Prologue:
Weddings should be joyous events of mutual love and affection. At least, so said the “unsophisticated masses.” For the nobility and royals in both Iridalys and Navinor, weddings were a show of status, at times of patriotism, at times of solidarity. And at times, weddings were simply for the purpose of bringing peace in conflicts that nations could not resolve another way. Such was the wedding of the Navinorian second prince to the princess of Iridalys, which put an end to the bloodiest war the continent had ever seen.
Cheers and shouts of joy rang out in the massive marble throne room of the Navinorian castle as those in attendance awaited the presence of the bride and groom. All eyes fixed on double doors when they flew open.
Three ladies-in-waiting entered first, scattering flower petals and tiny gemstones across the center aisle that led towards the throne. Behind them came Princess Kathryn of Iridalys.
The people caught their breath when they saw her.
Kathryn’s hair was arranged in a towering braid, making her look even more tall and elegant than usual. The delicate silver shoes glittered at every step, and there was no sign that she felt heavily weighed down by the dozens of sapphires and other precious stones all over her clothing. Four more ladies-in-waiting carried the train of her dress. The princess held an arrangement of white and blue flowers, again with gems mixed in.
The orchestra played a soaring, traditional wedding tune as Kathryn slowly stepped towards the waiting groom.
Princess Kathryn and Prince Lorrin stood hand in hand before the high priest of Navinor as all the royals looked on with bated breath. “Princess Kathryn Prada of Iridalys, will you take the hand of the Prince of Navinor, to walk beside him for the rest of your lives, and serve his kingdom as you would your own?” the priest said.
One young man in the crowd, a well-muscled warrior who looked out of place among the nobles with his rumpled clothing and messy blond braid, averted his eyes from the scene. His fists clenched at his sides as he heard the reply.
“I will,” Kathryn’s clear, strong voice rang out through the room, echoing off of the walls and marble columns.
“Prince Lorrin of Navinor. Will you take the hand of the Princess of Iridalys, to walk beside her for the rest of your life, protect, and keep her as your own?” the priest continued.
“I will,” Lorrin said briefly.
“Then I pronounce you husband and wife by the authority of Navinor.”
The watchers cheered. The blond man kept his eyes on the floor until his companion, a gray-bearded, scarred soldier, nudged him. “Ren. Clap,” the old man hissed.
Ren complied mechanically as the mages who stood by stepped forward with sapphires in hand and raised them, their eyes flashing blue as a blue cloud emerged from the sapphires, draining the stones and turning them into clear shells of their former selves. The cloud materialized into a shimmering statue of the prince and the new Navinorian princess standing hand-in-hand. Ren shivered a little as he looked into the cold, icy eyes of the figurines.
After the ceremony, there was a reception. Young Ren couldn’t get close to the newly married royals, so he stayed at the back of the room, as was fitting for a bodyguard whose use had expired, watching them in silence.
Kathryn looked as graceful as her statue, he thought grimly. There was no emotion at all in her face, but she responded graciously to the many congratulatory comments. As Ren watched, the princess’s brother, Illian, approached her and bowed. “My lady,” he said, his voice just barely carrying to Ren’s ears over the din, “Congratulations on your marriage.”
Before she could respond, the first prince of Navinor, Gregory, who was standing nearby, stepped forward and held out his hand. “Prince Illian. I had hoped you would be able to attend.”
Ren’s eyes narrowed with suspicion at the sight of the war criminal prince.
Illian smiled. “I’m quite familiar with you, Prince Gregory.” He shook his hand. “You and your brother were well known on the battlefield.”
“Not like you, your highness. You are a legend in our kingdom,” Gregory observed. “Though I suspect the princess may supplant your reputation one day, if what I’ve heard about her tactical prowess is true.”
Illian whitened. But he only said, “Ah, well, my hope is that she won’t have to use her ‘prowess’ in that area.”
“Of course,” Gregory said with a smile.
I hate this. Ren had never been fond of parties or of princes. And he hated the cold, empty feeling in the pit of his stomach as he watched Kathryn move on to dance with her new husband.
The gray-bearded soldier stopped by him to say quietly, “Let it go, Ren. It’s over.”
As if he needed to tell me.
Finally, the end of the horrible evening came, and it was time for Kathryn to go up to her husband’s room.
Ren watched her go. He was very proud of himself for maintaining his composure. He escaped before his companion could follow him and hurried in the direction of his quarters, hoping for a moment alone to process his thoughts.
But as he went, a deepening sense of unease and dread welled up in his stomach. It was too quiet. There were no guards in sight. No chatter. Just air that tightened around him until he thought he would suffocate.
He found himself walking in the direction of the wedding chambers. It was already quite dark out, and he had to pick his steps carefully to avoid tripping on the scattered stones along the path.
Strangely, even as he got closer to the royal chambers, there were still no guards. He started walking faster.
Ren reached the silver double doors where, at last, four guards were waiting, their faces half hidden in the shadows of their cowls. One of them said, “You shouldn’t be here.”
“Uh…yes, I just wanted to make sure everything was all right. I saw a suspicious man sneaking around,” Ren lied. He noticed the ice-colored dagger the other man held half-concealed behind his robe, and his eyes narrowed. He instinctively clutched the hilt of his sword.
“We are perfectly capable of protecting the new Navinorian princess,” another guard retorted.
Before Ren could respond, a scream split the air!
Ren shoved the guards aside and threw the doors open.
Kathryn stood in the bedchamber, still in her wedding dress, staring down at a body that lay at her feet. She looked unhurt, but frozen with horror.
As Ren rushed to her side, he saw the white, still face, and his heart plummeted.
The body on the floor belonged to Prince Lorrin. His lifeless eyes stared at the ceiling, confirming Ren’s worst fear. A goblet on the floor by his hand spilled out wine that spread across the floor like blood. A shout rang through the castle, reverberating off the marble walls and floors: “Prince Lorrin has been assassinated! Arrest the princess!”
As Ren drew his sword to defend her, he felt sick to his stomach. How did this happen?
How had it all gone so terribly wrong?
Loyalty Fallen Hub 