Chapter 18
Two days had passed since Ysabel last saw Aleric, and a strange sense of relief washed over her. The man was intimidating; a single glance held a silent threat that sent shivers down her spine. It was Elvin who consistently checked on her, his presence a gentle counterpoint to the looming shadow of Aleric. Hector, too, visited occasionally, though his demeanor was enigmatic, a careful neutrality that neither confirmed nor denied his acceptance of her presence. Ysabel suspected her continued comfort within the tent—well-fed and cared for, was a form of reluctant mercy from Aleric himself, a temporary reprieve before whatever fate awaited her.
On the second day, Elvin urged her to enjoy the fresh air. He revealed their location: the outskirts of Dydilah, a small town nestled precariously close to the border of Valhkiro, a kingdom far to the east. The information sent a jolt through her. Valhkiro was not just distant; it was impossibly remote, a journey of weeks, perhaps months, from her home in Sydren. How had she managed to traverse such a distance, evading capture and surviving the harsh elements?
As she sat outside the tent, contemplating her precarious situation, Elvin approached. "Our companions will arrive before sunrise tomorrow, Ysabel,"
He announced. The news surprised her; she hadn't known they were traveling with others. He continued, his voice low, "Sir Aleric wishes to speak with you tonight."
Ysabel nodded, a knot of apprehension tightening in her chest. The casualness of his announcement belied the weight of the impending meeting. She knew, instinctively, that this conversation would be pivotal, a turning point in her life.
Elvin, sensing her unease, offered a reassuring smile.
"Don't worry too much," He said, his voice gentle.
"Just tell him the truth, and he'll let you go in the next town." His words were meant to comfort, but they only served to underscore the reality of her situation. It wasn't the conversation with Aleric that truly frightened her; it was the terrifying emptiness that would follow—the prospect of being alone, adrift in a strange land, with no clear path forward.
Her gaze drifted to the distant horizon, a vast expanse of rolling hills that stretched towards the unknown. She was a world away from Sydren, and the hope of Commander Tahl's pursuit felt increasingly tenuous in a land where King Dalton's influence was negligible. She'd envisioned a fresh start, a chance to rebuild her life, to escape the crushing weight of guilt and self-loathing. Yet, now that her dreams were within reach, they felt impossibly distant, like stars she could never hope to touch.
***
Later, as darkness fell, casting long shadows across the campsite, Hector's booming voice shattered the quiet.
"Here, m'lady," He rumbled, offering a steaming cup of tea. His immense form loomed over her, obscuring the flickering light of the bonfire.
Ysabel scowled, accepting the cup with a mumbled thank you. She watched him retreat to the opposite side of the fire, his broad back a stark silhouette against the flames. The night air was surprisingly warm, yet a persistent chill wind carried the scent of woodsmoke and damp earth. Above, the stars were scattered like diamond dust across the inky canvas of the night sky—a breathtaking spectacle that offered little comfort.
The sound of approaching footsteps broke the silence. Aleric and Elvin emerged from their tent, their figures silhouetted against the warm glow of the interior. Their eyes met, and Ysabel quickly looked away, her heart hammering against her ribs. She took an involuntary sip of the tea, the scalding liquid burning her tongue. A choked gasp escaped her lips as she spat it out. Hector's booming laughter echoed through the night, amplifying her humiliation. The impending conversation with Aleric loomed, like a dark cloud on the horizon of her already uncertain future.