Prince Torian lay propped up in bed, his fingers absently tracing the contours of the small earring he'd been given. The earring, with its green gemstone, had become a symbol of the mysterious woman who had somehow played a role in their escape from the disastrous raid. He turned the delicate piece over and over, lost in thought, as he contemplated the coming day.

It had been a fortnight since the raid, and Torian's body was still recovering from the injuries. The Iylani prince was eager to return to his training, to resume his place among his warrior brothers. Yet, despite his resolve, he knew that his wounds still needed time to heal.

A shadow fell across the room as Lodan, Torian's best friend and sword-brother, entered. He was a striking figure, rugged and handsome, with medium-short brown hair that tousled casually. His tan skin bore the marks of numerous battles and tattoos, though fewer than Torian's.

Both men shared a similar appearance—muscular builds and weathered skin from years under the sun—but Torian was more massive, his body adorned with a greater number of tattoos, each marking a victory or kill.

Lodan's rich brown eyes held a glint of amusement as he approached, though his expression was serious. "Still resting, I see."

Torian gave him an irritated look. "I should be training."

Lodan shook his head with a bemused smile. "We can't ignore the healer's orders. Did you hear about the..."

Torian raised an eyebrow. "What's going on?"

Lodan's grin widened. "You didn't hear the fuss earlier? Thull's in trouble. His woman was in a sour mood and tossed him out of their hut. So, he thought some honey would sweeten her up. The problem was, he didn't have any, so he tried to sneak a jar from the stores. Of course, he got caught."

Torian raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "What happened to him?"

Lodan chuckled. "After he got caught, his woman got even angrier and threw all his things into the river. Thull dived in to retrieve them, but he somehow broke the jar while trying to escape with the honey and save his stuff from the water. The honey ended up wasted, and now people are calling him Thull the Honey Fool."

Torian laughed so hard that his wounds hurt. But his laughter was abruptly cut off as the door to the chamber flew open.

King Menaar stormed in, his imposing presence immediately shifting the room's atmosphere. The king was known for his harshness and ruthlessness, his cunning ways often leaving no room for leniency.

"Torian!" Menaar's voice boomed, cutting through the room's calm. "I hear you're still idling away while you should be preparing for the next raid."

Torian looked up, his expression turning serious as he faced his father. "Father, I am still recovering. I need more time to—"

"Time?!" Menaar's voice was cold and unforgiving. "Your failure in Northland has put us at a shameful disadvantage."

Torian's shoulders stiffened, and he exchanged a worried glance with Lodan. The room's light-heartedness vanished, replaced by the weight of Menaar's stern expectations.

King Menaar's eyes, sharp and unforgiving, took in his son's battered state. The failure of the raid had not only resulted in Torian's injuries but had also humiliated their warrior's reputation before their enemies.

"Is this the result of my command?" Menaar's voice was a harsh, unyielding growl. "We were to strike fear into our enemies, not return with disgrace."

Torian, propped up on pillows, met his father's gaze with a mix of exhaustion and defiance. "We were ambushed, Father. The village in Northlands was heavily defended, and we were outnumbered. We had no way of knowing they were prepared for us."

Menaar's fury was palpable. "You were given command, and you failed.

The king's gaze shifted to the bedside table, where a small earring with a green gemstone lay.

"What is this?" Menaar demanded, his voice icy. "Another trinket from your failure?"

Torian's fingers reached for the earring. "Lodan found it during the raid. He mentioned a woman who took me out of Lowa's waters and tended me."

Menaar's eyes narrowed with disdain. "A woman from Ravenia? You know their people are weak, and their women are only taken for pleasure. They are plenty to take. Why should we concern ourselves with her?"

Torian's frustration simmered. Before he could say something, his father's voice cut him off.

"Your failure has cost us dearly, and I will not tolerate any more delays. I have set in motion a plan. Northland will be ours!"

.....

A few months after

The sun hung low in the sky, casting a golden hue over the sprawling fields as the season turned colder. The air was crisp, and the scent of wood smoke lingered from the distant hearths of the village. It was the time of year when the last of the crops were gathered, and preparations for the harsh winter ahead occupied every waking moment.

Addyn, her hands calloused from weeks of hard work, knelt in the lord's garden, carefully pulling weeds from the soil around the cabbages.

She had been here for many months now, adapting to the rhythms of a life that felt both foreign and strangely familiar. Her arrival in this strange world a distant memory, yet one that haunted her thoughts. At first, she had been rendered mute by the shock and confusion of finding herself in a time so far removed from her own. The language barrier only deepened her silence, and soon, the people of Lord Adoner's estate began to regard her as a mute and a simpelton—a servant to be ignored, mocked, or marginalized. They had little use for someone who couldn't speak, and she found that her perceived disability became a shield, protecting her from questions she couldn't answer.

In the early days, she had been frustrated by the isolation, but as time went on, she realized that this allowed her to observe and learn without drawing suspicion. Slowly, the words and phrases spoken around her began to make sense. She listened intently, picking up the language bit by bit, until she could understand most of what was said, though she still chose to remain silent.

Her thoughts often drifted to her past life—a world where she had access to modern comforts, where her skills as a nurse were respected and needed. Now, she found herself longing for the warmth of central heating, the ease of running water, and the familiar hum of electricity. The thought that she had left nothing behind to return to saddened her deeply, and she would often pause in her work, lost in memories of a life that seemed like a dream.

She had little more than the clothes on her back, and even those were a painful reminder of the desperation she had felt in the early days of her arrival.

After fleeing from the raid, she had stumbled into a small village, shivering and hungry. When she asked for help, she was turned away by suspicious villagers who treated her like a beggar. Desperation had driven her to steal clothes drying on a line, and some food to keep herself alive. She wasn't proud of what she had done, but survival left little room for pride. The thought of facing the bitter winter with only those stolen garments filled her with dread.

Her situation had taken a turn when she encountered Nerisse, the young daughter of Lord Adoner. It was a chance meeting that had changed the course of her life in this strange world. After being turned away by the villagers, Addyn had wandered aimlessly, trying to figure out where she was and how she might find a way back home. The unfamiliar looks she received from men made her skin crawl, and she quickly understood that she needed to keep to herself and avoid drawing any unnecessary attention.

To protect herself, Addyn kept her face half-covered with a shawl and hid her hair from view, hoping to avoid the unwanted gazes that seemed to follow her everywhere. It was a small shield against the constant sense of vulnerability she felt in this world.

One day, while she was walking along a secluded path, trying to make sense of her surroundings, Nerisse and her small entourage stumbled upon her. The young girl had looked at Addyn with a mix of curiosity and pity, assuming she was an unfortunate from one of the villages recently raided by the Iylani. Nerisse had mentioned that she couldn't possibly know everyone under her father's rule, and with a kind heart, she took Addyn back to the keep. There, she was given food and a place to sleep—albeit in the haystack above the winter pig pen—but it was a far better fate than starving alone in the wild.

That was how Addyn ended up working for food and a place to sleep. She toiled in the gardens and the kitchens, her silence and diligence earning her little notice from the other servants. It was a life of hard labor, but it kept her fed and gave her a measure of safety in a world that was still so strange to her.

As she worked in the garden, pulling weeds and tending to the last of the vegetables, she overheard the servants speaking of the recent raids on nearby villages. The Iylani savages were becoming bolder, their attacks more frequent and damaging, disrupting the preparations for the harsh winter ahead. Yet, there were whispers that the raids had claimed fewer lives than before, and fewer women were being taken.

A pang of guilt struck Addyn each time she heard these stories, knowing that on that stormy night months ago, she had saved one of those very warriors—possibly even a leader among them. She often found herself wondering about him, the fierce warrior she had brought back from the brink of death. And then there was the other man—the one who had plunged his sword into the mud and knelt before her. At the time, she had been too terrified to understand what was happening, and she had run away without looking back. But now, she couldn't help but wonder what that gesture had meant. Had it been a vow of some kind? A pledge of loyalty? The memory of it puzzled her, and she often found herself questioning what might have happened if she had stayed.

But those thoughts were fleeting, pushed aside by the more immediate concerns of daily survival. Winter was coming, and she worried about how she would endure it with only the thin, stolen garments she had. She had already begun to feel the chill in the air, and the nights were growing colder. The thought of facing the brutal cold with so little filled her with dread, but at least she was grateful for her boots, coat and handbag with the little items in it. All thought sad for the lost of one earring.

One chilly afternoon, as she finished her work for the day, Addyn made her way to a small, secluded stream she had discovered not far from the keep. It was her sanctuary, a place where she could wash away the grime of the day and find a moment of peace. She knelt by the stream, dipping her hands into the cool water, savoring the quiet and the solitude.

Suddenly, the sound of hoofbeats reached her ears. Startled, she looked up to see a lone rider approaching from the direction of the village. Panic gripped her, and she quickly ducked behind a thicket, her heart pounding. The rider, cloaked and hooded, slowed his horse as he neared the stream, glancing around as if searching for something—or someone. Addyn held her breath, praying he wouldn't notice her.

Moments later, another rider appeared, this one coming from the direction of Lord Adoner's keep. As the two men met, they exchanged a few hurried words and a piece of parchment. Addyn couldn't make out what they were saying, but when the wind caught the second man's hood, it blew it back, revealing his face. Her breath caught in her throat as she recognized Lord Adoner himself.

She watched, her mind racing as she tried to make sense of what she was seeing. She strained to hear more of their conversation, but the only word that reached her ears was one that sent a chill down her spine: "Nerisse." The lord's daughter.

Before she could ponder the meaning further, the men parted ways, each riding off in opposite directions. Addyn stayed hidden until the sound of their hoofbeats faded into the distance. Only then did she emerge from her hiding place, her thoughts swirling with confusion and unease.

As she made her way back to the keep, she stumbled on a group of young lads and lasses. They had been gathering firewood and paused when they saw her. One of the boys nudged his companion and smirked.

"Look, it's the dumb one," he sneered. "What's the matter, mute? Cat got your tongue?"

The others snickered, and one of the girls, a red-haired lass, mimicked Addyn's silent gestures, flapping her hands like a bird. "Maybe she's a bird in disguise," she mocked, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Or maybe she's just too stupid to talk."

Addyn lowered her gaze, her cheeks burning with humiliation, but she remained silent. She had learned that reacting only fueled their cruelty. Instead, she clutched her shawl tighter around her shoulders, making sure to keep her face half-covered and her hair hidden, and tried to walk past them.

"Hey, dumb girl!" the boy called after her. "If you're so good with plants, why don't you turn into one? At least then you'd be useful!"

The group erupted in laughter, their jeers echoing in the chilly air. Addyn kept her head down, her heart heavy with the familiar sting of their taunts. But as she walked away, her resolve hardened. She had survived much worse than this, and she would continue to survive, no matter what they threw at her.

She only hoped that whatever was happening with Lord Adoner and his daughter wouldn't bring more trouble her way. The sense of unease from what she had witnessed at the stream lingered, a warning that her life in this world was about to become even more complicated.

.....