I woke up to find my shoulder burning and my head throbbing. I blinked my eyes to clear my foggy vision and realized that I was no longer outside, nor did I think I was in a camp. The ceiling was white and solid, not the folded fabric of a tent. I could see wooden beams securely holding up the corners of the room, with designs of animals carved into them. I allowed my gaze to follow the furthest beam, down the white stucco walls, to a carved wooden table. A porcelain pitcher and a bowl sat on the table, both white with delicately painted purple flowers on it. I followed the table edge with my eyes, admiring the detail of the nature carvings, until I reached the other corner of the room directly across from where I lay. A chair stood empty between my bed and the wall, and I became aware of the softness of the mattress on which I lay and the plumpness of the pillow beneath my head. Wherever I was, I was being well taken care of.
A door opened and closely gently. I tried to sit up, but found my body too sore to move. The figure placed something on the table and came over to me, sitting down on the chair near my head. It was a young woman, with long silvery hair that shone in the light of the room. Belatedly, I realized the opposite wall must have a window in it to allow in the sunlight that reflected off her hair. She had kind blue eyes and she smiled at me with unmasked delight. She was as beautiful as Lady Ellena, although without the doll-like qualities.
“You’re awake!” she exclaimed happily. “I was starting to worry.”
“Where am I?” I asked groggily.
“Oponoe,” the woman replied. “The capital city of the land of Dyrel.”
“Dyrel?” I repeated in alarm, sitting up quickly. The room spun and the woman reached out to steady me. Fynn’s warning to avoid the Huryl and Dyrel echoing in my mind. The woman seemed anxious at my sudden alarm and raised her hand to calm me.
“We mean you no harm,” she insisted. “Our prince has been most eager to meet you, and insisted on the best care. That’s why I’m here. I’m the prince’s personal physician, Gael.”
“Prince?” My mind was racing.
“Prince Damaeon,” Gael said in a surprised voice. “He would like you to visit him when you’re feeling better.”
I nodded, not sure how to respond to a royal invitation. Would I get the same reception from the Dyrel Prince that I received from the Huryl commander? I felt almost a physical ache for Fynn, separated so soon after we had been reunited. Was he all right? Gael had clapped her hands at my acknowledgment and opened a small chest at the foot of my bed. She pulled out a yellow gown and held it up for me to see.
“This should be your size,” she replied. “Your other clothes are being washed and mended. Honestly, what were you doing in the forest alone?”
“Running, mostly,” I replied.
“Prince Damaeon will be expecting you after dinner tonight. You’ll have a private reception. We’ve all been waiting for you for a long, long time.”
“Let me guess,” I said dryly. “I was promised to you?”
Gael smiled
brightly and nodded. “How shall I announce you?”
“My name is Leila,” I said,
apologizing for my lack of manners.
Gael laid the dress on my bed. “Take you time getting ready. A servant will come for you in a few hours.” She stepped over something on the floor, her expression melting into one of distaste. “And leave him behind.”
As the physician left my small room, I leaned over the side of my bed to find the wolf curled up on the floor. He looked up at me with his large yellow eyes and blinked. I smiled at him, grateful for a familiar face, and lay back down. A dinner invitation from a prince! I was amazed and a little flattered, but my mind drifted back to Fynn as I fell asleep.
My eyes snapped open at the sound of a timid knock at my door. The wolf growled as I called for the person to enter, and a young girl stuck her head in the room. Her eyes went immediately to the wolf. She swallowed and stepped into the room, curtseying at me.
“I’m here to help you dress, my lady,” she said politely, keeping her distance from the wolf.
I slid out of bed and shot a look to my canine protector. The servant girl picked up the yellow dress and held it out to me. I realized that my arm was tightly bound against my chest and shrugged helplessly to the girl. She smiled and helped me out of the nightclothes I had been wearing.
A few minutes later, I followed her down the stone hallways of the building, dressed in a stunning yellow dress. The dress had no sleeves, which was helpful as I maneuvered my sore arm through the bodice. The girl even fixed my hair, adding a green ribbon to it. I felt like a princess, although I was quickly overcome by nervousness as I stood in front of the two large doors that led to the prince’s audience chamber.
“Wait until you are announced,” the servant girl told me, “then walk up the throne and curtsey.”
I nodded, my throat dry. Through the door, I heard my name being called along with some other muffled titles, and the doors swung open. I found myself staring down a long red carpet lined on either side by well-dressed men and women. At the far end of the carpet was a throne where a young man sat. Holding my head high, I headed straight for him. As I approached, I could make out his features. He had short brown hair and wore a golden circlet on his brow. His eyes were also brown and twinkled cheerfully. He had a smile on his face, his complexion pale, and his body fit. I found myself comparing him to Fynn as I moved, and when I reached him, I did my best to curtsey. Prince Damaeon regarded me for a moment before rising to his feet and clapping his hands.
“I will adjourn for the evening,” he announced.
He stepped from his throne and offered me his arm. I took it, laying my good hand on his hand as he led me past the staring courtiers to a small door at the back of the hall. The two guards snapped to attention as he approached, but he didn’t even look at them. His brown eyes were focused entirely on me.
His private audience chamber was richly decorated with overstuffed chairs and a wall lined with bookcases. Hundreds of books filled the shelves, and I stared at them in awe. The adjoining wall was a floor-to-ceiling window with heavy green drapery partially hiding the view of a garden. The prince watched me as I took in the room.
“Does it please you?” he asked in a rich voice.
“It’s very pretty,” I said.
He smiled and motioned for me to sit. I did so, wincing slightly as pressure was shifted to my injured shoulder. A servant materialized from somewhere with a plate of food and two goblets of wine. I took one and sipped it, enjoying the warmth it gave me.
“Leila,” Prince Damaeon said. “I can’t tell you how happy I am to meet you. Your coming has been prophesized for hundreds of years.”
I swallowed
a gulp of wine. “It has? Really?”
The prince nodded. “You have
been promised to us, the one who will lead us to peace in our hour of need. You
must have seen the battlefield in the Spirit Woods. The Huryl are advancing and
the Dyrel are definitely in their hour of need.”
He paused and I remained silent as I realized where this conversation was headed. I wondered if there was a single person in this world that I had not been promised to. Damaeon sat across from me and took my right hand in his as I laid down my wine goblet. The symbol on my hand began to tingle as he held it, and his eyes found mine. They were full of hope and yearning, and I found myself feeling sympathetic to his cause.
“Leila,” he said. “It’s a lot to ask, I know, but will you help my people? Will you help us end this war?”