bride of the borderlands

chijioke mgbeke

The morning Freya left Adelina felt like standing inside a memory she wished she could hold in her hands. The palace courtyard glowed under the soft rise of the sun, warm gold spilling across stone and faces as if the light itself was begging her not to go. Her father hugged her first. His grip was strong and familiar, and for a heartbeat she let herself imagine nothing was changing. Her mother held her next, her breath uneven against Freya’s neck, the kind of trembling only a daughter notices. Then Hazen collided with her, fierce and afraid. He smelled like honey bread and ink, and when his small fingers curled into her gown, it nearly broke her.

“You will come back, right?” he whispered.

Freya smoothed his hair and smiled even though her throat tightened. “Of course. You will hardly have time to miss me.”

But she knew the truth. After ten years of war over land and old blood, Sephtis had agreed to stop only if Adelina surrendered its firstborn daughter at eighteen. It was a power play meant to bruise Adelina’s pride. But it saved thousands of lives. Freya had chosen peace. She would rather leave than watch fields turn into graves again.

She hugged Hazen one last time, memorizing the feel of home through his warmth. Adelina was a kingdom where rulers walked among their people, where markets rang with laughter and guards carried nothing heavier than festival batons. This was the world she understood. This was the world she was losing.

General Gaia stepped forward. It was time.

Freya entered the carriage, and the door shut with a weight that made her ribs ache. Katrina, her longtime helper who had guided her through every ceremony and secret fear since childhood, sat waiting. She offered Freya a small smile that tried to be brave.

At first the journey seemed peaceful. Freya peeked through the curtain and watched the bright farmland fall behind them. Farmers waved. Children chased the wheels until their legs gave out. In Adelina she had walked these roads alone, stopping for pastries, training sessions, or simple walks where no one bowed. People greeted her by name. She had been human, not a symbol.

Today guards rode around the carriage in strict formation. Their posture was rigid, their eyes constantly searching the grass and sky. The procession stopped repeatedly for Sephtis drug checkpoints and Sanare patrol inspections. Freya had never seen anything like it. Soldiers demanded identification, inspected crates, and questioned travelers with sharp, suspicious voices.

Katrina leaned in, whispering, “Sephtis lives in fear. These searches never stop. They think Sanare is hiding everywhere.”

Freya frowned. “Sanare is truly that dangerous?”

“Sanare is a rebellion against the king’s tyranny,” Katrina murmured. “They want justice, but their methods are violent. Royals, soldiers, merchants– anyone who gets in their way could bea target.”

Freya felt the knot in her stomach tighten. In Adelina rebellion was a story told to children. Here, rebellion breathed at the edges of the road.

Hours later Adelina’s warm colors faded into barren land. The sky dimmed. The horses slowed.

“Stop. Remove all Adelina symbols,” Gaia ordered.

The carriage door cracked open and Gaia reached inside. “Princess, tuck your cloak. Hide the rose crest. Sanare will target anyone who looks Adelinian.”

Freya blinked. “Why would anyone want to hurt me?”

Gaia’s eyes softened with pity. “Because you are soon to be the king’s bride, the future queen of Sephtis. That title makes you a target.”

Katrina quickly unpinned the pink ribbons from Freya’s braid and tucked them away. Freya folded her cloak inward, feeling like she was tucking away her whole identity.

They moved deeper into the borderlands. The world felt still. Even the birds disappeared.

Freya peeked out again just in time to see the ground erupt.

A burst of fire shot upward. Horses screamed. The carriage jolted so hard Freya slammed into Katrina. Smoke exploded across the path. Freya’s ears rang as she clung to the seat, breath trapped in her chest.

Gaia’s voice cut through the chaos. “Sanare attack. Hold formation. Reroute north.”

The guards moved with militarized precision. The carriage veered sharply into a rocky detour. Branches scraped the panels. Pebbles rattled beneath the wheels. Freya trembled until Katrina grasped her hand.

“It will be alright,” Katrina whispered, though fear cracked her voice.

Freya swallowed hard. “Is this what awaits me in Sephtis?”

Katrina hesitated. “Sephtis does not fear sacrifice. Rebellion does not fear casualties. You are walking into a kingdom where both believe suffering is power.”

Freya felt something cold slide through her chest.

Eventually the forest thinned. Smoke faded. The carriage slowed as the land opened into a wide, stone courtyard.

As Freya stepped onto the stone courtyard, she scanned the line of guards. Every face was male. Broad shoulders, stern jaws, and not a single woman among them. The sight struck her harder than she expected. In Adelina she had grown up watching General Gaia walk onto training fields with her sword at her hip and entire battalions straightened at the sound of her voice. Gaia did not need to shout. She commanded through respect, not fear. Here, the idea of a woman in armor felt impossible.

Their armor clanked with thick metal plates, and spears stood taller than she was. In Adelina, guards carried simple batons and warm smiles, more peacekeepers than soldiers. These men looked like they had never smiled in their lives. The silence around them was not discipline. It was a warning.

Freya’s hands curled at her sides. She had been allowed to train openly in Adelina, laughing as seasoned women warriors knocked her into the grass and hauled her back up again. But here she felt that version of herself shrinking, as if Sephtis had already decided who she was allowed to be. This was a kingdom that would sooner deny a woman’s strength than ever let her wield it.

The palace rose behind the guards, carved from gray ash stone. Tall towers pierced the low sky. Windows were thin slits, too narrow to see from. Gates layered behind gates waited like jaws ready to swallow her whole.

There were no flowers. No music. No warmth. No kids running around. No laughter

Only silence.

Freya lifted her chin and stepped forward. Peace had demanded a sacrifice.

She would be it.