If the Fledging hadn’t told her it was a celebration, she would have known. To the royals’ right, the head of each Sordarin clan sat with their families.
To the royals’ left, representatives from the other countries in the realm had come. They sat in a box adjoining the royal family.
Each wore their ceremonial attire. The Tarrin envoys had scaled armor of crimson with the emblem of fleogan in flight; their cloaks matched. Each had a stern expression etched into their faces.
In contrast, the Azmarion large party strutted into their seats much like peacocks, flamboyantly displaying their brilliant iridescent robes of bright yellow and java green.
The largest sat with goblet in hand and drank its contents in one gulp. Empty, he threw it down and demanded another.
Though, Kela’s attention was drawn to the man who sat smugly in his seat. He wore a doublet of night-blue velvet and puffed sleeves slashed to show the black satin underlining. The lion sigil was embroidered into the jacket. Without question, he was from Brixtone.
She studied him. Undeniably handsome, his blond hair reflected off the sun’s rays when he took off his hat. He looked vaguely familiar.
It came to her.
The prince, she determined, though she could not remember his name.
His head turned toward Kela.
Quickly, she broke her gaze. Silly! Why would I be concerned he might know I’m here?
A sudden thought struck her. Why is the prince not with Belasquita? Had not Sareta told me that she expected the two to become attached?
With a quick glance back at her family, realization sank deep within Kela. Belasquita was smiling broadly, without doubt quite happy. Was that a wedding gown she wore? Oh, heavin above! This was Belasquita’s celebration!
Belasquita had married Falco.
Kela’s heart sank. Belasquita married my brother. No one told me. Why would they not tell me? Why would I not be a part of the celebration?
Kela had believed her appearance meant she would finally take her place with her family. She dreamed of being welcomed with open arms. All the years that had passed would be no more.
No more training, no more hiding: she would again be Princess Kela. More importantly, she would take her place alongside Cono.
Yet, while her brother planned his marriage, she sat in wait in the Forbidden Forest. She had received no correspondence…no word.
“Kela.”
From behind Kela, her name resounded in her ear, whispered for no one else to hear.
Swiftly, she turned.
Relief flooded her.
“Johannes,” Kela demanded. “Tell me what is happening.”
His wings whipped around them, scattering the crowd. There was no protest with Johannes’s obvious attachment to the Royal Wings. Moreover, he looked quite impressive.
Johannes’s face was painted in the ancient Osmolado tradition, a crimson mask around his eyes. His headpiece of snowy owl feathers sat on his thick red hair with his distinctive white streak.
Kela had read a book on the Scarladin clans’ ancient culture and traditions. The ancient clans believed painting their faces gave them spiritual power. At times, face painting had also been used to intimidate an adversary.
He donned the traditional ceremonial Royal Wings uniform below his face, a gold-plaited breast plate bearing the hawk sigil, with matching arm and shin guards. The armor was light, making way to be able to fly without restrictions.
“It is good to see you.” Johannes took Kela’s elbow. “Please, let us get out of this crowd. Come with me.”
Kela shook her head. “I need to know why I have been forgotten.”
“You have not been forgotten,” Johannes said solemnly.
He said no more, but walked her briskly to one of the posts.
After a knock on the door, a guard answered.
Johannes nodded to the man. “She is to view from the perch.”
The guard allowed entrance.
Halting her progress, Johannes said, “I have to return to the prince’s side, but will meet you at the top. Walk quickly up the steps.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Prince Falco said you haven’t been listening to him. He is the one who picked up on your appearance.” Johannes paused. “I would advise you to be patient. You will have your answers.”
Kela had no choice. She began her ascent to the top of the perch.
The Wedding Battle
Kela took her place along the railing. Below, the view was spectacular. A scurry of spectators had positioned themselves to take full advantage of the display.
The commoners deafened the arena with shouts. Long live Prince Falco! Love live Princess Belasquita! Never had Kela witnessed such an event. The city was enamored with the wedding couple.
“You never fail to amaze me, Kela.”
Kela stepped back as Johannes landed beside her. Most times, the sight of her friend filled her with joy. Today, she felt only the need for answers.
“As I am filled with wonder of the events going on around me.”
“I have never forgotten whence you came, my friend,” he told her. “The question lies how you are here now?”
“It would seem to be of little matter.” She frowned. “Today is my nameday…The Wood Spirit sent me through the Shimmering Pool.”
“I understand your frustration. I have dealt with Cono for the last month over the same,” Johannes said. “Prince Falco will explain, I’m certain, after the Soaring.”
Kela looked upward toward the warriors lining up in formation. She had no desire for Johannes to see her delight in the knowledge that Cono had thought of her.
“Much has happened since you returned to the Forbidden Forest,” Johannes continued. “It is my understanding, King Edulf thought it best for you to stay until the unrest passed.”
She glanced back at Johannes. “Unrest?”
“It is not for me to say.”
His staunch deflection of the truth angered her. “It is never for anyone to say,” she retorted. “I can see the havoc you are facing. It staggers me.”
Kela, I know you are maddened about the wedding…with reason. But do not take it out on Johannes. It is not his fault.
This time she heard her brother. Then whom?
“Me.”
Above her, the Sordarin prince hovered a moment, then landed. He looked splendid in his gold-plaited chest armor with the hawk crest. A cloak of deep golden velvet was attached to his shoulders, falling down in-between his wings.
He wore no helm, but a jeweled crown that rested on his dark-brown curls. His face, too, was painted, but with a gold mask around his eyes and two white marks on each cheek. If not for his crown, he would be wearing the hawk feathers that were traditional of the Mortalita clan.
His eyes met hers. He smiled. “You look lovely, Kela.”
“I do not want sweet talk, brother. I want the truth.”
“You shall have it.” Falco gestured to Johannes. “Be gone. I will take care of my sister.”
Kela watched Johannes nod to Falco and then take flight. Her attention turned back to her brother. Her heart could not help but soften on the sight.
“I’m not even going to ask you how you emerged from the Forbidden Forest, but the question is…is it still there?”
“Funny, Falco,” she responded. “I’m not in the mood for your games.”
“You are hurt. For so long, we have been kept apart. Yet, there is a bond that will never be broken between us. I ask you now to hold to that bond, for I do not have the time to divulge all that has transpired. Even now, Sareta is questioning what I am doing.”
From Kela’s view, she saw Sareta staring up at their perch. Amicia leaned over and said something. Sareta shook her head.
“I have been held in my prison long enough, Falco. I came this day with high hopes of being reunited with you…of being acknowledged. Then, I come where I know nothing that is taking place…”
Falco t
ook her hand. “This is an arranged wedding, Kela. I am not in love with my bride…she is not my choice, but my duty. As with our birth, our marriages are not ours to choose.”
“Even so, you should have told me. Instead, once more, I sit far away and alone…quite forgotten.”
“Never forgotten.” He shook his head. “I cannot go into great length, but since you departed, there has been turmoil within court.”
“Why was I not called?”
“For it is not the Arachnidans who we are fighting, but ourselves.”
Stunned at the thought, Kela stared at her brother in disbelief. “You make no sense. However…”
“Sister, for you to protect Scarladin, Grandfather has shielded you. Kept you from court. Court is a battlefield in itself, but you must realize that our uncle, Fenwick, lost his position when my presence was made known.”
“Yes, but you are heir.”
“Without question.” Falco suppressed a smile, as if he were dealing with a small child. “But our uncle desires a crown, if not for himself, his children. Grandfather tried to attach Belasquita to the Brixtone prince. It did not happen.”
“So, you were sacrificed?”
“Belasquita is a beautiful woman. It is not a sacrifice.” He laughed. “Grandfather said he should have done so from the start.”
“Then why did he not?”
“Because it seems I was attached at birth to one in Witheleghe. Grandfather said it was an impossible vow to uphold.”
Kela was certain there was much Falco was not telling her. It was not the time to press.
“I have to return.” Falco leaned down and kissed her cheek. “Stay. Please. Share with me this day, my dear sister. I need you.”
“I will stay.”
“That is good.”
Readying to take to the air once more, his wings expanded.
“Falco.”
He looked back at her.
“How did you know I was here?”
His smiled returned. “Cono. He felt your presence.”
She watched Falco return to his unit with her spirits revived.
* * * *
Kela stood alone on the perch.
The Sordarin guards had withdrawn from around Kela. Her brother had cleared the post to allow her to view the entire Soaring.
She gazed upward. The Sordarin warriors had begun their formations. Cono was up there, but she hadn’t distinguished where until the units broke apart.
Cono led the King’s Wings. Her heart surged with pride. Goose bumps emerged on her arms at the sight of him soaring.
Despite everything, Kela found herself caught up in the merriment and lost in the music from below. Beautiful voices blended with the sound of the flute and pipes in the rhythm of the drum.
Absurdly happy…so happy. She was finally home.
King Edulf stood.
The Soaring began.
The Challow unit aligned first. The smaller, but quick Sordarins swooped along the sides of the arena, darting through their maneuvers.
Cheers erupted.
Kela held her breath, knowing death would be instantaneous upon a collision. Her worry was unnecessary. The Challow unit performed brilliantly. Each move was completed with precision and timing.
Without a breach of timing, the Acciptritutes swept in. The Acciptritutes seemed in sync as well, flying in a ferocious style.
In awe, she watched even though she had seen the Sordarins in a real battle. She had never witnessed such a magnificent sight.
The most terrifying moment came when she saw Cono take his position for his Soaring at the tip of a V formation. He would swoop down for the golden ring set in the middle of the roped-off arena. A small, almost invisible target.
The intent would be to break his dive at the last possible moment with ring in hand. All the while, the King’s Wings would follow, synchronized with Cono.
From up here, she had a clear view of all the common and arena.
The horns blew. The crowd quieted, nary a movement. All eyes held to the sky.
Kela trembled when Cono began his flight downward. Her instincts stirred from deep within her. In phenomenal amazement, she began to see through the eyes of her warrior. Never had she experienced such wonderment.
The Soaring was before her. She was in flight with her warrior, diving faster and faster. The eyes were sharp and aware…aware of a sudden shadow emerging over the grandstand.
Perhaps she was wrong. Perhaps it was some trick of light with the multitude of warriors in flight. What had she seen, after all?
She hadn’t been wrong.
The ground had separated in the arena. The creature crawled out of its covered hideaway, tall and dark, black as night. With fangs exposed and salivating, its eight long limbs scuttled toward King Edulf.
Screams erupted, shouts for help. Spectators began to scatter and run for their lives.
Kela gasped. Abruptly, Cono diverted his flight toward the monster. She felt Cono’s need. With her arms outstretched, she blasted.
An eerie cry boomed over the showground. The Arachnidan spider fell over. Its armor was hard and protective. Struggling momentarily, the creature leaped back onto its hairy legs. Hissing loudly, its beady eyes turned toward Cono.
Cono landed roughly from breaking his dive. He rolled onto his feet. Stripping his sword from his sheath, he slid forward, meeting the monster bravely.
With swords drawn, the King’s Wings fell in beside Cono—to the right, to the left, all around. The mighty warriors rushed at the massive spider and swung at one of its legs. The animal screamed, a high, thin pitch, but little injury was done.
Circling around, the creature used his legs to thrust warriors in the air and raised one high in the air. It landed in the chest of one of the remaining King’s Wings.
To Kela’s shock, the leg pierced the warrior’s armor with ease. The brave Sordarin cried out in pain. Blood spewed and droplets sprayed the crowd. The warrior reached to his chest. A useless gesture to stop his life blood.
The warm liquid drained through his fingers. His legs collapsed. He fell dead.
Blood soaked the ground.
“For Edulf!” The cry went out. Blades swung violently through the air, but the creature flicked his assailants back.
Kela! King Edulf! Save him!
No! Kela contradicted Falco. Her focus lay upon Cono and the fight. She was losing her hold. Heavins above! Have Sareta transport him…transport them all!
For heavins sakes! Sareta should have done so immediately. Her sister shouldn’t have needed any prompting…
Kela wanted to blast again, but she hadn’t a clearing to hit the spider. There were too many Sordarins. From her position, she would hurt them if she responded.
Her instincts cried to protect. She desperately wanted to, but she was too far away.
She was scared.
Before, the night was dark during the battle in the desert. She had reacted. She hadn’t seen the anguish and brutality.
Panic came with a remembrance of the night she fought the Sawamdai within the king’s chamber. A time when Cono had slain the beast…
A brilliant blinding light appeared…consuming Kela.
The light dimmed. She found herself in the battle beside her warrior.
His ceremonial black paint around his eyes had smeared. He had lost the leather hold of his hair, leaving it to fall loose to his shoulders. A cut bled on his upper arm.
Yet, he held his sword high.
“I am here, my warrior,” Kela proclaimed.
Shifting her position, she reached out and touched his back.
Power surged.
As if one, Cono attacked. He pounced, concurrent with Kela’s blast.
The animal cried out in pain.
In two strides, Cono had mounted the hardened back of the creature and thrust his sword hard downward. He met resistance.
His blade stuck in the shell.
Kela felt his need. She shot her power at the b
east.
Unexpected and unexplained, her force coursed through her into Cono, resulting in a burst from his sword. The Arachnidan spider exploded, tossing Cono high into the air.
Kela fell forcibly to the ground, covered in a black sludge. Wiping back the muck, she crawled to her feet.
Where is Cono? Looking one way and then another, she saw the remnants of the beast scattered across the grounds, the battlefield.
In front of her, battle-worn Falco sheathed his sword, his cloak ripped. Not far away, she recognized Silas, though he, too, had scars from the fight and was covered in the muck, as was she.
Other warriors and spectators began to recover.
For a heartbeat, she panicked. She didn’t see Cono.
“I am here, my Euchoun.”
Elated, Kela’s heart surged at the sight of her battle-weary warrior. She wanted nothing more than to sling her arms around him. She had no opportunity.
Cono swept her into his arms and flew away.
Changes in the Wind
The flight had not taken long. Cono had flown Kela up to the command perch above the arena.
Watchmen stood out on the stoop with spears in hand. The guardsmen backed up a step, allowing Cono free access.
Cono released Kela. Her hair hung wet and heavy. Her gown was covered in the sludge of the creature when it exploded. She could imagine how wild and ragged she looked and smelled. There was a distinct rotten odor.
Her warrior had escaped the onslaught of muck. Her shield had protected him.
“Help those down below,” Cono ordered, dismissing the watchers with a wave of his hand.
None made any protest.
After the watchmen’s departure, an unexpected gust of wind swirled around Kela. She grasped hold of Cono’s arm.
The next moment, she was as she had come into Yucca. Her gown sparkled in the sunlight, white and flowing. Her raven hair was clean and arranged as the lady in the Shimmering Pool, braided away from her face and hung loose down her back.
Sareta, Kela thought thankfully, as she stared at Cono.
His wings flexed as his bold eyes met hers.
Glistening in sweat, he walked toward her. The paint of his face had smeared. His hair, loose and disheveled, had fallen to his shoulders. Yet, she had never seen him look so handsome.
The Path Now Turned Page 2
