Flint stood before Azar, his heart heavy with anticipation, hoping for a favorable response to his plea. But when Azar delivered his decree, it crushed Flint's hopes. The weight of disappointment settled upon him like a leaden blanket as he realized Azar's refusal to allow him to cross the borders of the Solyria kingdom. "Your Grace, please," Flint implored, his voice laced with desperation. "Once I see the princess for myself, I will be at peace. End my misery for me." He pleaded, his words tinged with anguish.
Azar shook his head gently, his expression sympathetic yet resolute. "Sending you there will be nothing less than announcing the news of the marriage alliance fermenting between the two nations. I don't wish for this word to spread any more than this," he explained, his tone firm but empathetic.
Frustration boiled within Flint, his emotions swirling like a tempest within him. His fists clenched tightly, the muscles in his jaw tensing as he struggled to contain the torrent of emotions threatening to overwhelm him. "Your Grace," Flint's voice cracked with pain, his words a raw admission of his inner turmoil. "I will not question your authority, but I have to say this: The decision you took in your love for the princess might repeat history." He paused, drawing in a shaky breath, his black eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "Just like I made that decision years ago, almost losing her to death, I don't have the strength to lose her again. Please, let me go and talk to her." His plea hung in the air, heavy with the weight of his heartache and longing.
Azar's throat tightened, a lump forming as if the moisture had been suddenly drained from it. He observed Flint in silence for a few moments before shaking his head resolutely. "It will not happen this time. That happened because Noori was immature. She can take care of herself now."
Flint's frustration boiled over, his brows furrowing as he struggled to contain his emotions. "Your Grace," he began, his voice tinged with frustration and a hint of defiance. "What I am going to say next will surely sound disrespectful, but you have never understood the Princess even for once. You have left her with a life that she would have never wished upon herself, and now she is stuck in the misery of it." His words hung heavily in the air, a poignant reminder of the rift between Azar's decisions and Noori's desires.
With those stiff words, Flint bowed, the tension evident in his anger, yet he maintained the formality before swiftly departing. Azar's face paled as he watched Flint leave, the weight of their exchange settling heavily upon him.
"Haaah!" Flint exhaled deeply, his breath heavy with frustration as he attempted to release the pent-up grief weighing on his chest. Each exhalation felt like a futile attempt to expel the turmoil swirling within him.
The carriage awaited him at the foot of the palace, a silent witness to Flint's turmoil. With unsteady breaths, Flint entered the carriage, feeling the weight of his emotions pressing down upon him. As the carriage began to move, Flint leaned back, his head resting against the headrest. His eyes closed, shutting out the world around him as he sought solace in the darkness behind his lids.
"Princess, please be okay," he whispered under his breath, his voice barely audible above the rumble of the carriage wheels. The glint of his ring caught the sunlight streaming in through the window. Lost in his thoughts, Flint remained in that state for a while before his eyes opened, revealing a determined gaze. With a deliberate motion, he pulled out a folded paper from within his chest pocket, handling it with care as if it held the weight of his hopes and fears.
Unravelling the paper, it revealed itself to be a letter addressed to Noori. Flint's eyes lingered on the words written upon it before he glanced outside, his expression a mixture of longing and resolve. With a soft whistle, he beckoned to the world beyond the carriage window, a silent call to his messenger bird.
As if summoned by his silent plea, a bird with shiny maroon feathers and black eyes materialised from thin air, its presence a testament to Flint's unwavering determination. With graceful efficiency, the bird snatched the letter from Flint's outstretched hand and took flight, disappearing into the horizon with purpose.
Flint watched the bird soar into the distance, his heart heavy with unspoken words and unfulfilled promises. "I hope you receive the letter in peace, my princess," he murmured, his voice carrying his deepest desires into the wind.
The wind of Solyria had begun to relent its cruel grip, allowing the first signs of thaw to reveal the earth beneath the melting snow. As the birds chirped joyfully outside, their melodies carried on the gentle breeze, Noori stood by the window of her room, her gaze fixed on the lively scene unfolding beyond.
A soft glow illuminated her eyes as she watched the birds play, their freedom contrasting sharply with the constraints of her own life. Lost in her thoughts, she barely registered the entrance of the maids, their footsteps muffled against the plush carpet as they brought in her breakfast.
Distracted, Noori didn't acknowledge their presence until a sudden, searing pain shot through her hand, causing her to recoil with a gasp. Startled, she turned to see one of the maids, her expression filled with horror as she released the teapot she had been carrying.
"I apologize, Your Highness! I wasn't paying attention," the maid exclaimed, her voice trembling as she fell to her knees in a flurry of remorse. Noori's brow furrowed in confusion, momentarily taken aback by the unexpected turn of events.
As if to compound the maid's distress, the scalding-hot water from the teapot now pooled on the floor, a stark reminder of the sudden disruption that had shattered the tranquility of the moment.
Noori's confusion quickly gave way to anger as the searing pain intensified, her skin reddening and blistering where the scalding water had made contact. She hissed through clenched teeth, unable to comprehend how such a simple act could result in such agony.
"What sort of water was that?" she demanded, her voice laced with irritation as she surveyed the damage to her hand. The maid's stuttered response only fueled her frustration.
"It is boiled water for tea," the maid explained timidly, her eyes wide with fear.
"For tea? How boiling was it? Who makes tea with water like this?" Noori's tone grew increasingly heated as the burn spread,This was weird. Their was no way a little burning water could cause her pain. She was immune to it so why? Each breath felt like a struggle as she fought to contain her rising anger.
"Haah!" she exhaled heavily, the pain pulsating with each heartbeat. "Get me some medicine for my hand!" Her command was sharp and authoritative, reflecting the urgency of her need for relief.
Noori's frustration simmered beneath the surface as she struggled to contain her anger at the maid's incompetence. The pain radiating from her burned hand only served to fuel her agitation, her chest tightening with every ragged breath she took.
"What medicine?" the maid replied with a clueless expression, further infuriating Noori. Her voice dripped with disdain as she lashed out, unable to comprehend how the servant could be so ignorant.
"What do you mean what medicine? Are you stupid? Get me something to put on the burns!" Noori's words cut through the air like a knife, her tone sharp with irritation and impatience. But before the maid could respond, Dastan's sudden entrance disrupted the tense atmosphere.
His eyes narrowed as he surveyed the scene, quickly piecing together a narrative that painted Noori as the aggressor and the maid as the victim. Stepping between them, he positioned himself protectively in front of the cowering servant.
"What do you think you are doing?" Dastan's voice was firm, his stance defensive as he addressed Noori.
Noori's gaze shot up to meet his, her expression a mixture of pain and frustration. "Nothing that concerns you. Get out of the way," she snapped, attempting to push past him.
But Dastan stood his ground, his resolve unwavering. With a stern glance at the maid, he issued a command. "You can leave." The maid scrambled to her feet, hastily exiting the room at his directive.
"Don't you dare leave!" Noori's voice thundered, her anger boiling over as she watched the maid retreat.
"Don't you dare treat my people like that, I am warning you," Dastan warned, his tone laced with threat as he confronted Noori.
Her eyes flashed with hatred as she brushed past him, her gaze locked on the maid who stood frozen in the doorway. She approached her slowly and looked at her face as if examining it. And just like she had expected there was no speck of remorse in her eyes , her expressions were calm and content causing Noori to feel helpless yet angry.