Chapter 15

After the King left, Ayla paced around her for a while, thinking about what she said to him. She knew it wasn´t his fault that the ice wolves attacked Miton and her or that she got sick, but she was angry at everything. At her brother for trading his life with hers and at King Rhobart for accepting.

Ayla took a deep breath and sat on a chair. She should apologize when she would see him the next time.

Around noon a maid came to bring her lunch.

"You are not allowed out of the room until the King summons you," the maid informed her.

Ayla could not believe her ears. He was locking her up in the room? She tried to breathe, but no air entered her lungs. She needed to get outside and look at trees and flowers, hear birds singing and the bees buzzing. She couldn't and wouldn't be locked up again. She refused.

Ayla opened the door and was greeted by two guards.

"You can't leave your room. King's order," one of them said.

Ayla had to try.

"I want to speak to the King! He can't do this to me! He can't…." A sob escaped her lips.

She counted to ten and breathed. She refused to cry. She would not cry.

"I need to get out. Only for five minutes," Ayla said, once she was in control of her emotions. "Please."

The guards looked at each other, and one of them shook his head.

"We are sorry, but orders are orders," one said.

She would wait. She would be patient and wait for the King to summon her. After all, how long will he keep in here?

Ayla took a book and started reading, and waited. Evening came, and still nothing. When dinner was served, Ayla asked the maid about the King. Still no news.

Evening transformed into night, and then morning followed. By the time afternoon came, Ayla was livid. She paced around the room, saying all kinds of foul things about the King. He was going to make her wait. This was his punishment for the way she spoke to him. Very well, a few days being locked in the room meant nothing to her. She only needed a garden to feel the wind running through her hair and the Sun on her skin.

Her eyes fell on the windows, and she smiled. At least she would have some fresh air.

Ayla moved in front of the window, but no matter how hard she tried, it would not open. She tried pulling and then pushing, but nothing worked. In the end, Ayla gave up. She closed her eyes, inhaled, and put her forehead against the window. And she exhaled.

She stood like that for a few moments, and when she opened her eyes and looked out the window and saw the courtyard. In the middle of it stood proud a winter oak.

People were in the courtyard working, laughing, talking, and children playing while she was in her room alone and angry. So very angry.

Ayla was tired of people locking her up. The moment the King would summon her, he would listen to her. Even if it killed her, she would tell the King exactly what she thought about him.

Her eyes tracked the movements of a man that was working in a smithy. Ayla looked at how he was working on what appeared to be a blade. She kept looking at him until she got distracted by five children playing with a ball. A girl, perhaps eight years old, kicked the ball so hard it landed in a butcher's shop. When an angry woman emerged from the shop with a big knife, the children screamed and ran away. What they didn't see was that the woman had the ball in the other hand.

Ayla laughed.

Her gaze fell on a lone figure that was standing next to the oak – King Rhobart. She could swear he wasn't there when she started looking out the window. But she couldn't be sure.

Even if outside was freezing, he was wearing only black trousers. His back was facing her, and he was standing very still. A sword was hanging from his left hip.

Not an ounce of fat, he was pure muscle. No wonder he was so strong.

Wait. Wasn't he cold? And what was he doing outside wearing almost nothing?

Ayla couldn't believe she was worried about him. She did not care if the King was cold or not. She would not care.

'I hope you freeze to death!' she thought.

Ayla kept watching him for a few more minutes. He stood still like a statue.

The King inhaled deeply, unsheathed his sword, gripped it with both hands, raised his arms above his head, and started training – strike, block, counter-attack, strike, strike, block. His movements were precise, like he was fighting an invisible enemy.

On his back, he had some tattoos, some runes, but he was too far for Ayla to see them well.

Ayla kept staring at him until the King finished his training, sheathed his sword, turned, and looked straight at her, his eyes full of fury – fury directed at her.

She got away from the window as fast as she could. She could not believe he caught her staring at him like she was some kind of a Peeping Tom.

The next day, when the maid brought her breakfast, she also brought a book.

Ayla picked it up, excited to read something new, until her eyes fell on the title – "Manners and Etiquette: A guide for proper ladies."

'How dare he? Bastard!' Ayla thought before throwing the book across the room.