“I never thought I would be passing through these gates so soon after my list visit,” Kilena said with a sense of astounded disbelief. The drawbridge echoed her footsteps back to her, and that of her companion’s lighter strides. Targath held his silence, but spared a look of intrigue in her direction.
Ahead of them was the bustling city of Roselake, the capital for its territory, named for its royal lineage and the lake beside which the castle resided. Traffic of pedestrians flowed in every direction, comprised of mostly commoners, the hard working members of society and most significant cogs that made the city function. Among them were pairs of knights, patrols to keep the peace. Kilena’s gaze lingered on them, longingly admiring the coat of arms they were the Iron Rose crest.
Breaching the surface of her thoughts, she pondered aloud, “Have you ever visited Roselake before?”
“A few times,” Targath apathetically answered, “but not by conventional means.”
“How do you mean that?”
He smirked. “This is the first time I ever used the drawbridge.”
Kilena shook her head with disapproval, but he glimpsed a mirthful smile creeping across her face. A hostile shout sundered her cheer.
“Get out of Roselake you dirty elf!”
The knight, yanked from her ruminations, snapped her head to the side. She searched the street off to her right, buzzing with townspeople, until she found a man whose glare was fixated on Targath.
“Your cursed kind aren’t welcome here!”
Kilena’s heart thrummed in agony when she heard a second derogatory comment slung in Targath’s direction. The two patrolling knights she spied earlier spoke among themselves without any regard for the unkind behavior. Her pace slowed, but she chanced a glance to gauge her friend’s expression. “Don’t slow down, Kilena,” he demanded, the strain in his voice betraying his easy expression.
She picked up the pace, catching up to walk along at his side. “Why do they speak that way about you?”
“It isn’t about me,” he replied irritably. “It’s about the fey in general.”
“Hey, I’m talking to you. Take your curse and get going! No one wants you here!”
A new voice added its jeer. Targath persisted forward with a steadfast stare ahead, impervious to ridicule. Kilena caught a flinch from one of his almond shaped eyes. “Will you say nothing to defend yourself?”
“You’re acting like this isn’t normal,” Targath bit out with disdain, his voice a hush intended for only her. “Your people hate us, Kilena. Outside of the guilds, you’re the only one who hasn’t immediately hated me. There’s still suspicious in the guilds. I choose to ignore it.”
“I- I apologize on their behalf then,” she supplied empathetically, extending an over turned hand. “I am not ignorant of history, but a war is never one person’s fault.”
Targath continued following the road to the castle with long, swift strides. “You’ll never convince the world to see itself from your point of view. Leave it alone.”
“With enough determination and perseverance, anything is possible.”
“Kilena.” Targath stopped all of a sudden, and looked toward her. A few paces ahead, she paused and turned around. “You’re a beautiful woman,” he said flatly.
“What?” Kilena questioned, meekly laughing away his compliment. “What made you say that?”
Lips thinned and serious, he asked, “Do you agree or disagree that you’re the image of divinity?”
“No, not at all,” she exclaimed. As if her first statement left room for interpretation, she firmly reiterated, “I disagree!”
“You prove my point,” he concluded, and continued onward with lengthy steps to pass her. “You are in fact beautiful, especially outside of that armor, but that is my point of view. Your point of view is that you are not, and there’s nothing I can do to change your mind. Again, the world will not see itself the way you do.”
Falling into step at Targath’s side, she struggled to maintain the speed he set. He moved at a pace that quickly put the offending humans behind them.
“Hey,” came a shout from directly behind Kilena. “Did the curse take your hearing, too? I said buzz off, you creep! Before I call the guards.”
Kilena’s following steps were slowed by emotions swirling and tightening her chest. The world slowed around her, vision tunneling as the man’s words resonated through her mind. Whipping around on her heel, she captured the man’s attention by aiming a finger at him. “You judge one based on the world from which he was born? Are we not beyond such pettiness?”
He blinked, hatred fading from his eyes as he took notice of the knightly dressed woman beside the cursed elf that lectured him. “Yeah, well, you’re no better,” he muttered, and then turned to sulk away.
Targath reached back and grabbed the knight by her spaulder. He spun her around roughly, golden eyes sharp like daggers. “All you’re going to do is ruin your reputation more by standing up for me, so just don’t do it,” he scolded. “Got it?”
“I refuse to stand idle and let people insult you without consequence, not when you saved my life,” she insisted passionately.
“Oh, here we go with this again,” he retorted, and tossed his hand dismissively through the air. “Forget it,” he sighed in exasperation. Twisting away abruptly from Kilena, his platinum hair, mostly long enough to fall below his chin, whipped aside. “Let’s go, we’re almost to the castle.”
The path ahead of them sloped upward to the top of the hill where the castle was perched, a grand sight with towers on each side. White flags and banners waved in the wind, proudly displaying the crest of Roselake and the Iron Rose order. A red rose sprouting from a green, thorny stem wrapped around a polished, iron sword. Fixated on the pride swelling through her heart, Kilena only noticed the woman staring at her when she heard a familiar voice call her name.
“Kilena?”
The knight focused ahead and identified her mother walking away from the castle, an empty wicker basket held by both hands. “Mama,” Kilena exclaimed with joy, rushing ahead to give her a hug.
Margaret set the basket down in time to catch her daughter, and drew her off to the side while casting a wary gaze at the elf with charcoal skin that followed her slowly.
“Hi,” Targath blandly greeted.
The arms around Kilena loosened, and she was addressed directly. “Kilena, I never expected to see you this soon after our last visit,” Margaret said worriedly. “Are you well?”
“Yes, Mama,” she answered brightly, stepping back from the embrace. Troubles melting away, she smiled easily. “I believe an introduction is in order,” she cordially decided, looking toward the the momentarily forgotten cursed elf. “Targath, this is my mother, Margaret.” Her hand swept from the woman at her side to her friend. “Mama, This is Targath. He’s-”
“An acquaintance, looking out for your daughter’s well being. Nothing to fear,” he curtly assured.
Margaret lowered her protective arms from around Kilena, but held an unwavering stare on Targath. “To put it plainly, I trust him,” Kilena added with a smile, arm falling to her side. “Were you delivering food or clothing to the order?”
“Yes, a basket of mended and new clothing. They are always needing extra help,” Margaret explained, meeting her daughter’s gaze. “What are you doing here?”
“I seek an impromptu audience with King Rose,” Kilena explained, her tone turned somber. “I will come and visit you if you like once my business is done.”
As she explained this to her mother, a man of intimidating size stalked by them. He had fiery red hair and startling yellow eyes, and with him an entourage of followers, including a pale man with silver hair. The aura emanating from them tied a knot in Kilena’s stomach, but they were permitted passage by the guards at the door. A hand ruffling her hair served as a welcome distraction.
“I would like that very much if you have the time,” Margaret agreed, leaning over to lift the empty basket. “Good luck in there, Kilena.”
“Thank you, Mama,” she responded with a faint smile. Margaret stepped by them to leave. Targath ignored the one last glare she shot up at him.
After watching her mother descend the sloped path toward the populated city, Kilena’s attention returned to the task at hand by the rattling of the handles on the castle’s double doors. Lacquered wood with reinforced metal plates and two guards stood in the way of her goal. “Shall we?”
“After you, princess,” Targath teased, rocking on his boots as he chuckled at his own joke.
Expression set stern with determination, Kilena marched forward. All the joy of nostalgia, of walking the path she had many times in the past to proudly play her role as a noble and a knight, dissolved. One of the guards uprooted from his spot to approach her, holding a palm up, spear in the other hand aimed skyward. He strictly informed, “You are not permitted to enter the castle. I’m sorry, Miss Maverick.”
Kilena stood her ground, not tempting another step forward. “You know my father. He was high commander. You know the honor and nobility of my family. Why am I barred entry? Under whose order?”
The guard apologetically replied, “High Commander Loneblood.”
“Sedrik,” Kilena repeated in muted exasperation, her head bowing in defeat. “I thought as much.”
The weight of a hand conformed to the shape of her armored left shoulder. “Thank you for letting us know. We’ll be on our way,” Targath cordially intervened, speaking to the guard, and then used his grip to turn Kilena around.
Reluctantly leaving the castle behind, she followed him at a distance, until they were out of the guard’s earshot. She caught up to Targath and asked, “Where are we going?”
He canted his head, a smirk of mischief gleaming at her from the depths of his solid gold eyes. “There’s more than one way into a castle. Remember how I never used the drawbridge before?”
Hesitantly curious, she wondered, “What way is there other than using the doors?”
“You smelled it on the way in,” he replied simply.
“Is that a joke?”
He stopped, pivoting to face her with eyes faintly thinned. Already knowing the answer, he tersely questioned, “Do you want get into the castle or not?”
“Yes, but-”
“Then trust me,” he interjected, more harshly than he meant. Aspect softening, he added, “Please?”
Kilena studied the details of his face, saving those golden eyes for last. When no other reasonable avenue to her destination jumped to mind, she acquiesced with a reluctant, albeit grateful, smile. “Lead the way, my friend.”
Targath grinned, and continued paving the way forward. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”
Following once again, Kilena played along. “Why? Is friend too much?”
“Allies makes more sense. We have a common goal, and that is to not get you killed.”
“Very funny. I am a knight, you know, and I can defend myself.”
“Against beasts and fiends and villains, you certainly can, but sometimes monsters are found where we least expect them.”
Kilena offered no rebuttal, she fell into silence and deliberated on Targath’s last words while he pulled ahead of her with long strides. “Targath, I thought of another way in.”
“What might that be?” he asked in a condescending tone.
“There is an escape route built underground that leads in from the back of the castle and straight into the throne room,” she chimed informatively, followed by an admonishing frown. “And I do not appreciate that tone.”
Targath patted the top of her head. “Now you’re getting the idea. Lead the way, Miss Knight.”
Kilena Shrelack 