Inscribed In The Stars

Chapter 8

The stars stared in awe as the Princess of Rughad stepped out of her tent for the first time since they had embarked on their journey to her new home. The night breeze teased her with its cold fingers, tickling the pearls dangling from the ends of her face veil. Dalia tightened her leather skin overcoat around her shoulders. As expected, the temperature had drastically dropped since the sun's farewell across the horizon.

"Amira," called the servant who had been assigned by her door. "May I be of assistance?"

"I wish to relieve myself," Dalia admitted.

The young servant merely nodded and lead the way, whispering to the guards who then assigned more female servants to join them. Though it was late, the camp was alit with torches. As they led her to the edge of the camp, Dalia prayed she would not cross paths with the scarred Prince but to her dismay, she found him waiting outside of her tent upon her return.

"Amira," he nodded, his eyes lowered to the ground. "May I have a word?"

He motioned to behind her where a cluster of tents had been set up. Dalia bit her lip, afraid her emotions would betray her at that moment, so she turned her head away from him, twiddling with her ring.

Abbas witnessed the discomfort behind the Princess' silence and nodded.

"We can talk here if you prefer,"

Dalia nodded back.

"I am sure you are aware that we will be entering the city of Balqaas tomorrow just before dusk," he continued, maintaining a moderate distance between them.

She nodded once more.

"The Palace is ready to receive us then. You will be greeted by the Queen and then directed inside for the preparations to meet the King,"

Dalia gulped, feeling her heart pounding harder against her ribcage. She bit her lip, the reality of her situation sinking in. She had agreed to the marriage. She was no longer a free woman, but now bound to another.

Tears prickled her eyes but she did not allow them to settle, blinking them away furiously.

"Is the plan clear to you?" the scarred Prince gruffed.

"Yes," Dalia breathed, her voice trapped behind the lump in her throat.

"Do you have any concerns?" the Prince continued, the sudden softness in his tone making her eyes water more. Dalia hated being pitied but she hated her treacherous tears, which never seemed to cease, even more.

"No," she said before leaving him outside the tent. Dalia dashed over to the other end of the temporary structure and flung off her already-soaked veil. Her knees met the soft cushions of her cot. Sobs shook her weak body as hot tears streamed past her chin.

Nobody came for her. Dalia didn't think anyone dared to. She wondered if Raysa would have wiped her tears and silently comforted her with her warmth. The thought wrenched at her heart, bursting forth a new set of tears, until she remembered the betrayal. Anger bloomed from the depths of her sadness, its raging inferno burning off the last of her tears.

Dalia shut her eyes and calmed her ragged breath. She could hear her racing pulse beating in her ears but she tuned it out, using the stillness of the night to focus her mind and extinguish the bonfire of emotions. She was going to arrive in Balqaas tomorrow. She was going to meet the man she had bound her life to. She was going to become the Queen Consort.

Dalia slowly opened her eyes. No longer did she want to sulk about her situation. This was her new reality, her new life. And she was now ready for it.

Dalia brushed herself off from the cot and strode over to the low table in the centre of the tent where a bowl of sparkling water had been left beside a generous heaped plate of food. Suddenly, she felt her stomach growl in hunger and her mouth water. How many days had she gone without eating?