan, wake up.”
He rolled over and opened his eyes, yawning. When he saw her, he sat up quickly, whispering, “What are you doing in here, Melenthia? You know you could get me in trouble if you’re caught in here before hours.”
“I need to talk to you. It’s important.”
He looked around to make sure no one else was stirring, and whispered back, “Okay. I’ll meet you out the back door, under the overhang of the grain bins. Stay there, I’ll be right out.”
She nodded and tip-toed out the door of the bunkhouse and through the stables out the back door. She went around the corner and waited next to the large grain bins that lined the outer wall. He came out five minutes later, dressed for his day. He wore thick homespun wool pants and a wool shirt. His pants were tucked in knee high boots, and he wore a leather apron. His brown hair was a bit messy from sleep, and his blue eyes were not yet alert. When he was close enough for her to hear him, he whispered, “What are you doing creeping around this time of the morning? If your father finds you out here, he’ll kill you.”