She was met with Queen Katrina’s backside.
Leena glanced around the older woman, only to see Whyllem’s animated face in the middle of the story, paying her no attention. Judging from the subtle twist of the queen’s body, the way her legs were pushed to the other side, Leena knew she was not planning on turning around soon. No, it was clear the queen had no intention of welcoming an Ourthuri even if her son did.
Leena kept her gaze down, waiting for a plate to be produced, already aware that the meal would inch along at an agonizing pace. And it did. Her wine sat unfilled for three passes of the servants, until she finally quietly asked for more. Each course was cold by the time it was placed before her. Her knife was the dullest she imagined the castle owned. And the queen never once turned around, leaving Leena with only her thoughts for conversation.
Resolutely letting her sleeves fall to the floor, Leena pushed her wrists through the slits up the side so the crowd could gawk at her tattoos, ebony against her already foreign skin. Odd that for most of her life, Leena had cursed those very tattoos, wishing beyond anything else to cover them. And now that she could hide them, she was stubbornly determined to show them off, to put her otherness defiantly on display, silently daring the people around her to second-guess their king.
As the last plate was cleared, Leena breathed a sigh of relief. Finally, she could retreat to her rooms. Finally, she could be alone. But then a shadow passed over the table, stopping before her.
“Princess?” a warm voice asked.
At the tone, Leena glanced up, curious. It was the boy from before, looking far more like a man from such close proximity. He stood near enough now for her to see that his kind eyes were the shimmering color of bronze, glittering with excitement. The metallic hue reminded her the slightest bit of home, and that was enough to hold her attention.
He stepped forward, aware of her silent approval. “Princess Leenaka, may I introduce myself. Lord Calen,” he said softly with a bow. There was a morose undertone to his words she didn’t quite understand. “The Lord of Roninhythe.”
The title sounded familiar, but she wasn’t sure from where. The city was the second largest in Whylkin and she recognized the name, but an itch in the back of her mind told Leena it was something else, some other reason.
Unable to produce the answer, she nodded slightly, murmuring, “How can I help you, Lord Calen?”
“I was hoping you might take a walk with me, if I may be so bold. I would love to know more about your homeland.”
Leena scrunched her brows, intrigued and unable to stop the corners of her lips from rising. But then the hairs on her arms stood too, suddenly aware the two of them had gained the attention of the room. Glancing to the side, Leena caught the eyes of the king, surprised to see he watched with approval. The other stares, however, were filled with a very opposite emotion.
“Lord Calen,” Whyllem spoke, letting his voice carry, “please escort the princess back to her rooms.”
The man Calen bowed to his king and then turned to her, raising his arm, offering it to her. Leena wasn’t sure if it were him or just the thought of leaving the dining hall that had her so excited, but there was a bounce to her step as she stood—one she hadn’t felt in a while. Placing her arm through his elbow, Leena let the boy lead her silently down the center aisle and out the door.
The second they crossed the threshold, both of their bodies slackened, relaxed. Out of her peripheral, Leena caught his slumping shoulders and the subtle frown that crossed over his lips. He noticed her attention and turned to her with a friendly smile.
“I’ve never truly enjoyed dinner in the main hall of Rayfort,” he said quietly, leading her through the corridor to a destination that remained unknown. “But ever since the fight, I’ve enjoyed it even less.”
The fight? Leena thought. And then she remembered—the start of the war. The rebellion against the family of Whyl, the one she once feared had killed Prince Whylrhen, the one Tam divulged to her in secret. The Whylkin lords rebelled against their king, nearly ending the war before it even began. And they were led by…
“The Lord of Roninhythe,” she murmured.
And then Leena looked up. Calen flinched at the recognition in her gaze.
“You said you’re the Lord of Roninhythe?” she asked softly. “But isn’t he, didn’t he—”
“I see my family’s fame has spread beyond the Dueling Sea,” Lord Calen muttered with a heavy sigh. “The man you are thinking of is my father, the former Lord of Roninhythe. But he sacrificed his title the moment he turned traitor to his people, to his kingdom.”
And suddenly everything made sense. Leena thought back to the dining hall, to the circle of empty space surrounding Lord Calen. The sins of the father had unwittingly become the sins of the son. He was tainted, just like her. Ostracized, just like her. Outsider, just like her. Except these were his people, this was his home, and yet they had banished him just the same. Was this the fate that would await her if she ever returned to Da’astiku? Would anyone ever understand her choices, would they understand her vision for a better life, or would they just push her to the side without a second thought, treat her as an invisible ghost who would go away if ignored long enough?
Leena glanced at Calen, seeing the despair behind his gaze for the first time, and she tightened her fingers against his forearm, catching his attention with a slight smile. “Is that why you asked to walk with me, Lord Calen? Because our fathers have cursed both of our fates?”
He just lifted the corner of his lip. “Truthfully? I just wanted someone to talk to, and it looked like you did too. You may call me Cal, by the way.”
“Leena,” she said with a very unprincess-like shrug. If he hadn’t judged her on anything else, she doubted he would care about the lack in decorum. Especially as he ran a hand through his sandy-brown hair, a very casual display of unease. Leena sensed words on the tip of his tongue, but then he swallowed them away.
Instead, he asked, “Would you like a bit of fresh air, Leena? There’s a balcony nearby, on the way to the guest corridor. We could stop for a moment.”
Suddenly, fresh air sounded like the most amazing idea in the world. “Sure.”
They walked in silence. Cal opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened again, fidgety by her side. And for the life of her, Leena couldn’t understand why. When they reached the balcony, he dropped her arm, stepping to the very edge to look over the grounds below. Leena followed, eyes on the full moon, searching for a watery reflection. And out in the distance she saw it, silvery sparkles dancing at the edge of sight. The moon and the water, at least, looked the same no matter where she was in the world. One constant in the never-ending change.
“You know, before this war, I was very strict about following the rules,” Cal suddenly said by her side. His hands were folded over the edge of the stone, and his eyes were on the ebony horizon. She wondered what he saw there.
“Is this against the rules?” she asked, still watching him watch nothing.
He exhaled sharply, almost like a brief laugh, and his untamed hair fell just over his shoulders. “Standing with a beautiful woman, outside in the shadows, not a chaperone in sight? Yes, it’s against the rules.”
Leena just shrugged. “I’ve never quite cared for rules.”
At that, he looked at her. She couldn’t help but notice how the moon reflected off his pale skin, so very different from the golden tone of her own. “No, I would guess not. Rhen is my best friend in the world, and he told me about you. The golden goddess who saved him from King Razzaq’s clutches.”
Leena snorted—definitely unprincess-like. “Golden goddess? How would Prince Whylrhen know? He was barely conscious during the rescue. And it was Jinji who did most of the work.”
Cal smirked. “Oh, don’t fret. Rhen has told me about Lady Jinji too. He has a way of steering conversation back in her direction.”
“They’re both gone, you know,” Leena commented, not sure if she was allowed to div
ulge what the king regent had told her. But she did anyway. Like she’d said, she was never truly one to follow rules. “Whylrhen and Jinji. King Whyllem sent them away, sent them to safety.”
Cal shrugged, eyes holding no surprise. “I guessed as much when he wasn’t at dinner. Whyllem has told the people Rhen is in search of magic to keep the enemy at bay, that he will use his fire powers to save us all, but I know the truth—Rhen would never leave this city unless he was ordered to do so, unless he was sent strictly away. In fact, I wouldn’t be at all surprised if he were doing something heroically idiotic at this very moment.”
Leena grinned—heroically idiotic. Though she had known Whylrhen for a very short amount of time, mostly watching from the shadows as he raised his sword against her father, defiantly ready to take King Razzaq down single-handed, she couldn’t help but think that description was incredibly accurate.
Cal nudged her, raising his brows. “You know it’s true.”
“I do,” she conceded.
“And I’m guessing Whyllem offered you the same deal. Rumors spread that you were in the throne room this morning. Of course, the court gossips would like to believe you’re a temptress sent from Ourthuro to ensnare our very new, very single king regent.”
Leena gasped. “They do? But I’m not, I wouldn’t, I—”
“I know,” Cal interrupted with a laugh.
“I came here, betraying my people, to give your king information about how my father intends to win this war. That is all.”
“And you stay here, why?” His bronze eyes pierced, growing intense.
Leena bit her lip, suddenly realizing she had told this Cal a lot already, far more open with him than she had been with anyone in a while. And yet, she enjoyed the conversation. She wasn’t quite ready for it to end. “My father is cruel. I want his reign of terror to end, and then I want to return home, to teach my brother a better way. Why do you stay? Why don’t you fight with your father?”
“Because Whylkin is my home, a Son of Whyl is my best friend, the king is just an innocent newborn babe, and though I’m sure my father tells himself he acts for the good of his people, this war is a selfish war, as most are. Our kingdom is far stronger united.”
He is a good person, she thought, understanding the earnest tone to his words, the truth with which they rang. But she remained quiet. They both did. And after a while in comfortable, companionable silence, Cal offered to bring her back to her rooms.
“I very much enjoyed spending time with you, Princess,” he said as they paused outside her door. “Would you walk with me again sometime soon?”
Leena turned to meet his gaze, suddenly afraid by the affection shining there. Affection she hoped was nothing more than friendly. Yet when he reached out to touch her hand, Leena did not pull away. His skin was smooth and comforting. His touch was a nice sort of warm. And her heart, in that moment, beat a little bit faster.
Cal raised her palm to his lips, but paused half the way there. Following his gaze, she found his eyes focused on her ring.
“Are you promised to someone?” he asked softly.
Leena closed her eyelids as her whole body turned stiff. The past hour suddenly seemed wrong, like an affront to Mikza’s memory, like a new sort of betrayal—one she had never experienced, one that coiled her stomach and turned her tongue sour.
She snatched her hand from his grasp, turning cold. “I was.”
Cal grasped the meaning of her tone. But it did not stop him from asking, “You still wear his ring?”
Leena met his comforting bronze eyes, far softer than the metals of her home even if the hue matched. But there was only one brown gaze meant for her eyes, meant for her dreams, and those eyes were a dark umber, brimming over with passion. “I will always wear his ring.”
Cal blinked, unable to completely hide the disappointment in his gaze. Leena’s chest pinched, but it was better to be honest, to be truthful. She was in love with Mikza, she would always be in love with Mikza, and her heart would never belong to another. Especially now. Especially knowing that Mikza was still alive in a way, his baby growing deep within her womb. And Cal deserved to know that she would be his friend but nothing else, nothing further.
“So, will you walk with me tomorrow?” Cal asked again, and Leena grasped the hidden meaning in those words. Would she be his friend? After all, that was what they both needed most.
“I will.”
Before Cal could take her hand again, Leena slipped through the door, closing it silently behind her.
FIVE
Now that she was not alone, the days passed quickly. At first, Cal would only walk with her, chatting about the differences between their two kingdoms, of childhood memories, of Prince Whylrhen and his many quests. Occasionally about the future, but not often because it was too difficult to think of any possibility aside from one—that their side would win. So they together imagined victory and never pondered defeat.
Leena did not speak of Mikza, did not mention their child, and did not mention her powers. Those three were off limits, were secrets held close to her heart. But when she was alone, those three topics consumed her thoughts. Here in Whylkin she had no private pool to hide beneath, no place where she could go to escape, to let the gentle purr of the water quiet her tumultuous mind. So her time with Cal was her only distraction from the yearning—for Mikza and for the water.
But something had changed today.
It was Leena’s fault really, for being a little too honest in her storytelling the day before. Cal had asked for the tale of her daring escape from Da’astiku, and caught up in the joy of the stories he had already spun, Leena forgot to exclude Tam’s attack. Almost casually, she told Cal of how her friend had almost killed her, not mentioning the shadow or the blankness of his eyes as he approached. Still, Cal had stopped in his tracks, jaw dropping and eyes sharp.
“What?” she had asked, taking in the hard edges of his face—ones she had never seen on him before.
“You must learn how to defend yourself,” he’d said, voice as unbreakable as metal.
And though she tried to protest, the sounds had fallen on deaf ears. In fact, they only strengthened his resolve. She was a foreigner in enemy territory, a woman stuck in the epicenter of a war, a traitorous princess her people would want dead—and that wasn’t even counting what Cal didn’t know, that the shadow Jinji had mentioned was after people like her, people with special ties to the elements. So, in a way, Leena guessed Cal was right. A few lessons couldn’t hurt, even if they were improper and unladylike. The time for decorum had long since ended, for her anyway.
Which was how Leena found herself here, in an empty room in the castle, holding a knife as Cal circled, adjusting her arms and her grip, teaching her the proper stance for facing a foe. He had spent all morning teaching her escape tactics, how to get out of different holds a man might use to trap her, how to form a fist to punch, where to hit a man to make him go down just long enough to give her time to run. Her long legs made her quick, and though she was stubborn, she wasn’t an idiot—if a trained soldier tried to kill her, running was the only option she had.
And now, he was teaching her how to use the little knife he had given her this morning, just small enough to strap invisibly to her thigh beneath a dress.
“Hold it like this,” he murmured, eyes focused on her fingers as he moved them around. “And your other hand should be here, ready behind to block the blade from cutting your body should an attacker shove the weapon toward your throat.” He moved her other arm, lifting and twisting it around the front of her body. “And your legs should be balanced, if anything leaning slightly forward so you won’t stumble back during an attack.” He grabbed her ankle through the few layers of her dress, adjusting it.
From the side, Leena caught a quick look of disgust as someone passed by, watching them. It was not the first, and she assumed it would not be the last. Cal had said he was a rule follower, but based on everything she had seen, he cared little
for the laws of court. All morning, they had been far closer than a woman and man should be allowed. His hands constantly touching her, adjusting her limbs. But his eyes were serious and determined, not at all swayed by passions. He was training her, and nothing else, nothing untoward no matter what the people in the castle thought. And truth be told, Leena cared little for what they thought. If these people were to judge her either way, she may as well learn to defend herself in the process.
“And where would I cut to do the most damage?” she asked, easing her posture, muscles growing stiff from exertion.
Cal pursed his lips. “Well, anywhere an attacker leaves open. But the best places are the throat and wrists for bleeding out. If you can catch the back of someone’s ankles, they will be seriously injured. The stomach will do the same. You might think to go for someone’s chest, but with so many bones there, I think you would only lose your weapon rather than seriously injure a foe.”
Leena tried not to wince, picturing the gruesome images. But the information might prove vital in the future.
“And—” she began, but before she could finish, the distant sound of howling horns filled the air, getting louder and louder by the second.
Cal stopped instantly, body alert.
“What?” Leena asked, sure it was an alarm of some sort, like the bells of Da’astiku. “What is it?”
Cal turned to her, expression pained. “Follow me.”
He didn’t need to say anything else. The rest of the castle was frantic with movement, so they were barely noticed as they raced down the halls. Leena only began to recognize her surroundings as they neared the front entrance, hurrying down the sweeping grand staircase, taking the steps two at a time. No one stopped Cal as he led them outside, across the courtyard, and up another staircase—this time leading to the top of the defensive wall. A few guards glanced at them, cautious and wary, but no one said a word—not when to question them would be to indirectly question their king. If Whyllem said they were to be trusted, they were to be trusted, outwardly at least.
Leena's Story - The Complete Novellas (A Dance of Dragons Book 4) Page 14