30. Buried Truths II

"Mother, please! I did not mean to—"

"No, Raphenia!" her mother thundered, her voice echoing through the chamber. "Thou hast gone far enough! Thy actions have wrought the deaths of thousands, and now… Malric is dead!"

Raphenia flinched at her mother's fury, unable to lift her head. The damage had been done. The massive earthquakes had laid waste to towns and cities, leaving countless dead. It had all begun with the battle between Malric and Aldric—a battle born of her machinations.

She had told Malric that Aldric would ascend the throne should he force Aldric to marry her. Malric, desiring royal blood to flow through his descendants, had sought to ensure this union. Yet Aldric had stood in his way. The result had been devastation: Malric's defeat and destruction at Aldric's hands.

Within a week, Aldric was summoned to the royal court. He stood now in the throne room, his head bowed before the king. Maids, nobles, and courtiers alike whispered among themselves, their shock palpable. A man of Malric's stature—killed by his own son?

The king's voice broke the tense silence. "Aldric, though thou art the son of Malric, thou hast slain a duke who governed a great and noble portion of this kingdom. The people of Thelaria held him in the highest regard. For thy crime, I do sentence thee to exile. Shouldst thou ever return, thou shalt face execution."

Raphenia stood in the shadowed corner of the throne room, her heart heavy as she looked upon Aldric. His face was a mask of sorrow, broken by grief she could not fathom. Before she could summon the courage to speak, Aldric was gone—exiled from Thelaria.

She later learned that a portion of the duchy's people, along with those from nearby villages, had followed Aldric northward to Vynthera, the land where snow never ceased to fall.

Her mind drifted to the first time she had laid eyes upon Aldric, at the tender age of seven. It had been her birthday, and Malric had brought his son to the celebration. Raphenia had fallen in love with him at first sight.

But now it was all gone. Her jealousy had consumed her, and with it, the lives of countless innocents. The weight of her guilt was unbearable.

"Raphenia," her mother said sharply, her tone leaving no room for argument, "we have decided thou shalt be wed to the youngest prince of Orynthar. I shall hear no objections."

Though Raphenia longed for her mother's rebuke to be harsher—to reflect the gravity of her sins—she knew her mother's leniency stemmed from love. Bowing her head, she whispered, "As thou wishest, Mother."

At the age of twenty-one, Raphenia was sent to the royal palace of Orynthar, awaiting the prince she was to wed. The hall was grand, but she sat silently, her thoughts clouded by the past. She had met the prince once before, a year prior, when he was but twenty.

Now, she waited for him, her heart heavy with regret and the shadow of her guilt lingering still.

A maid came rushing in, breathless. "I-I'm sorry, miss, but the prince might take some time..."

Raphenia smiled softly. "'It's alright. He must be occupied with pressing matters."

The maid bowed and hurried out again, leaving Raphenia to wait. Hours passed, and the sun began to set, yet the prince had not come. Growing restless, she stood and began pacing the room. Though adorned with jewels and priceless furniture, the chamber failed to impress her; after all, she had grown up surrounded by similar luxuries.

Finally, unable to sit idly any longer, she stepped out. The maids rushed to stop her, but she waved them off with a gentle hand. She wandered the palace, its grand halls dimly lit in the fading daylight.

As she turned a corner, the head maid approached in a flurry, her face pale with worry. The moment she saw Raphenia, she bent into a deep bow. "My lady, I apologize deeply, but the prince is nowhere to be found. We are still searching for him."

Raphenia gave her a calm nod. "Worry not" she replied, continuing on her way.

Night fell, and still, she roamed. At last, her steps led her to a tall tower. Climbing the spiraling stairs, she caught glimpses of the moonlight spilling through narrow windows. As her thoughts wandered, she murmured to herself, "Would Aldric ever forgive me? And what… was the name of the lass he so dearly loved?"

She reached the top and found a door slightly ajar. Pushing it open, she stepped into a room filled with paintings. They covered every wall, vivid depictions of nature and beauty, each unique and brimming with life. She was drawn to them as if mesmerized, her hand reaching out to touch one of the canvases.

"They aren't dry" a voice interrupted.

She turned sharply to see a young man sitting amidst the clutter, his clothes speckled with paint.

"I beg thy pardon; I did not notice," she said, flustered.

The man smiled warmly. "It's alright. How did you end up here?"

"I was merely exploring," she answered, her tone soft.

He chuckled. "You're from Thelaria, aren't you?"

She nodded. "Indeed, sir."

"Well, nice to meet you. What brings you to this part of the palace?"

"Ah… I am here to see my betrothed, yet he had not come. In my wandering, I stumbled upon this place." Her gaze drifted to him, noting his tanned skin and striking golden eyes.

"Oh, well, I'm... the painter," he said, brushing off her observation with a light laugh.

"A painter, thou sayest?" Raphenia tilted her head. "Thy work is truly marvelous. These paintings are most exquisite."

He laughed modestly. "It's nothing special, really."

"Nay, I assure thee, 'tis splendid," she insisted, her eyes returning to the paintings. She paused before one—a vivid image of an autumn leaf, its red and orange hues blending in harmony. "I have seen countless treasures, yet these works art beyond compare."

The man smiled, gesturing for her to sit. Though hesitant, she accepted and joined him near his current canvas. It was unfinished, yet to her eyes, it already appeared complete.

"Art can never truly be complete," he said, adding a dark blue stroke to form waves across the painting. "People rush art, desperate to see it finished, but that rush can ruin it. Once the brush touches the canvas, the change is permanent. You can cover it up, sure, but the mark remains underneath. Instead of rushing to frame it, it's better to take your time and admire the process."

Raphenia watched him work, his words lingering in her mind. His perspective on art felt like a reflection of her own regrets—a lesson she wished she had learned long ago.

He smiled and set down his brush. She glanced at the canvas and gasped softly, seeing a breathtaking depiction of the night sky outside. The stars seemed to shimmer, and the moonlight danced across the painted landscape with stunning accuracy and beauty.

"'Tis wondrous..." she murmured, utterly entranced.

He chuckled, standing and wiping his hands on a cloth. "It's getting late, miss. I suppose you should reach out to the maids. I'm sure they'll arrange a place for you to stay the night. I believe the prince will certainly meet you tomorrow."

"Ah, yes, of course." She rose and made her way to the door. Before stepping out, she turned back and asked, "Might I know thy name, sir?"

He paused, his golden eyes reflecting the moonlight. "Name, huh? Call me... the painter, for now."

She smiled softly. "Very well. Fare thee well, painter."

The next day, Raphenia sat in the grand hall once more, dressed in an elegant gown befitting her station. She waited patiently, her thoughts wandering as time passed. Finally, the double doors creaked open, and a man strode in.

Her eyes widened. The golden eyes, the slightly tanned skin—she recognized him instantly. He wore noble attire, his posture regal, and an assistant followed close behind.

She stood abruptly. "Wait but a moment—thou art the painter! What dost thou here?"

He smiled and bowed gracefully. His servants followed his gesture. "A pleasure to meet you, Princess. My name is Veilern. I am the youngest prince of Orynthar... and your betrothed."

---

Years had passed since Raphenia and Veilern were wed. Though their love didn't bloom immediately, she slowly fell for his art, his hands, and his kind nature. Everything about him brought her warmth.

The guilt of her past lingered, but Veilern had a way of keeping her grounded. When she finally confessed everything, he didn't recoil or judge her. Instead, he listened and understood.

Time passed, and Veilern ascended as the king of Orynthar, making her queen. Despite the grandeur of the palace, Raphenia kept their modest manor outside the capital, preferring its simplicity. Even as her duties as queen grew, she found solace there. Eventually, she began learning the Orynthar dialect, mimicking Veilern's speech patterns. It took time and effort, but she managed to speak fluently enough to avoid confusing her people.

Her life transformed as she healed, finding love in her husband and purpose in her role. Yet the pain of unfinished business haunted her. One day, she learned through whispered rumors that Aldric had been spotted in Veil's Grove. Using the pretense of a peace treaty with Vynthera, she journeyed north. On her return, she deliberately took the forested route, where she found Kieth, wounded and barely clinging to life.

Though her heart burned with questions about Aldric, she couldn't press Kieth for answers in his fragile state. She brought him to safety, tending to his wounds until he recovered. Now, as they stood face to face, she explained her connection to Aldric, sharing her past without holding back.

When she finished, Kieth had listened silently, his gaze distant. Slowly, he rose to his feet. "I see... Sorry to hear that. But even I don't fully understand what happened. It was... chaos. Pure chaos."

Though hesitant, Kieth shared what he knew, piecing together fragmented memories. Out of respect for her honesty, he reciprocated—leaving out the most dangerous parts.

"That's about it," Kieth murmured, his gaze dropping to the floor.

Raphenia smiled softly. "Thank you for telling me."

Kieth glanced at her briefly before looking away. The golden light of the setting sun spilled through the windows, and they both realized how much time had passed.

"Would you like to rest a bit?" she offered. "I can ask Paulina to prepare a room for you. You look like you haven't slept."

He shook his head. "No need. I have somewhere I need to be... but thanks."

Without another word, Kieth turned and walked out of the room, leaving Raphenia standing in quiet reflection.

As Kieth stepped out of the room, he saw Serel clinging to Paulina's dress, rubbing her sleepy eyes. Paulina glanced up and frowned.

"Kieth, where were you? You didn't even come to the room last night to sleep with Serel," she said sharply.

Hearing her name, Serel rubbed her eyes again and looked toward Kieth. She toddled over to him, lifting her small hands in a clear gesture for him to pick her up.

Kieth knelt and scooped her into his arms, smiling softly. "Why don't you get ready? We're going to meet Arcellus today."

Serel nodded sleepily as he handed her back to Paulina. "Sorry," he said to Paulina with a slight bow of his head. "I was busy yesterday."

Paulina sighed, her tone sharp but caring. "Don't do that again. Serel needs you."

Kieth chuckled lightly. "Of course."

Later, as he and Serel rode in the carriage, both dressed and refreshed, Kieth's mind wandered back to his earlier conversation with Mart.

"I'm sorry!" Mart had said, his voice almost a whine. "But the captain's not letting me come today."

Kieth had only smiled. "It's alright. I know you're busy."

"Thanks for understanding," Mart had replied, grinning. "If you meet my brother, just let him know I said hi."

"Will do," Kieth had promised.

Now, as the carriage approached their destination, Kieth's eyes fixed on the massive dome in the distance. Today it held a new significance. Today, he might finally uncover the way to return home.

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