The Myatheira Chronicles: Volume Three: Crown of Ice

by Melissa Collins

  “My displeasure is in the fact that he made an attempt at all,” he frowned. “I am getting the feeling there is more I should know about what transpired between you and the It’aryn family. Is their presence at the military celebration going to create trouble? I cannot risk them attacking you in front of the entire court… or anywhere, for that matter.”

  “They will not attack me.”

  “You know this without doubt?”

  “No… I…” Edric’s face contorted in confusion. He didn’t know how he knew. He simply did. “They can be a violent people but I don’t think the Chief would be foolish enough to threaten the life of the man responsible for saving him and the entirety of his race. If he is that foolish then he would deserve whatever the General ordered to be his fate for the slight… and I suspect Cadell and Callum would not hold back.”

  His father nodded, the rigidness of his posture slowly starting to ease. “I suppose we will see. They have a few weeks to make a decision. Just know that it is not your mother and I who stand in your way.”

  “I know,” Edric smiled. Fatigue was starting to come over him again, reminding him that he wasn’t quite recovered to the extent that he wanted to think he was. Squeezing his father’s hand, he hoped it was enough to reassure him that he understood and appreciated everything. Right now all he wanted to do was sleep. Relieved to discover his father’s news to have been more favorable than expected, he felt the tension leave his muscles, allowing himself to relax and lie down on the bed. His father returned to his feet, helping to pull the blankets over Edric, making sure he was settled before stepping away.

  “In light of the details which were clearly left out of the Captain’s report, I would like to speak with you more on the events in Ethrysta when you are feeling more like yourself.”

  Edric laughed quietly, nodding to his father in agreement. “Give me a few days, Father. Then I will gladly regale you with as many stories as you like.”

  “I will hold you to it. Now, get some sleep. All things considered, you are going to need it.”

  In the privacy of her room, Neomi stood near the icy wall, idly spinning the ring she wore around her finger. She had hoped that time away from Edric would make their separation easier. Instead it had somehow made it worse. Over the months she’d become accustomed to having the Vor’shai around. She missed their lighthearted chatter and willingness to listen when she felt compelled to speak of her troubles. By now they would have found their way back to Tanispa. It pained her to have no way of knowing Edric’s condition. He remained unconscious when they departed Nahedu, showing no signs of recovery. There was no promise that he would awaken. Her heart ached to think that he might still be in his comatose state, suffering because of her. If she’d been able to land the strike on the Avaern… No. She couldn’t blame herself. Edric was crazy for doing what he did. But brave. Possibly the most courageous man she’d ever known.

  “Neomi.”

  Her head lifted at the sound of her father’s voice, swallowing hard. He was awake? Why had no one told her? “Father. I did not realize you were well enough to be on your feet.”

  A derisive snort revealed his disdain at her statement. “Face me. I want to look at you.”

  Such a strange command. Why would he want to look at her? She was no different now than she had been the last time he saw her. Still, he was her father. When he commanded her to do something, it was her duty to listen. Slowly she turned around, painfully aware of her exposed hand, self-conscious, afraid that he would take notice of the ring that she now attempted to hide by shifting her arm behind her back.

  Her father looked terrible. The bruising was finally starting to fade, the remnants of his injuries marring his pale skin with shades of purple and blue. If he suffered any discomfort he didn’t show it. He looked just as hard and defiant as ever. “Does Onuric know you are out of bed? I have a feeling he would be displeased.”

  “I have spoken with your brother. He had many interesting things to say.” Snapping his fingers he pointed to the floor in front of him, his eyes narrowed, commanding her to step forward. Careful not to let her hand into view she did as he instructed, pausing a short distance away as he brought his hand up to prevent her from coming any closer. “That is sufficient. Now… let me see your hands.”

  “My hands?” she stammered. “Father, you are acting strangely. I am going to get Onuric and have him assist you to your room.”

  “I said show me your hands!”

  This was a nightmare. She’d set her mind on telling her father everything, but not like this. It would be impossible to make him understand while he was angry. He wouldn’t listen to her. His head was already filled with whatever lies Onuric told him. “Father, I –” her protest was cut off by Okivra’s rough hands grabbing onto her wrists, nearly pulling her off her feet from the strength of his hold. Her breath came in ragged bursts from the rush of adrenaline coursing through her. She was afraid of her father. He had more reason to be furious than Onuric and he was the only one who possessed the power to present punishment for her actions. She was at his mercy.

  With another solid jerk he turned her hands over, wrinkling his nose in disapproval. “So it is true,” he scowled. “Your brother said you wore that man’s ring.”

  “I… I can explain…”

  “Explain? How am I supposed to believe what you tell me? You gave your word that this affair was ended and now I find out that you were running around behind my back? Do not lie, Neomi. Your brother saw the two of you together. He provided me the identity of the man responsible for violating you in Isavo. It is because of that man that your reputation threatens our family.”

  She was desperate to make him see the truth. With a grimace she tried to tear her arms free, finding her father’s grasp too strong to break from. “I did not lie to you! When you asked me about the affair I was convinced that I could walk away from him. I assure you, I tried.”

  “You did not try hard enough.”

  “I could not do it, Father…”

  “Why not? How hard can it possibly be to tell that man you have no interest in him?”

  Inhaling a deep breath she tried to maintain her composure. She had to tell him. It didn’t matter if he believed her. He had to be told. “I love him,” she replied. Lifting her eyes from the floor she met his gaze. Defiant. Bold. If she revealed even the slightest hesitation, he would doubt her. No other words were necessary to get her point across.

  He stared at her in awe. “What?” he gasped. “You spout nonsense, girl. Those men have filled your head with their fairy tales.”

  “It is no fairy tale. I know my own mind.” Rebellious, she jutted her chin out further. “The Vor’shai Prince is deserving of our respect and gratitude, Father. He may be from a foreign land but he possesses more courage than all of our men combined. How could I not be drawn to a man of his character? His strength! He defeated the Avaern. If it had not been for him, we would all be dead. Did Onuric fail to inform you of this? That he completed the task you and I were unable to finish?”

  “Onuric told me everything,” Okivra huffed, pushing her hands away from him in frustration. “It is an insult, Neomi. I am the Chief! It was my duty to bring the Avaern down and instead it was a foreigner who stepped up to the challenge. Do you have any idea the position this leaves me in?”

  He was behaving oddly. Anger remained evident in his voice, but it no longer appeared directed at her. It was an internal rage, the roiling energy within his eyes revealing self-loathing for what he spoke. She only wished she understood what he was saying. How did Edric’s racial heritage place him in any position of inconvenience? “I do not understand. Is it not enough that the Avaern was killed? We were victorious. Our people will survive.”

  “Yes. We will survive… and I am now indebted to the Vor’shai because of it.”

  So that was it. They no longer had the advantage over their allies. It was harmless for him to call the Vor’shai to aid them when it was the Ta
nispan Queen who owed them the favor. Her father never intended for them to do anything of significance. They were to show up and act as fodder while he destroyed the beast so he could send the Vor’shai troops home with their debt settled. After all of his words in defense of the foreigners, and now the truth came out. He didn’t think them capable of keeping up with the Ovatai warriors let alone surpassing him.

  But he was wrong. The Vor’shai would never ask for anything from them in return beyond a simple extension of the alliance already forged between their people. Honor was the only thing which would dictate the need to provide anything more. She just wasn’t sure what they had to offer them. “Their Captain asked for nothing. I suspect he considers us on even terms.”

  “Perhaps. I might have been able to accept that as well but now… that ring changes everything. Do you realize the insult I would give them by denying him your hand? Did you consider that when you let him slip it on your finger?”

  Her heart fluttered at what her father was saying. He was right. For everything the Vor’shai did, it would be a horrible slight to then claim their Prince unworthy of her. Edric almost died for their people. He was willing to sacrifice his own life so that she and her family could live. If that didn’t make him worthy of her hand in marriage, she wasn’t sure what would. “If debt to the Vor’shai is what troubles you, then why not give me to them?” she asked, her confidence rising. It was the perfect angle. Her father was in a difficult predicament and she was his only way out. “Think about it, Father,” she pressed on, “you and Onuric have both made it clear that none of our men would ever accept me as their wife. I am nothing but a burden to you. If you chose to present a union between myself and the Vor’shai Prince, it would not only eliminate your debt but also put an end to the rumors plaguing our family. They cannot speak of impropriety if I am his wife.”

  “They can speak of your impropriety regardless of your relation to him,” Okivra snorted in contempt. “However, it would lessen the impact of their incessant rumors if I was to offer you to the foreigners. Your affair with him simply grants me the upper hand if they attempt to argue the union. His behavior binds them to acceptance.”

  “Then there is no issue. I will be your offering.” She couldn’t hide the hopefulness in her voice. It was too perfect. Her marriage to Edric could solve their problems rather than adding to them the way she feared it would.

  He turned a stern gaze on her, looking her over appraisingly. “I thought you would be less keen on the idea of being an object of trade.”

  “It is a sacrifice I am willing to make for my people.”

  Okivra gave an unamused huff, vaguely resembling a laugh, folding his arms across his chest. “I will have you know that I am not pleased with this. The only reason I am forced to concede is because that man nearly sacrificed his life and even I cannot overlook something of that scale.”

  She nodded in understanding, her happiness dampened by the thought of how her brother would react to the news. He had made his opinion of Edric very clear from the start. “Onuric will never approve.”

  “Leave Onuric to me,” he scowled, turning swiftly on his heel to make his way out of the room. “One of these days he will understand that he is not Chief until I say so.”

  Dressed in his finest attire, Edric stood at the back of the ballroom, his eyes locked on the door, silently praying to see Neomi’s face in the crowd. The ceremony had concluded hours ago, the night now left to the social games of the courtiers. Musicians played their lively tunes for the men and women to dance to. But Edric couldn’t bring himself to enjoy any of it. With every minute that passed, he lost hope in whether Okivra would make an appearance at the celebration. Maybe he is still unwell. There must be a reason why he would decline the invitation.

  “It is a good thing you are here, Edric. That wall might fall down without you,” Callum stated, casually leaning against the chair at Edric’s side. “The night is young. You could at least pretend to enjoy yourself and dance with your sister before she must retire.”

  He forced a smile, reaching up to straighten the golden epaulets which adorned his doublet, the soft sheen of the rich black fabric shimmering in the candlelight from the chandelier overhead. “Well, if it isn’t the man of the hour. General,” he nodded in greeting, “I assumed you would want to occupy every dance your wife participated in this evening. Far be it from me to intrude.”

  “It is hardly an intrusion. Etiquette requires me to stay on my feet and actively converse with everyone in attendance. I fear Aiva will weep from boredom if she doesn’t get to enjoy at least one dance.”

  “Surely you can spare time for a single waltz. She is the mother of your child. You owe her that much.”

  Callum chuckled quietly. “I suppose you have me there,” he grinned. “It amazes me the woman has any energy to be here at all. I’m beginning to think Sarai never sleeps. I was under the impression babies did little else.”

  “You must not have spent much time around Calie when she was younger. You two are going to forget what it is like to sleep through the night.”

  It felt good to laugh. He didn’t care that Callum’s company now was more for pity than desire for conversation. His entire family knew how much he’d been looking forward to this evening. The thought of seeing Neomi again! She was all he thought of for weeks. He could still imagine every detail of her face. The soft glow of her icy eyes. Porcelain smooth skin. Even now the thought of her made his heart race, glancing toward the ballroom entrance once again. Callum’s laughter quieted, following his gaze with a sympathetic sigh. “They may yet show, Edric. You only torture yourself this way.”

  Edric averted his eyes, discouraged. How could Callum think that they would still come? The ceremony was long over. Chief Okivra would never travel so far to arrive in time to watch the other guests leave. “I think I need some air,” he replied quietly. Dejected, he pushed himself away from the wall, running a hand over the gold buttons on his shirt. “You can join me if you like. It has been a long time since we took a stroll through the courtyard.”

  Callum surveyed the room, taking in the faces surrounding them. “I suppose I could spare a few moments. We should find Aiva, though. She may want to accompany us as well. You did promise her a walk in the gardens.”

  A vague memory flitted through Edric’s mind. He could hear his voice attempting to console Aiva, though the specific words were lost to him. It had been so long ago. The same night you first met Neomi… A pained grimace contorted his features at the thought. Was there anything that wouldn’t remind him of her? She was like a ghost haunting him at every turn. “Let’s find her, then. This place is a bit suffocating.”

  Raising his hand Callum waved to someone in the midst of the crowd, guiding Edric toward the door at a slow pace. He was relieved to see Aiva’s familiar face emerge from the group. She looked radiant. He couldn’t remember ever having seen her look so mature, practically glowing from the attention that was bestowed upon her by the courtiers, complimenting her hair and gown, mingled with belated felicitations on the birth of her daughter. Her slender waist was cinched tightly into a rich sapphire bodice, accenting her small frame. She showed no signs of having recently bore a child. Seeing her so lively and cheerful made Edric wonder if he had imagined it entirely.

  “You boys are keeping out of trouble, I hope,” she smiled, her graceful steps bringing her to Edric’s side, gently wrapping her arm around his elbow. Edric squeezed her arm tightly; grateful for the comfort it brought him to have her and Callum there.

  “So far,” he nodded. “Callum keeps reminding me that the night is still young. We may find ourselves in trouble yet.” Gently he urged her to move forward, continuing their slow walk toward the door. “We were about to take some air in the courtyard when I was reminded that I promised you a stroll through the gardens. Are you feeling up to the exercise?”

  Aiva’s eyes trailed over to Callum, their gazes meeting as if in silent communication between the two. I
t was impressive how well they could read one another. He didn’t have to hear them speak to know they were concerned for his state of mind. In truth, he couldn’t blame them. He was concerned about his emotions as well. At the moment he was in control of them. Calm. Perhaps in denial at the thought of having the invitation rejected by the Ovatai after everything they had done to assist them. Once the celebration began to wind down it would sink in that he was still alone. When that happened, he wasn’t sure how he would react.

  Lightly patting Edric’s arm Aiva nodded to him, resuming their lighthearted conversation in hopes of easing his spirits. “I have been laid up in bed for months. A walk sounds wonderful, though I must ask if you feel you have the strength to attempt such. The physician holds firm to his orders that you should not overexert yourself.”

  “It’s a relaxing stroll, not a race. If anything, it might do me some good.”

  By the time they reached the door, Edric could feel his anxiety building, desperate to be away from the crowd. Everyone took notice of them, stopping to congratulate Callum on his promotion and their victory in Ethrysta while the women attempted to strike up conversation with Edric about his heroics, pleading with him to tell the story of how they defeated the Avaern. He had no desire to speak with them. Their words were hollow and empty, lacking the intelligence he had become so fond of with the Ovatai women. Although biased on many topics, even Moinie had proven more enjoyable to converse with than these supposed ladies, their overdone make-up and low-cut gowns worn with the specific intent of catching his eye. They had no idea how little he desired them. Nothing more than faces in the crowd which stood between him and the door.