Chapter CLVII: A princess’ purpose

Rya sat in the council chamber, surrounded by the warm glow of torches and the heavy scent of old parchment. She shifted in her seat, trying to maintain the poised silence expected of her and her brothers. Ikkar sat to her left, his expression unreadable as usual. Zayr lounged with a practiced indifference, while Kai, the most serious of them, leaned forward, absorbing every detail of their father's words.

There, in that room where decisions that shaped the realm were made, she often felt like a mere observer, a decorative addition with no voice because her parents felt bad about leaving her out. Unlike her brothers, who were groomed for leadership and adventure, her purpose always seemed unclear… Nonexistent maybe.

What was expected of her? Marriage to a nobleman for the sake of alliance? A life spent hosting court functions, raising children, and watching others shape the world while she lingered in the background? The idea gnawed at her, made her restless. She wanted more. Growing up, her mother’s stories had filled her head with images of fierce battles, impossible odds, and hard-won triumphs. Queen Isabella was known not only for her beauty but for her unparalleled bravery and cleverness. Rya wanted that kind of legacy.

Her father’s voice brought her back from her musings as it echoed across the hall. “Lord Dean Belton has passed,” he said, his tone heavy with a mixture of relief and caution. “With his death, we may finally have an opportunity to reopen the southern roads.”

Rya’s eyes brightened at the mention. She knew about Lord Dean Belton—the Duke of the Stormlands. Before Ikkar was born, her father had fought a bitter campaign in the southern lands. The battle that had claimed one of his dragons had marked a turning point. In his grief and fury, he had ordered his dragonriders to raze the enemy's forces to the ground. The Stormlands, where Lord Belton’s dominion lay, suffered greatly from the aftermath: villages destroyed, fields reduced to ash, livestock lost. Though her father had tried to make reparations, Belton had never quite forgiven him… His way of getting some revenge was closing down the southern roads for foreign merchants, charging exorbitant fees for them to pass, raising the price of silk, spices and other products in the capital while making himself rich.

“Lord Belton’s death could change things,” spoke one of the advisors, a tall, wiry man with a voice like sandpaper. “If his son, the new duke, is more open to reason, we could secure the passage of merchants without the absurd prices.”

Kai shifted beside her, nodding thoughtfully, his auburn hair catching the light. Rya glanced at him, a pang of envy in her chest. He was younger than her and had already been given missions of importance; he was regarded as capable, reliable. Would she ever be given the same chance?

Her mother spoke next, her tone smooth yet commanding. “It may be wise for us to move quickly to try to negotiate this with the new duke. I should go to the Stormlands and try to negotiate with him.” She paused, the soft lines around her eyes deepening as she looked at the assembled council. “Bastian Belton is half-Therian like myself. That commonality could be a bridge.”

Alaric’s lips twitched, half a smile, half a sigh. “Indeed might be a good idea, but still we should wait for the boy to finish grieving his father anyway,” he said, softening his otherwise grave expression. “We will discuss the details soon. For now, we must hope that the new duke is less of a petty asshole than his father was.”

A few of the lords chuckled, though their amusement was cautious. Alaric’s gaze swept over the room, landing briefly on each of his children. When his eyes met Rya’s, she sat up straighter, wishing she could convey to him that she was more than just a silent observer and was paying the most attention. But his gaze moved on, and the moment passed.

“The council is dismissed,” Alaric declared, and the room stirred as chairs scraped and lords rose to bow before departing.

As the council meeting wrapped up, Rya felt the weight of her ambitions pressing against her chest like a heavy cloak. She watched her parents exit the chamber, the regal confidence of her mother and the commanding presence of her father striking a stark contrast to her own uncertainty. But determination flared within her, igniting her nerves into action.

“Mother! Father!” she called, chasing after them down the grand hallway, the sound of her footsteps echoing against the marble floor.

Alaric turned, a look of mild surprise on his face as he halted. “What is it, Rya?” he asked, his brow furrowing slightly. Isabella, glancing back over her shoulder, looked equally curious.

Rya took a deep breath, her heart racing as she struggled to steady her thoughts. “I… I should be your envoy to the Stormlands.”

Both Alaric and Isabella exchanged startled glances, their expressions a mixture of surprise and confusion. Rya squared her shoulders, meeting their gaze with determination. “The matter isn’t worthy of the presence of the Queen. Lord Belton should be reminded that he’s not that important. But having the princess there could still soothe his ego and help with the negotiations.”

Alaric’s brow knitted further, his lips pressed into a thin line. “No,” he said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. “You’re too young to take on something like this.”

Rya felt her frustration boiling beneath the surface. “Kai is younger than me,” she retorted, her voice rising slightly in defiance. “And he’s about to be given an entire kingdom for himself.”

A flash of something—anger, perhaps?—crossed Alaric’s features. “Kai has been prepared for this his entire life. You haven’t.”

Rya clenched her fists, fighting the impulse to back down. “Whose fault is that?” she retorted, the challenge in her voice surprising even herself.

Rya’s breath hitched, her father’s intimidating gaze sending a chill down her spine. She instinctively lowered her head, the defiance ebbing away as she stammered an apology. “I’m sorry, Father. I didn’t mean to—”

“Don’t you ever raise your voice at me again,” Alaric warned, his tone cold and commanding.

“I won’t, Father, I’m sorry,” she said quickly, nodding vigorously, the fear of disappointing him suffocating her resolve. She watched as he turned on his heel, the weight of his authority heavy in the air, and Isabella followed closely behind, glancing back at Rya with a mixture of sympathy and concern.

Once they were gone, Rya leaned against the cool stone wall, exhaling sharply as frustration coursed through her. She had hoped for just a moment that her parents would see her as capable, as someone worthy of trust and responsibility. But instead, she had only succeeded in revealing her ambition and faced the cold reality of her place.

With a sigh, she pushed off the wall, her heart sinking. She had ruined her remote chance of doing something important.

***

The soft glow of the moon filtered through the sheer curtains, casting delicate shadows across the spacious chamber. Alaric and Isabella lay entwined in their bed, their bodies still warm against each other. The weight of the world felt momentarily lifted, but as they settled into a comfortable silence, Isabella sensed that she needed to address something pressing.

“My love,” she murmured, breaking the stillness. “There’s something I need to say, and I’m not sure you’re going to like it.”

He pulled back slightly, raising an eyebrow as he pressed a kiss against her neck. “What is it?” His tone was curious, but there was an edge of concern in his voice.

“I think we should let Rya go to the Stormlands,” she said, her voice steady despite the gravity of her words.

Alaric froze, confusion mixing with a hint of anger in his gaze. “What? You can’t be serious.”

“I am,” Isabella replied, trying to maintain her composure. “She made a valid point after the council meeting. If I go, it might give Belton a sense of importance…”

Alaric’s frustration surfaced. “We should send someone else then, not Rya. She’s too young for this kind of responsibility.”

Isabella sighed, sitting up slightly to better meet his gaze. “We’re doing to her what my father did to me my entire life… We’re distracting her so we never have to place anything in her hands. I don’t want to do this to her.”

He ran a hand through his hair, trying to comprehend her perspective. “Rya is too reckless and stubborn! She doesn’t think things through to be given a responsibility like this.”

“I think she’s just trying to find her place in this world,” Isabella countered, her voice firm yet tender. “She’s always seeking attention, trying to compete with her brothers… I can’t help but feel that deep down, she lacks purpose. And that’s our fault.”

Alaric shook his head. “She’s a princess! She has a castle, horses, a dragon, jewelry… Why would she want anything else?”

Isabella rolled her eyes, her patience thinning. “She doesn’t need a gilded cage, Alaric…”

“It’s not like this…” Alaric replied, his voice low. “I just want to protect her.”

“I understand that,” Isabella said softly, her expression softening as she reached for him. “She’s your little girl, you don’t want her out of your sight… But I must admit… When Rya raised her voice and defied you earlier today, I couldn’t help but feel a little proud. I won’t ever tell her, but I did.”

Alaric sighed thoughtfully, his brow furrowing. “When Rya was growing up, I started to notice she was just like you—defiant, restless… Lovely, sweet and caring, yes, but so difficult.” He hesitated, his gaze distant. “I never wanted to wake up one day and find out she was gone… Lost out there doing something insane.”

Isabella smiled softly at him. “Will you ever forget?”

Alaric chuckled dryly, shaking his head. “You mean when you ran away, kidnapped my children, and started a war against me? No, I won’t forget that.”

Isabella’s laughter filled the air, a warm sound that contrasted with the seriousness of their conversation. “But Rya deserves a chance to prove herself,” she pressed on, her voice earnest. “We should give her the opportunity before she goes out there looking for it by herself.”

“Is that what you truly believe?” Alaric asked, searching her eyes for the truth of her conviction.

“Yes, I do,” Isabella affirmed, her resolve strengthening.