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A Kiss of Fate

The wheels of fate have started turning, setting into motion the deathly chariot of destiny… It all began with a piece of parchment—a missive from Eitheon that confirmed Vorigan’s darkest fears. The Emperor of Aria sent forth his formidable minions to seek out the last descendant of Ilirion’s Bloodline, dead or alive. Little did the Empire know she was nearer than they had anticipated, or one of their own was keeping her hidden from Vorigan’s malevolent sight. Ayana knew they would come for her one day, but she did not expect it to be so soon... Can Ayana protect her loved ones? Can she escape the clutches of the ill famed Imperial Guard? Can she truly outrun the fiery tentacles of fate?

DaoistxOxJmt · Fantaisie
Pas assez d’évaluations
19 Chs

Chapter 13

Ayana woke to the sound of Iezabel's voice, eyes heavy with sleep. Her body throbbed all over, and even shifting her muscles caused her agony.

Instead of relieving the ache, her slumber had elevated it further.

She rolled over and pulled a pillow over her head.

"Your breakfast is ready, Lady Ayana." Iezabel's voice sounded beside her.

"Hmm."

She did not feel like getting up. It took all her will to push aside the covers and climb to her feet.

She almost stumbled on the plush sheepskin carpet, but Iezabel grasped her hand.

"I'm tired."

"I know." Iezabel helped her toward the lavatory. "But the Commander might call on you anytime. You have to be ready."

She released her grip and half-closed the door behind her.

Ayana walked over to the marble basin and gazed into the clear liquid. A haggard face stared back at her, dark circles under a pair of slightly sunken eyes. The black dye had worn off, and her hair gleamed wine red. She sighed and splashed some cold water on her face.

Her eyes darted around the small chamber.

Iezabel had stocked the granite shelves with her favored toiletries.

It did not take long for her to brush her teeth and tend to her other needs. She grabbed a robe from the corner dresser and slipped it over her nightgown.

"You look better," Iezabel said as Ayana collapsed into one of the chairs.

"Better than I feel," she muttered. "Did the Commander send for me?"

Iezabel took a seat beside her. "Not yet."

Ayana scanned the food on the table. Platters of meat, sausages, boiled potatoes, bread, soft cheese, a bowl of porridge, a dish of vegetables, a jug of pineapple juice, and a pitcher of clear water.

"Eat." Iezabel said. "I had it checked for poison."

"I hope not on the boy."

"No." She averted her eyes. "I had the cook do the honors."

Ayana sighed, piling some meat and vegetables onto her plate. She ate in silence, particularly enjoying the wine soaked slice of pork—quite tangy and scrumptious.

It had been weeks since she had consumed proper food.

Iezabel smiled. "Is it that good?" She poured some juice into a glass mug and handed it to her.

Ayana nodded, taking a sip. Her fork stabbed into another sausage, taking it to her mouth. A sigh of satisfaction slipped through her lips as the tender meat melted into a myriad of savory flavors on her tongue. "You rarely allow me to eat what I want," Ayana said between bites. When Iezabel remained silent, she asked, "I hope you do not regret coming here?"

"On the contrary, I'm glad the rebels found us," Iezabel said, her eyes darting to her swollen belly. "You can't afford to be on the run. Not now."

Ayana took a sip from the glass. "Now you trust them, huh?"

Iezabel glared at her. "I don't," she said. "But as long as we have a common enemy, we can count them as allies."