Chapter CLXV: Liability
At Stormspire, the morning sun filtered through the high, arched windows of Princess Rya’s chamber, casting golden light over the stone walls. She sat at her writing desk, fingers tracing the delicate seal of her family crest on the unopened letter before breaking it. The familiar, graceful script of her mother’s hand brought a smile to her lips as she read:
*"My dearest Rya,*
*I hope this letter finds you well under the gray clouds of Stormlands. It’s strange to write you a letter, considering that ever since you were born we were never apart for long enough so a letter would be needed. I have good news that I wish I could share with you in person—I am pregnant. Your father and I are overjoyed, and I hope that this news will bring you some comfort while you are far from home, hopefully not for too long. Know that we think of you always and are proud of the task you’ve undertaken.*
*All my love,*
*Your Mother."*
Rya’s heart swelled with warmth at the news. Another sibling. The thought filled her with joy, but also a pang of homesickness that she struggled to push aside. The memories of her mother, her father and the laughter of her siblings surrounded her, and for a brief moment, the grandeur and coldness of Stormspire felt suffocating, especially because she knew she couldn't allow herself to go back empty-handed, failing her mission to reopen the southern roads. She folded the letter with care, placing it back on her desk.
Her gaze drifted to the wide window, and she stood, wrapping her arms around herself as she looked out over the courtyard below. The sight of dozens of men bustling with activity caught her eye—armor being strapped on, horses being saddled, and the sharp clinking of weapons being checked.
“Jessa,” she called, turning to the young maid arranging her bed linens. “What’s going on down there?”
Jessa looked up, smoothing her apron nervously before answering. “Lord Belton and his men are preparing for a hunting trip, Your Highness. It’s for the great feast that’s being held in your honor.”
Lord Belton stood at the grand entrance of Stormspire, his black riding cloak billowing in the chill morning breeze. The hunting party was preparing for departure, the air thick with the low murmurs of men checking their gear and the restless snorts of horses. His eyes swept over the gathered hunters with the focused intensity he always wore when about to embark on such an endeavor. This hunt wasn’t just for sport; it was in honor of Princess Rya’s royal visit, a gesture of Stormspire’s expected hospitality.
“Ready, my lord?” called one of his captains, adjusting the strap on his quiver.
Belton nodded, mounting his horse with ease, ready to give the order to move out when a sharp voice cut through the preparations.
“Wait!”
The men turned as Princess Rya appeared, clad in a fitted hunting attire of deep emerald and black. The fabric hugged her figure, emphasizing her poised strength and beauty. Belton’s jaw tightened. She moved with the grace of royalty, but the fierce determination in her eyes hinted at something far wilder. The men exchanged wary glances, a mix of admiration and surprise in their expressions.
“I’m joining the hunt, Lord Belton,” she declared, lifting her chin defiantly.
Belton dismounted with a sigh, stepping closer to her. “Your Highness, with all due respect, this terrain is treacherous. The Stormspire forests aren’t the royal gardens you’re used to.”
“I’m not asking for your permission, Lord Belton,” Rya retorted, the edge in her voice unmistakable. “And if you’re worried about my capabilities, let me assure you that my father taught me well.”
The murmurs grew, a few bold grins appearing among the men. Belton’s eyes narrowed as he assessed her, a spark of irritation mingled with something else—something that had been haunting him since their first meeting. She was infuriating, but he couldn’t deny that there was a strength in her that stirred something deep within him.
“Very well, Princess,” he said, masking his frustration with a thin smile. “But stay close. I won’t have the Dragon King’s daughter lost or killed in my woods.”
The hunting party moved out, the sound of hooves and the rustle of leaves blending with the morning calls of the forest. Rya rode confidently, the memory of her father’s voice guiding her through the thickets—Pull the string tight, focus, release.
Hours passed, the men engaged in idle banter as the thrill of the hunt kept their senses sharp. Rya’s eyes caught the movement of a stag in the distance, its antlers stark against the emerald foliage. She urged her horse forward, raising her bow with practiced precision. The rush of the moment drowned out everything else as she aimed, exhaling slowly.
The stag darted, and Rya’s focus shifted as she pursued it deeper into the woods. The sounds of the party faded, replaced by the pulse of her heartbeat and the whisper of leaves. She loosened her arrow, the miss echoing her realization—she was alone.
A growl rumbled nearby, sharp and primal. Before she could react, a massive boar charged from the underbrush, eyes wild and tusks gleaming. Rya stumbled backward, drawing another arrow. Panic gripped her, squeezing the breath from her lungs.
As she was ready to shoot, a swift blur crossed her vision, and the boar dropped lifeless, an arrow embedded in its neck before she released hers. Belton emerged, eyes blazing, bow still in hand. His chest heaved as he glared at her, the air between them charged and suffocating.
“Are you out of your mind?” he roared, advancing on her. “If that thing had killed you, your father would kill us all!”
Rya bristled, stepping forward. “I didn’t ask you to follow me, Belton. I can take care of myself.”
“You’re delusional if you think you can wander into these woods like you own them. You’re not in the capital anymore, playing with your bow and shooting rabbits. Out here, for all of us, you’re just a liability,” he snapped, his voice dripping with scorn.
Rya’s hand curled into a fist before she could stop herself, and she swung. Her punch caught him square on the jaw, snapping his head to the side. A stunned silence followed, broken only by the rustling of leaves. Belton touched his face, a dark smile curving his lips as he turned back to her, eyes smoldering.
“You dare—” he began, but before he could react further, she lunged for another punch. This time, he caught her wrist, holding it firmly between them. The heat from their closeness was suffocating, both of them breathing hard as anger gave way to something far more dangerous.
Belton’s gaze flicked to her lips, and for a moment, time stopped. He leaned in, crushing his mouth to hers. The kiss was fierce, born of frustration and unspoken desire, and Rya responded with equal fervor, their battle shifting into a different kind of war.
But just as quickly, he pulled back, eyes dark with conflicted emotions. “We should go back,” he muttered, releasing her hand.
Rya stood, dazed and breathless, watching him turn away. The taste of him still lingered on her lips, and she knew things between them had just irrevocably changed.
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