The Prince's Wing

by Amber R. Duell

  We waited in one of the sitting rooms for a servant to bring Anais, and my stomach churned. The furniture appeared new, either recently purchased or reupholstered with dark blue velvet to match the prince’s colors. Two sofas, four chairs, and a low, ivory table at the center, resting on a gray fur rug. A fire burned in the white fireplace behind us.

  “She was expecting us,” Bastian mumbled.

  “Yes.” He had asked me to send a note before we left the Prince’s Palace, but we had been waiting at least fifteen minutes now. Anais probably ran off again. The thought brought a small smile to my lips. “I’m sure they’re simply making sure every hair is in place before she sees you.”

  “I don’t think I’d notice if her hair wasn’t perfect,” Bastian said. After a short pause, he added, “She’s very pretty.”

  So he’d reminded me. Over and over.

  “And if she’s as kind as you claim, then…”

  “Then you will live happily until your dying day,” I finished for him, the words bitter against my tongue. The problem was when that day arrived—and by whose hand.

  The door swung open to reveal Anais in a copper gown. Strands of beads crisscrossed from her neck to her waist and draped down her arms from her shoulders. She curtsied low—almost low enough, undoubtedly thanks to the duchess. “Your Highness,” she said and breezed into the room.

  “Please, call me Bastian,” he said, stepping forward to meet her. Immediately, he lifted her hand and placed a kiss to the back of it. The same hand that had been wrapped around my cock days ago. A flash a shame washed over me.

  The familiar clack of the duchess’ cane preceded her into the room. “I was beginning to think you’d never come visit your fiancée.”

  “You wound me, Duchess,” Bastian said with a laugh.

  Fransabelle curtsied as best she could. “Your Wing has kept us company.”

  “I’m grateful for him.” Bastian looked over his shoulder to give me an appreciative nod and I wanted to sink into the floor. “You’ll have to forgive me for being absent. My father has kept me quite busy recently.”

  “Of course,” Anais said, cutting off whatever the duchess was about to say. “Would you care to join us for cards? Duchess Fransabelle told me you enjoy a good game.”

  “I would love to.” Bastian wasted no time leading her to the chairs and settling her into the one nearest the fire. “What do you know how to play?”

  Anais began listing what games she knew as a lady’s maid delivered a deck to Bastian. I walked up to the window to distance myself from them and stared out at the garden with artistically pruned shrubs. White marble pillars held a small roof up at the center of a pavilion. At its center was a statue of a woman in a flowing dress, holding a shallow basin full of water. Small songbirds fluffed their feathers on the edge of it.

  “Saer, are you joining us?” Bastian asked.

  I crossed my arms and leaned against the wall. “No.”

  “We can’t play without an equal number of players,” he encouraged.

  “We can play something else,” Anais suggested. Then, in a softer voice, added, “If he doesn’t want to.”

  “Lord Tufaro has a job to do,” Fransabelle said. “Leave him to it.”

  My nostrils flared. I knew what she was doing—keeping me away from Anais. It made me want to storm over to a chair and tell them to deal me in. But I wouldn’t because the duchess was right to keep me distanced. The sounds Anais had made in the bathroom as she came echoed through my head almost daily. Her silky heat around my fingers, the taste of her on my lips… Fuck. I pressed my forehead to the cold glass and focused on the birds.

  Anais laughed at something Bastian said. I blurred out the words, forced myself not to listen, but it was difficult given our proximity. No matter how hard I tried to get lost in my own thoughts, they always circled back to Anais. Then she would speak and my ears immediately zeroed in on the sound. For nearly an hour, I huddled against the window, fighting the urge to bolt from the room.

  But, as the duchess reminded me, I had a job to do. So I stood and I guarded Bastian even though all of the danger was already in the room. Anais was the Red Aster I needed to protect him from, even if she didn’t know it, and she held more power over my future now than I was comfortable with. One word about what happened between us would drive a wedge between the prince and myself. I swayed slightly where I stood, my muscles beginning to ache.

  “Come sit down,” Bastian called.

  I locked my knees. “I’m fine.”

  “Saer.” His tone hardened, letting me know it wasn’t a request. “Sit down before you fall down.”

  I sighed, my breath fogging the windowpane, and crossed the room to the chair furthest from the group. As soon as I sank down onto the velvet cushion, my body unconsciously relaxed. The cards were stacked on the table in a neat pile, but no one moved to deal another round.

  “I’m fine, Your Highness,” I said when I felt him staring at me. Anais was too, but I wasn’t brave enough to address her under the circumstances. Besides, I wouldn’t admit my muscles were sore or that I suffered the beginning twinges of a headache, even if the prince and I were alone.

  “Did something happen?” Anais asked.

  Before I could stop myself, my eyes lifted to hers and I felt the connection resonate in my bones. “No,” I said, and settled my gaze on the deck of cards.

  “You have a black eye.”

  I tilted my head to hide the fading mark. It was yellow now with only a touch of purple. “Training.”

  The word came out harsher than I meant it, and the room filled with tense silence. The duchess’ thoughts were likely spinning with suspicion over my attitude. The fuck if I cared though.

  “Lady Karina,” Bastian started after a long moment. “Have you met any ladies of the court yet?”

  “Not yet,” she said, barely a whisper. The dejected sound made me feel like complete shit.

  “Still?” He turned his gaze to Duchess Fransabelle. “Surely she’s learned the basics by now. You can’t teach her how to interact with the nobles from a book.”

  The duchess pursed her lips. “Countess Odelia hasn’t taught her many things.”

  Bastian shifted to the edge of his seat. “Would you like to get out of the Women’s Palace and explore a bit, my lady?”

  “I…” The brush of Anais’ eyes as she looked, ever-so-briefly, in my direction made my breath hitch. She had already risked much by sneaking out so I knew her answer before she gave it. “I would, yes.”

  Anais wouldn’t find the freedom she craved by meeting other nobles, but it sounded more exciting than constant lessons with the duchess. The problem was making connections—the more people she knew, the more likely it was she would be recognized after I helped her escape. If not right away, then in the future. She could be at a market two years from now and run into a lord or lady. I rubbed my hands down my thighs to avoid making fists and further alerting Bastian to my annoyance.

  “Set something up for tomorrow,” Bastian told the duchess. “Something small with ladies you think she will genuinely get along with. Work your way up to larger groups if you’re concerned.”

  “Yes, Your Highness,” she agreed.

  He stood and offered Anais his hand to do the same. “For what it’s worth, I think you will be adored.”

  “Thank you,” she said with a blush.

  I bolted to my feet, more than ready to leave as Bastian built-up to our departure. He did the same thing every time he had social calls. I shifted my weight from foot to foot as he made a few more comments to the women and wished them a pleasant afternoon. I didn’t offer them any such farewell, only bowing, before following the prince from the palace.

  “You need a nap,” he whispered, half-joking, once we were on the path back to the Prince’s Palace.

  “I don’t need a nap,” I grumbled.

  He snorted. “Between you leaning into that window like it was the only thing keeping you up and you
r mood, you need more rest. I don’t have many duties for the next few days so I’ll keep you company.”

  “I’m fine,” I insisted.

  “Of course you are.” He clapped a hand on my shoulder. The same one Volney hurt. I winced and jerked away from the touch, which earned me a knowing look. “You were right about her, by the way.”

  Jealousy slid through my veins like oil. “Lady Karina?”

  “She seems genuinely kind. I don’t think it will be hard spending my life with her,” he said with a sheepish smile.

  Except he wouldn’t spend his life with her. If I managed to get her far from the capital, there wouldn’t even be a wedding. I’m shit. I rolled my shoulder, easing some of the dull pain Bastian’s touch caused. No. I was doing the right thing—saving two lives.

  Chapter Twenty

  My plan worked. I now spent all day in the Main Palace listening to the governors prattle on until the king snapped and I couldn’t even blame him. Each one of them passive-aggressively beat a dead horse for hours. It didn’t matter how much sense another governor, the king, or Bastian made in a rebuttal—the governor speaking at the time heard only what they wanted. Words were twisted. Tempers flared. No wonder the country was falling to shit.

  But it kept me occupied.

  Between guarding Bastian and training myself as hard as possible, I didn’t have the energy to seek Anais out again. I’d decided on a location for her to flee to. A small village in the south that herded sheep. Her western accent wouldn’t stand out as much there as it would in the northern villages, and it was of such little consequence that no soldiers ever patrolled the area. She could get herself a small house in the mountains there, meet a nice farmer, and live her life. The problem was how to get her there.

  The king pounded on the table, drawing the eye of everyone in the room. “I will hear no more of it,” he snapped at the Governor of Defense.

  It was something about pushing to claim an important trade route from our northern neighbors, but it wouldn’t happen. Eradrist wasn’t ready for a war. So I turned my attention to the window overlooking one of the lavish inner courtyards.

  A handful of young women sat around a glass table, picking at their late breakfasts of berries and small scones. My heart somersaulted when my gaze landed on a honey-haired beauty. Anais sat at the table, completely oblivious to me watching. The duchess hovered near the entrance to the small area, leaning on her cane.

  Bastian had visited her twice more while I had been recovering from my concussion. He was simultaneously smitten and worried. She won’t make friends easily, he’d claimed. The other women would judge her too harshly and, if they didn’t, chances were they wanted to use Karina to advance themselves. She was too naïve to court intrigues to tell the difference. Coming from Bastian, the truth felt wrong. He was supposed to be the positive one while I looked for problems in every crevice.

  Anais laughed before plopping a red berry into her mouth. Even though I was too far away to hear the sound, I felt it in my bones. Had it really only been two weeks since I was in her room, asking her to think of me as she touched herself?

  I shook away the memory. She seemed content around the other women, whether it was friendship or not. And her smile appeared honest. That was good. That she was happy.

  The wide, wooden doors creaked open and I snapped to attention. A young girl stepped into the meeting room wearing an unadorned dress. She wrung her hands in front of her as she approached the table full of governors. King Edric and Bastian shared a quick look where they sat on a slightly raised dais and I regretted losing focus.

  “Speak,” the king barked.

  The girl blanched. “Thank you for seeing me, Your Majesty.”

  “What do you want?” Governor Hesby asked.

  “I’ve petitioned to speak here today because Governor Pevran was my aunt. Her final letter wasn’t included with her belongings.” She lifted her chin in an attempt at seeming brave. “I would like to read it.”

  “It’s evidence of her mortal sin,” Governor Hesby said, waving a dismissive hand. “It will be kept in the archives.”

  “She didn’t say she wanted to keep it,” Bastian spoke up. “If you’d like to read the letter, my Wing will escort you to the archives now.”

  I stiffened. Was I some sort of errand boy now? The fuck, Bastian…

  “Thank you, my prince,” the girl said with a low curtsy.

  Bastian nodded at me to go, leaving me with no choice. He was safe in the Main Palace without me, and with Anais also there, I didn’t have to worry about losing the battle to visit her. It was fine, I told myself. I would take the girl and return.

  Once the governor’s niece and I were in the hallway, she followed closely at my heel. “Can you read and write?” she asked.

  I startled at the question. Did she need me to read her the letter? I wasn’t sure I could handle it after attending to Pevran’s last moments. “Why?”

  “No reason. I would like to make a copy of the letter to take home with me.”

  I glanced at her from the corners of my eyes. She couldn’t be more than fifteen, yet she conquered her fear so well. Though, I doubted any copy she made would be legible with how hard her hands shook.

  “I’ll instruct the scribes to give you paper and ink,” I said.

  She nodded and followed me into a large room full of scrolls. Ladders leaned against the walls so scribes could reach the shelves near the high ceilings and thick curtains were drawn to ensure nothing was damaged by the sun. Candles flickered inside glass lanterns to make up for the loss of light. I quickly found a scribe and told him what we were looking for. The man bowed and hurried off to fetch the letter.

  “Did you know my aunt well?” the girl asked.

  “No.” I folded my arms across my chest.

  “I’m Cirna, by the way.”

  I raised a brow as she waited expectantly. “The Prince’s Wing.”

  “You have a name, don’t you?” She blushed and looked away. “I’m sorry.”

  “Lord Saer Tufaro,” I said, humoring her. “I didn’t realize Governor Pevran had any family.”

  She chewed her lip. “No one was supposed to know. She said she didn’t want anyone kidnapping me for ransom, so I was raised by my neighbors after my parents died of a fever. She wrote every week though.”

  The scribe returned and ushered us over to a table with paper, an ink well, and the letter Pevran had pulled from her locked box. Cirna slid into the seat and immediately started poring over the letter. A few minutes later, she began writing it, word for word. When she finished, she sat back and sighed.

  “Are you satisfied?” I asked, eager to return to Bastian. And the window that allowed me a forbidden glance at Anais.

  “She doesn’t mention me,” the girl said. “There’s nothing personal here at all.”

  No. If Pevran was hiding her niece, she wouldn’t want to reveal the truth as she died. Who would protect the girl, then? “How did you know to come here?”

  “I heard she died from the bulletin in town. It was hard convincing anyone that I wasn’t lying just to steal her things.” Cirna twisted in her chair to look up at me. “I don’t think she really killed herself. She was too dedicated to helping people.”

  I offered a half-hearted smile. Who was I to tell her that wasn’t always enough to keep someone alive when they didn’t want to be? I’d seen a handful of dead nobles hanging from rafters or with self-inflicted cuts to their wrists. More than a handful of commoners in Ora Et. But I didn’t think Pevran truly wanted to die. She accepted her fate and, even with her last breath, helped someone. Helped me. By taking the blame for her death and embracing it as her own.

  “I’m sorry for your loss,” I said, and knelt down to her level. Now that she’d come forward, I feared the Asters would pounce. It would be easy to use the girl. If they threatened to expose her aunt’s secrets to the crown, she would undoubtedly do whatever they asked. Even if they sent her on a suicide missio
n. “If you find yourself in need of help, you may ask me.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “Unless you can find me a new place to live, I don’t think you can help.”

  “Why do you need a new place to live?”

  “My aunt paid for my upkeep so now the family I’m living with can’t afford to let me stay.” She gathered her copy of the letter and folded it neatly, stuffing it into her skirt pocket.

  An idea struck, hard and fast. “How do you feel about the south?”

  “The south?”

  “It’s warm most of the year and there are lovely mountains.” I was being rash. This needed more thought. More planning. How could I be sure this really was Pevran’s niece? Or that she wasn’t an Aster. “A friend of mine is moving there and she needs someone to travel with. It could benefit you both.”

  Cirna’s brow creased in thought. “After I sell my aunt’s belongings, I’ll think on it. I have no coin at the moment and no prospects in the south, but… maybe.”

  “I would, of course, pay you to be her companion on the journey. Enough to get you settled, and I’m sure my friend will help you whenever you need it once you arrive.” I wasn’t sure what Cirna knew how to do—if she could cook and clean, or if she had any useful skills that would get her employed. Anais could help her with any of that. A small price to pay for freedom. “Where are you staying now?”

  Cirna narrowed her eyes and stood. “Why?”

  “I will come to you for an answer.” I rose from the floor and stepped away, trying my best not to intimidate her. “She leaves in a month’s time, so you’ll need to make a decision before that.”

  “The Valewood Inn,” she finally said. “But I’m only thinking about it. I could say no.”

  I nodded, though her tone said differently. The offer of money and a life elsewhere seemed to appealed to her more than she wanted to admit. “Of course. As long as you tell no one, I’ll accept whatever answer you give.”