by N. C. Hayes
“Those are pretty,” I said. He followed my gaze to the black swirls covering his brown skin.
“They’re from my time in the Sylvannian army. We expand upon them as we rise in the ranks.”
“You said you’re not a soldier.”
“I said I’m not a soldier anymore,” he corrected. “I served my time and retired to join my grandparents’ council.”
I did not respond. Instead, I closed my eyes, attempting to banish my nightmare from my mind’s eye. “I’m sorry,” I mumbled.
“For what?”
“Disturbing your household.”
“It’s not a disturbance,” he said. “If you . . . if you need to talk about it—”
“I don’t.”
Silence.
After a few moments, I felt him stand from the bed. “If you change your mind, you know where to find me.” I looked up again as he shut the door behind him, leaving me alone in the darkness.
~
The next morning, I woke to sunlight pouring through the curtains and hitting my face. Odd. I had been waking much earlier over the past days. Still groggy, I slowly dragged myself from bed and dressed, braided my hair with cloudy eyes, and wondered if there was any breakfast left for me, or if it was already lunchtime.
I strode down the corridor to the parlor and stopped, surprised to see Aydan in the middle of the room with Elise, holding a short stack of papers and muttering to her urgently.
“I thought you were meeting with your sister this morning?” I asked. Aydan looked up, startled.
“We finished a little while ago.” I looked up at the clock. It was well past noon.
“I didn’t realize I was so tired.” Aydan said nothing, his expression rather tight as he stared at me. “What?”
He exhaled. “You may want to sit down.” Slowly, I sat in one of the armchairs. He dismissed Elise, who left without a word.
“What’s wrong?” I asked suspiciously. He straightened the papers before passing them to me. As I began to read, the prince spoke:
“This is a letter from a Sylvannian spy—a man who owed me a favor. He went to Nautia at my direction and was able to find out what happened to Gideon.” His words became muffled.
The prisoner was belligerent, refusing to answer questions during interrogation, and spitting on an officer of the Guard, the page read. He had suffered several concerning injuries while fighting his arrest. Even so, once it had been determined that Gideon Eastly was of no use to them, the Nautians escorted him to the gallows—
“Shaye, I don’t know what to say. I’m so sorry.”
Aydan was standing over me, hand hovering at my shoulder like he was unsure how to comfort me.
No time to be emotional, my uncle would say.
I blinked, and the tears welling in my eyes spilled over the brim.
“His survival was a long shot,” I finally said, my voice tight but surprisingly steady. “We saw the soldiers at the house. He was never going to fight them all off.” I gave the papers back to Aydan. My hands shook. “He died protecting me. They were interrogating him about me.”
“Protecting you was all he cared about. He told me as much that night, before the first soldiers arrived.” I wished Aydan’s kind voice made a difference in the ache spreading through my chest.
I stood, brushing away the tears that streamed down my face. “I think I’ll spend the afternoon in my bedroom.”
“Of course,” he said as I walked past him and back down the corridor. When the door shut behind me, I let a sob choke out before crawling back beneath my blankets.
~
Hours later, there was a soft knock on the door. I called to whoever it was to enter, and Elise walked in silently to set a tray on my bedside table. I thanked her in a soft voice and sat up slowly when the door clicked shut again. On the tray was a covered plate, a simple tea service for one, and a folded note sealed with blue wax stamped and with an elegantly styled A. My stomach ached from crying, and so I ignored the plate but fixed the tea with honey and milk before cracking the wax seal and unfolding the thick, cream-colored paper. A white flower fell from it. The note read simply:
Please accept my deepest condolences.
–A
I folded it and placed it in the table drawer, then sat on the bed, fiddling with the flower between my fingers. After a few moments, I reached for one of the books on the shelf on the opposite wall and pressed it between the pages, before returning to bed and burying myself beneath the covers again.
Chapter Twelve
Over the next month, I began having nightmares more frequently.
Each time, they would begin like the first—so real, so normal—before devolving into horror. I had not woken up screaming again since the night I dreamt about Gideon but had started to wake standing next to my bed. More than once, I vomited out of sheer fright, and nearly every day since I dreamt of my uncle, I found myself emitting sparks from my fingertips at random. At first I assumed the dreams were a subconscious response to my uncle’s death, but now they felt heavier, carrying a weight I did not know how to bear for much longer.
Despite the horrors taking place at night, my days were fairly mundane. Some mornings I ate breakfast with Aydan, and on others he would be called away to meet with his father or sister. The prince returned absolutely fuming to the chambers on more than one occasion. One day, Elise had just alerted me that lunch was being served, and as I stood from one of the parlor sofas where I’d been reading, Aydan stormed in, removing his jacket with jerking motions. Elise hurried over to ensure he did not tear it.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“My sister.” Before I could ask if he wanted to elaborate, he raged off toward his bedroom.
Halfway through lunch, he came to the dining room and sat across from me. “I’m sorry for my outburst,” he said.
“Are you all right?” I asked.
“I’m fine,” Aydan replied as Isolde entered with a plate for him. He thanked her and picked up his fork. “Just more of the same with Irsa. What you saw the other night was us getting along.”
“And you’re not getting along now?”
He shook his head while chewing, then swallowed and said, “I think my father would have given up keeping us here by now if she wasn’t so insistent that we stay.”
“Why does she care if we’re here?” I asked. “Certainly she’d prefer to have you out of her hair if she dislikes you so deeply.”
“You would think so,” he said. “But I think Irsa just enjoys making me miserable now. I don’t entirely blame her. I tried to steal her crown. It was my father’s idea, but I was old enough to know that what we were doing was wrong.”
“You know,” I sighed. “Someday you might consider forgiving yourself for all of that.” A ghost of a smile emerged on Aydan’s face. My fingers sparked, but I shoved my hands in my lap quickly enough that the prince didn’t see. Something about the strange outburst of power felt wrong; I had not yet told Aydan about it.
“I’m sorry, it seems all I’ve done lately is complain about my family while you’ve been cooped up inside. Do you want to walk the grounds with me?” he asked before taking another bite of his meal.
“That sounds nice.” I wiped my mouth with my napkin and placed it on the table. Rather than let Isolde come for it, I raised my hands overtop to try and make it vanish.
“Focus on where it needs to go,” Aydan offered once he realized what I was doing. “That’s all it is. A dirty dish belongs in the scullery. Try to send it there.” I focused all my attention on this tiny task, and after a long moment, the napkin vanished and the plate cracked in half. I swore. Aydan waved his hand so the plate formed back into a single piece. “Try again.”
I tried a few more times before eventually making the plate disappear, only to hear it shatter on the kitchen floor where I had sent it instead of the scullery. I winced, then followed the sound into the kitchen and apologized to Zale and Tory before cleaning up my mess and givin
g up for the day.
~
To reach the castle grounds, Aydan had to take me past the great hall, where many courtiers and council members were gathered, socializing. A pair of sorceresses, nearly identical save for their hair color—one light and one dark—sneered, making eye contact with me from where they stood.
“The Floinn sisters,” Aydan whispered in my ear. “They’ve had that look plastered on their faces for decades.” Their brows furrowed simultaneously at the sight of Aydan leaning in so closely to speak to me. I made it a point to let them see me tighten my grip on the prince’s arm.
“Careful.” He chuckled. “You have enough enemies here.”
“Miss Eastly,” cried a familiar girlish voice before I could respond. I turned to see Irsa approaching with a sickly-sweet diplomatic smile spreading across her face. I curtsied.
“Your Highness,” I replied with a tight smile of my own.
“Coming out to play, are we?” The crown princess asked in a tone that sounded like it was reserved for speaking to children and dogs. “I’m sure you’re feeling rather shut in. It will be nice to get out for a walk.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
“She wouldn’t feel so shut in if you would stop filling our father’s head with suspicions of treason,” Aydan chimed in. I felt my face grow red.
“I’m not filling his head, I’m reminding him of dangers that he may not have considered,” she said sweetly. “When he is convinced that Miss Eastly isn’t a danger to our great nation or the Crown, you two can scurry off to the garden city and never be seen again.” She turned her attention back to me. “It’s starting to get cold outside. I hope you’ve brought a shawl. Although.” Her eyes landed on my hand tightly gripping Aydan’s arm. “You already look rather cozy.” I didn’t have time to respond as Irsa turned on her heel and, with her ladies, strode past us, cutting off the conversation. I curtsied belatedly and, when she was out of sight, let go of Aydan. He placed my hand back on top of his arm.
“Ignore her,” he said. “I don’t mind looking cozy.” My face heated but I did not take my hand away as he led me out of the castle, over the drawbridge, and into the gardens to walk the stone path.
~
That night when we returned to the chambers, I was properly exhausted. Aydan had led me around the entire perimeter of the castle grounds, which was several miles in length. He pointed out places where he liked to play as a child when his family would come to this castle for holidays, spots that he was still convinced might be haunted, and his favorite flowers growing off the path that reminded him of Sylvanna and his mother.
When I went to my room for the night, too tired to sit for dinner, Elise arrived with a tray containing tea, finger sandwiches, and a crisply folded page of Aydan’s stationery. I ate two of the small sandwiches while Elise drew a bath, and shoved a third in my mouth before opening the note.
Same time tomorrow?
–A
I couldn’t help smiling to myself as I scrawled my reply.
~
We walked each afternoon for the next few days. It was nice to get out of the chambers, but I found myself enjoying Aydan’s company more than I cared about walking the paths. He told me about his friends and life in Sylvanna, how those friends had become more like family over the decades than his own. They had all been writing him letters while we were locked away by Zathryan, eager for him to come home and, apparently, to meet me as well.
Meanwhile, I shared stories about growing up in Nautia with Gideon. How it hadn’t always been easy between us, but my uncle had been fair and kind in his way. Aydan listened to an hour or more of stories about life in my village, chuckling at the prudish nature of my mortal neighbors when I told him they considered me a ruin to my uncle’s good name, and doubled over in laughter completely when I explained that they thought this because of a few conspicuous romances in my teenage years. Even through his teasing, it was easy to talk to Aydan. At night, when my vision began to blur at the edges and I let my thoughts wander while I lie in bed, I would smile to myself, realizing that for the first time in a long while, I had a real friend.
On our fifth walk together Aydan took me to a small pond on the southern end of the grounds, where I sat against a tree while he lay at the water’s edge with his eyes closed and hands behind his head, enjoying a rare sunny afternoon after weeks of nothing but the gray skies of winter, which had fully set in since my arrival. It was still cold enough to require a coat, but the sunshine had melted the remaining snow on the ground this morning; Aydan and I agreed that we should take advantage of the sunlight while we had the chance.
“Did you come here as a child?” I asked over the top of my book. All the other spots he had shown me were childhood favorites.
Aydan hummed without opening his eyes. “I used to come here and daydream about the type of king I would be.”
“Oh?” I pried. “And what kind of king were you, in your daydreams?”
“Loved. Feared. Victorious in every endeavor, with a beautiful consort and loyal heirs to support my whims.” He chuckled, then added, “Though if I were smart, I would have an anointed queen.”
“A what?”
“An anointed queen rules as an equal to her king, until the day she dies. My great-grandmother, Queen Euna, was the first anointed queen. Her husband, King Cavell, died ten years into their reign and so she ruled alone for centuries. She is widely regarded as Medeisia’s greatest monarch, which isn’t surprising.”
“It’s not?”
“My lady, I have spent the last century and a half observing and advising different leaders throughout Medeisia, and something I learned very quickly is that men are not nearly as impressive as we like to think we are. We’re usually better off leaving things to the women.” I stifled a laugh and he smirked, keeping his eyes shut.
“And what endeavors did you have in mind for your reign?” I asked, enjoying the game. Aydan pondered seriously for a moment.
“My dream was always to quell the unrest that simmered near the capital. I tried, on my father’s behalf, during my negotiations with the mortals in the days before the rebellion.”
“What are your dreams now?” I asked. “If you could snap your fingers and have anything?”
“Peace,” he said. “I want peace between Sylvanna and the Crown. Between the Crown and Nautia. I’d like to see the Eternity Throne restored to my family . . . It’s an impossible dream.”
“It’s lovely,” I said. I opened my mouth to speak again but shut it when I heard a rustling in the bushes beside my tree. I jumped to my feet. “What the hell is that?”
“Not sure,” Aydan replied, on his feet now, stepping closer to the shrubbery as I moved backward. He reached his arm in.
“Be careful,” I scolded. As soon as the words left my lips he snatched his hand back, swearing and bringing a bleeding finger to his lips. “What happened?”
“Bastard got me,” he said before reaching back in. I started to tell him to leave it, but before I could get the words out, Aydan pulled a squirming, scrawny kitten from within the thorn bush. He held it to his chest as it chewed on his fingers, more playful than defensive. “Where did you come from?”
“It’s cute.” I took a closer look. It was slate gray with curious bright orange eyes. It meowed at me when I approached, and Aydan placed it in my hands. “I’ve never held a cat,” I told him as the kitten began to purr.
“Never?”
I shrugged. “They’re all feral in my village. The only people who had cats around were people who had barns. We didn’t, so there was no use for one.”
“Not even as a pet?”
“Pets are for rich people.”
“Well, it needs to go somewhere, and there’s no sign of a mother around,” Aydan said. “Do you want it?”
“I don’t know how to take care of a cat.”
“Feed it, pet it, give it a place to sleep.” My hesitation was muted by the purring kitten falling asleep as I held
it against my chest.
“I suppose I could take care of it,” I said, adjusting so it was cradled in my arm like a baby.
“Her,” Aydan corrected upon second glance. “Let’s get her back inside, it’ll be getting cold soon.” He offered me an arm, but I declined, using one arm to hold the kitten, and the other to pet her stomach. I had never experienced such instant attachment to an animal. “She’ll need a name,” he said after a few moments. When we approached the drawbridge, he produced a cloak and placed it over my shoulders, hiding the kitten from view.
By the time we arrived back in the chambers, I had decided to call her Catchfly, after the flowers that grew along the garden gate at my and Gideon’s home. Aydan removed the caked dirt from her fur with a wave of his hand while Isolde brought a saucer of milk. Despite our efforts to play with her, all she seemed to want to do was go to sleep. I held her in my lap, even through dinner.
“Thank you,” I told him when he walked me to the door of my bedroom.
“An early Yule present.” He winked, scratching Catchfly’s ears; she stirred, squeaking out a small meow. “I’m glad you like her.” I smiled down at the kitten, then looked back to Aydan, standing before me in the doorway to my bedroom.
“Well,” I said. “Good night, I suppose.” Aydan hesitated, and for a second, I thought he had something else to say, but instead he simply cleared his throat and bid me good night as well.
~
That night, I curled my body around Catchfly, slipping into sleep with the vibrations of her purring against me.
I woke to the sound of glass breaking somewhere in the chambers. Catchfly was gone, and the door to my bedroom was open. I sighed, realizing she must have broken something in the kitchen. Dragging myself out of bed and into the darkened hall, I conjured an orb of dim light and sent it above my head to light my way without disturbing the household, a trick Aydan had taught me only a few days before. I glanced around the parlor to see if Catchfly was hiding under any furniture but could not find her. A muffled thud from behind the kitchen door sent my eyes rolling as I cursed the tiny kitten under my breath. I pushed on the swinging door and let out a scream.