by Terah Edun
Sebastian rocked back on his heels and then he finally muttered, “Not that sort of invasion.”
“Is there a new one I don’t know about?” she asked in exasperation, fed up with the deflections.
Thanar looked at Sebastian.
Sebastian looked at Thanar.
They both said no simultaneously, and far too quickly for her liking.
This time it was she who was rocking back on her heels and looking nervous.
Twisting a long lock of curly hair around her fingers in agitation, she asked morosely, “What’s coming?”
Not will it come, but what. Because something was clearly afoot.
“Nothing,” they said again at the same time.
She frowned darkly. “You know this duet act is fooling no one.”
Sebastian snorted while Thanar sauntered over and gingerly wrapped an extended wing around her upper torso.
Pushing her along with the thin, feather-covered appendage and whistling as he went, Thanar walked forward.
Ciardis had no choice but to join him, helpless in frustration at this new predicament.
She tried to ask them again, “Do I want to know?”
“No,” said Sebastian, far too quickly.
“No, you don’t, Golden Eyes,” Thanar said with a tight squeeze of her right shoulder. “Trust us.”
She frowned and looked up at Thanar’s face. He was turned resolutely forward, not looking down at her. Not meeting her eyes. That wasn’t like Thanar. To evade wasn’t his style. If he could go through a crowd like a runaway wagon, he’d choose the most destructive path each time. He didn’t mince words and he didn’t spare feelings, but clearly tonight he was doing both.
Sebastian’s influence or mine? she had to wonder.
Briefly, though, because whichever it was…it was nice to have an almost human daemoni on their side. Who knew how long that would last, though? If anything was predictable about this particular prince, it was that he was unpredictable.
Still, her brow furrowed in concern and she really wanted to ask. But she got the feeling she’d hate his answer as much as anything else he had told her in the last few days.
“Perhaps it’s a night to leave well enough alone,” Ciardis finally admitted.
“Perhaps,” said Thanar quietly.
Sebastian, walking beside her, said, “Trust us on this—for tonight—two invasions are enough.”
Ciardis rubbed a forehead that was already starting to throb in irritation. They’d only broken up their conclave an hour previous, but she’d already managed to put the hordes of vermin waiting at gates of Ban out of her mind.
Trust the prince heir to bring it back to the forefront right before bed.
When she looked at Sebastian out of the corner of her eye, he gave her a weak but chipper grin. “Hey, at least for these two invasions we have a plan.”
“Some plan,” Ciardis muttered.
Thanar dropped his wing from surrounding her shoulders and said in an offended tone, “I think it’s a very good set of strategies.”
She looked at him askance. She honestly couldn’t tell if he was kidding or not.
Not that the strategies weren’t good; they were just more of a last-ditch attempt than anything else.
Sebastian leaned over and whispered in her ear, “I didn’t know daemoni could have hurt feelings.”
She grinned and looked over at him. “Neither did I.”
“I heard that,” Thanar snapped.
“And are your feelings hurt?” Sebastian asked in mock seriousness.
“No, but your head might be aching in a few seconds if you don’t back off,” Thanar said in a dangerous, dark tone.
Sebastian frowned and opened his mouth, obviously to say something that would only irritate the daemoni prince even further, she was well aware.
Stepping forward as peacemaker, Ciardis said, “So…where are we sleeping tonight?”
As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she stopped walking…because she wasn’t even sure where they were. They’d just been walking in circles for all she knew, without a servant in sight. Though the palace walls surrounding them currently were blessedly whole.
Sebastian said sheepishly, “We’ve been sleeping in the rough for so long that I hadn’t inquired as to the state of our palace quarters yet.”
“I’m sure it was the servants’ first priority,” Ciardis murmured.
Normally she would have left this alone, but with the literal fires they’d been putting out in the east wing of the palace over the last two days, and the need to secure any sort of accommodations themselves against physical attack, the easiest place to bed down had been in the stable lofts. But Ciardis was tired of waking up to the smell of hay. She wasn’t going to spend a fourth night there.
Apparently Thanar picked up on her subliminal message because he soon set off toward a female servant who appeared off in the distance above them on a terrace. He was half flying, half gliding to get to her before she turned the corner. He needn’t have bothered hurrying though, because as soon as the woman saw Thanar approaching she froze like a rabbit in a glen staring down a predator.
Ciardis kept her gaze firmly fixed on the last member of their triumvirate. She firmly told herself that Thanar was doing her a favor and what was more…he was allowed to talk to people.
“Maybe even have friends,” quipped Sebastian.
Ciardis spared him a horrified look.
Sebastian sighed and rolled his eyes. “You could look a little less jealous, you know.”
“Jealous,” she spluttered. “Never.”
“Right,” said the prince heir dryly. “Just remember who you’re marrying.”
She planted stiff hands on her hips. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”
He shook his head. “I have no interest in getting into this fight tonight. Just keep an eye on Thanar and his friend over there.”
“He’s not her friend,” she practically shouted before she could get a hold of herself.
“I know,” Sebastian said, giving her an unreadable look. “Just wondering what you are to him.”
Ciardis felt irate a bit. “Now who’s picking a fight?”
“Just a comment,” the prince heir said. Then he stuffed his hands in his pockets and walked toward the daemoni prince.
“Friend,” she huffed to his retreating back. “We’re friends.”
She wasn’t sure if she was reassuring Sebastian or herself. Or no one at all.
But it was a disconcerting thought. After all, who knew if Thanar even wanted to have friends? Did he know what such a bond meant? Selfless camaraderie? Fellowship? Kindness? She doubted it.
He didn’t have friends.
He had pawns.
There were worse things to be as a servant, she knew. So she dropped the line of thought. She wouldn’t cause trouble for a woman who by all appearances was as afraid of Thanar as any of his enemies were.
Instead she refocused her attention on the man who stood less than a foot away.
Clearing her throat, Ciardis asked, as if the conversation over the past minute hadn’t even occurred, “Shall we? I’m exhausted.”
Sebastian looked up toward Thanar and the maid. A series of hand gestures followed.
The prince heir turned back to her. “I have a good idea where we are now.”
“Which is?” Ciardis asked.
“The main imperial wings are nearby. We can rest there tonight,” Sebastian said easily.
“And Thanar?” she asked.
“Well, if he has somewhere better to go, he’ll let us know,” Sebastian said.
She nodded, and off they went toward a larger hallway. They would pass Thanar on the way, but he was two levels above them on a terrace—too far to make their thoughts known to him at anything less than a shout. So they kept going and hoped he’d catch up.
After only a few more minutes of walking, they reached the intersection of the palace, or what was left of it, that
represented the Emperor’s wing of rooms.
They stopped uncomfortably.
For a moment, Ciardis wondered if they should still be situated in the Empress’s former quarters, which were in the older part of the imperial palace.
She took an uncertain step in that direction, toward the wing of palace rooms she was familiar with. The wing that represented home and stability. The wing that had also been the farthest from the destructive tantrums of both the former Emperor and the cohort that had left such a heavy path of destruction in their wake.
It seemed simpler and easier not to fight it. To go with what she knew.
As her body turned to look for the quickest way out of this confining hall of marble and gilded gold, a strong hand reached out to grab her own.
When she looked up into the prince heir’s eyes, Ciardis’s first thought was When did he get so tall?
Her second, more coherent and voiced query was, “What?”
Sebastian said in a bemused voice, “Where are you going?”
“Home?” Ciardis asked.
Sebastian gave her a bemused look. “To our old quarters, I take it?”
She gave a shrug. “It just feels…more right than this.”
He looked back toward the quarters they stood in front of. As Sebastian was about to speak, a heavy piece of marble crashed in a corner not too far off, and servants rushed to stabilize the rest of the remaining wall, with magical plaster and their own hands.
Seeing that, she eyed the Emperor’s entrance even more nervously. Who knew how stable the structure in this area of the palace remained after all?
“Seems to be the safest option right about now,” Ciardi said.
Sebastian snorted. “That, my dear, is what the Algardis bloodline wants you to think. The safest place in the imperial palace is always the sitting ruler’s quarters.”
“What?” Thanar said, sarcasm dripping from his voice. “Your human fascination with polished coal will protect you?”
Ciardis turned and saw Thanar walking toward them. A soldier carrying a halberd passed him with a nervous eye, but the daemoni prince pointedly ignored him.
Baffled, Sebastian asked, “Polished coal?”
Even though Thanar had been in and out of court for some time, and had attended some very memorable balls, still none were too sure if he were friend or foe. Thanar had to recognize that; he just didn’t care.
For some time, Ciardis Weathervane had numbered herself amongst those who were unsure of the daemoni prince’s motivations.
Now, his aggressive posture and hard words just amused her.
She didn’t make the mistake of thinking he used them to mask a soft interior.
Oh no, not Thanar.
Thanar would sooner gut a stranger than speak to them, she mused to herself.
But he did cut quit the fine figure no matter what he chose to do.
Banishing those thoughts, Ciardis gave Thanar an impish smile and told a clearly lost Sebastian, “The diamonds, dear. He’s talking about the diamonds.”
Sebastian raised an arched eyebrow as he looked at the large and conspicuously bright gemstones that glowed on the door’s edge like stars in a night sky.
“Oh,” said the prince heir diffidently. “Well in that case—you might say yes.”
Surprised looks graced both the Lady Companion and the daemoni prince’s faces. And that didn’t happen too often.
With a captive audience, the prince heir set about explaining about the protective seals around the Emperor’s quarters, diamonds and all.
24
It had ended with them staying within the Emperor’s wing but in secondary guest quarters, which Ciardis Weathervane was perfectly fine with after she was assured her roof wasn’t going to come crashing down on her head while she slept.
By the time they’d actually gone to bed sometime midmorning, she’d been too tired to argue more. She rested with her heart in her throat and a pit of rocks somewhere in her chest.
That is to say…not at all comfortably.
When she woke on thick sheets with a pillow she could have only dreamed of even at the Companions’ Guild, she still felt miserable.
Guilty.
At a loss.
But strangely undaunted.
“Maybe it’s because I’ve done so many questionable things,” she said while tossing the sheets away, “that one more questionable thing is not such a big deal…at least not anymore.”
As she stepped down out of bed, the doors to her interior bedroom chambers flew open as if she had summoned in staff. But as she had done no such thing, Ciardis, being Ciardis, asked no questions first and merely ducked to the floor.
She had a moment to think, I didn’t even hear the anteroom chamber doors open, before she slipped into survival mode.
She wanted to shriek and hide in the nearest corner, but if being attacked numerous times, tortured at least once, and ambushed more times than she could count had taught her anything, it was this: no one would save her but herself, so she had to get her butt moving.
She’d been attacked more than enough times to know that a sword or flying knives would generally be aimed at her upper torso first, her lower body last.
So she rose up on her hands and knees with a wince, hoping she was still low enough to the ground to be an unconventional target, and wriggled around the bed in her nightgown. Feeling a bit more secure, she leaned up against the massive four-poster bed that now shielded her and called up her sometimes-unstable magic in her right hand.
Spying another weapon, a nice sharp knife sitting innocuously on a silver dining tray near her left hand, she smiled.
Grabbing it in a rush, she tossed the bread off the end of the knife with a huff, and satisfaction settled into the pit of nervous fury that was currently her stomach. The knife was heavy and unwieldly, but that was good—the heft would allow her to do some damage if she needed to.
As for her magic, that surge of energy jumping up from her core and throughout her body was like a jolt of coffee straight into her veins. Waking her up physically and extending her focus mentally.
Unstable is just what I need, she thought grimly as she sought out her attackers with a fierce expression. She was ready to do some damage.
When her gaze settled on the room’s newest occupants, she was surprised to see two proprietors of what looked like an everyman’s seamstress, judging by the noticeable badges issued by the Weavers’ Guild on their lapels, standing in her doorway. They didn’t look dangerous, at all. In fact, she would hazard a guess that she could do more damage to them on a bad day than they could to her.
Which was a startling realization for a young woman who barely inched above five feet and had been pushed around as a child more than once. Magic was a very equalizing factor to have on hand. So Ciardis Weathervane, assured, decided to put some trust in her position and at least confront them from a standing position if not face-to-face. As she slowly stood agape, her confusion was mirrored on their faces as they held up two massive bundles of dresses and looked to a matronly and aghast woman standing between the two.
“Are those for me?” Ciardis Weathervane asked weakly as she straightened to her full, diminutive height while coming out from around the other side of the bed.
Another, more seasoned, warrior would have waited for the all clear.
A proper, more qualified noble would have wondered where her guards were.
A true Empress-to-be would have probably just started screaming and then perhaps slumped into a faint.
Ciardis Weathervane was none of these.
Apparently to the surprise of her unannounced guests.
Now that the shock was wearing off, she wondered who this woman was and why she thought she had the authority to barge into a noblewoman’s bedroom. A disreputable noblewoman with more scrapes and calls for death than usual, but a member of the imperial courts nonetheless.
And a Lady Companion to boot.
Ciardis cleared her throat im
patiently, announcing wordlessly that she was waiting for someone, anyone, to speak.
She let her shoulders stiffen as she walked over to them and swept her gaze from one person to another. No one spoke.
She slowly came to the realization after studying their very pale faces that perhaps they weren’t mute out of disrespect, but rather out of fear. Looking down with a grimace, Ciardis realized she still held the quite sharp butcher knife in one hand and lightning in the other.
“I must look like a crazy woman,” she said as a blush lit up her skin. She quickly lowered her hands and the tangible as well as intangible weapons enclosed within her palms into a more acceptable appearance.
There, she thought in satisfaction. I’m practically demure now.
She could do nothing about the knife, though. Turning and placing it on the bed seemed silly, yet there was nowhere else to just set it down. After all, she’d been in a rush to grab it in the first place, but now Ciardis did her best to at least appear approachable as she let the flat side of the blade rest against her forearm. She slowly absorbed the magic back into her reservoir with careful practice.
It wouldn’t do to singe her uninvited guests, no matter how much she might have wanted to.
She may have found the defensive magic unwieldly at first, but time was proving it a boon—her use of the source seemed to improve with each day that passed.
Finally, after the silence had stretched far too long, Ciardis Weathervane asked the intruders, “Can I help you?”
The matronly woman recovered after a none-too-subtle shove from one of the gentlemen in her company.
“Yes, milady,” she stammered. “We are here to attend to your clothing needs.”
A sharp clap emitting from the doorway caught everyone’s attention. The three stunned visitors parted like a sea against an abutting rock as another person elected to enter her rooms without so much as a by your leave.
The stern man with every hair in well-coiffed place strode into the room as if he owned it. “I told you to wait for my attendance before interrupting the Lady Companion Weathervane’s rest.”
“Yes, milord,” stammered the lady. “We didn’t mean to intrude.”
“But?” he asked sharply.