Read The Ruby Prince: Book Two of Imirillia (The Books of Imirillia 2) for Free Online

Eleanor that they would be leaving for the court of King Staven in Marion City and, from there, would travel into Imirillia. The way his tone tilted to the side gave her warning. He motioned towards the fabric walls of the pavilion and shook his head, so Eleanor did not speak.
    Still in her white ceremonial dress, dirty from wear, Eleanor did not enjoy the thought of traveling to the court of her former ally turned traitor. Basaal spent his morning studying a set of maps and reading through scrolls. Annan was in and out of the tent as were several others among Basaal’s officers. After finishing a simple meal, Basaal finally spoke to Eleanor, who was still eating, sitting on the couch.
    “I have some clothes for you to change into, if it pleases you.”
    “A uniform from the ranks of your army?” she divined.
    “No,” Basaal said. “I’ve had some of my men procure dresses that should fit you—or will, after a few alterations.”
    Eleanor’s patience had been thinned by her endless days in the pavilion. In the struggle to separate her emotions regarding this prince, she almost retorted that he was her most faithful wardrobe mistress. Instead, she finished her meal.
    Basaal walked to the entrance of his tent and spoke a few words to the guard. Within moments, a pile of clothing was brought into the pavilion.
    “See if you find anything you prefer,” he said. “Then, wash and prepare yourself as best you can. We leave this afternoon.”

Chapter Three
     
    The court of King Staven was far less simple than the one at Ainsley Castle. The blond stone, quarried from their western borders, was beautifully crafted. As a child, Eleanor had envied its delicate arches and buttresses, its tall windows filled with stained glass, as well as the fountains and the extensive grounds, all private and pristinely kept. They were more predictable than the gardens of Aemogen, with less inherited talent and scope, but their formality suited the architecture and the persona of Marion City.
    Eleanor had always enjoyed her visits here, while King Edvard lived. His reign was the longest in Marion history. Staven had been on the throne only two years longer than Eleanor, although he was older than her father. The alliance between the two countries had persisted after Edvard’s death, yet Eleanor knew that Staven did not honor the long-standing friendship as his father had. Eleanor did not relish the idea of being taken into his court as a prisoner, and she would not be subservient.
    When they were ready, Eleanor rode astride Hegleh, next to Prince Basaal, who was mounted on a large black horse he called Refigh. Their company of seventy soldiers was composed of Basaal’s men and a handful of his father’s war officers. Drakta did not ride with them, having been ordered to remain with the army in Marion throughout the winter—his expression had been anything but pleased. Four of the six Vestan also rode with them, the other two having already left for Zarbadast the day before.
    Late summer was giving way to the first experimental days of fall, and Eleanor was aching to be home in Ainsley. But, one look towards the nearby Vestan, and she forced a form of patience.
    The closer they came to Marion City, the more populated the villages were. People streamed out to watch the soldiers pass with their prisoner. Eleanor had ridden this way many times before, waving and acknowledging an amicable interaction with the Marion people. Now, neither they nor she knew what to feel as she rode past, the hostage of a foreign army.
    Once, while leaving a small town, a woman rushed forth with a bouquet of late summer flowers, red and delicate. She bravely slipped through the mounted guard and thrust the flowers at Eleanor, who took them in her bound hands with gratitude. Prince Basaal watched and did nothing. But, one of his guards brought his fist down on the woman.
    Eleanor felt nauseous and turned to see what had become of her, relieved that the woman had