I met the prince in a private garden overlooking the harbor. It would have been a lovely view, if I had not been nervous.
In all of my imagined fancies, I had certainly not pictured myself dealing with nobility. Being known as a hero? Certainly. Being renowned for my martial prowess? Of course. Having more wealth than I could ever think of spending? Many times. But actually dealing with someone more wealthy than I ever imagined being, someone probably already well-renowned for their skill at weaponry, and someone so recognized in the city KNOWN for its courage and heroism? Well, it was as if a hero from one of my childhood stories had stepped into life, and I was not prepared for it.
Celestyn himself was an impressive figure. Though obviously not a young man, he retained the vitality and grace I have only ever seen in skilled fighters. He moved as a man confident in his power, and in full possession of the authority of age and rank.
He was unfailingly courteous, and made small talk as we strolled the garden. After a while, he began asking questions about my family, and whether they had come from Jhelom. Understandable, as I was blond. I could only respond that my mother was blond as well, and that I had gotten it from her. And to my knowledge, she was from Trinsic.
It did not escape me that he seemed to know that before I'd said anything. When he asked me what my mother's name was, and turned away as I replied, the situation was fairly clear to me. He had known my mother before, he said. From his actions, and the unaccustomed nervousness, I had expected as much. She had come to the city a long time ago, before he became a prince, with a party of diplomats meeting with the then-princes. While she was here, they had become close, though their duties took them in different paths. I had her look, he explained, which was the reason behind the odd expressions when he regarded me.
I'd known my mother had traveled extensively. She had been a paladin long before she'd come to Darkwood and settled with my father, so I had little reason to doubt his words. When I was young, she had told me stories about swordswomen dancing with princes, and fighting. While it was a bit disturbing that they might not have simply been mere tales told to entertain me, I knew his words held truth.
He never said how close he was to my mother, and to be honest, I'd rather not know. However, it was clear in his actions and his words that he'd cared for her. Though in all other ways he was a stranger to me, for that reason, I was inclined to think kindly toward him, awkward as the situation might be.