Bad news
Lexa's pov
It's been almost a week since my messenger came back from Azgeda to summon Clarke to Polis and I'm growing restless. She should have arrived here already a few days ago, but she didn't. That doesn't seem to fit Clarke's profile. She wouldn't be late by several days. Especially not when it's about her people.
I hear the heavy doors to my throne room open and turn around immediately. It‘s, as I hoped, the scouts I‘ve sent in Clarke‘s direction two days ago.
They bow to me and greet me, but I don’t have the patience to wait any longer. „Chich op. (Speak.)“
„Oso found Azplana‘s gapa mous won en skrap days kom hir en don kom op bakon hir kom we snap kom we oso mebi na. Oso backtracked em‘s movement en found rein weron em most proli fled kom, ba… (We've found the ice queen‘s horse almost one and a half days from here and came back here as fast as we could. We've backtracked it‘s movement and found the place where it most probably fled from, but…)“
„Ba chit? (But what?)“ My impatience was only growing, but I had to remind myself that I couldn‘t lose it in front of my subjects.
„Ba Azplana don nou der en der don nou trace kom bloka. Em looked bilaik jomp op by maunon. (But the ice queen was not there and there was no trace of the guards. It looked like an attack by the mountain men.)“
Time freezes around me. Or perhaps it is just myself who freezes. My thoughts stop altogether and I can only think one thing: Clarke is dead. After everything she died or will die by the hands of those I wanted to warn her about. It‘s my fault.
The world around me starts spinning and I can only vaguely perceive myself moving and soon find myself in my quarters with tears streaming down my face. I shouldn‘t feel this way, I barely knew her, but still my heart aches and clenches and I feel it shatter into a million pieces.
Clarke kom Azgeda, Azplana, Wanheda, the one who fell from the sky is dead. Or soon will be. Because of me.