(KBTCM) Ch 22: A Friends Visit!

The colossal doors of the palace stood open, a breeze drifting in through the high arches like a silent song. Lyra and Arienne stepped light

The colossal doors of the palace stood open, a breeze drifting in through the high arches like a silent song. Lyra and Arienne stepped lightly across the polished marble floor, the fading echoes of their footsteps lost in the vastness of the structure built for giants.

Outside, sunlight poured through like golden wine, and the fresh scent of blooming summer trees from the castle gardens curled around the air. But even the warmth of the day couldn't push away the worry that hung on Lyra's face.

"I don't like this," she murmured, her voice barely rising above the wind. "Rowena... something's different about her. That meeting with the prince—it left more than just a bruise on her pride."

Arienne, who walked just beside her, folded her arms with a quiet nod. "I know. She doesn't even spar with Sylara anymore, and those two used to knock half the hillside loose when they trained. Now she just stays in her chambers. Keeps to herself."

Lyra looked down at her feet as they passed through the towering archway into the sunlight. "She doesn't even want to be around people anymore," she said. "Not nobles. Not the court. Not even her friends."

"And you're leaving tomorrow," Arienne reminded her, gently.

Lyra winced, slowing a bit. "I know. And I hate it. How can I leave when she's like this? She's been strong for everyone, and now when she needs someone, I'm packing bags and smiling for a match I never even asked for."

There was a long silence between the two women as they walked along the garden path outside the palace, their small feet brushing against stone tiles that could easily be mistaken for roads.

Lyra sighed. "You know, when I first met Rowena, I was terrified of her."

Arienne laughed a little. "You and everyone else."

"But not for long," Lyra continued, a faint smile tugging at her lips. "She tried to act so tough. So distant. But I saw through it. There was this—this softness. She didn't want to be seen as a monster, even then. She just... didn't know how to be anything else."

Her eyes drifted toward the horizon, her thoughts spiraling back. "I used to swing from her hair like it was rope. Gods, I loved that. She'd run through the palace garden and I'd be gripping tight, screaming with laughter as the wind blasted in my face. And her fingers—they were like warm tree branches. I'd climb up her hand to the top of her head like I was scaling a tower, and she'd let me sit there like a crown."

Arienne's expression softened as she listened. "That sounds like a fairytale."

Lyra nodded slowly. "It was. Back when life was simple."

Then Arienne's voice cut through her thoughts. "Lyra. Look."

Lyra blinked and turned toward the palace gates. Her brows pinched together.

There, walking cautiously past the courtyard fountain and toward the open doors of the castle, was a boy. Young, maybe late teens. Thin. His clothes were worn—patched at the knees and elbows, dirt staining the sleeves. His dark brown hair was tangled and wild, as if it hadn't been combed in days. A massive hammer rested across his shoulders, far too big for someone his size.

He didn't look like he belonged there. And from the way he was sneaking along the palace edge, clearly he knew it too.

"Is he—" Arienne began.

"He's sneaking in," Lyra said, eyes narrowing. "Come on."

Without hesitation, the two women sprinted forward, weaving through the trimmed hedges and flower beds that bordered the walkway. Lyra's boots made soft thuds against the ground, and Arienne's braid bounced behind her.

The boy was just stepping up onto the lowest of the massive palace steps when they reached him.

"Hey!" Lyra called.

The boy stopped, freezing mid-step. His grip tightened on the hammer handle behind his neck. Slowly, he turned around.

Up close, Lyra got a better look at him. His clothes weren't just dirty—they were singed. Smoke stains clung to the fabric, and his boots looked like they'd nearly melted at the heels. His face, though young, held tired eyes, and his fingers were calloused from labor.

But it was that hammer that caught her eye again. Massive. Black metal with glowing red lines that pulsed faintly like embers in the dark.

"...Who are you?" Arienne asked, stepping beside Lyra.

The boy didn't answer at first. He looked up at the enormous open door behind them, at the world of royalty and giants beyond it. Then back at the two women standing in front of him.

"I'm Kerren," he said finally. "I'm here to see someone."

"See someone?" Lyra asked, tilting her head. "In there?"

He nodded.

"Who?"

Kerren shifted, looking sheepish now that he was caught. "Rowena."

Lyra blinked in surprise. "Princess Rowena?"

"...Yes."

Arienne gave Lyra a look. "What's he doing here?"

Lyra took a step forward, her brow furrowed. "Why do you want to see her?"

Kerren stayed quiet.

Lyra stared him down, her eyes narrowing in suspicion. "Well?"

The boy's mouth opened for a second, then closed again. A faint redness began to bloom across his cheeks.

"If you don't speak," Lyra said, folding her arms, "I'll call the guards."

That got his attention.

"No! Please don't—" Kerren stepped forward, both hands raised, the large hammer on his back nearly slipping off. "I just... I came to see someone. Just a friend. That's all."

"A friend?" Lyra repeated, tilting her head. Her tone wasn't mocking, but it carried a good dose of disbelief. "You're from Grelling Row, aren't you?"

Kerren hesitated. "Yeah."

Lyra knew the district well enough—it was the lowest of the city's five tiers. Dirty streets, broken stonework, too many people and not enough coin. The people there had long since learned to mind their own business and keep their heads down—especially around the royal family. The giant royal family. Most didn't even dare approach the palace steps, let alone try to sneak inside.

And yet here was one, standing in front of her, filthy boots and all.

"And where," she asked slowly, "did you meet the princess?"

Kerren scratched the back of his neck. "It was in the forest," he muttered. "A while ago. She was with her sister. I—I didn't know they were there, I was just walking. It was a bad day. I needed to be somewhere quiet. Then I saw them training."

"And she just talked to you?" Arienne asked, sounding deeply skeptical.

Kerren shrugged. "Not at first. But... eventually, yeah. I guess I wanted to make sure she was okay. With everything people are saying."

Lyra blinked at him, watching his face as he spoke. His voice, though rough, wasn't forced. There was a small shine in his eyes, the kind you couldn't fake, especially not standing on the palace steps in clothes that smelled like smoke.

She kept staring at him for a few more seconds before something in her gaze softened.

"I'll take you to her," Lyra said, turning toward the massive doorway.

"What? Lyra—" Arienne hissed, grabbing her arm. "Is that really a good idea?"

Lyra looked back at her. "Did you see his face when he talked about her?"

"Kinda?"

Lyra grinned. "That boy is completely in love."

Arienne's mouth dropped open. "What? With Rowena? No. No way. He's from Grelling Row. He probably eats rats for breakfast."

"Maybe," Lyra said with a small sigh, "but even so, he might be just what the princess needs right now."

Arienne squinted. "What's that?"

Lyra smiled. "A friend."

Kerren, still gripping the handle of his hammer with both hands like a walking stick, looked between them, thoroughly confused. "Wait, what do you mean in love?"

"Oh nothing," Lyra said sweetly over her shoulder. "Come along now."