by J. M. Miller
“Oh, stuff your politeness, Anja. I’m sure this—Vala, is it?—would agree that her captain isn’t exactly the most handsome man on this goddessforsaken island, whether she’s attracted to men or not.”
“You’ll have to forgive my mother, Vala,” the princess addressed me while continuing on their path, not bothering to stop or turn. “She was upset to learn that your queen doesn’t keep a proper stud stable here and she’s not used to being away from her own rotation of men for so long.”
I didn’t dare laugh no matter how hard one pushed to escape my chest. It was shocking. Laughter was one reaction I hadn’t planned to have while around them.
“So true. Honestly, I think that woman would be worlds happier if she just had her own, a different man to visit her bed each night.”
“Perhaps Queen Havilah still honors her late husband,” Anja replied with a sharpness meant to cut.
Queen Meirin didn’t flinch. “Perhaps. Or perhaps she maintains that fallacy in respect, while actually keeping one bedmate in secret, one who makes her feel safe while bowing to her control.”
Captain Baun. I’d always had suspicions, but since it was none of my concern, I didn’t dare seek confirmation. It was interesting that Queen Meirin had been able to pick up on it in the short time she’d been here.
“Enough of your ramblings. She is still a queen who can do as she chooses.” Anja tutted as they reached the door to her chambers.
“For now. But if you choose, these kingdoms will unite … peacefully,” the queen said more seriously. The words panged around inside my mind, a cold splash of truth, reminding me of what was still to come. Queen Havilah would likely no longer be a queen of Garlin. Garlin would no longer be a separate kingdom.
And suddenly I felt sick for having almost laughed.
Queen Meirin planted a swift kiss on her daughter’s cheek then began to walk down the hall to her own rooms before adding, “Then we’ll make sure to supply only the finest men to the stable we create for her.”
-|————
Another day had passed on the princess’ detail. Waiting. Watching. It had been my normal routine since I was taken into the Guard. But I’d never realized how different it could be with someone who barely spoke to you, barely looked at you. At least Caulden spoke to me during off times. I wasn’t even close to his equal, yet he acknowledged me like a human … A human. Maybe the princess kept her distance because of my affliction, the mystery surrounding me. It was understandable. I often wondered if the only reason Caulden treated me differently was because we had grown together. If our story were written in another way and I’d been assigned to him later, would he have treated me the same? I’d like to think that he was unique, that he would be kind in any manner. But there was no way to know, and I wasn’t sure I would want to even then. I only knew that he was kind enough, and I missed being on his detail. And possibly more.
“Yes?” Princess Anja asked after Transton—or Prins, I still didn’t know who was who and didn’t much care—whipped her door open in response to my knock. She stepped forward past him and dipped her head out to peer into the hallway, her loose brown hair swinging around, making me retreat a step. Not seeing anyone else with me, she backed up and added, “What is it?”
I bowed my head. “Your Highness. I’ve been informed that dinner is being served in the dining hall.” I had been granted a respite not long before and was told to bring word.
“Tell them I’m not interested tonight.”
“Yes, Highness.” I moved to go, but was stopped by her voice again.
“Wait,” she said, pointing to Transton and Prins. “These two will go inform them and take time to eat a meal in the kitchens. You, stay.”
I stood still as her guards swept fluidly around me, like water around a rock. I had been so used to staring at their backs, when I glanced at their sunset hair, bronzed skin, and the similar faces again, I finally realized their likeness was more than their blue accented leathers and their height and builds. They were siblings.
“They are attractive, aren’t they?” Anja said, noticing my observation of them, then turned back into her sitting area and beckoned me in with a wave. “Close the door.”
I did as instructed and stepped to the side, posting myself against the wall. The room was bright, every lantern lit and blazing, but the fire drew my attention from them, roaring with life, flames flaring as they consumed the logs piled high inside the expansive stone hearth. In the center of the room, in front of the flames, a low table sat with plush chairs positioned all around. Books of all sizes were stacked on the table. Some lay open, pages spread about even ripped from their bindings. At one side of the fire, draperies billowed lightly, catching a night breeze from the windows pushed halfway open. At the other side was another door, closed to the room behind.
The room was near stifling, even to me, but I tried not to think about the heat so much as my eyes gobbled up as many details as possible. I was not close enough to see book titles or read any of the notes she had made on blank journal pages.
“I didn’t feel like dining tonight,” she said to me, though it felt as she could have been addressing the silence of the room just as easily as she gazed into the fire. “In two days’ time, I mourn the death of my father for another year. My mother is unaffected by the loss of him, but I can’t deny the hold it still has upon me even after a few years.”
I shifted my stance, watching her silently stare at the flames as I wondered why she was disclosing personal things to me. Was she simply speaking out loud, knowing that I was bound by my duties? Or simply not caring if I were to ever repeat her words? In another moment, her hands jumped to life, moving the books around and shuffling papers.
“You can come closer,” she said, and I hesitated a moment before taking a few steps toward the center of the room. “I want to apologize for being so closed off these past few days. I’m not usually so quiet. But I’ve had a lot on my mind as you can imagine.” Still, I didn’t respond. I wasn’t even sure she wanted me to. So I stayed my place.
She brushed her hair back from her face, her fingers working to secure the top portion of her long strands into a plait at the back. When she finished she glanced up at me, a smile slowly easing onto her thin lips. “You are very well revered around here, Vala. I’m happy to have you on my detail.”
I nodded with a blink to show my appreciation.
“You may speak to me. I hold no ill intentions and will not disclose what you might say to anyone else.” An offer. Or a trap. That need for information had finally broken through her barrier. And here we were. Both of us wanting something, only one of us fully aware of that fact.
“Yes, Highness,” I replied my acceptance. “Thank you for having me.” Short answers. How I, as a Guard, had been taught to interact with nobility.
Her smile grew as she threaded her fingers and placed her hands into her lap, where the fabric of her light blue dress swallowed them like massive waves of the sea devouring a lone ship. “Good. I suppose we have Caulden to thank. He is very darling. And he thinks very highly of you. You grew up together, correct?”
“Yes, Highness.”
“Please, Vala, since you are so close to Caulden, you can call me Anja when we’re alone.” The slight tilt on her face, the tone of her voice—it all seemed sincere.
I nodded again, understanding.
“He respects you and, I think, admires you in many ways.” Not a question. A statement, possibly to gauge my reaction. I kept my eyes on her, waiting. She quirked that smile a bit more. “I think he might even love you.”
My eyes widened. There was no way to stop them. I hadn’t been prepared for her to say such a thing.
“It’s true to an extent,” she pressed on, noting my reaction and simply brushing it off as the confirmation that she hadn’t even needed. “But maybe not as much as you’d like.”
I couldn’t breathe. It was all I could do to keep from passing out in front of her. The air. There
was no air. Only fire—flames humming and cracking rhythmically.
“It’s completely understandable that you have some feelings for him, and him for you. You have been together for a long time. You’ve saved his life at least once, and maybe in a way he’s even saved yours. Wouldn’t you agree?”
I inhaled, trying to keep the room from spinning. “Yes,” I admitted, breathing more, calming myself.
“I know this and yet, I’m not quite sure what all this means to me, to him. That’s what I’ve been considering lately. We have a connection, and I think he will make a wonderful king. He seems gentle but strong enough to make the hardest type of decisions. And I don’t just mean ending lives of traitors and thieves. I mean leaving his home to come rule with me, cutting ties and seeking out threats to our kingdom … doing what needs to be done for our future. And I think he could love me, he certainly appreciates the way I look, the way I feel”—her hand opened and spread across her dress, smoothing the material—“and I believe he would like to move forward with me. But this also means that I would need to be certain you’ll be a benefit to us, not a threat.”
Her eyes stayed on me, watching carefully, calculating, her lips steady. It didn’t matter much what I thought. Whether I agreed or not, I had to answer, “Yes, of course, Your—Anja,” I corrected myself.
“Excellent!” she said cheerfully with a broad smile as bright as the flames close behind her. “Now that we cleared all that, I’d love to know a little more about you, Vala.”
I adjusted my stance and my leathers, still reeling about the conversation and unsure what to really think. As I attempted to piece it all together, the only thought that flashed in my mind was the ripple of my skin across Xavyn’s human face. I need you to listen to what the queen wants, what she is looking for. My only option was to stay on the course, listen and observe from the window the princess had just opened to me. Though after gaining access, I had to admit, I was even more uncertain about the evil intentions I was told to look for.
When I didn’t respond, she asked, “I haven’t asked Caulden because I was unsure how he’d react. But I can’t help my curiosity. Do you know what happened to you?”
“No. No one does,” I answered simply.
“Do you not have parents?”
“None that I know. The one who raised me was the one who found me. I considered her a mother since my own abandoned me.”
“Sounds like a good woman. Is she still alive?” she pressed.
“No. She passed two years ago.”
“I’m sorry.” She chewed on her lip and glanced at the fire for a few moments. “What is it that you want, Vala? When the prince and I leave for Islain to wed, he will no doubt want you with him. But do you want to go or to stay here on Garlin, stay with Queen Havilah’s Guard?” When I didn’t respond quickly enough, she added, “Did you plan to compete in these Guard Trials that have been mentioned? I hear they have begun setting up some kind of course somewhere between the chateau and that Sacred Lake on the eastern cliffs.”
I opened my mouth to respond and closed it again. When. She had said when they leave. She had already made her choice and was confident enough to not worry about Caulden’s choice, or his feelings. And the Trials. I hadn’t had a chance to talk to Haidee for the last two days, and the captain had no reason to disclose the information to me. “I would like to, yes, but …”
“But?”
The word had slipped. I could have just left it without acknowledging anything else. I didn’t need to offer all the details. I shouldn’t offer her any details. Especially when it is of no consequence to her. But that one little, stupid word had escaped. But. “I’ve been told I’m not permitted.”
“Oh?” Her neat eyebrows lifted high above her eyes, which appeared to hold the reflection of the flickering flames held hostage inside, showing only yellow and orange and red within. “And who told you that? Your captain?”
“Yes, but it was ordered by Queen Havilah after Prince’s Night.”
“From what I’ve heard, you were the savior that night.”
I wasn’t sure how to respond, so I remained quiet while cringing inwardly at my mistake. I shouldn’t have said anything.
“I see,” she replied as if she could read my thoughts with a simple look. “I don’t want you to fear reprisal for talking to me, Vala. What is said between us, will remain that way. I will, however, try to work my charms on the matter, and perhaps you’ll be permitted to partake in the Trials. If you want to, of course.”
I nodded. “Yes, Anja.” And I did. I still wanted to very much. If it meant keeping my lifelong promise to protect Caulden, I would. Even more so now that it also meant a chance to leave the island, a chance to find out who I really was.
SEVENTEEN
As the princess slept during the night, and a few hours before and after, another Guard relieved my post outside her door. I was conflicted about the extra time alone. In some ways, it made me happy. Extra time was something I rarely had when I was with the prince. Haidee was dealing with that now. Though, I doubted she’d ever complain since it was the position she’d wanted for so long. And in other ways, having the time was distressing. Without the active search of information while around the princess, my mind wandered through thoughts, searching endlessly for answers I didn’t have, some I’d possibly never find.
I finished dumping the last pail of well water into the wash basin inside Saireen’s washroom—my washroom. It had been a week since Prince’s Night, and it was time again for my cleansing. This time, though, there was something slightly different, aside from where it would take place. My skin would often begin to ache that final day, pressure gradually building to a point where I’d welcome the pain of the water. There had been no ache yet, nothing to remind me of what I needed to do. The lake water had been the only thought as to a reason. But I wouldn’t forgo and risk breaking down in agony during my detail at the feet of the princess.
With my clothes and sword discarded on the bed, I moved into the washroom and stared at the liquid I loathed so much, watching it slow and settle. The peace before the condemnation. Was there a reason behind my weekly torture as well? A reason water was both my enemy and my savior, crippling and releasing. The lake water hadn’t hurt me, though. I bit down hard on my lip, weighing if it would be any different this time. Before I had too much time to think, too much time to hope, I stepped inside, holding my scream as the life element attacked my legs. Lowering. Lowering. To my waist. To my chest. My skin cracked under the assault, the water slicing through, shredding its path. I slipped my face beneath, opening my eyes to the liquid above and the ceiling of wooden planks somewhere far beyond. So far away. Then I opened my mouth and screamed, letting the misery shed along with my skin, until the final bit of breath emptied from my lungs.
I emerged with the usual quickness, looking myself over for any signs of change. There was no glowing. Everything was normal again. Maybe the lake was sacred after all. The hidden cavern, the river feeding it, the location by the cliffs—it was all a part of the appeal. But did the people who once trekked there to mourn their loved ones know there was something even more special about it?
While the tingles in my red-orange skin slowly ascended into pain, the air biting as everything started to reform, a hard clanking noise outside the back door drew my attention. I slid into my thin underclothes, grabbed hold of my sword, then rushed toward the door. Knowing that sound was out of the ordinary, I was prepared to scour the garth and small area of trees behind the house, even search the neighbors’ land to find the cause. I hadn’t expected to open the door and find Xavyn standing a mere foot away, hood drawn and arms crossed as if I’d kept him waiting too long at the narrow back doorstep.
I pointed my sword toward his chest and glanced around him, scanning the darkness. “What are you doing here?”
“Following up.” The words were slow. As his hand reached up and removed the hood, his human eyes traversed my face, swallowing the details o
f my reforming skin in an intense, almost penetrating way.
I realized then that I had no cloak, no mask. And for some reason, I wondered if I should take the time of throwing them on … before ending his life. He’d seen me in this state on Prince’s Night, but that was an instant, a moment amid darkness and chaos. Not this closely. I growled at him, digging the tip of my blade into the black leather at his chest, my regrowth pain dissolving as my anger took control.
“Are you going to let me in or would you rather call attention to your treason?” he asked, his voice still holding a softness that grated me.
“Quit staring at me that way and you can come in.”
A smirk stretched his lips. But a rustling sound stole his attention and he turned his body quickly enough to stir a wind with his cloak. I peered to the side of him and caught sight of what he’d heard. The raven sat atop a post in the stake fence bordering the trees, its inky feathers as dark as the night at its back. If it had not moved its head, I wouldn’t have seen it.
Xavyn moved fast to him, snatching him up and turning back toward the house. The bird squawked in protest of his wings being pinned, loud and angry, kicking his feet. “Finally got you,” Xavyn said to the bird with a smile then took hold of its neck and flicked his wrist once, hard enough to emit a snap.
I sucked air in reflexively. The shock of it, I supposed. Not that I cared for the bird. But as I had associated it with him, I never thought he’d take its life.
He glanced at me then chucked the carcass over the fence into the small group of trees and spun back, stalking directly to me until I stepped aside for him to enter. I stared into the dark for a few moments, looking for prying eyes again and collecting myself for what was about to transpire. Talking to him briefly outside was wildly different than having him in my house for any length of time. There would be no believable excuse to cover his visit.