The Sinful Young Master - Chapter 297

Chapter 297: Mistress of Illumarhen

The river city of Hamrasa sprawled along the banks of the Serpentine like a jewelled necklace cast carelessly upon green silk.

Age-old stone bridges arched gracefully over the rushing waters, their weathered surfaces adorned with moss and climbing vines that spoke of centuries standing guard over the flowing current.

Market stalls lined the cobbled riverside promenades, their colourful awnings fluttering in the river breeze while merchants hawked everything from exotic spices to rare manuscripts.

The air thrummed with the constant murmur of commerce, the splash of paddle wheels, and the melodic calls of bargemen navigating their vessels through the maze of waterways that gave the city its lifeblood.

All walks of life passed through the streets of the city, as the city was home to different races. The empire’s laws won’t work here or, for that matter, any kingdom’s. The city sort of operates on its rules and its people.

Among the throngs of mortals moving through the Riverside Quarter, three figures stood apart—not in appearance, for they had cloaked themselves in forms of striking but unremarkable beauty.

They were garnering more attention than any other women in the room.

But no one dared to ask them out as they had already seen a man try and was carried out by his buddies. And more than so, they seem intimidating enough.

The reason for this is that they were not ordinary women.

Haryntha had chosen the guise of a travelling scholar—tall and willowy with auburn hair bound in a simple braid, her emerald eyes holding depths that hinted at knowledge spanning years.

Her simple brown travelling dress and leather satchel marked her as one of the many learned individuals who frequented Hamrasa’s famous libraries.

Across the plaza, beneath the shade of an old willow whose roots drank deeply from the Serpentine’s waters, stood two figures locked in what appeared to be casual conversation between mother and daughter.

Ivyona had assumed the form of a merchant woman of middle years, her silver-streaked hair arranged in an elegant knot while her deep blue gown spoke of comfortable prosperity. Her bearing carried the confidence of one accustomed to command, though she had tempered the raw authority that marked her true nature.

Beside her, Elyna appeared as a young woman barely past twenty summers, her golden hair catching the dappled sunlight while her violet eyes sparkled with barely contained energy. Her travelling clothes were well-made but practical—the garb of a wealthy merchant’s daughter perhaps, or a minor noble’s child seeking adventure.

The afternoon sun painted the river in shades of gold and amber as Haryntha approached their chosen meeting place—a secluded section of the riverside walk where flowering jasmine created natural screens between the stone benches.

The gentle lapping of water against the embankment provided a soothing backdrop to their impending confrontation, while the distant sounds of the city created a comfortable veil of anonymity.

Haryntha and Elyna were tailing Jolthar. And Haryntha had detected Elyna Tekkora, and she confronted her niece about her presence in the midlands.

That’s what led to this meeting.

“Sister of my lord husband,” Ivyona said, her eyes taking in her form. Haryntha saw Ivyona for what she believed she truly was—a fox draped in moonlight, all grace and guile, who ensnared her brother’s heart with a whisper and a glance.

Even in mortal guise, the protocols of divine hierarchy demanded acknowledgement. “How gracious of you to accept my invitation to this charming city.”

Haryntha settled onto the stone bench with fluid grace, her emerald gaze moving between mother and daughter with the predatory focus of a hawk studying field mice. “Let us dispense with pleasantries, Ivyona. We both know why I requested this meeting.”

Her voice carried the subtle power only they both detected, though she kept it pitched to mortal ears. “Your daughter has been following me for weeks now, and with remarkable skill for one so young.”

Elyna straightened, a flush of pride colouring her cheeks even as her mother’s hand settled warningly upon her arm. “I meant no offence, Aunt Haryntha. I was merely—”

“Curious about my interest in the same mortal boy who has captured your attention,” Haryntha finished smoothly.

“Yes, I am well aware of your fascination with young Jolthar. What I wish to understand is why the wife of Inadrys and her daughter find themselves drawn to a mere human, however… exceptional he may be.”

Haryntha was thinking that Elyna had taken a fancy to the boy. She was aware that Elyna had been keeping an eye on her and on the boy at the same time.

For a fact, she was also aware that Elyna wouldn’t do anything without her mother’s permission.

The river gurgled past them, carrying fallen petals from the jasmine blossoms like nature’s own confetti.

A family of swans glided by, their passage creating gentle ripples that caught the afternoon light. To any observer, they appeared as three women engaged in pleasant conversation, perhaps discussing trade prospects or sharing gossip from distant lands.

Ivyona’s laugh held the crystalline notes of silver bells touched by winter wind. “Mere human? My dear Haryntha, surely you do not still cling to such simplistic categories. You of all beings should recognize that mortality and divinity are not always mutually exclusive states.”

“Explain yourself,” Haryntha’s tone grew sharp, though she maintained her scholarly appearance with careful discipline.

“Are you suggesting the boy possesses divine heritage? I have observed him closely—he bears no marks of celestial parentage.”

“Not heritage,” Elyna interjected, her violet eyes bright with excitement barely held in check. “Potential. Destiny. The threads of fate that bind around him shine brighter than constellation fires. Surely you’ve felt it too—the powers he holds?”

Haryntha had indeed felt it, though she was reluctant to admit such to her companions.

During her covert observations of Jolthar, she had witnessed moments when the young man seemed to transcend the normal limitations of mortal flesh. His sword work defied natural law, his tactical brilliance bordered on prescience, and there had been that incident with the beasts where silver fire had wreathed his blade like captured starlight.

“The boy shows promise,” she conceded carefully.

“But potential alone does not explain why the Queen of Illumarhen would risk detection by the king to pursue him personally.”

“The boy’s power grows by the day. Already, he has attracted attention from forces that should remain undisturbed. His grandmother’s lineage alone…” Ivyona said.

“Johamma Kaezhlar,” Haryntha spoke the name like a curse. “Yes, we know of her. But she isn’t a goddess, not anymore; She is a mortal now, and her divinity is long lost.”

Ivyona nodded, “Yes, that’s true, but there is something about his mother which even we don’t know.”

“Did you wonder why your brother was interested in that boy?”