11 The Grand Avatar (2/2)
A cold sweat broke out on Islla's a back. No one else in the room seemed to know who the figure in the chair was, not even the two princes. Of course, thought Islla, he is never seen, not even this aspect of himself.
”Good morning,” Arren began, ”I want to offer my humblest apologies.”
”Did you kill the girl? My son has reported that you were unhappy with the princess we sent.”
Arren frowned, ”No, she is fine.”
”Let me speak to my daughter,” the man said.
Without further prompting, Isilla stood and carefully made her way to the mirror. She bowed low before standing straight.
”Hmm, we sent such a beauty to the Dark Realm? Argia, they weren't happy with this?”
”The Crown Prince has different standards it seems,” Ariga's voice came out flat, no hint of arrogance in his tone.
”Is he ready to take you as a bride? Is that why they have asked for this meeting?” the old man questioned, laughing slightly.
Isilla shook her head and pointed at Arren before writing, I married the brother.
The old man smiled, ”How resourceful of you but you've caused me some trouble.”
She sucked in her breath. I'm sorry, she wrote quickly. I acted as I thought best.
The man waved his hand, dismissing the comments, ”I would have asked for that prince's life to apologize for the insult of attacking the Prince. But I don't want to deprive you of your new husband.”
He stood, ”We will overlook the actions of your prince as a wedding gift to one of my beloved daughters. But we wish to remind you, little lords, it makes no difference to us if we continue to this war or not. Our people do not suffer while yours starve. This year of peace has been nice for you, yes? If you wish for many more, then you would do well to hold your tempers in the future.” He paused for a moment before adding, his tone light, almost friendly, ”And tell your father that I said hello and look forward to meeting him again someday.”
A flash of light and the old man was gone. Argia snickered and the mirror rippled, her reflection returning. For the first time she saw, clearly what everyone else saw, the dark dress emphasizing her figure, her hair framing her face. She let out a long breath and turned to Arren. He frowned at her, confused.
That was Zunig, Grand Avatar of the Emperor of Endless Light. The closest anyone outside of the main court will ever come to seeing my father.
Shock rippled across Arren's face for a moment before he turned from her. ”It is done then. The war is averted. Go home to you lands, do what you can to settle the upset of your people. In the coming days the Crown will see to the resources you've asked for.”
The meeting seemingly over, the men began to stand, whispering to themselves as they filed out of the room leaving only the two princes and Isilla.
Alone, Lehan turned to her, ”I thought I told you to stay out of my sight?”
She glared at him, refusing to show the fear that she felt. He laughed.
”I guess I'm nothing now that you've seen your husband. Tell me, how well could he control himself? Did you cry when you saw his eyes? Or did he come from behind so you wouldn't see?” he taunted her, his hips moving lewdly.
”That's enough,” Arren's voice dripped ice as he spoke.
Lehan chuckled, ”I'm not afraid of you, brother. Take your wife and get out of my sight.”
Isilla frowned and wrote quickly. He saved your kingdom, you should be more respectful!
Lehan scoffed at the note, his eyes dark, ”He didn't do it for me.”
”Enough, Lehan!” Arren growled, the shadows around him churning in their darkness.
”Fine,” Lehan responded, his own magic forming around him, like smoke, and then he was gone leaving them alone in the wide room.
”You did very well,” Arren said slowly, walking towards her, his hands out for hers. ”I'll take you back to your rooms so you can rest.”
She nodded as he took her hands, his darkness covering them for a moment before it cleared, leaving them both standing in front of her bedroom door. He released her and bowed, his darkness swallowing him, leaving her alone.
She opened her door, a trunk set in the center of her room.
She smiled wide, my things!
Opening the clasps, she sorted through the few belongings she had brought. Her mother's shawl folded around a stack of silver bracelets. An old and worn doll. It smells of the desert still, she thought as she reached deeper into the trunk. At the bottom was another, small leather box.
She lifted and opened it revealing a stack of carefully folded papers. Sitting on the floor, her fine gown spread around her she opened the first letter. My dearest it started before it began, a description of the night in the winter.
He wrote this when I asked about snow, she thought. The letters were in no real order, her favorites at the top, his loving words filling the page. This person, she thought, they have to be real. No one would write such things out of duty.
I have to do my best to meet them, she though folding the letter carefully, placing it back among the others.