Hurt Feelings

The following day, Diana and her shield maidens raced to Belomas with great urgency. While Fedor and the Elder Illya prepared to help their ally, Leuca, Diana, the fierce Jarl of the shield maidens, rode with desperation to Belomas carrying news and concern for her personal interests.

They did not slow down as they approached the gates. Diana pushed her mount to the brink, her silver-trimmed cloak billowing behind like a funeral shroud. The men at the gate recognized Diana and her shield maidens, they threw the timber beams back just in time to prevent them from crashing into the gates.

Diana yelled at the men, apologizing for her rush. The men sighed at her reappearance at Belomas. They wondered if her intrusion would become a common occurrence now.

Diana bypassed the road to the dining hall and rode straight to the outskirts. The Jarl had learned of Stanillo’s estate in the countryside from Illya, who informed her that he resided there. On arrival, she leaped from the saddle before her horse had halted, her boots slamming onto the dirt road.

“Stanillo!” she roared, her voice echoing throughout the countryside. “Rostov has been lost! Bay is dead!”

The violent clatter of hooves and Diana’s panicked shouting shattered the quiet morning of the villa. Coria, mid-stride with a pot of tea and a tray of cups, nearly dropped the pot. She stood frozen in the kitchen, her ears uncertain if she had heard someone.

Stanillo sat there in his chair, leaning back. He did not look up. His eyes were fixated on his novel — a novel that he tends to write in his spare time. To him, the art of writing was a way of projecting one’s soul, and even the sound of being called to perform his duties was not enough to distract him.

Deep in the interior chambers, Coria’s sister remained asleep. Boudiaca had decided to stay with her sister, trying to catch up on lost time and help her out with the housework.

Diana did not wait for a greeting. She stormed to the porch, her fury growing as nobody had come to attend her. She forced her way into the villa, her mud-ridden boots leaving marks on the marble floor.

Coria left the tray and pot on the counter, deciding to find out what was going on. At the sound of the tray and pot making contact with the counter, Stanillo lifted his head to see where Coria was heading to.

The two women at long last met in the hallway. Each not knowing that their heart yearned for the same boy. Diana stormed past Coria, leaving her in the dust as Coria tried to stop her. Coria’s frantic call for Diana to stop, caught the attention of Stanillo, who put his book down.

At long last, Stanillo learned what was the cause. It was Diana, who appeared to be furious and concerned. Using her index finger, Diana singled Stanillo out as an incompetent man, for not providing a capable person for the command of the campaign.

“How can you sit there and read?” Diana hissed, her voice cracking with the strain of the ride. “The siege has been lifted by Rostov. Your general, Bay, died — killed by that arrogant golden beast of Rostov!”

Stanillo slowly took off his reading glasses, putting them on the table. He slowly looked up at Diana, his expression filled with concern. His eyes were full of grief and shock.

“Bay…has died?” he asked. His eyes began to tear up at the possibility of Bay’s death.

Diana exhaled, realizing she had been the bearer of bad news. “You did not know? I should have known better than to barge in like that.”

“No,” Stanillo said, his voice shaky and unsteady. “It is only natural if you come to seek answers, considering this campaign affects your future too.”

Coria stepped into the frame, unsure of what to do. “I think, I will leave you two to talk," she said.

Stanillo looked toward Coria, who was standing behind Diana. “Coria, love, please leave us to talk. I will explain this to you later.”

Coria nodded, departing from the living room to leave the two diplomats to talk. Diana looked at the young girl, finding her to be exotic and out of place.

“Your wife, I presume?” Diana asked.

“No,” Stanillo corrected. “She was the woman of your fiancé. The two are expecting a child.”

“Illya is expecting a child?” Diana muttered, her voice quivering at the reveal of this.

“He must not have told you,” Stanillo said, realizing that he should not have said that. “Well, Diana, please have a seat. We have a long chat ahead of us.”

Diana nodded in agreement, but her mind and heart were elsewhere now. Illya had not told her of this, but why would he not? It was far too important not to mention.

“Expecting a child,” Diana whispered, the words repulsing her. She had turned herself over to him. She had never allowed another man to lay a hand on her. “I have saved myself for the right one. I held onto it while I waited…and he gave his legacy to an Ugric woman!”

The sting was deeper because of the woman’s origins. The Ugrics were the very filth, they were fighting at Ugrica. To Diana, Coria was not just a rival; she was an enemy.

For Illya to take a woman from outside their culture and grant her the honor of their firstborn was an insult to everything she stood for.

Stanillo watched her not move a muscle. He saw the shift in her eyes — the transition from focusing on Rostov to a woman who was hurt from being deceived.

“The girl is no threat to you, Diana,” Stanillo said, attempting to mitigate the damage. “She and her sister, Boudiaca, have been with us since the Nori campaign. But I understand. To you, Belomas deceived you once more.”

“It was not for me to tell you that,” he continued. “However, you can confront the boy and girl later. Right now, the news from Rostov interests me more. If you let your pride shatter our alliance now, Rostov will only become stronger.”

Diana’s breathing was shallow, her hand still trembling on her chest. The news of Bay’s death worried her, but this was a wound to her soul.

“I will fulfill my duty to Belomas,” Diana assured her, her voice cold and shallow. “I will do my best to assist you. But do not expect me to marry him. I will fight for what benefits me.”

She turned to leave, but stopped in the doorway, looking back at Stanillo. “And tell that Ugric girl…if she values her child’s life, she had best stay away from him.”

As the front doors slammed shut, signaling Diana’s departure, a shadow detached itself from the doorway of the inner kitchen. Boudiaca stepped into the light, her eyes burning with hatred for Diana. She had heard every word — the insult of her sister’s blood, the threat of her unborn kin.

“I will not let her touch them!” Boudiaca barked, her voice a low, dangerous rasp. “She thinks her wealth and power makes her superior! But if she lays a hand on Coria, I will show her how easily she bleeds!”

Stanillo sighed, rubbing his temples. “Enough, child. We are at risk of an all-out war, and you are worrying about a rivalry of hearts.”

“It is not a rivalry!” Boudiaca countered, raising her fist in a declaration of war against Diana. “Illya left my sister for her. They have nothing in common, aside from at one point sharing the same man.”

Stanillo chuckled, believing Boudiaca to be nowhere close to being the woman her sister was. “I heard you were a noisy one, girl. It seems they were right about you.”

“Me noisy?” she exclaimed. “Who told you that? It was probably Illya, huh?”

“It does not matter,” Stanillo replied. “What matters is what Diana is going to do now.”

The ride back to the secluded cabin was fueled by a different kind of heat — not the heat of battle that comes from war, but the raw, stinging hurt of a woman who had been deceived by the boy that she gave her purity to.

Diana bypassed the town square and rode straight to the timber - and - stone cabin where the young Illya resided. She did not announce herself. She kicked the door open, the heavy wood slamming against the wall with the force of a battering ram.

Young Illya was by the hearth, the flickering orange of the fire illuminating his face. He stood up abruptly, his eyes lighting up at the sight of Diana.

“Diana?” he stammered, his voice quivering at the sight of her. “What are you doing back here so soon? We were supposed to see each other..."

“I am supposed to be everywhere but here, am I?” Diana walked into the room, the scent of the cold wind, her rage clashing with the warmth and peace of the cabin. “I am supposed to be at my kingdom, waiting for the days to pass to be at your side. I had come to — oh, forget it!”

She stepped into the light of the fire, her silver armor reflecting the flames. Illya looked smaller than she remembered — less like a soldier and more like a boy caught in a lie.

“I saved myself for the right one, Illya,” she said, her eyes bursting into tears. “I thought that what we had that night was genuine.”

“And that whole time, while I gave you time and time again, to tell me about yourself. You withheld something that important from me! Do not look at me, like you do not know what I am talking about, Illya! I am talking about you hiding the fact that you are having a child with that Ugric girl!”

Illya looked down, unable to meet her gaze. “Look, Diana. Coria was the woman I was with prior to you. She and I are no longer together because of our arranged marriage. My father had me break from her, so that I could marry you, for the sake of Belomas.”

She realized at that moment she had been a rebound. Her devotion, her purity, and prestige had weighed against the Ugric.

“Prior to me?” Diana stuttered, her voice trembling with a mixture of grief and pain. “So I was second fiddle? The high-born woman brought in to purify the bloodline…”

“You did not break from her, Illya,” she continued, loathing him for his failure to disclose the truth. “You led me on to believe that I was the first, the only…while you were building a family with a woman, whose people are responsible for the death of thousands of my people!”

The young Illya stepped towards her, his hands reaching out to her. “The child was a buy product of the love that I felt for her,” Illya admitted, grabbing onto Diana’s hand. He intended to make her understand. “I had not learned of our arranged marriage until after the battle against the Nori. By then, I had learned of Coria’s pregnancy, and I was uncertain of what to do. My father gave me the choice to leave Coria and the child peacefully and marry you, or risk the death of Coria and my unborn child if I disobeyed him. As you can imagine, I chose to abandon the child and woman.”

Diana looked down at his hands, then back up at his face. The tears had stopped, replaced by a look of disappointment. She did not pull away violently; she simply went limp, her strength draining into the floorboards.

“So,” she whispered, her voice devoid of its usual command. “Your father held a blade to a pregnant girl’s throat, and offered me to you as the woman to fill that void left by Coria. And you took the deal! You let me love you, let me plan a life with you, knowing that every kiss I could give you would not compare to hers.”

With a sudden, sharp movement, she wrenched her hands free.

“You think you saved them?” she asked. “By keeping this from me, you have made it so I can never look at you without feeling like I am second fiddle to another person. You have made me the villain in your story, Illya. If I marry you now, I am the woman who stands between that child not having his father!”

She grabbed her cloak, the heavy wool snapping in the air. “I will go back to Stalavat. Do not speak to me of love again. You do not know what those words mean. You only know how to run away, coward.”

Illya laughed forward, not as a soldier, but as a man drowning, catching the edge of Diana’s silver cloak before she stepped into the light.

“Diana, please!” he cried out, his voice cracking against the walls of the cabin. It was not a lie! What I felt for you…what I feel for you now…is genuine.”

“You call it genuine,” she whispered, her back still turned to him. “But honesty is part of being genuine. You treated me like a sanctuary to hide in, while you fled from the ruins of your past life. You did not love me; you loved the safety that my status provided for you.”

She stepped out onto the porch, her mind set on never seeing him again. Young Illya was left standing in the doorway, the warmth of the cabin escaping. He had lost another woman, who was just starting to become somebody special to him.

The violet-white glow on the horizon cast a long, distorted shadow across the dirt where the young Illya sat. The sound of his weeping was the only thing that broke the silence of the morning — a sharp, desperate sound of a boy who realized that he had lost the little that he had left.

Stanillo did not approach the boy as usual. He walked slowly, his boots heavy on the grass, until he stood over Illya. He looked down at the shaking shoulders of the boy; seeing not a warrior, but a boy ruined by another woman, again.

“It is raining quite hard, is it not?” Stanillo said, his voice unusually soft.

Illya did not look up. “Yes, it is raining quite hard.”

Stanillo sat down on the steps besides him. He did not offer a hand of comfort; instead, he looked toward the trail that Diana’s horse had left behind.

“You think you are the only one to have his heart broken?” Stanillo asked. “I have loved dozens of women in my life, and yet I passed on the opportunity with them because I did not have the courage to make myself vulnerable to them. My love life is a total tragedy, my friend.”

“I have never had luck with women,” he continued. “The ones that showed interest in me, I never found interest in them. When it came to me becoming fond of a woman, I never had the courage to speak to her.”

He turned to Illya, his eyes reflecting the dawn on the horizon.

“But if you stay here weeping, you will drown in the very abyss you are creating. All is not lost with Diana, Illya, she loves you. I do not know how you conquered her heart, but you have managed to win her over. There is still a chance, give her time.”

Illya wiped his face. Stanillo’s words proved to be well needed. “I was just scared of losing her. I know, I just met her, Stanillo. But there is something that awakens in me, and it is not because she fills the void left by Coria. Diana is just special.”

“If she is as special as you say,” Stanillo said, his voice gaining its tactical edge. “Then you cannot let her be in danger. You say you are scared of losing her? Then stand up. This time you will not fail to act, kid.”

As Illya stood up, wiping the last of his tears from his cheek, the violet-white glow on the horizon spiked in intensity. “You are right! I will pester her until she forgives me!”

“Now, now,” Stanillo chuckled, motioning the boy to calm down. “Do not do that.”

“Then, what can I do?” Illya asked.

“Perhaps, I could send you to her, mask your presence as a favor from ally to ally.” Stanillo suggested, trying to make his friend better.

“That would be great!” Illya exclaimed.

“Glad, you think so,” Stanillo said, “Because that is exactly what I have to do, kid. I do not know if Diana told you, but Bay died at the hands of Alkibiades. As a result, the siege was raised by Rostov, potentially leading to retaliation on their part.”

“Bay was killed?” Illya muttered.

“Yes,” Stanillo replied, his mind still not convinced. “He died at the hands of Alkibiades yesterday, and from what I learned, there was nothing that remained to bury him.”

“It is hard to believe our friend is gone so soon,” Stanillo continued. “Your father must have learned of the news by now. I have no way to hide the truth of your disappearance any longer, and he is likely to barge into Belomas to seek explanations.”

“That does sound like him,” Illya admitted.

“Yes, it does,” Stanillo agreed. “However, there remains another concern. We do not have a general available right now, and I am not in the position to abandon my post here. The only suitable candidate is you, Illya.”

“Me!?” Illya exclaimed.

“You are ready, in no way, shape or form,” Stanillo admitted, acknowledging the kid’s experience of not being fit for the role. “That is why I want to send you to Diana so that she can train you. From what my sources tell me, Rostov plans to strike in a month from now. In one month, I need Diana to make you half- a- general.”

“But Stanillo,” Illya said, his voice quivering from the responsibility. “Diana does not want to see me. How will you get her to agree?”

“Diana did not forgo the alliance, kid,” Stanillo said, setting the record straight. “She is forced to abide by our terms, and that means she will abide by my request to have you be trained by her.”

“I guess, but why not train me yourself?” Illya asked. “Mirofa could also train me, too.”

“Mirofa would not be a bad trainer, but she dislikes you and your family a bit,” Stanillo admitted, sighing at his younger sister’s disdain for the boy’s family. “To be honest, kid, I am no fighter. You are better off learning from Diana, who has the experience and the knowledge to make you a better warrior.”

“If you say so.”

“We got no choice, kid!” Stanillo laughed, his laugh sounding like a cry for help more than a laugh. “Diana’s our only hope. Plus, it is best you get going. Here is the note, explaining the situation. Hand it to her, but get going, kid. The last thing you want is for your father to arrive, right now.”

“The man will be on both our asses,” Stanillo said, worried about the possibility of the Elder Illya’s appearance at Belomas.

Illya took the note from Stanillo, his fingers brushing the parchment that held his fate. The violet light on the horizon had faded into a dull, bruised grey, signaling the true dawn — a day when he would have to face the woman he loved not as a suitor, but as a man.

“Go,” Stanillo urged, his eyes darting toward the southern trail. “Every minute you stand here is another minute you lose to make amends with Diana! Do not look back, kid. Look toward Stalavat! That is where your duty is!”

Illya mounted his horse, the weight of the responsibility finally settling in. He was not just traveling to Stalavat to save his relationship; he was traveling to protect Belomas.

As Illya disappears down the trail, the scene shifts to the high, cold towers of the Jarl’s fortress. Diana had just arrived, her heart heavy and her temper short. She is surrounded by her generals, who are advising on how to handle the impending threat that Rostov has become.