Raven's Soul. Volume 1
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– I have not forgotten, and I will never forget! – Sylvia whispered loudly.
Silence hung, as Varma began to brush her gray hair and her daughter was taken captive by her thoughts.
The truth that her favorite uncle was going to overthrow her, the rightful heir, hurt Sylvia almost physically, but she chose not to think about it, for he was dead, and she would be Queen of Men… And consort to the cruel husband of Derek Merkswerd. Someone she hated with all her heart.
– You say they're celebrating? – The Queen suddenly broke the silence, turning to her daughter. – They must have emptied our wine cellars by now?
– The wine is flowing, Mother," she replied.
– We should have put poison in it," Varma smiled wryly. – In every bottle, so that every last one of those things would die!
– Will you come with me to the throne room? – Sylvia asked again, not wanting to listen to her mother's poisonous speeches any longer.
– No.
– Whatever you say, Mother. – The princess made a deep curtsy and silently left the room.
Sylvia reluctantly returned to her fiance, and the celebration continued into the night. Neither Varma nor Lamar showed up to support their daughter. Thankfully, Derek didn't throw her any more taunts, but neither did he allow his bride to leave for her chambers. It was only when Sylvia, exhausted and tired, was almost asleep on her throne that Derek graciously summoned two warriors and ordered them to take his bride to rest.
– Get a couple hours of sleep, my princess," he told her. He was already drunk, but he did not let the guilt cloud his judgment. – We have a long journey tomorrow.
– Thank you, my king. May I take my maids to Kaldwind? – The girl asked.
– No," Derek said.
– At least two.
– Not one. And all your vulgar dresses will stay here. I don't want a wife who dresses like a whore.
– Whatever you say, my king. – Sylvia curtsied and hurried out of the grand drinking party.
When she entered her chambers and collapsed on her bed, she clenched her eyelids tightly so as not to cry from helplessness, but suddenly her fingers fumbled for some parchment under her pillow, and, holding it up to the reddish light of the lamp, she read:
"Find the element that suppresses our power and destroy it. And when you do, kill everyone who gets in your way and return home.
We love you.
Burn this message.
Father and mother."
Sylvia dipped the parchment into the red flame and it burned, leaving behind only an unpleasant smoke.
The night passed sleeplessly. She sat on the edge of her bed and stared at the wall, unable to believe that what had happened had not been a dream… And how she wished she could wake up and know that the war with Kaldwind, Derek Merkswerd, what had happened to her parents and herself, had been nothing more than a nightmare.
In the morning, when it was still dark outside the window, Bergil entered the princess's chamber. He silently placed a golden tray of food and drink on the table.
Having completed the task assigned to him, Bergil went to the door.
– We leave at dawn! – He suddenly shouted and slammed the door loudly behind him.
Chapter 7
"Well, it wasn't a very pleasant morning," Sylvia's sleepy mind flashed. Despite her thoughts, she managed to fall asleep, but an uninvited visit from the bearded man jerked her out of her slumber. – I would have slept another hour. Or better two. I wonder if I'm going to have strange men barging into my chambers every day from now on. He didn't even knock! Barbarian!"
The princess was filled with indignation and did not notice how she found herself near the wooden closet. She remembered her hated fiance's words about not being allowed to take her favorite dresses and shoes to Kaldwind, but this time she didn't want to put up with such a stupid and insulting order, so she coldly gathered her clothes, shoes and jewelry into the large chests. When the job was done, Sylvia looked thoughtfully at the few dresses that didn't fit into the trunks and were left hanging in the closet: which one would be suitable for a long trip and not look so flashy? Yesterday Derek Merkswerd had made it clear that her dresses were similar in his eyes to those of courtesans. She had been annoyed by this fact, and in another situation she would have spoken out, but now Sylvia had to keep her mouth shut, because the demons closest to her were still in danger. But she was not going to be silent about this morning's intrusion: that hairy-rock Bergil had hurt her pride too much.
Putting on a dark blue dress with long sleeves and a relatively closed neckline, the Flammehav heiress twirled a little more in front of the mirror in an attempt to step so that the slit of the dress, rising to the white thigh, would be invisible, but her efforts were in vain. Sighing convulsively, Sylvia clenched her small fists and, assuming a casual look, looked out into the hallway to call the guards to carry her trunks downstairs, but met only derision. Trying to remain calm, the girl began to drag her heavy, overstuffed trunks toward the stairs on her own. The dirty, foul-smelling human warriors smiled derisively, watching her with interest, but the princess remained proud and dragged her trunks onward. Finally reaching the wide black stone staircase, the tired black-haired beauty collapsed right on the chests and, spreading her arms to the sides, called out loudly to her surroundings:
– Do none of you see that your future queen needs help?
– Of course, Your Majesty! You're so tired of carrying all this junk! – Bergil, who had suddenly appeared beside her, said with a sneer in his voice. – Though I dare ask… Has not my king made it clear to you that he does not wish to see these rags? Or are you trying your luck, future queen? – The grin on his face was more like a grin.
– I don't think I asked for your opinion. You're very wrong if you think I can't wear what I like. Those dresses…" Sylvia cut her off icily, but the sound of approaching footsteps behind her silenced her.
– Yes, you can't! – When she turned around, she saw Derek, and from his face she realized that he was clearly unhappy with her behavior.
– Perhaps you have forgotten, Your Majesty, that I am not a servant, but a princess, heir to the throne and your fiancee! And this scoundrel does not dare to mock me! – Sylvia flared up and pointed her finger at Bergil like a child.
The king's face turned crimson. In an instant he was seized with a real rage: his best friend and his demoness fiancee had put him in an awkward position, and his answer would determine how he would be treated by his warriors and his people.