by R. K. Ryals
“You remind me of the dragon rex,” I admitted.
Lochlen snorted. “Hardly.”
My lips curled, and I glanced at the floor to hide my grin. “You are a lot less blue, Your Majesty,” I mumbled.
Cadeyrn laughed. Silence filled the room. The prince wasn’t often prone to amusement.
The king coughed, his gaze sliding from his son to the table. “We need information,” Freemont said. He took his place at the head of the table before lifting a map. “This is outdated. It’s been years since anyone has surveyed the Medeisian kingdom.”
My gaze met Lochlen’s before we approached the table, each of us perusing the parchment.
“The mountains are wrong,” Lochlen pointed out. “There are two main summits, not three. They’re surrounded by four smaller mountains. They’re all part of the same range, but the geography here is wrong.”
I ran my finger over the edge of the desert. “The forest actually reaches to the edge of the Ardus. There are only two exceptions. The city of Treeton and my father’s,” I cleared my throat, “Garod’s manor. Both Treeton and Forticry open onto the desert, the trees having been cut down between them and the Ardus. It’s become a danger for children in Treeton. Many of them are lost to the desert.”
Papers shuffled, and then, “What of Aireesi?” Lord Conall inquired.
The capital of Medeisia had once been a magnificent place full of golden arches and magnificent temples before the Dracon wars. It sat now in ruins covered by vines and forests. Only dirty streets and poverty-stricken villages remained.
Touching an ink drawn arch, I muttered, “It is a city of fear. It is full of stench and sickness. There is nothing left of its former glory.”
Prince Cadeyrn moved next to me, his arm brushing my shoulder. “The palace?” he asked.
I looked up at him. “It is guarded well. King Raemon surrounds himself with loyal men, an inner circle of trusted nobles and sorcerers. The only way inside is through someone acquainted with the king, as a prisoner, or dead.”
“You’ve been inside?” Cadeyrn asked.
I nodded.
Gryphon’s hands met the table. “Tell us.” There was interest in his gaze that went beyond mere curiosity. My birth father may want little to do with me, but my half-brother cared.
It was the affection in his gaze that prompted my response. “Kye brought me as a prisoner. He had betrayed his father by protecting a group of mage-born children. He was wounded in the process and the children were slaughtered anyway.” King Freemont frowned, but I continued, “The only way to infiltrate Raemon’s circle is to give him something he needs.”
Touching my shorn hair, I said, “I was to be a tool. Kye took me to the castle as a boy named Sax, a scribe with the powers of a mage. He imprisoned Kye and used me to translate a Sadeemian document. It was the marriage alliance between Prince Cadeyrn and Princess Gabriella. It was then I discovered Raemon’s plan to assassinate the princess. Afterwards, the king had me thrown into the dungeons.”
Images of Kye shackled to a wall covered in blood had me grasping the table.
The king watched me. “You have spies within the palace?”
There was no use lying. “Unconventional ones, Your Majesty.”
Gryphon grinned. “I wonder, how much do you know about our own court?”
My gaze met his. “The smallest soldiers often make the biggest champions.”
The king’s frown deepened. “You have spies here?”
Lochlen smirked. I shrugged. “You know I do, Your Highness.”
Freemont shook his head. “How much use can animals really be?”
“I swear humans are idiots,” a low voice drawled, and I glanced over to the side of the room to find Korrine the cat lounged on the ledge of an arrow slit window.
Cadeyrn’s gaze followed mine. “Gabriella’s cat.”
Korrine licked her paw before running it along the back of her ear. “Talk for me if you wish,” she told me. “I’ve grown sick of this court. I’ve grown even sicker of the betrayal.”
I stared. “You have many creatures in your palace, your highness. Promise me none of them will be harmed for speaking to me, and I will share any information they give me.”
My gaze slid to the king, and he inclined his head. “You have my word.”
My brows rose. “The cat says that all of you are idiots.”
Korrine scoffed. “I didn’t exactly put it that way!”
Gryphon laughed. “Smart cat.”
“She also speaks of betrayal.” My words had a sobering effect.
Freemont’s hands met the table. “Betrayal?” He glanced at the cat. “What betrayal?”
Korrine jumped from the ledge, her tail high as she sauntered across the room. “My owner is brainless! Did you know she thinks I am descended from the wild cats of Yorbrook? All because the man who gave me to her says I have the coat of a Grenling. I am descended from no Grenling! Do I look like a Grenling?”
My mouth parted, but she gave me no time to speak. Jumping in front of me, she ordered, “Go on! Tell them!”
I was too taken aback to do anything but obey. By the end of my translation, Lochlen was chuckling and the king’s face had reddened. Conall stared at the table. Gryphon was trying not to laugh.
“Is this your way of insulting royalty?” King Freemont asked. “By misusing your power?”
I stared. “You think I lie?”
The cat appeared bored. “Now that that’s out of the way,” Korrine muttered. “Let’s make this interesting. Tonight, Princess Gabriella plans to assassinate you.”
It took a moment for her words to register, but when they did I stumbled away from the table, my hand clutching my stomach. The shock of her announcement left me both hot and cold. It left me speechless. My heart pounded.
The cat preened. “And humans think we are useless. You, my dear, are supposed to die tonight. Gabriella is delusional. She takes after her father.”
Lochlen, who’d understood Korrine as well as I had, glowered, smoke rising from his nose.
“What does she say?” the king asked.
Instead of answering, I ogled the cat. “How?” I whispered.
Korrine peered up at me. “Tonight, one of the women who usually attends you will suddenly fall ill, only to be replaced by one of Gabriella’s servants. She will pour your bath. The water will be filled with poison. A deadly poison that not only infiltrates the skin, but given enough time, eats away the flesh.”
There were no words. For long moments, I did nothing except stare. There was no way I could accuse the princess of murder. Not without proof. The king would never take a cat’s word for it.
“Stone?” Gryphon asked.
I shook my head. “I can’t …”
It was Lochlen who took the initiative, his anger palpable. “Your Greemallian princess plans to assassinate Drastona. Tonight.”
The uproar that followed was deafening. “You lie!” Freemont bellowed.
Korrine jumped from the table, using the chaos to disappear from the room. How she exited was beyond me.
Cadeyrn took my elbow, leaning close. “How?”
I told him, my voice shaking.
He looked at his father. “We’ll keep a guard with the rebels. Leave tonight to me.”
Freemont stiffened. “She is the only heir to the Greemallian throne.”
Cadeyrn glared. “And if she attempts to murder a foreign emissary we’ve sworn to protect, it’s treason no matter who her father is.”
Freemont sighed, his face drawn. “I leave it to you then. You know what Greemallia’s support means.”
Pulling back a chair, the king sat heavily, his jewel encrusted fingers pushing at the pages on the table. “You are all dismissed.”
Chapter 16
Night brought many shadows. With Lochlen and Oran’s protective hovering, I felt closed in and unable to breathe. It didn’t help that Cadeyrn had sent both Ryon and Madden to me. I was used to being fo
llowed by one of the guards, but never by both. Even as dangerous as my room was, I was relieved to return to it for the evening.
Inside, the window had been left open, and a welcome breeze ruffled my hair, chilly fingers massaging my scalp. The weather may be growing colder, but I welcomed it.
“There is something about the way your face changes …”
His voice startled me, and I jumped, my hand going to my chest. Prince Cadeyrn rose from his seat on my bed, his eyes going to the guards over my shoulders. “You know what to do.”
They bowed and left the room. Oran padded to the bed and jumped onto the comforter.
Cadeyrn’s gaze met mine. “You have a love affair with nature. You certainly feel it more than anyone I’ve ever been acquainted with.”
My gaze went back to the window. The breeze was strong tonight, and I drew strength from it. “Is this your plan, Your Majesty? Staying in my room until the servants come to draw a bath?”
“Something like that,” he answered. “How is your thigh?”
I glanced down at my legs, at the dragon hide that covered them. The wound hadn’t bothered me for days now. In truth, it had been merely a nuisance once the wyver poison was free of my body. My magic helped me heal faster than most, but because the wound had been caused by wyver poison, I would always have a scar.
“The wound is nearly gone, Your Majesty.”
Cadeyrn approached me. There was something about his gaze that troubled me, and I retreated a few steps.
Reaching out, the prince caught the pendant around my neck, his fingers rubbing the silver. There was a war of emotions on his face, but he kept them too guarded for me to understand them.
My hand covered his on the necklace. “I never thanked you,” I mumbled.
Neither one of us moved. “There are some things people should never be thanked for,” Cadeyrn replied.
My fingers tightened on his. “Why do you humor me? All of those nights of chess, the box under your mattress, the pendant … I-I’m not Catriona or Gabriella.”
Somehow, Cadeyrn always knew what I was asking even when I left the words unsaid. His free hand came up to grip my chin. “Beauty is often much deeper than the face. Your kindness, the euphoria that comes over you when you touch a plant, your thirst for knowledge, and your quiet strength is more captivating than any beauty.” His lips twitched. “Do you truly see beauty when you see me? The eye is often fooled. Women have heard great tales about my power, about my strength. It makes them see something that isn’t there.”
For the first time, I really let myself look at Cadeyrn, my gaze traveling his face. He was large, so tall it often made my neck hurt to look up at him. His chest was broad, his cheeks sculpted. He was too rugged to be pretty. If I was being honest, Kye had been more handsome, even with his scars, but Cadeyrn was larger, more intense. Power sang through his veins. But it was his confidence and his calm nature that drew me in the most. He had a self-assurance most people lacked.
It was wrong standing here with Cadeyrn. Our lives were too different, our burdens too heavy, our grief too much alike.
Cadeyrn’s head lowered. “Do not elevate me, Aean Brirg. I often curse my position. I curse who I am. Age and grief often changes us, makes us completely unable to relate to anyone. Life has ruined me. What people see is a glamour. It’s what they want to see, not what’s there. When all is said and done, I’m simply a man with too much blood on my hands.”
My lips parted. “I’m not everything I seem. I’ve given everything away … to love and to my country. There isn’t anything left.”
The fingers Cadeyrn had on my chin suddenly swept upward, brushing my cheek. It was then I realized I was crying, tears soaking my face.
“You’re not him,” I said.
I don’t know why I said it, have no idea what made me say it, but I did. Cadeyrn loomed over me, his eyes roaming my face. He was close, too close.
“You’re not her,” he responded.
The kiss when it came wasn’t gentle, kind, or sympathetic. It was harsh and desperate. It was a bruising kiss, his fingers gripping me too hard. I don’t think either of us knew how to kiss anymore. When I’d kissed Kye, it had been sweet and gentle, a beautiful moment I would never forget. Too much had happened since then; too much blood and pain. This kiss sought healing. This kiss hurt because we hurt.
Cadeyrn’s tongue tangled with mine, his hand falling to my waist. He tasted like mulled wine and mint. I gripped his shoulders, my nails biting into his tunic, our pendants clanking together between us. Three knots tangling with two knots.
It was a kiss, but it was also war. We were fighting each other as much as we were accepting each other. His sword hilt was just beginning to dig into my hip when we pushed each other away. It was mutual, our rejection. My chest heaved and my lips hurt. Heat filled my cheeks. It was as much from embarrassment as it was passion.
My gaze met Cadeyrn’s. “You’re not him,” I repeated.
His pupils dilated. “You’re not her.”
There was something different about the words the second time around, a new awareness. Cadeyrn wasn’t Kye, but deep down in my heart, I didn’t want him to be.
The door to the bedroom swung open, and I backed into the wall near the window, the wind cooling my reddened face.
A young woman stepped into the chamber, a hand wrapped around the handle of a bucket. She paused when she caught sight of the prince.
“Your Highness!” she breathed.
Her gaze passed between us. Cadeyrn’s eyes fell to the bucket. “Don’t let us stop you,” he commanded.
He walked to the door, using his foot to hold it open as he pulled a tin basin into the room. It was full of steaming water. It was often easier on the servants to fill a tub in waves. Male servants would hoist large basins up the stairs while chambermaids would carry water from the basins to the tubs with buckets. It usually took at least four basins per floor to fill all of the tubs, more if there were guests in the palace. Pulley systems in the palace were used to raise buckets to the fourth floor and higher from steaming basins in the kitchens. Since the pulley systems took longer than using basins hoisted upstairs, it wasn’t used for the first three floors.
The woman hesitated. She was a pretty girl, young with strawberry blonde hair and high cheekbones. Those same cheeks flushed scarlet. “I can return later, Your Majesty,” she insisted.
Cadeyrn’s eyes twinkled. There was something dangerous in his gaze. “Do your job,” he ordered.
The woman rushed to obey, lifting bucket after bucket of water into the basin. I noticed she was always careful never to touch the liquid. It made filling the tub harder, and sweat beaded up along her brow, her eyes reddened by threatening tears. After the final bucket, she stood, bowing her head before preparing to depart.
The prince stopped her. “That’s a lot of water. Do you always use one basin to fill only one tub?”
The woman froze. “No, Your Highness.”
She was trembling visibly now, but Cadeyrn took no pity on her. Motioning to the guards in the hall beyond, he said, “Take her to the Hall of Light.”
The maid wept openly then, loud cries filling the hall as she begged for mercy. It was followed closely by an outraged female tantrum.
“Unhand me, you miserable oaf!”
I’d know that voice anywhere, and my eyes widened. Cadeyrn stepped into the room just as Madden and Ryon dragged a writhing Gabriella through the door. She was attired in nothing more than a silk, scarlet shift and a crimson dressing robe.
Eyes flashing, she yelled, “You’ll be punished for this! All of you!”
Her gaze found Cadeyrn, and she froze.
The prince smiled. “I heard you were interested in bathing this evening, m’lady.”
Gabriella’s face went pale, her gaze sweeping my room. It was a small room compared to the ones used by the royals; the furniture just as nice, but much more spartan. It wasn’t until Gabriella’s eyes landed on the tub tha
t she began to thrash again.
“I don’t know what you’re up to, Cadeyrn, but this is uncalled for! Let me go!”
Cadeyrn stared at her, a smile playing on his lips. It was his smile that caused Gabriella’s face to go slack with terror.
Cadeyrn nodded at Madden. The guard jerked Gabriella’s dressing robe from her shoulders.
She shrieked, “You can’t do this!”
“Do what?” Cadeyrn asked. “Watch you bathe?”
The guards began dragging Gabriella toward the tub, shift and all.
“Cadeyrn,” she begged. “Cadeyrn, no!”
He stalked to the side of the tub. “My wife, afraid of water? How have you managed to smell like lavender oil for so long?”
Gabriella quit thrashing, her gaze finding Cadeyrn’s. “I don’t know how you knew …” she began. Her lips thinned, her arms crossing. “I won’t get into the tub.”
Cadeyrn’s anger was a palpable thing, his eyes going completely cold. I’d never seen him like that. It wasn’t a pretty sight, but I had the fleeting thought that this is what made him such a capable military leader, a capable ruler.
He glanced at me. “Could you heal someone poisoned by Black Lace?”
Gabriella sagged, her skin completely leeched of color.
I stared. Black Lace? It was one of the strongest poisons in the nine kingdoms and was extremely hard to come by. Often sold on the black market in Guarda, it got its name from the web-like roots of Black Lace trees. The root could only be found in the swamps of Dearn, and had to be cultivated carefully.
The trees beyond the palace whispered, their murmurs rising. “We can draw the poison out, little one. Black Lace is born from tree roots. It can be healed.”
I could have shaken my head, could have told the prince that the poison was something I couldn’t heal, but one look at Gabriella and I changed my mind. The prince didn’t intend to kill her, I knew that, but he couldn’t leave attempted murder unpunished.
“I can heal it,” I answered.
Gabriella screamed, ungodly screams that filled the room and sang down my spine. Tears threatened, but I held them in check.
Cadeyrn forced Gabriella against the tub, gripping her arm just below the elbow. His strength was impossible to fight. Slowly, ever so slowly, the prince lowered her hand into the water while being careful not to touch it himself.