The Princess's Revenge Chapter 102

Valencia’s POV

"Valencia!" Delphine called out happily. "And Gareth, good afternoon!"

She appeared in the doorway, slightly out of breath from hurrying through the cold.

"Hello, Delphine," I said, grateful for her warm presence. "I was just talking with Gareth."

Delphine stepped inside, brushing snow from her cloak. Her sandy blonde hair was dusted with white flakes, and her black eyes sparkled with their usual warmth.

"It's so cold out there," she said with a smile. "But at least the snow is beautiful. Hello, Gareth. How are you managing with all the extra people in the castle?"

"Well enough," Gareth replied, returning to his work. "Keeps me busy, that's certain. Alpha Soren's warriors brought plenty of weapons that need maintenance."

"Okay, now tell me." he said, wiping his hands on his leather apron. "What brings you both here on such a cold afternoon?"

I stepped forward, glancing at Delphine encouragingly. "Delphine has something she'd like to ask you."

Delphine took a deep breath, her hands clasped tightly in front of her. "Gareth, I need to ask you to make something special. A wheelchair."

Gareth's eyebrows rose in surprise. "A wheelchair? That's not something I make often. Who would this be for?"

"Isaiah," Delphine said, her voice growing stronger. "The minstrel who used to perform here. I need you to make him a wheelchair that he can control himself, so he can move freely."

"Isaiah?" Gareth set down his tools completely, thinking. "Ah yes, the traveling performer with the dark brown hair? He told wonderful stories. I remember him well - he had a gift for making dragons seem real in his tales." His expression grew concerned. "Has something happened to him?"

Delphine's face crumpled slightly, and I saw tears gather in her black eyes. "Yes. During the recent rogue attacks, Isaiah was caught in one of the raids. He lost both his legs and his left hand. He can't walk anymore, and he's been so sad, so defeated. I love him, Gareth. I want to help him have his freedom back."

Gareth's expression softened with genuine sympathy. "I'm sorry to hear that, lass. Those rogue attacks have brought nothing but pain to good people."

I stepped closer to Delphine, placing a supportive hand on her shoulder. "Can you make something like that? A chair with wheels that Isaiah could operate himself?"

Gareth rubbed his chin thoughtfully, his eyes distant as he considered the request. "It would be a challenge, but yes. I think I could create something. I'd need to know his height, the length of his remaining limbs, how much strength he has in his arms."

Delphine wiped her eyes quickly. "He's about average height, maybe a hand shorter than you. His right arm is still strong. He can move it with right hands."

"I could design something with a single-handed operation," Gareth mused. "Maybe a lever system, or large wheels he could turn with one hand while steering with the other."

"When could you have it finished?" I asked, watching hope bloom on Delphine's face.

"Give me a week," Gareth said decisively. "I'll need to work through the night, but I can have it ready. It won't be pretty, but it'll be functional."

Delphine's face lit up like the sun breaking through storm clouds. "A week? Really? Oh, Gareth, thank you so much!"

Gareth began moving around his workshop, gathering materials and tools. "I'll need some wooden planks for the seat and back, iron for the frame and wheels. This will be good work - helping someone regain their independence."

I watched him start to sketch designs on a piece of charcoal-stained parchment. "We're very grateful, Gareth."

He looked up at me with respectful expression. "It would be my honor to help, my Luna. Any friend of yours deserves the best I can give."

The warmth in his voice made me feel appreciated. This was genuine respect, and it felt wonderful.

"Thank you," I said simply. "Both of us, we truly appreciate this."

Delphine practically bounced on her toes with excitement. "Come on, Valencia! Let's go see Isaiah now. I want to tell him about the wheelchair - I know it will give him hope!"

I smiled at her enthusiasm. "Are you sure you want to tell him before it's finished?"

"Yes! He's been so despondent lately. Just knowing that help is coming will lift his spirits." She grabbed my hand. "Please, let's go to his cottage in the village."

I looked back at Gareth, who was already heating iron in his forge. "We'll leave you to your work."

"I'll have it ready," he promised. "Tell the lad that better days are coming."

Delphine led me outside into the snowy afternoon. As we walked away from the smithy, she chattered excitedly about Isaiah's reaction, about how they could spend time together again, about the future they might have.

"Valencia, can you imagine? He'll be able to move around again! We could go for walks through the village, maybe even travel to other settlements. He could perform again if he wanted to." Her eyes shone with unshed tears of joy. "I've been so worried that he'd given up completely."

Her optimism was infectious. I found myself smiling at her dreams, caught up in her vision of happiness. "He's lucky to have you, Delphine. Not many people would go to such lengths for love."

"Wouldn't you do the same for Alpha Logan?" she asked, then blushed. "I mean, if he needed help like this?"

I thought about Logan lying injured in his bed, how desperately I'd wanted to help him heal faster. "Yes," I said quietly. "I would do anything for him."

We began the walk down the snowy mountain path toward the village. The landscape spread out before us like something from a winter tale - every tree branch heavy with white, every rock and bush transformed into soft, rounded shapes. The snow fell steadily but gently, not the harsh driving wind of a true storm.

The path wound between tall pines whose branches created a canopy above us, occasionally dropping clumps of snow that landed with soft thuds. Our footsteps crunched pleasantly in the fresh powder, and our breath formed small clouds that dissipated quickly in the cold air.

"Look how beautiful everything is," I murmured, watching a cardinal flash red against the white backdrop of a snow-laden fir tree.

The silence of the winter forest was profound - no insects buzzing, no leaves rustling. It felt peaceful, almost sacred.

As we descended further, the trees began to thin, and we could see smoke rising from chimneys in the village below. The settlement looked like something from a children's story - small cottages with steep roofs designed to shed snow, windows glowing warm and yellow in the gray afternoon light.

The village was a cluster of perhaps thirty buildings arranged around a central square. Most were modest homes with stone foundations and timber walls, their roofs thick with thatch that now bore a heavy coating of white. A few larger buildings - the inn, the general store, the miller's house - stood at the edges of the square.

People moved between the buildings despite the weather, bundled in heavy cloaks and boots, going about their daily business. I saw a woman hanging laundry on a line strung between two houses, the clothes freezing stiff almost immediately. A man led a horse pulling a small sleigh loaded with firewood.

Children played in the square, building snow figures and throwing snowballs, their laughter carrying clearly in the cold air. They wore thick woolen coats and had red cheeks from the cold, but seemed completely unbothered by the weather.

"There's his cottage," Delphine pointed to a small building on the far side of the square. "The one with the blue shutters."

As we walked through the village, people nodded respectfully when they saw us. A few called out greetings, and I waved back, still feeling strange about the attention. These people seemed genuinely happy to see their Luna among them.

"I love coming down here," I told Delphine as we approached Isaiah's cottage. "It feels different from the castle. More... normal."

Delphine smiled, her black eyes sparkling with warmth. "I feel the same way. There's something peaceful about the village, especially with all this snow. It feels like the world has slowed down."

We came to a stop in front of a small, rundown cottage. The wooden walls were weathered and gray, with patches where the timber had begun to rot. The roof sagged slightly under the weight of the heavy snow, and I could see gaps between some of the boards where cold air would seep through. This was clearly not a place built for comfort.

"This is where Isaiah lives now?" I asked, feeling my heart sink.

"Yes," Delphine said quietly. "It's not much, but it was all the village could offer after... after what happened to him."

I followed Delphine toward the door, stepping carefully over the uneven stones that served as a path. Delphine pushed open the wooden door, which creaked loudly on its rusted hinges. "Isaiah? It's me, Delphine. I've brought someone to meet you."

The interior of the cottage was even more depressing than the outside. The room contained just a single mattress made of straw and dried grass, with what looked like an animal hide spread over it for warmth. An open fire pit sat in the center of the small space, with large stones arranged around it. The stones would heat up during the day and release warmth at night, but even with the fire burning, the room felt barely above freezing.

Isaiah lay on the mattress, covered by a thick fur blanket. He wore layers of heavy clothing. His dark brown hair was long and tangled, hanging in greasy strands around his face. His beard was unkempt and patchy, giving him a wild, desperate appearance.

When Isaiah saw Delphine enter, his dull eyes showed no recognition or emotion. But the moment his gaze fell on me, terror flashed across his face. His right arm - his unbroken arm - shot up to cover his face, and the empty sleeve where his left arm should have been made my stomach clench with sympathy.

This couldn't be the same confident minstrel who had performed in courtyard. That man had been full of life. This person looked broken, defeated by the cruelty of the world.

Delphine rushed forward, kneeling beside the mattress. "Isaiah, it's alright. She's my friend. She won't hurt you."

But Isaiah was already shaking his head frantically, pressing himself back against the wall. "No, no, no. Get her away from me. I know what she is. I know what people like her do to people like me."

I realized he was reacting to my clothing. I was wearing a ornate red bliaut.