Chapter 3 - Idynn

The heavy ash doors of the grand hall swung open.

There was no one to announce the prince, nor his delegation, or even the country he hailed from. Navhëlm treasured deeds over words so much so that they laughed at the idea of embellishing titles. It had caused more than one diplomatic incident in our history and it was why Mirea's father was just plain old King Odern.

Besides, everyone knew of Sonera and its practices.

In strode a cloaked figure, completely alone. The cloak was white, with black and gold accents. It swept the ground as its wearer walked, and the hood was so deep that no one could see the face it concealed.

Mirea and I pressed our faces closer to the hole to get a better look. The hall was silent. Everyone's gaze was turned to the figure, watching with rapt attention as they approached the King of Navhëlm.

I held my breath.

And heard Mirea let out an alarmed squeak.

A gloved hand was clamped on her shoulder. I startled, biting down the shriek that threatened to burst from my lips—in my effort to stay quiet, my teeth chomped down hard on my tongue, and the pain jolted me into action.

I pushed Mirea behind me and swung my fist with all my strength at the person who had grabbed the Princess of Navhëlm.

Another hand shot up, seizing my wrist.

I tried to pull back, bracing myself for a blow, but none came.

In the dim light of the storage room, I saw the cloak that covered their head and clothes, and in a moment of hysteria, thought that the prince himself had appeared behind us. My eyes adjusted to the dim light of the room and I saw that my assailant's cloak was a plain brown, unlike the grand one that the figure in the grand hall wore, and the cut and colour of it looked familiar.

Beneath the hood of the cloak, my assailant was wearing a mask that covered the bottom half of their face. All I could see was the glare of dark eyes from above the mask, and a strand of long hair that had escaped the cloak and dangled in front of their face.

I did not scream. I desperately wanted to. I wanted to alert the guards in the grand hall so they could hack this person to pieces with their axes and swords. Behind me, Mirea's panicked breaths came in muffled bursts; she had probably covered her mouth to keep from screaming, too.

Their eyes dropped from my face to the hole I'd been looking through—I realised where I'd seen that kind of cloak before. It was part of the guards' uniform, which meant that my assailant was simply an unlucky guard assigned to look for us.

Mirea whispered, 'It has already begun. If you send us in now, His Majesty will not take this intrusion lightly.'

The guard remained silent. Their gaze slid over Mirea and I, to the wall to the left of us, then snapped back to me, lingering. They seemed to relax slightly, but the grip on my wrist didn't waver.

Mirea cleared her throat, but I interrupted her before she could speak, my voice shaking as I said, 'We will go with you to see the King when it's over. We won't cause trouble again, I promise.'

I was suddenly very conscious of the grip they had on my wrist, the warmth of it. I squirmed. The guard let go.

Behind us, the grand hall stirred, no longer silent, and my attention returned to it.

The cloaked prince and King Odern were talking.

'—trust the journey was smooth?'

'Yes.' The Prince's voice was low but clear and sounded… young. 'We were fortunate to face fair winds and light snow.'

'Good.'

I felt a warmth at my back. So, the guard was also too curious for their own good. Mirea shifted uncomfortably at their proximity, so I swallowed my smugness and moved such that the guard had to angle away from Mirea to peep over my shoulder.

There was a pause. Then: 'It is a beautiful country.'

I could almost hear the pride in King Odern's voice when he agreed, 'It is. And difficult to survive in, but we thrive regardless.'

The chieftains murmured in the positive, nodding and nudging each other. They were still uneasy, I could tell. The prince's replies had not been telling of his identity, and they were tiring of the pleasantries. Even I itched to run in there and rip the prince's hood off myself.

Clearly, King Odern felt the same. 'We all know of certain practices your country is fond of, and I assume you must know of our Navhëlm… bluntness.'

'Yes.' The word carried clear across the hall.

'Let us begin. What does Sonera want?'

The guard behind me said something, but it came out muffled from behind their mask. I hushed them reflexively, and they stilled at once.

The Prince raised his hand as if to gesture as he spoke. Then he seemed to think better of it. In one swift motion, he reached up, grabbed the back of his hood, and gave it a firm tug.

Time seemed to slow as the pristine white fabric fell back, in stark contrast to the prince's head of dark hair.

My stomach dropped. Mirea gasped. And the grand hall exploded into uproar.