Chapter 40: Goodbye Olisnia

“Jasper, are you sure it was such a good idea to leave her,” Evyn grumbles for the hundredth time. As they trudge across Drein, he glances back every so often.
Jasper tries not to roll his eyes, “If you’re so worried about your mate, then you should have stayed with them.”
“T-that’s not why,” he blunders through his words, a blush skyrocketing through his features.
“You have been wanting to leave them for a while now, but all of a sudden, now you care? Stick to one reaction and one decision. Stop going back and forth.”
“It’s just that we left them completely alone. I said that we should leave them when Eliana, the Princess, was with the Climont soldiers. She was safe with them.” Evyn is trying to explain as he matches Jasper’s pace.
Jasper shrugs, “She has the Drulian. She is safe.”
His friend sighs, “I am not so sure just one Drulian will be strong enough against several Xefol if they are attacked again.”
“Eliana has her powers now. She can at least partially shift. Alma is close to transforming as well. They will be fine.” Jasper quickens his pace, causing Evyn to fall behind.
Evyn raises his voice in order to be heard, “Jasper, your anger is blinding you.”
Jasper halts his movement, pivoting toward his friend with a flurry of rage rolling through his body. “I was betrayed; lied to. Do not make accusations because you have no idea how it feels.”
Evyn grits his teeth, a glower forming in his features. “She’s your mate, isn’t she? You rejected her.”
A wry smirk curls the ends of Jasper’s mouth. Before he continues walking, he states, “So did you.”

>><<

Eliana shifts uncomfortably on her horse as Alma sits in front of her. The werebird is so small, but it is still difficult to guide their steed with someone with her. She wonders how Jasper managed it before. The thought of him sends a sharp pain through her heart. She clears her throat to try and ease the agony as she urges the horse to keep moving. They are going at a slower rate, giving their steeds a small breather. They only have two now, the others killed during the attack by the assassins.
“Olisnia, when the Kexon ruled over Xalonia, what was life like?” Eliana does not look at the Drulian, but continues staring straight ahead.
Olisnia shrugs, “The Pivurlion race lived peacefully, the humans residing in designated areas of each kingdom. Much like the Pivurlions do today.”
“Why are so many people afraid of them, though.” She cocks her head to the side, confusion forming.
“They were benevolent, but they had strict rules. Laws that stated the races must never mix and even the clans were not able to comingle.”
“What if they did?”
“Those that broke the laws were sentenced to death,” she states grimly.
Nausea builds in the pit of Eliana’s stomach.
“So is that my legacy? I am descended from a race that outlaws love, even though my own grandmother broke such laws. My bloodline is based on hypocrisy,” she all but spits out.
Eliana hisses under her breath, “I am an abomination.”
“Princess,” Alma whimpers, trying to look up at her.
“Why didn’t the Drulians do anything? Or were they in agreement that the werecats should live in such a way?” She holds back her annoyance, simply asking the question.
Olisnia’s expression is distant, slightly irritated. “My people, as I have said, watched the Kexons. They were too strong together, especially with the other Pivurlions backing them at the time.”
“Werecats are seen as monsters in today’s time,” Eliana states.
“Yes.”
She decides to say, “So why did you force my feline side awake?”
“We need it.” Olisnia glances at Eliana but is unable to make eye contact. Her shoulders bunch up with the effort.
“Why?”
“Because, with a werecat on the throne once more, the Pivurlions will be able to be free to roam. This war will come to an end.”
“Lies,” she hisses. “No one will accept me as ruler with werecat blood. They will turn on me. The Drulians must get some benefit out of bringing the Kexon back from the dead.”
Olisnia shakes her head profusely, her pale eyes wide. “No, I swear. I had visions of the werecat’s return and came in search of you. I am only meant to help you.”
“But you never even considered how much this would actually affect me. How I would regret ever learning this about my lineage.”
A cringe forms on the Drulian’s features, but she composes herself. “It was a thought, yes.”
The anger now explodes, nothing able to stop her from blurting out, “I wish I had never met you. I would’ve lived peacefully never knowing this.”
Olisnia sighs, “Eliana, I am s—”
“Leave.”
The Drulian’s entire body freezes atop her steed. “W-what?”
Eliana finally turns toward Olisnia, her shoulders tensing. “Leave. I don’t want you here. I do not need your assistance.”
“Princess—” she begins, her mouth hanging open.
“Goodbye, Olisnia.”
Eliana snaps her reigns and causes her horse to move into a gallop and enlarge the gap between her and Olisnia. Her anger causes her mind to go hazy and her hands tighten against the reigns until the verge of pain.
Alma squeaks under her as they are jostled about.
“Do you want to go as well?” Eliana glances down at the werebird, her tone not changing.
Alma’s arms are wrapped around herself. She shakes her head profusely, “No.”
Eliana relaxes slightly, “Good.”

>><<

Drake saunters across his tent, his tunic laying half open across his chest. The large scars linings his chest and abdomen peek out. His long hair is untied, loose across his shoulders. He sighs as he pours himself a cup of ale. As he downs the contents, the burn warming his throat and chest, he stares into the bright flames of his fire. It is slowly beginning to die as the night drags on.
He wonders what he will find when he reaches Zaline. If Eliana will be alive and safe, or if she was too late. If she does survive, what will be her decision on the future of her Kingdom? She promised her hand to him, yes, but will she go through with it?
The image of the ebony haired Pivurlion appears in his mind. The glare that shot through Drake as he moved a lock of the Princess’ hair still lingers in his chest. He smiles, wondering which side he actually hopes Eliana chooses.
As he takes another sip of his ale, Drake does not see the figure creep from the shadows of his quarters. He releases a deep sigh, lowering his cup.
Once he does, though, a thick bicep wraps around his neck, another warm arm slipping up next to his side. Both lock together near his ear, holding him in place. When the assailant tightens his grip, he grunts, trying to reach for the blade at his side.
“I would not do that if I were you.” The rough, baritone voice of the stranger reverberates through Drake, shaking him to the core and having him halt all movement.
“Who are you,” he grunts out as his body aches under the hold. He winces through the pain.
“You’re worse nightmare,” the shadow growls.