Greetings readers! Here is another chapter. It is a bit longer than the previous ones but I hope you enjoy it! Please R&R!
A/N: I really wanted to thank you all for the support! But I also wanted to briefly explain my creative process with this story so far. I like highlighting the differences in culture but I also like bringing real-world scenarios to life. I've gotten a little more political with these chapters but there is a reason. Who doesn't like backstabbing and betrayals, right? Well, there is more to it. I'm sure you've all noticed the similarity to Norse culture in Azgeda and I hope you enjoy it. I also hope you enjoy the way I am tying history, mythology, and the tradition of literary epics to this book. Basically, what I am trying to say, is that I am having a blast crafting this story for you. I truly think it is some of my best, and most fun, work so far. Please, feel free to let me know if there is too much/little narration or dialog or anything else you notice. I am always trying to improve.
Again, enjoy!
"You're not shooting a gun," Roan reminded, grasping Clarke's elbow and repositioning her arm. "It's a bow. Don't grip the arrow so tightly. Relax…"
"I can do this," Clarke said, taking a deep breath before aiming at the target. It was a mere ten yards away, her eyes firmly fixed on the circle at the center. She relaxed, gripped the arrow gently between her fingers, and pulled the string back taught, feeling Roan's prescience behind her as she did so. She'd already fired over ten arrows, most of them missing or coming up short. She didn't understand how she could be so bad at this.
"Don't hold," Roan suggested, watching her tense up. "Draw and release the arrow."
"I know," Clarke insisted, repositioning fingers. She let the arrow fly, this time barely managing to lodge it into the outside corner of the target, making Roan chuckle.
"You're improving," Roan admitted, looking down at her as she turned around. "Besides, we've been out here a couple hours and it is your first attempt at archery. You're being too hard on yourself."
"If a ten-year-old Azgeda child can do it, why can't I?" Clarke asked, the slight pout evident in her face.
"Are you always this cute when you whine?" Roan asked, leaning closer. "Do you need a hug?"
"I'm just saying…" Clarke trailed off, turning back around. "I was a decent shot with a gun."
"A bow is much more sophisticated," Roan offered. "Anyone can shoot a gun and hit a target, but it takes skill to wield a bow. You rely too heavily on fire-power."
"I disagree," Clarke frowned up at him over her shoulder. "It took me months to start hitting anywhere close to the center."
"Then don't be so hard on yourself," Roan nodded, pointing at the target. "You hit it, even if it wasn't moving…"
"Shut up," Clarke scowled, putting the bow back in the rack and turning to look at him. "I need a drink after all that. My arms are killing me…"
"I told you a lighter, smaller bow would be better for beginning," Roan chuckled, motioning for her to follow him into the guard-house. "I'm sure we've got ale in here somewhere…" Roan rummaged, moving some boxes aside.
"I'm skilled at riding horses," Clarke pointed, looking across the courtyard at the stables. "Maybe I can learn to shoot from horseback."
"Plains warriors learn to ride horses at a young age," Roan pointed, moving some more crates. "They learn to shoot from the saddle as early as seven years old…"
"I'll have to learn," Clarke chimed, thinking of her own horse, Kahl.
"Damn it," Roan cursed, glancing around. "No ale… I'll be right back."
"Don't take too long," Clarke motioned at the target. "I still want to try and hit the target before it gets dark."
Roan smirked, looking down at her as he approached, a hand going out to grasp her arm. She winced slightly, and Roan shook his head, grazing her skin gently. "You'll hurt yourself if you keep going," Roan suggested. "You're not used to wielding a bow. Don't go overboard."
"Just go get some ale," Clarke replied, feeling a slight blush creep over her chest and neck. She'd gotten better at controlling herself since Roan's confession. It had been nearly five days since then and now that her leg was no longer tender, she wanted to learn some sort of useful battle skills.
He nodded, flicking a lock of hair from her temple before walking back toward the kitchen entrance, making Clarke smirk. Roan, surprisingly, was a good friend. She wasn't sure if he was still playing a part or if he genuinely meant it, but she'd become more relaxed around the Azgeda royal. Clarke was deep in in thought about Roan when she heard a noise behind her. She looked to see Nia walking toward her, Roya and an unfamiliar girl following them. When they approached Clarke bowed slightly to them, watching the unfamiliar face of the older girl beside Roya.
"I see you're learning to shoot," Nia said, glancing at the target. "At least you hit the target. Come, I want you to meet my niece. This is Niara, Warchief of Nihrdelan."
"Warchief," Clarke greeted, bowing her head slightly. "Nihrdelan is the province of the far north, correct?"
"Correct," the girl replied, her eyes roaming over Clarke's appearance. "Do you know much about our northern province?"
"No, but I'd love to see it one day," Clarke affirmed, staying civil. "I hear it is beautiful in the far north and in summer you can see the skies turn green from the northern lights."
"Enough chit-chat," Nia urged, looking down at Clarke. "Have you decided what you're going to do? About Lexa?" Clarke glanced at Niara and Nia smirked, motioning to her companion. "She knows already," Nia assured, pressuring Clarke. "You'll have to do a better job on her than you did with us."
"I have a plan," Clarke said, her voice even. Nia loved a challenge and Clarke had picked up on that after her time here in the capital. The sadistic way she spoke to most people immediately unnerving Clarke.
"That's good," Niara chimed, glaring down at her. She had hair almost exactly like Nia's, her leather armor and chainmail littered with imperfections. She looked formidable, a silvery fur cloak around her shoulders. It wasn't until Niara turned her head that Clarke noticed that there was a hood, the wolf's shining eyes looking at her dangerously. "But the queen asked you what your plan was."
"Lexa knows me well enough to understand that this wouldn't be my first choice for an alliance," Clarke ground out, feeling bolder. "But she also knows I would do anything to protect and advance Arkadia."
"And that's your angle? Allying with an enemy to protect your people?" Nia questioned, seeming skeptical. "You'll have to do better than that," she drawled, her eyes closing in annoyance.
"And who is this Bellamy Blake?" Niara questioned, her steely gray eyes on Clarke's face. "Should we be concerned?"
"No," Clarke assured, stopping her voice from breaking at the sound of his name.
"Good," Niara nodded, glancing at Roya. Clarke thought she was being suspiciously quiet and she found out why. The look of annoyance and dislike for her cousin was written in her steel blue eyes.
"She's quite pathetic," Roya commented, glancing down at Clarke. "We should just kill her and be done with it."
"No," Nia said, glancing back at Roya. "She's the piece we need to secure Azgeda's future."
"She really is clueless," Niara teased, a smirk on her thin lips. "For once, I agree with Roya. Just kill her my Queen; Arkadia is primed to fall."
Clarke couldn't stop the shiver that overcame her as the breeze wafted over them, the dull and wet courtyard seeming to go deaf with the gale from the north. Clarke had never been so afraid, standing before three powerful, and obviously skilled, warriors. She couldn't compare, stacked against two warchiefs and a Queen of a brutal tribal nation. How could she? It wasn't even remotely possible in her position. Yet, she felt the pride well in her chest; she wasn't some hopeless child that would let them threaten her home, her family, and everyone she loved.
"You'd be wise to not underestimate us," Clarke replied, her voice steady but quiet. "It wouldn't be in your best interest."
Nia glared back at Clarke and both Roya and Niara clenched their jaws, as if expecting something terrible. Clarke felt the danger, the adrenaline, but didn't care. They could threaten her all they wanted but Arkadia was a different matter entirely.
"I could slice you, bowels to brains," Nia whispered, her tone dangerous. "And no one could do a thing about it. You might want to watch your mouth, girl."
"What's going on?" came Roan's voice, briskly walking across the courtyard with a jug under his arm. Clarke had never been so relieved to see him.
"Introducing me to your bride," Niara piped up, smiling almost unnaturally at Roan. "She's quite the beauty, Roan. Quite bold…"
"I see her attitude has overcome her better judgement again," Roan smirked, stepping up beside Clarke, wrapping a free arm around her shoulders. "I do admit, she's feisty but what can I say? I like it."
"I can see that," Niara smiled at her cousin, making Clarke finally snap back to reality. She'd been dazed by the situation, the adrenaline still coursing as Nia glanced back down at her. Roya never took her eyes off her, Roan's arm protectively holding her.
"So, shall we dine together?" Roan asked, looking between the women around him. "It's been a while since our last banquet. Summer solstice I think…"
"There is a banquet planned for tomorrow," Nia said, looking back up at her son. "The warchiefs are coming to the capital to see their future Queen. It's important that she play the part tomorrow so make sure she keeps her mouth shut."
"Can do," Roan nodded, guiding Clarke from their presence. She could feel their eyes on them as they made their way toward the tunnel, back toward the side entrance. Roan had kept his arm around her the whole time, both walking in casual silence but Clarke could feel her heart racing.
"Come on, let's have dinner in my rooms tonight," Roan suggested, opening the door to the stairs that lead up into the lower levels of the castle.
Clarke had gotten to know the fortress better over the past week and once she did, it was unbelievable how simple it was. The top floors were for the royal suites, reserved for the Royal family and their esteemed guests and ambassadors. The second floor was tucked away, for servant's quarters and other guests, mostly for ceremonies or festivals. Clarke could easily navigate from floor to floor now, enjoying the elaborate designs of each of the first-floor rooms. Built to intimidate, the first floor was nothing short of spectacular and Clarke used the size of the fortress to facilitate her physical therapy. Her leg was almost back to normal, the skin only tender when touched and she was thankful for the lack of complications.
"You really shouldn't provoke them," Roan sighed once they were back on the main floor, passing the giant vaulted rooms for the kitchen and furnaces. "I won't always be able to step in for you."
"And you shouldn't have to," Clarke said, her eyes narrowed. "I've never felt so helpless before. Who do they think they are? Intimidating me every chance they get…"
"They are the royal family of Azgeda," Roan chimed, a smirk on his face. "We're all royal pricks."
"I can see that," Clark scoffed, a smirk tugging on her lips.
"My whole family has trained since they were children to be warriors," Roan reminded, guiding her toward the long hall and staircase up to the top floors. "You can't beat them that way."
"I just don't understand," Clarke groaned. "They have me here, I've agreed to go along with their plans, and I'm even learning about Azgeda culture! I'm even learning your damn language. What else could they expect of me?"
"Ey-cargulae," Roan warned, Clarke recognizing the Azgedaslang word for careful.
"Yi ae knwei," Clarke griped, a smirk forming on his face.
"You've only been learning for a little over a week, but you are improving," Roan stated, using a few key Azgedaslang words.
"Taenqez frenae," Clarke replied, making Roan laugh as they crested the stairs.
"Ten qze fren," he corrected, the sound more guttural.
"Damn it," Clarke mumbled, glancing up at him.
"You'll get it…" he offered, walking behind her as she led the way to his suite.
Once inside, the door locked behind them, Clark sighed, removing her boots and jacket to reveal a warm tunic and woolen socks. She sat on the couch comfortably, nestled in the furs as Roan removed his own jacket and boots. She watched him curiously from the furs, lounging as he pulled off his leather jerkin. Clarke also couldn't help but notice the way his wool sweater was stretched over his muscular arms. She shook the thought from her head, grabbing the fur throw on the back of the couch and covering herself.
"What do you want to eat?" Roan asked, finally discarding his gloves and pouring them both a glass from the jug he'd brought with them.
"What are those pastries called? With the goat cheese, acorn melon?"
"Yufkae," Roan noted, smiling down at her, He knew those were her favorite, offering her the cup he'd poured. She sat up now, moving her legs aside so he could sit as well. She hadn't even realized how comfortable she was around him now, raising the goblet and toasting him before downing half of it.
"You realize Lexa will be on her way here soon," Roan approached, his voice calm. "I had been meaning to talk to you about it."
"I know but I honestly don't know what I am going to say to her," Clarke sighed, setting the cup on the ornate wooden table. "She's like a sister…"
"I honestly was hoping to let you take the lead," Roan admitted, leaning back on the couch. "So, no ideas?"
"The only viable option is to convince her that this is the most logical option," Clarke nodded. "She has to see that I'm content and set on my decision…"
"Can you do that? Make her think that this is real?" Roan asked, his voice quiet.
"She'll throw everything she's got at me," Clarke admitted, her head lulling back against the furs to stare at the ceiling. "My parents, friends, Arkadia… she'll even throw Bellamy at me if she's spoken to Raven or Wells at all."
"Well," Roan drawled, turning his head toward her lazily. "Pretend I'm Lexa." Roan then nodded, screwing up his face with a grin. "Clarke… why don't you come home? Why don't you want to leave?" His voice was high-pitched, and it was comical, making Clarke giggle. "Come on Claaaarke," he teased. "Arkadia needs you… Bellamy won't stop whining…"
"Very funny," Clarke nudged, shaking her head. "Be serious…. I don't know how your plan is going to work if Lexa and the Coalition start interfering."
"I may have been a little…" he paused, thinking of the word. "Secretive about my plans."
"You don't' say?" Clarke scoffed, grabbing her cup.
"Just listen," Roan said, his tone a bit cautious. "There is more to me becoming King than convincing a few warlords and councilors." He downed the rest of his ale, setting the cup down before turning back to her. "I didn't know if I could trust you yet, so I'll share with you what I think is going to happen."
Clarke considered him quietly, watching his face before she shrugged, downing the rest of the ale. She set the cup down and leaned back next to Roan, looking over at him somberly. She couldn't help but appreciate the way his mind raced behind his eyes. The anticipation mounted, and she was unsure if she was ready to hear Roan's brilliant prediction.
"I know you've been calm about this whole situation lately," Roan began, grinning at her. "And I appreciate it because I know how hard it is for you."
"Don't patronize me," she smirked, rolling her eyes. "Just tell me…"
"You see, for me, you were initially meant to be a distraction," Roan admitted, his eyes going to the low fire burning in the hearth. "Not for me but for my mom and sister. They've had their plans for a while now, so I knew something was up. There is more resistance on the council than there should be to my marriage and ascension. In fact, I've felt that something has been off for a while now."
"My mother has always been…" Roan paused, unsure what words to use. Somehow, she could see the vulnerable side of him now and it concerned her. It made her uneasy and he must have known because he looked over at her sheepishly, shrugging his shoulders. "But there seems to be something going on and I'm not comfortable with it. So, I'm making a move before they do."
"That seems risky," Clarke admitted, always being the wait-and-see type.
"I have the element of surprise," Roan nodded. "They don't know that I am on to them or that I've been planning a coup."
"You never needed me," Clarke stated, making him nod slowly.
"You were never part of my plan," he confessed, a smile forming on his face. "Though, I do appreciate the addition…"
"Then what am I supposed to do?" Clarke asked, wondering how this threw off their plans for Lexa.
"Would you be opposed to going along with my mother's plans for a while longer?"
"And what will you be doing?" Clarke questioned, raising an eyebrow.
"The warlords are coming tomorrow. Though my sister and cousin are firmly on my mother's side, the others can be persuaded to support me." Roan nodded, looking back at the fire. "I also have powerful allies amongst the Lake People who will favor my ascension in the Coalition."
"What is going to happen?"
"You shouldn't ask me that," Roan replied, his voice quiet, low. "You don't what to know."
"Are you going to kill your mother? Your sister?" Clarke asked, dread washing over her. "There has to be another way…"
"There are things about my family, about this crown, that you don't know," Roan admitted, his eyes growing dark. "If I told you, you'd be even more frightened."
"I'm already frightened," Clarke sighed, leaning against him. "Tell me."
"I have reason to believe my mother killed my father to gain the throne," Roan almost whispered, his voice barely audible. "And it's been a bloody legacy, keeping our family on the throne."
"Is she that power-hungry?" Clarke asked, gazing at the ceiling. "How do you know it was her?"
"She is, that's why she doesn't want me to ascend," Roan replied. "She has always suspected me, always preferred Roya for the crown."
"I can't begin to understand your position," Clarke admitted, glancing up at him. "But I'll trust your judgement, if you'll trust mine."
"Which is?" Roan asked, his eyes firmly fixed on her face.
"Don't kill them," she replied, her voice soft as velvet. Roan couldn't help but swallow, her lips parting slowly. "Strip them of title, possessions, and honor but don't kill them. Isn't it better to have leverage, should their supporters revolt?"
"Vicious," Roan admitted, a smile forming on his lips. "Since when are you such a tactician?"
"You hardly know me," Clarke smirked. "I've been learning all about you but so far, you don't really know anything about me."
"I do too," Roan protested, his eyes narrowing. "You love cheese filled pastries, your bold but completely in over your head and the best part is that you know it. You're passionate but wise, strong in some ways as well. You're a natural with people and a quick learner. Thinking that I don't know you proves you obviously don't understand me."
"That's not fair," Clarke protested, the pout in her face making Roan smirk.
"You could know me better," Roan teased, leaning over to touch her cheek. "But I haven't yet convinced you…"
"Stop it," Clarke said, feeling a little breathless as his fingertips grazed her cheek. "You promised."
"I know," he groaned, leaning back against the couch again. "No seduction, no pressure but when you pout like that, I can't help it."
"I don't pout," Clarke sighed, shaking her head. "Just take my advice, that is all I am saying."
"I'll consider it," he nodded, watching her closely. "But I do admit, seeing you comfortable, sprawled out under my furs, on my couch, is satisfying. I feel like you're seducing me instead."
"I could never…" she affirmed, shaking her head.
"You know how sexy you are," Roan stated as a matter-of-fact, his eyes full of skepticism. "I feel like you're the one doing the seducing."
"I'm not some sort of seductress," Clarke scoffed, looking away from him. "I already told you how I felt."
"And I believe you," Roan nodded, his voice quiet. "But I still don't understand why you can't love me."
"There is more to love than just physical attraction," Clarke replied, rolling her eyes at him. This made Roan turn toward her and Clarke was unsure if he'd flexed his chest on purpose, but it didn't go unnoticed.
"So, you find me physically attractive?" he asked, noticing the blush rising on her neck and ears.
"Just stop," Clarke protested, looking away from him. She hadn't noticed how close he got until she felt his warm breath on her neck.
"Why not admit it? We're equally attracted to one another," Roan breathed, making Clarke bite her lip again.
"Please, stop," Clarke replied, feeling just as weak as her voice.
"I'm just trying to be straight forward," Roan replied, backing away from her. "I want you and I can't help but wonder if maybe, someday, you could want me too."
"Even if I did want you," Clarke replied, trying to regain herself. "It wouldn't change the fact that I love Bellamy."
"I think I understand," Roan stated, making Clarke glance over at him. She was expecting anger but instead, he was met with a smile of determination. "But the fact still stands that I want you, not only as a partner in crime but as a queen, as my wife."
"You're crazy," Clarke replied, her eyes wide. "How could you even consider that when half of your court, your nobles, despise the idea of a foreign Queen?"
"I don't care," Roan shrugged. "There has been far too much bureaucracy lately. The crown has become weak, beholden to the warlords. I think it's time that changed. I'm sure I can persuade the people to back my choice for a bride."
"You're acting as if I've agreed to this," Clarke protested. "You don't understand. I'm not in love with you."
"Not even a little?" Roan asked, a quizzical look on his face. "If someone were to come in here, right now, and kill me, how would you feel?"
"Scared," Clarke admitted, biting her lip. "Don't misunderstand. I like you; I understand how you think and consider you a friend and ally but I'm not in love with you."
"But I know you better than you think," Roan pressed, his voice turning smooth, the gravel in his tone making Clarke feel warm. "You love the idea of being a Queen."
"Excuse me?" Clarke questioned, the bewildering statement feeling a little heavy on her chest.
"I can see it," Roan smirked. "It takes a royal to spot a royal and you exude royalty. The moment I actually met you, saw your fire and your wit, I knew you weren't the typical Arkadian heiress."
"Stop," Clarke said sharply, making him grin even wider.
"And it bothers you that I can see it," Roan nodded. "I won't promise you an easy life. That would be a lie, but I can promise you real power. No squabbling council or ruling families to contend with. You'll be a queen, set above the rest with real power to make a change. But above all, you'd be able to truly protect Arkadia. What better way than to make your enemy your family?"
"Don't you think I've never considered it?" Clarke replied bitterly, making him pause. "Do you think I haven't thought about what this could mean? Knowing who you are and how you think hasn't made this decision any easier."
"Then stop fighting it," Roan replied, quietly. "Am I so unappealing?"
"It is because you are appealing," Clarke groaned, crossing her arms over her chest again. Roan remained silent, glancing at her occasionally as she sat beside him, mulling over her thoughts.
She felt sick to her stomach, reminding herself of the way she felt with Bellamy. The reason she loved him, the reasons she needed him. But over the past couple weeks her world had expanded, things had changed. The guilt she felt over it haunted her every moment of every day. She had to get home, to Bellamy and her family. She refused to give up on him, to take the easy way out. Being compliant with Roan, and Nia's plans, made her feel like she'd betrayed everyone she'd ever cared about. And the thought of Bellamy torturing himself over her abduction was more than she could stomach. She knows it was love between them and she wasn't going to give up on her plans to be with Bellamy. She wasn't going to give up her home, her friends, her entire way of life for a crown.
But she was so tempted; she could feel it in her core. She wanted it and Roan was right. She could affect real change, be part of the solution with absolute power to protect her people as well as the people of Azgeda. The thought of having that, of sharing it with someone like Roan, was alluring. It was her greed, the greed she always knew was there, even if her friends and family didn't believe it.
"You're thinking too much," Roan commented, drawing her back to reality. "I know you could be comfortable with me. You're too smart, too noble, too mature to want anything less."
Roan then did something unexpected, something Clarke had never been prepared for. He turned, slid his arm under her, and lifted her into his lap. She stiffened, her back to him as she sat there, feeling the warmth from his body as he wrapped his arms around her hips, pulling her close. She felt his lips on her shoulder, then her neck, the fur falling off her as he held her in his lap. She couldn't describe the thrill of feeling him beneath her, the tender way he held her on his lap and trailed his lips over her shoulder and neck making her head swim.
"S-stop," Clarke said, pulling away to move back to the couch, feeling his hand graze her hip as she moved. "I'm not in love with you."
"Fine," Roan conceded, standing up. "I won't bother you again, but you seriously need to consider what you're turning down."
That night Clarke didn't sleep well, tossing on Roan's bed as she tried to turn off her brain. She couldn't stop it, the feeling of enjoyment the night had left her with. Roan was generous, kind, and attentive which made the rest of the night so relaxed. Clarke couldn't remember the last time she had lounged about and enjoyed a quiet evening. They had dinner, talked, and surprisingly enough Roan had made Clarke feel completely at home. He even made her laugh, something she hadn't really expected from him.
It bothered her that she felt so comfortable, so curious, about him. It was as if she'd known him her whole life. Without even realizing it, she'd started considering Roan as more than a friend. She just couldn't deny how tempting he was and she didn't think it was only his physical appearance. His offer, the temptation of power and to be Queen of Azgeda, had shaken every single plan she'd made. She questioned everything, her mind racing as she lay under the warm fur covers. His scent surrounded her and that didn't help, every single scenario racing through her like a flood.
"Bellamy," Clarke whispered, wrapping her arms around herself. She couldn't stop from seeing his face and she didn't want to. She never thought it'd hurt so much to be apart from him. All she wanted right now was to be in his arms and the more she yearned for it, the harder it became to control herself. She pictured his hands embracing her, his lips caressing her skin, and the warmth of his body against her as she sank further into her fantasy. She could feel the heat pooling in her stomach as she pictured what he could do to her, his lips trailing down her collarbone as before. The rough texture of his fingertips venturing over her skin sent shivers through her.
Clarke had never felt this way, her body immediately reacting to the fantasy making Clarke sigh with annoyance. She didn't want to feel this way, this unbelievable desire to have Bellamy close by driving her insane. What was worse was that she felt restless about her relationship with Bellamy. She was keenly aware of Roan's prescience only a room away, the need to feel someone's touch sorely tempting her to follow her most base desires.
She was so angry, and frustrated, with her situation. She should have been spending all her time trying to find a way home instead of wasting her time with Roan. She also felt an undeniable sense of defeat, having contemplated for hours the possibilities in an escape. It also pained her that she had happy moments with Roan when she knew Bellamy was thinking about her, and her liberation, every single day. She could almost feel how desperate he was, and it nearly broke her heart. It hurt so much to miss him, and she couldn't stop the heavy feeling on her chest.
What could she do? Was she seriously considering Roan? Was is best to just give up on Bellamy and this painful feeling? She knew it was only because they were separated that she felt this way but that frightened her too. She didn't want to feel like this – so dependent on someone else. She didn't need anyone else, she knew she didn't. She knew herself and knew she could have easily taken care of a situation like this before meeting Bellamy. She could have approached this situation logically instead of feeling this crushing guilt.
She had to separate herself from her emotions and think about everything. Those thoughts, the rush of ideas, kept her up for hours. By the time she had noticed that she was falling asleep with her thoughts, the sky had started to lighten, and the moon had almost sunk into the horizon. The misery was still there, the torture of inaction and confusion about herself, and her world, exhausting her into a dreamless sleep.
"Keep up," Bellamy yelled over his shoulder, leading Jon and Landell down the wide dirt road. They'd been galloping since daybreak, the sun peaking overhead as they approached a small creek, Bellamy pulling up to wait for them. His impatience had gotten the better of him that morning and the hard ride had worn out his horse already. He dismounted as his companions approached, allowing his horse to drink from the creek as they rested.
"We've been riding all morning," Jon sighed, leading his horse to the streaming water. "We'll get there well before sundown at this rate."
"Good," Bellamy insisted, grasping the reins as his horse drank. "We need to get information out of this man and I don't think it is going to be easy. Even if we don't need to know where the capital is, we still need to know everything that he does about the city and their fortress."
"If the files hadn't been scrubbed from the archives, Monty could have saved us an entire trip out here," Jon noted, patting his horse as it drank from the stream. Landell had pulled up beside them now, allowing his horse to drink.
"How much further?" Bellamy asked him, glancing about their surroundings. They were stopped just before a small wooden bridge, the ditch shallow, and wide enough, to be jumped easily on horseback. The few trees that lined the ditch were all tinted with orange and yellow, a sign of the season as many of the leaves had already fallen to the damp earth. It had been misting that morning when they left but had stopped a short while ago. The fields that surrounded the dirt road were all turned over, cut down, and the remaining vegetation was starting to brown and rot.
"A few hours," Landell replied, glancing across the fields. "But we should rest the horses a while. They've been going non-stop since dawn."
"We don't' have time," Bellamy urged, patting his horses' flanks as it continued to graze on the grass along the creek.
"We have enough time," Landell assured, looking up at the sky now. "It looks like the rain is clearing up."
"We'll rest here for a moment," Jon affirmed, interrupting Bellamy's impatient response. "The horses need it and we should check in with Monty, Harper, and Raven."
"I'll contact Wells," Landell nodded, looking down at his handheld.
"Monty," Bellamy said, bringing his handheld up to his mouth. The two-way capability made it easy for long-distance use and Monty had jammed a channel from being monitored by the ARF for their use. "Any news?"
"Lexa has made contact," came Raven's voice over the small speaker. "She will be in Arkadia in two days. We've been monitoring transmissions between the military and the Embassy Guard. They aren't suspicious."
"What about police activity? Has there been an increase?"
"No, everything is normal," Raven responded with a sardonic tone. Bellamy knew what she meant. Since Clarke's kidnapping, security had been nearly tripled.
"What about the drone? How is that coming along?"
"Monty and I have written some code that we're testing on it right now. So far, we have been unable to establish further reach, but we have improved handling capability. We have to work on the imaging software; a functioning live feed may not be possible yet."
"Keep working on it," Bellamy assured, glancing across the creek at the rabbit that had jumped from the brush and was hopping across the open field. "What about Harper?"
"Captain Hatal has been given four days leave due to his father's health," Raven replied. "He should be on his way home, perhaps even there already."
"Good; we'll establish contact again when we reach the farm," Bellamy assured, putting his handheld in his pocket. He then looked at Landell who was in a conversation on his own handheld. Jon was standing nearing him, both men talking into the speaker. Bellamy couldn't hear much of the conversation from where he stood but Jon noticed him looking. He stepped away from Landell, clapping him on the shoulder before coming over to Bellamy.
"Wells sat in on the council meeting this morning," Jon assured. "The council has passed the proposal to increase military spending as well as policing initiatives. They have also agreed to release some of the winter rations to some of the northern bases."
"What about the situation with Polis? Raven just said Lexa will be in Arkadia in 2 days," Bellamy informed him, looking back at their grazing horses. "We should have taken a rover."
"And drawn attention to ourselves?" Jon laughed, shaking his head. "Just relax; Wells also said that the council has approved Lexa and her delegation's request to meet in Arkadia for a final decision on terms with Azgeda."
"And do we know what those terms are?"
"Wells is working tirelessly with the guilds as well as the other families to push for the return of Clarke," Landell interrupted, grabbing his horse's reins. "Not only is an abduction of an Arkadian citizen a direct violation of our peace treaty but it is also a conflict of interest for Jake Griffin to propose any sort of demands on the delegation."
"So, it is up to the other council members to push for Clarke's safe release?" Jon asked, eyeing them both.
"My father and Thelonious will push for her release," Landell assured. "So, it is up to you two to rally the other two councilmen."
"Make sure you push this," Bellamy said, looking directly at Jon. "You represent my family's interests in council now."
"It has to be a unanimous vote," Landell pointed, all three of them growing quiet. "The council is already two official members short on this vote, since Jake has to abstain, and Jon is only representing your family in council. He doesn't get an official vote. So, it comes down to Ichiru Green and Roland McIntyre."
"And we already know which way they will vote," Jon groaned, looking up at Bellamy. "Even if I throw my full weight behind this, there is no way to get both to say yes. Monty has been dreading this for weeks, ever since father put off the vote the first time they met about this issue."
"And Roland is a hardliner," Landell nodded, considering his options. "What we need is some sort of leverage or persuasion for the both of them."
"What we need is pressure," Bellamy retorted, looking between them. "With three out of five votes against them, they are already going to be feeling the pressure. Most citizens, if not all, are pressing for retaliation but we both know Ichiru and Roland aren't going to give in to that pressure. They've held this grudge, and fought against Jake, for too long to give in now. What we need is something drastic…"
"Monty and Harper won't be eligible to take over their parent's seats until their marriage becomes official on their 18th birthdays," Jon reasoned, looking over at Landell. "And let's not forget that I barely made it onto the council. It was only because the Blake's needed a representative that the council could agree to."
"And that took a lot of persuasion on our end," Landell pointed. "But there has to be something we can do to force their vote."
"There is only one instance that I have ever read about that would allow for a two-thirds majority on this vote," Bellamy said, his voice low. "And it would be a stretch to apply that concession to this situation."
"Now that they are about to be blood related, there is no way to persuade one without the other," Landell urged, running his hand over his horse's front leg.
"Which is why the only option left open to us is a drastic one," Bellamy reasoned, his mind racing. "This has only ever happened two times in Arkadian history and both times were abnormal circumstances." Both Jon and Landell stared at him blankly, Bellamy reasoning how to enact the plan in the swiftest manner.
"We need a petition, signed and approved by the guilds, 4 out of 5 generals, and the judiciary committee," Bellamy explained, making both boys stare at him. "It's the same measure used during the civil war when the council was overturned."
"That was because of the war," Landell reasoned, shaking his head. "That wouldn't apply to this situation, especially if we are trying to reach a diplomatic solution."
"It's clear in the articles of governance," Bellamy argued, looking between the two. "The council can be overturned and re-elected on two conditions: immediate threat of war or the spread of an epidemic."
"How would that even work?" Jon asked, grabbing his horse's reins and patting his neck. "It may be a bigger challenge to convince that many officials to sign such a petition."
"The guilds, who represent the working class, would make an appeal to the Military Union," Bellamy explained. "They would discuss it with their members and if approved, it would be sent to the five generals who oversee the deployment, and organization, of the army. Once approved by four of the generals, it would be confirmed by the three High Court Judges who would then pass their verdict on to the council."
"But that means the guilds, army, and judges would all have to agree on the six new council members," Landell scoffed, shaking his head. "Do you know how difficult that would be?"
"You're making a mountain out of a molehill," Bellamy sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "We are in a precarious situation and the people know it. The entire military has been in a scramble ever since the abduction and even the common people are preparing for war. There is justification to initiate this protocol and I'm positive that the guilds, justices, and generals can be persuaded to see reason."
"And the new council?" Jon asked, looking between them. "It's obviously going to be Monty, Harper, Wells, and Landell but what about the Griffin and Blake families? And won't there be a little pushback considering how young all of the new council members will be?"
"We'll nominate Clarke as the council for the Griffin family," Landell suggested, Bellamy smiling in approval. "If she is elected council, that also justifies the new council's decision to demand her return with the Polis delegation."
"I don't want to be on the council," Jon piped up, making both men look at him. "I'm not fit for long meetings and political backstabbing, so it will have to be you."
"You know my plan," Bellamy said, placing a hand on Jon's shoulder. "I need you to represent my family's interests until O can join the council."
"You are seriously going to sacrifice yourself?" Landell asked, looking over Bellamy closely. "I don't know if you are aware of this but, Clarke would never approve such a reckless plan."
"She doesn't have a choice," Bellamy replied firmly, shaking his head. "If anyone can straighten all of this out, and keep our people safe, it is Clarke."
"I can't help but feel like you're punishing yourself," Landell pointed, making Bellamy glare at him. "I mean, how would this new council even work with an absent Griffin and Blake representative?"
"The people won't be happy," Jon interjected. "They could see this as an unstable short-term solution to a growing problem."
"No matter what the council demands of Azgeda, or how persuasive Lexa is willing to be, Azgeda will not willingly give up their hostage," Bellamy reasoned, grabbing his own horse's reins. "She's Nia's scapegoat and catalyst for the war she's intending to wage."
"I hope you don't plan on this going entirely your way," Landell sighed, mounting his horse now. "Assuming we get the information we want, get Clarke out, and Nia doesn't kill you, the situation is far from stable. If she does press ahead with your marriage to Roya, it still doesn't stop her from using you against Arkadia. We all know Clarke would do anything to keep you safe."
"It also doesn't change the fact that you've now made the path to the throne that much more difficult for Roya," Landell continued as both Bellamy and Jon mounted their swaying horses. "If what you said is true, Clarke is a useful piece on the board. How are you planning on compensating Nia for this loss of a perfect scapegoat?"
"She already plans on murdering her son," Bellamy said, his voice cold. "She'll do it, one way or another, and blame it on Arkadia. I don't think that part of the plan will ever change."
"But you could be shifting the blame onto yourself," Jon pointed, following the two as they guided their horses over the small wooden bridge. "And you won't have any allies in Azgeda; you'll be looking over your shoulder the entire time."
"It is better than the alternative," Bellamy assured, making both Landell and Jon exchange doubtful looks.
"We'll talk more about this later," Landell finally said, the three of them cresting a small barrow to look out over the rolling fields. "The farm is only a couple more hours away; let's hope this farmer is in a cooperative mood."
"With both his son and daughter there, I don't doubt that he'll be more than cooperative," Bellamy replied, trotting off after Landell as he pulled his hood up over his head. Bellamy doubted that the farmer had revealed everything to his children, if anything at all. He also wanted the threat of deportation to hang over his head, just in case he wasn't willing to do his patriotic duty.
"I'm not sure what to do," Clarke said, looking up at Roan nervously. For the past hour she'd been allowing Bruni to help her dress for the banquet that night. All the Azgeda War Chiefs would be here along with their delegations which made Clarke a little more than nervous. She'd barely been able to master even a little bit of their language and she didn't want to make a fool of herself in front of them. On top of that, Nia, Roya, and Niara would all be there, undoubtedly ready to insult or embarrass her.
"Just remember," Roan encouraged, tightening the fur and heavy velvet cloak around his neck. "Be assertive but humble… Niara might be set against you but the others don't know anything about my mysterious Arkadian bride. Just be your brilliant self and I'll be right there to back you up."
"I'm so nervous," she admitted, straightening the outfit that Bruni had helped her put on. It was a slate gray dress that draped loosely around her chest, tightening around her waist and hips as it cascaded to the floor. She'd worn a pair of flats with them, the trim of both her dress and shoes a brilliant Azgeda blue. Her hair was also pulled up on top of her head, ringlets of curls and waves falling down the middle of her back as she inspected herself in the mirror. She pulled her fur half-jacket on now, covering her bare arms with the white and silver furs.
"There is no need to be so nervous," Roan smiled, coming to stand next to her. "You're beautiful, smart, and every eye will be on you tonight. Just remember what we discussed."
Clarke nodded, inspecting herself again in the mirror. She remembered everything Roan had told her about the regional leaders, their names, their families, and their pleasures. Warlord Adrax, whose family had been chieftains of the western province of Wisteria since the founding of Azgeda, enjoyed drinking and gambling. He had two wives, three sons, and two daughters. Since Niara was chieftain of the northern provinces, and Roya the southern, the only one left to introduce herself to was Rajnon, Warlord of Estellan in the east. Roan knew the most about this chieftain, both being friends since childhood. Roan had told her about the stoic young man and his family. He was newly married, his wife expecting their first child within a matter of weeks and Clarke had made a mental note to inquire about her health. If there was anything Clarke could offer Azgeda, it was her medical knowledge.
Clarke also remembered what Roan said about their delegations. Each Warlord had brought his three closest warriors as well as their retainers. The palace, which had seemed empty the day before, had bloomed to life with over thirty guests staying in the royal residence. Each Warlord showed favor to their warrior council, but it was the shamans that they'd brought with them that were most revered. Though Azgeda followed the religion of their ancestors, honoring Heda and the conclave, they also had their own regional shamans who, as Clarke understood, prophesized the future and interpreted omens. It seemed that this was a central part of their culture and Clarke had made sure Roan left out no details.
Clarke had tried desperately, and with some success, to memorize the names of these shamans and the warchiefs warrior council. She knew that protocol, and etiquette, dictated that they introduce themselves to her, but she wasn't prepared for a smooth night. In fact, she expected it to be mostly uneasy and frightening. She inspected herself one more time in the mirror, fixing the charcoal eye-makeup that Bruni had put on her. It had highlighted the brilliant blue of her eyes, but it was also intended to mirror Roan's own face paint. Both of his eyelids and below them were stained with a slate gray powder that, Clarke only assumed, was traditional for this sort of gathering.
"We don't want to be late," Roan offered, snatching the silver crown that Bruni had been holding. He stepped in front of Clarke, placing the thin but heavy piece into her hair. After standing there adjusting it for a moment, and nodding at the result, he allowed Clarke to look in the mirror again at her reflection. She was quite shocked at the result; the crown, though simple, had dual meaning. Not only did it symbolize her acceptance into the royal family, but it also symbolized Clarke's position amongst the banqueters. She would be seated at the head of the table with Roan and the rest of his family, which he explained might be a bit shocking for some. She would even be seated above Niara and Roya, officially announcing to the room that she was to be their future Queen.
"Let's go," Roan nodded, offering his arm. The couple made their way downstairs slowly and heard drums, horns, and singing from the hall as they approached. Clarke wasn't expecting the banquet to be so big, or so rowdy. In fact, she'd expected a formal affair but was surprised by how informal it actually was. A large pig was roasting over the long-fire as servants basted and turned it. There were three large tables set up about the hall, stretching down either side of the fire and at the front of the room sat the royal table. It was there that Nia was seated, speaking with a man Clarke didn't recognize.
The musicians were seated in the gallery above, the music wafting over the group as they spoke loudly to one another. Clarke could only make out bits and pieces of conversation as Roan escorted her past curious eyes to the head table. The hall, though large, was simply decorated. The Azgeda flag hung over their table and boughs of pine and ivy were strewn between columns and across tables. Each table had benches lining it and in the center were trenches of food, flanked by more pine branches and candles. Clarke was astonished at all the people in the room, most of them glancing her way as they approached Nia.
Both Clarke and Roan bowed respectfully before taking their seats to the right of Nia. Once seated, Clarke stared out over the hall and noticed that most of the people here were unfamiliar. She took in each face, watching them politely as they talked amongst themselves, some of the already drunk on the casks of ale and mead that had been set up about the hall. It was only when Roan nudged her with his leg that she realized he'd been talking to her.
"Don't look so nervous," he whispered, making her smile at him. "This isn't some stuffy Arkadian affair so relax."
"It is not what I expected," she replied, keeping her face serene but natural. She didn't want any of the fifty people around the hall to think that she was at all displeased. In fact, she had hoped to earnestly help Roan that night, a sentiment she didn't feel guilty about at all. "It's so informal and relaxed…"
"Have a drink," Roan nodded with a slight hint of a smile, pushing a goblet into her hands. It was one of the only ones in the room to be made of silver. "I'll tell you who everyone is."
"Everyone?" Clarke asked, sipping at the sweet honey mead in her cup.
"Just the important ones," he assured, turning toward her slightly. "Just relax, you're doing fine."
"I can feel them watching us," Clarke said, stopping herself from looking around the room. She faced Roan now, keeping the serenity in her tone as she feigned genuine interest.
"Just drink, eat, and wait for it to liven up," Roan nodded, glancing about the room lazily. "Alright, do you see Roya and Niara, over by the fire talking to an older man, red beard?"
"Yes," Clarke replied with a nod, her eyes immediately finding the trio talking, laughing, and occasionally glancing their way. "Who is he?"
"That's Adrax," Roan replied, taking a drink. Clarke mirrored him unconsciously, catching a glimpse of Niara who was still in conversation with the older man she didn't recognize. He had gray hair and a simple robe on, lined around the collar and sleeves with brown fur.
"That's Zenvegen," Roan commented, knowing exactly who she was looking at. "He's the Shaman from Nihrdelan and has been a close friend with my mother since she was a child." Roan nodded at someone who was approaching now, and Clarke turned to look at them, not recognizing this man as well.
He was tall, dark haired, with umber eyes and a long nose. He was just as tall as Roan, about the same age, wearing a dark green velvet tunic with leather slacks and deep brown fur trimmed his collar. He bowed to Nia who looked him over slowly before nodding, the man turning to look first at Roan then Clarke. He bowed his head to them slightly and then firmly fixed his gaze on Clarke.
"I finally get to meet the Arkadian woman," he said, his Azgedaslang accent unfamiliar to Clarke. It sounded slurred and shortened, Clarke only registering his words after Roan had replied with a laugh, raising his glass to the man.
"This," Roan said in English, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. "Is Clarke Griffin, Jacob Griffin's heir. Clarke, this is my friend Rajnon from Estellan. I've known him since I was a boy and he's been bothering me with letters for weeks now begging to meet you."
"I can't be that interesting," Clarke said, trying out her Azgedaslang accent. "I know little of your language, but I am learning fast."
"I do speak English," Rajnon assured, smiling at her pleasantly. "But your accent is good, perhaps a bit too refined."
"Come," Roan offered, motioning to the chair next to Clarke. "Sit, let's talk."
Rajnon bowed his head, moving around the end of the table to plop down in the chair. Clarke could tell he'd had more than one ale and couldn't help but smile at the devious look in his eyes.
"You have acquired such a fine jewel," Rajnon asserted, looking from Clarke to Roan. "When should we expect the ceremony?"
"If only I knew," Roan replied, a smirk on his face. "We've yet to discuss it but I'm sure there are plans in motion."
"Many, so I am told," he replied, looking back at Clarke curiously. "So, princess, tell me about yourself. Tell me how you decided to become this fools woman."
"I didn't choose him," Clarke affirmed, remembering what Roan had told her about the Azgeda's dedication to their religion. "Fate did."
"I see," Rajnon nodded, raising his glass to her. She took hers in hand and raised it, taking a modest drink. She knew this mead was strong and didn't want to go overboard. "So, has our prince told you anything about me?" He was slurring his words now and Clarke wasn't sure how to take it; this wasn't the man Roan had described.
"He told me you were mischievous," Clarke nodded, a smile on her face. "He said you were quite stoic though, something I'm finding hard to believe."
"He's usually the long face in the room where serious matters are concerned," Roan interjected, nodding at him. "What's wrong? You already seem a bit drunk."
"You're a doctor, right princess?" he asked, the realization washing over him as he stared over at her curiously. "An Arkadian healer?"
"I am," she said, her eyebrow raising curiously. "What's wrong? Are you ill?"
"My wife," he admitted, the slur in his voice starting to show in his heavy Azgedaslang accent. "She's having problems with her pregnancy."
"Why didn't you tell me?" Roan asked, eying his friend curiously.
"She is due in a few weeks, but she insisted on coming here for the banquet," the drunken man admitted, motioning at a heavily pregnant blonde who was sitting on a bench next to the long fire. She looked fine, chatting with the other women around her eagerly.
"I could take a look at her later," Clarke offered, smiling at him softly. "I've assisted in the delivery of a few babies, but I was mostly a surgeon."
"I'd appreciate it," he replied, trying to regain himself. "Your man is right though, normally I don't make such a fool of myself."
"It's not foolish to worry about your pregnant wife," Clarke laughed, patting his arm. "Far from it."
Rajnon stared at her for a moment, as if analyzing something odd and Clarke felt a blush creep up on her neck. She picked up her drink, taking a sip from it as she gazed around the room again, keenly aware of more eyes on her. She could feel Rajnon's eyes still as she set her drink back down, turning to Roan again as he watched his friend curiously.
"So, who else should I know?" she asked, glancing back to her right. Rajnon had stopped looking at her and she noticed a distant look in his eyes as he picked up his cup again.
"There, standing at the end of the far table in the white and black fur," Roan nodded, drawing Clarke's attention to the young man, his pale gray eyes focused firmly on the two men in front of him. "That is Arista, the shaman from Wisteria. He's always been odd, but he is the youngest appointed shaman in Azgeda history. He took the position at twelve years old after the previous shaman had declared that that boy had a great destiny."
"He can't be much older than me," Clarke said, looking at the men next to him.
"Those are two of the warrior council from Wisteria," Roan pointed. "And the woman that just joined my sister is the shaman from Revhala; her name is Yaega."
Clarke noticed how tall Yaega was, towering over Roya. She was slim, pale, and had brilliant silver hair that dangled in carved wooden rings down her back. She had to have been older than Nia, the lines about her face accented by the blue symbols painted on her cheeks.
"We must introduce her to my sister," Rajnon chimed in, making both Clarke and Roan look at him now. "Her name is Ghida and she is also the shaman of Estellan." Rajnon then stood up again, offering his hand to Clarke. She nodded with a polite smile, standing up and taking his arm in hers. She allowed him to lead her from the table down the center of the room, some eyes watching them as they approached a small group of people near the center for the room. Clarke could almost taste the tension and nervousness in her mouth as they walked together through the groups of drinking, partying, and talking Azgeda warriors.
"Ghida," Rajnon said, gaining the attention of a curvy young woman dressed in forest green. The rest of the group all turned to him as well, the three warriors bowing their heads slightly to her. Clarke inclined her head to them, feeling a bit nervous about being introduced to this way. She wasn't sure if Rajnon noticed but the young woman in green had her caramel-brown eyes on Clarke as Rajnon spoke. "This is Clarke Griffin of Arkadia. Clarke, this is my sister, and the Shaman priestess of Estellan, Ghida."
Ghida looked her over slowly for a moment before bowing her head and offering, to Clarke's amazement, a traditional Arkadian greeting. Clarke took the shaman's forearm in her hand firmly, mirroring one another with slight smiles. Clarke also noticed the looks the small group was getting with such an odd greeting. Clarke had found out that the Azgeda tradition of greeting old friends, and strangers, was an embrace.
"I've heard little about you, Clarke," Ghida confessed in Azgedaslang, watching her curiously. "When I was told that Roan had become engaged, I took it upon myself to read his runes and stars. I found some very interesting omens hidden there."
It took Clarke a moment to comprehend her words, but it was becoming easier, the accent not entirely foreign to her. "You've seen his fate?" Clarke asked her, hoping her own accent was as good as Rajnon said.
"I have seen many fates," Ghida confirmed, the air of mysticism about her making the rest of the group go silent. Clarke noticed the way they all waited for her to speak again, as if they had expected something more from the young shaman. However, Ghida just smiled serenely and Clarke could see why she'd been the center of the small group's attention. She was a beautiful woman, her dark hair loosely hanging over her shoulders, interlaced with bone and wooden ornaments and rings. Her face was round, but her neck was long, and she had a beautiful smile that, Clarke believed, could warm the entire room.
"Do you often see the fates of others?" Clarke queried, making sure not to sound skeptical. After all, she didn't want to offend someone that she was sure was a close friend of Roans.
"As often as the Gods allow," she professed, her eyes soft. "Would you like to know yours?"
"The Gods do not care for someone like me," Clarke replied, finding it a little more difficult to continue the conversation in Azgedaslang. She had been earnestly trying to learn and had even been speaking with Roan and Bruni every day, but their conversations were never this long or detailed.
"The Gods have already decided your fate, Clarke Griffin," Gisla said, making a few heads around the small group turn to listen.
Clarke didn't want to question the idea of a divine fate waiting for her nor did she want to sound apprehensive. She'd never been a fan of fate or what it meant. Clarke believed that people made their own fates, took paths that could never be retraced, and forged their own destiny. But here, in Azgeda, it was the opposite; everyone, even Roan, believed that they were destined for a fate that the Gods had chosen.
"Then I will allow their wisdom to guide my path," Clarke replied, making Rajnon grin.
"Come," Rajnon said, waving his hand dismissively, offering Clarke a cup of ale. "I wanted to introduce our future queen to my darling sister and look what happens! Tonight, is not a night for the Gods or fate – it is for our Queen."
"Give me your hand," Ghida said, stretching out her long fingers toward Clarke. "I will see what path the Gods have placed you on."
Clarke didn't hesitate, stretching out her hand for the Shaman. The dark-haired woman took Clarke's wrist, flipping her hand over to reveal her palm. Ghida studied it curiously, stepping toward her to better contemplate the lines on her hand. After a moment Gisla smiled, nodding in approval.
"The Gods have given you a difficult but noble destiny," the girl announced, making the people around her whisper and nod in approval. "They have blessed you in more ways than one. I foresee that a choice will be placed before you and your answer will determine the fate of a generation."
Ghida then traced a circle over Clarke's palm, bowing her head slightly before tracing a circle on her own forehead. The rest of the group hummed in curiosity, talking amongst themselves quietly and curiously before Ghida turned back to her brother, letting go of Clarke's wrist slowly.
"Clarke has agreed to examine my wife's pregnancy," Rajnon told his sister, taking a drink of his ale. Clarke mirrored him, the warm ale slithering down her throat thickly. "I would also have you there as well, sister."
"You're an Arkadian doctor, correct?" Ghida asked, Clarke trying to keep up with their conversation.
"I am," she replied, her accent slipping slightly. Ghida must have noticed the difficultly Clarke was having because the woman smiled, moving between the warriors about them to stand next to her.
"I speak English," she announced, smiling down at Clarke. Her accent was the same as Rajnon's, a little thick but comprehensive. "Would it be easier to speak this way?"
"I have been learning Azgedaslang since I got here," Clarke replied, her voice quiet as the men around her began talking amongst themselves. They all seemed merry, chatting and drinking with one another. Clarke could pick up bits of their conversation about hunting and ceremonies, but she was most curious about Ghida, the shaman priestess.
"You are doing quite well," Ghida replied, sticking with English. "I believe you are the first Arkadian to even attempt to learn our language."
"I will be Azgedakru soon," Clarke nodded, making the girl smile. "I do not want to dishonor my husband with ignorance."
"What has he told you about us?" Ghida questioned, a smirk forming on her face. She laced her arm through Clarke's now, moving to turn her around so they could walk through the hall together. "I'm sure he's probably frightened you with our ways and customs."
"Roan?" Clarke asked, strolling down the aisle between the fire and table, turning with Ghida as she lead her toward the outside edge of the hall. "He's told me a lot but nothing frightening."
"He should be more cautious about what he tells you," Ghida affirmed, nodding at a few people who had raised glasses to her as they passed. "Has he told you about the prophecy?"
"Prophecy?" Clarke questioned, her curiosity fully peaked.
"Oh yes," she nodded, squeezing Clarke's arm tighter against her as they walked. Both women were gaining a lot of attention in the hall, walking and talking together as if they were old friends. Their heads were bowed together, and their smiles had many around the room questioning what they were saying. "You see, there is a prophecy from a long time ago, when Azgeda was founded, about a golden prince."
"Golden prince?"
"Yes, a golden prince that will lead Azgeda to peace and prosperity," Ghida confirmed, taking a cup from one of the tables they passed. She tilted it toward Clarke, both girls taking a drink of their cups at the same time. "I thought it was nonsense when I first heard it too," Ghida chuckled, making Clarke blush slightly. "But the omens are unmistakable."
"Tell me," Clarke said, curiosity fully taking over.
"The coming of the golden prince is prophesized by three omens," Ghida explained, smiling at a few women that were obviously whispering about the pair. "First, a great star will fall from the sky which will bring about a new era. Secondly, an old pine will cry tears of blood, signaling the rebirth of Azgeda. And finally…" Ghida paused at this, bowing slightly to Roya as the two passed her. She was still speaking to Niara, Adrax, and Yaega, barely noticing the pair as they passed.
"What is the final omen?" Clarke asked once they were out of earshot, the music drifting about the room languidly. Clarke realized that she'd enjoyed the sound, the beating of drums and hum of horns rising and falling with the voices of the minstrels above.
"The final omen is somewhat confusing," Ghida admitted, a sheepish grin on her face. "It is said that golden tendrils will fall at the king's feet, symbolizing the birth of his son, and the Golden Prince of prophecy."
"Golden tendrils?" Clarke questioned, unsure what that could mean. "Like, starlight?"
"We are unsure," Ghida nodded, taking another drink of her ale as they rounded the corner of the room, coming back toward the table where Roan sat speaking with a few men Clarke didn't recognize. "But some, including myself, believe the final omen is upon us."
"The others have already occurred?" Clarke questioned, raising an eyebrow at the grinning girl.
"The star that fell from heaven, which brought about a new era, was your own people, Skaikru," Ghida explained, squeezing Clarke's arm. "And years ago, when prince Roan was born, the sacred pine in the north gushed sap of the most brilliant scarlet red. The shamans from all four provinces were summoned and my predecessor announced that the second omen had come to pass."
"Sacred pine?" Clarke asked, glimpsing at Roan as they stopped short of the table. "I had no idea there was such a thing."
"Yes, far to the north," Ghida pointed, noticing the way Roan had been watching them. "It is a sacred place amongst ruins of the ancient times, where a large pine towers to the sky. It is where our nation first began all those years ago."
"I would love to see it," Clarke replied, curious to learn more about Azgeda and its history. "I've never left the city."
"All Azgeda monarchs have journeyed there, since the beginning of our monarchy, to be crowned," Ghida affirmed, squeezing Clarke's arm. "And we all look forward to the day that Roan is crowned underneath those sacred branches."
"And the third omen?" Clarke asked, remembering what Ghida had said about it being upon them.
"Ah, yes…" she smirked, glancing over Clarke's shoulder. "I am not sure if it is fate that we met tonight but if our prince has yet to tell you of the prophecy, I think it only fair that you hear it from one with much better understanding of the Gods than he."
"Perhaps the tendrils are more falling stars," Clarke questioned, feeling a bit nervous. "Or perhaps some sort of golden tribute?"
"Many believe that the golden tendrils are just that," Ghida smirked, unlacing her arm from Clarke's. She reached her hand up, gently touching the golden tresses of Clarke's hair. "Golden tendrils."
Clarke swallowed hard now, realizing what Ghida was saying. Clarke had never been religious, or superstitious, but the way the shaman's warm brown eyes met hers sent a shock through Clarke's body. The way the girl gently fingered her long golden curls made goosepimples form on Clarke's arms.
"I'm not that important," Clarke insisted, feeling the blush on her face.
"I don't believe so," Ghida assured, nodding at Roan who had stood up from his seat at the table and was approaching them. "Clarke is very important, isn't she my prince?"
"What are you telling her, Ghida?" Roan asked, his voice a mix between a warning and weariness.
"The God's truth," she replied, bowing to him. "I believe Clarke should be aware of the destiny that the God's have in store for her."
"Whether it is her fate or not," Roan warned, making Ghida smirk. "Only the Gods know."
"I will read your runes and stars," Ghida affirmed, looking back at Clarke. "And when we meet again, I will tell you what I have seen."
Ghida then bowed again to both Clarke and Roan, turning gracefully and walking back toward the center of the room where Rajnon's pregnant wife sat. Clarke watched the curious girl for a moment before turning back to Roan, a slight hardness in his eyes catching Clarke off guard.
"I'm sorry if I pried," Clarke told him, making his eyes snap back to her face. "I had no idea that your people had such faith in destiny."
"Ghida is devout to our ancestors and their ways," Roan commented, a smile slowly spreading across his face. "She believes she knows the will of the Gods, but I believe she knows no more than anyone else."
"A prophecy?" Clarke questioned, making a bashful smile appear on Roan's face. "Falling stars, bleeding trees, and golden tendrils as omens are hard to ignore. Do you believe it?"
"In a way," Roan affirmed, offering Clarke his arm. "But I believe that we can make our own destiny."
Clarke felt relieved at that, smiling up at him kindly. She took his arm now as he led her back up to their seats at the table, taking the goblet from her hand and placing it on the edge of the table. Clarke hadn't drunk more than a cup of alcohol, but the potency of the drink had warmed her to the core. She felt quite content to sit next to Roan, at the table, as groups of warriors, councilors, and priests came forward to introduce themselves.
So, what did you think? I tried to draw a stark contrast between Azgeda culture and Arkadian in this chapter. I have been building at that for a while now but I wanted to highlight the many differences in every aspect of their society. I do hope you enjoyed it! Thanks so much to all my readers. Please review!