Loving the Forbidden Prince

AYLETH

Ayleth hated herself for leaving him. He was grieving, and under immense pressure. What he asked was, strategically, the best for all. She knew that. But she'd sat at that table, unable to make her lips form the words.

Assassinate my parents. Both of them.

How had she ever thought they could bring their families together? How had she ever naively held that hope so truly?

His parents were dead at her Kingdom's hand. Not an assassination in the dark, but death was permanent whether at the hands of a soldier, or a spy. Ayleth held no doubts about that. She knew... the Ruler within her knew. Knew that he was right. And that this would answer their problems. Knew it would, in fact, solve so many more.

She would take Zenithra to peace in the Accord, and to peace with Summitras and the world would be better for it. Only one sentence stood in her way.

What she needed, she realized, wasn't to find another way, but to find the peace in her conscience to allow herself to take this step.

She was unfamiliar with the Castle, so made several wrong turns. It wasn't until she was forced to ask a servant for directions that she realized she was truly alone.

So accustomed to Falek at her heels, she'd just assumed... but her Knight Defender had obviously taken Etan's word that they would be safe with the council and likely gone to rest. He was exhausted and tormented—and that was her fault, as well.

With a small cry, Ayleth finally found a servants exit to the back of the Castle—a massive, manicured garden, wilder in its form than the Zenithra gardens and maze, but beautiful.

Ayleth stepped outside and began to run. She'd been out of her long dresses for so long, it took a moment to adjust. But she held her skirts and ran, blindly, something within her pulling towards the dark thicket of trees in the south eastern corner. It called to her, as if she needed to be hidden from view.

Or perhaps she only fooled herself and really all she yearned for was to flee her problems, like a child?

When she reached the cover of the trees, she slowed to a walk and dropped her head back, fighting tears.

None of this was happening as it was supposed to. None of this felt like victory.

She'd stopped in the shadows of the trees, turning to look for a bench or a place to settle herself without dirtying her dress, when that pull within her breast that had drawn her to this spot became a tangible tug.

Startled, Ayleth turned. It felt similar to the bond with Etan, though that had never pulled at her so.

Weaving between the trees in the direction of the pull, Ayleth soon came upon a wall, as tall as the trees, it explained the darkness of the shadows in this corner of the garden—ivy covered, and looming, it cut out much of the sunlight that would filter through the taller trees.

At first it seemed she must be staring at a blank wall, but then she turned away from the tug, and was yanked back just in time to see the ivy flutter away from the wall in one spot.

Curious, Ayleth explored and found not a solid wall, but a door within it, covered entirely by ivy and hidden behind bushes that seemed to have been allowed to grow taller and wilder than they should have.

That tug came again, and Ayleth thought that perhaps Etan was out here. Perhaps this was how they would find their time and space and... and if he was, she would be strong. She would tell him that he was right and she would... she would agree. She would release him.

But she would not say the words. She couldn't.

Resolved, she drew back the vines of ivy and pushed between them, her mouth dropping open as she found herself in a large, round garden, completely surrounded by a wall. And at its center, a tall statue of a woman in long robes, her chest bare, but made modest by the long waves of her hair swirling over her breasts and back. Her head was inclined gracefully, and yet the thing was massive, its crown brushed by the branches of the trees that reached over the wall.

Ayleth immediately recognized the Goddess and took a deep breath. This was why she'd been drawn. To find comfort and reassurance in her decision!

With a sigh of relief, she hurried forward, blinking as she realized that the base of the statue wasn't a tall pedestal as she'd immediately thought.

As she moved it became clear that the wide, carved marble plinth at its feet was... an altar.

Ayleth wished she'd known that there was a place to worship the Goddess here! She would have brought incense or grasses, something to burn, to recognize her worship!

"I'm sorry," she breathed as she hurried forward. "I'm sorry I was unprepared. Please, forgive me and... and read my heart that I come with good intention."

As she approached, speaking to the statue as if it were the Goddess herself, Ayleth felt only a little silly. She knew this representation was not the power of deity—and yet, she'd felt that power. Felt the draw. She'd been brought here, she couldn't deny it.

"Thank you for calling me. I needed the time to... cleanse my heart," she whispered.

"Oh, child, you always come with a good heart. Stop creating problems where problems do not exist!"

Ayleth gasped and slid to a halt, her mind screaming that the voice was familiar and was the Goddess truly here?

But before she could form the words, a form that must have knelt at the statue's feet, straightened and stood, turning to face her, the face hidden in the deep cowl of a large cloak.

"The gift is stronger in you than I thought," the voice said, barely above a whisper and Ayleth's heart hammered.

She knew that voice. It couldn't be—

The woman drew the hood back and her mother's face was revealed, smiling—

beaming at Ayleth. "You will be an immensely powerful Queen," her mother said. "Thank goodness I found you."