She shuddered and slid out of bed, careful not to wake Armand, then halted and reconsidered.
If it happened again … if her scar started hurting again, her mind started chanting again, then she would need someone to make sure she didn’t follow that call. For last night, they all had agreed that keeping her from answering that call was a priority, and what lay at the other end of that spooky communication channel was something she never wanted to meet. So she needed Armand whether she cared to admit it or not.
With a light hand, she brushed his arm, hoping to rouse him from his sleep as gently as possible. He couldn’t have slept much, judging by how uncomfortable he looked. Addie’s stomach clenched at the thought of her worries from a day ago. Today, the one bed in the room was no longer her biggest problem.
“Wha—” Armand leaped to his feet, hand on his sword, eyes surveilling the room as if acting purely on instinct, before he noticed her half-sitting on the bed, still as a doe, careful not to startle him and trigger him to draw that weapon.
“Good morning,” she breathed, and his responding smile replaced the alarm on his features.
“You look better.” Hand releasing the hilt of his sword, he sank back into the chair that had served as his bed for the night.
Addie pursed her lips as she watched him studying her. “You don’t,” she said and hoped he’d find humor in her words.
A tired grin was all she got in response.
“Thank you for staying with me.” She slid to her feet. “I know you had other plans … celebrating with Joshua…” She didn’t want to think about what direction the celebrations may have turned with the young woman she had spotted observing Armand with interest. And it was none of her business.
He shifted in his chair, bracing one hand on the dark, wooden headboard of the bed as he leaned over to take a look at her exposed shoulder. “Does it hurt?” He examined the scar with a thorough look.
Addie shook her head in answer, and when Armand was done, she got to her feet and slouched to the bathing room. “I would never ask you this under normal circumstances”—normal, what was normal in her life?—“but would you mind waiting for me and escorting me to the chancellor’s study?”
With a movement so fast Addie didn’t see him coming, he was by her side, unnecessarily walking her to the bathing room. “I’ll be right here,” he promised and closed the door behind her.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Mckenzie was sipping her tea with an expression that didn’t at all resemble the young lady she usually portrayed in public. Gandrett was just about to ask her if she wanted to talk about it when Mckenzie set down her cup and picked up the note she had been staring at from the polished wooden table.
“You had fun last night,” she said with a disgruntled face as she swept her gaze over the slender script on the piece of parchment.
Gandrett had decided to seek out Mckenzie after her encounter with Joshua. She needed some female council—company at least, for she couldn’t bring herself to speak the words. That it bothered her that Nehelon had cut her off after he’d heated her blood with whispers that had promised something more than what they resorted to once more. She swallowed the lump in her throat and gave Mckenzie a half-smile. “What exactly do you mean?”
“I saw how reluctantly Brax let the chancellor take over.” Mckenzie winked and ripped the note apart so elegantly she might as well have been braiding her silky hair. “The dancing, I mean.”
Gandrett considered commenting on Brax but decided that she wasn’t ready to think about any of it. At least not until she knew if Nehelon had cut her off so thoroughly that he no longer cared about her training either. Even if his methods were harsh, they had been efficient when getting her to use her magic properly. As if in answer, the beast in her chest awoke—not the beast. Her power. Hers to command, not the other way around.
She ignored it and let her gaze examine the severed paper beside Mckenzie’s teacup.
“What’s that?” She pointed at the note over her own cup, which she had already drained in the process of avoiding having to speak more than necessary. Not because of Mckenzie but because something, a part of her she hadn’t known existed, kept struggling to break through the surface, and it cost her everything she had to silence it.
Mckenzie shrugged. “Just another love letter.” She didn’t at all sound thrilled as she glared at the desk by the window, and when Gandrett noticed the pile of paper shreds, she understood.
“Leonidas Aucrosta?” she asked, glad to make conversation about anything but herself—or the chancellor.
“This one”—Mckenzie picked up the note she’d just torn in half—“is from Prince Taghi.” His name rolled off the young woman’s tongue as if she had tasted something foul.
“And may I ask what Prince Taghi has to say that upsets you so much?”
Mckenzie’s lips pulled up on one side as if she was trying to stifle a smile. “Prince Taghi asks to see me in the gardens this afternoon.” She got to her feet and stalked to dump the note on the pile then turned around and braced her hands on the edge of the desk. “As does Leonidas Aucrosta and Varka Dumcon.” Gandrett watched her drum her fingers on the wood.
It wasn’t a surprise, she supposed, that all three male heirs who had shown up for the solstice had found Mckenzie to be interesting for more than just the reason of her brother’s alliance once he was king.
“And is there one of them you would like to send a message to other than to shove that idea up his ass?” Gandrett asked bluntly, too tired to find more sophisticated words.
In response, Mckenzie laughed. Not the girlish giggle she sometimes used when she portrayed the patient and useless lady her mother wanted to sell off, but the wicked laugh of a woman suggesting she would happily shove that paper up the heirs’ asses herself if that meant she was rid of them.
“It doesn’t matter what I think,” she eventually said, her laugh ebbing behind a sullen expression. “It won’t be me deciding who to marry. Mother will pick whoever offers the most.” She pushed away from the desk and prowled to the couch where she laid down, her hair spilling over a burgundy pillow like a platinum waterfall. “Gold, weapons, armies—you name it.”
Anger rose in Gandrett’s stomach as she realized that Mckenzie’s days of freedom were counted, that someone else was dictating her life. It didn’t matter that she was the sister of one of the most important men in Neredyn, that she had a twin who would do anything to protect her. When it came down to the topic of her hand in marriage … her life wasn’t any better than being shoved into the life at the order, Gandrett supposed. Her choices weren’t her own.
“Which one of them is the best dancer?” she asked, hoping to take the edge off.
To her surprise, Mckenzie smiled but said nothing.
“Come on.” Gandrett got to her feet and plunged onto the edge of the couch where Mckenzie’s feet were resting on another pillow. “There is one of them you favor, am I right?”
Mckenzie shook her head, and her smile faltered. “It doesn’t matter. Once Mother makes a decision, I will have little choice but to pack my things.”
“Last time we spoke, you were determined to scare them all off,” Gandrett reminded her. “And at least Leonidas Aucrosta seemed to already be a bit wary of coming too close to you.” She couldn’t help but smile as she remembered the story of Mckenzie bathing him over the table as she pretended to be a clumsy little girl. “What happened to Mckenzie, who doesn’t go down without a swing?”
Mckenzie rubbed her eyes with her thumb and forefinger.
“I don’t think Leonidas Aucrosta is interested in an alliance other than a political one.” A knowing smile played on Mckenzie’s lips.
Gandrett raised her eyebrows.
“Well, you might not have noticed, but I am almost certain Leonidas would much rather have danced with Brax or Josh—who, by the way, are both excellent dancers.” Mckenzie propped herself up on her elbows.
Gandrett tucked a
way both pieces of information—even when she already knew about Brax’s dancing skills.
“So, you’re not worried about Leonidas?”
Mckenzie shook her head. “The Dumcon heir, however, would be difficult to stomach.”
Dumcon—the rebel house of Phornes which kept trying to win back the kingdom from the prosperous hands of Saza Brina. Their view on the role of women was only one of the many issues that would make Gandrett consider using her sword if Mckenzie was shipped off with Varka Dumcon, to whom she wouldn’t be more than a slave—one of many.
“I know I’m here to help your brother,” Gandrett said with all sincerity, “but I will help you as best as I can, too.”
Mckenzie nodded her thanks, her gaze flicking to where Gandrett’s hand had grabbed the hilt of the sword by her side. “I hope it won’t come to that.”
Gandrett let her fingers wrap harder around the metal, the worn surface of the hilt a comforting texture in her palm. “Just know if it ever comes to it, I’ll be ready.”
Mckenzie’s throat bobbed as she unlocked the meaning of Gandrett’s words. That she would use the training she had received in Everrun to prevent seeing her friend shoved into slavery.
“It won’t,” Mckenzie reassured her, for some reason not at all seeming sure.
For a moment, they looked at each other, neither of them speaking as both young women calculated the damage of conveniently letting Varka Dumcon disappear. Then, Gandrett heaved a breath. “Leaves us with Prince Taghi…”
Mckenzie pressed her lips in a thin line. “Did you know he sought out Brax to inquire about the Shygon cult?”
Gandrett felt suddenly very cold.
“I didn’t know—” She turned her gaze toward the flower-woven tapestry between the windows. “Any more than what Josh told me after his return, I mean. According to Taghi, the cult has been recruiting for months now.”
The air was thick and difficult to breathe as Gandrett’s mind circled to the ruins of her parents’ farm, the remains of her incinerated mother.
“We saw some villages that showed signs the Shygon cult stopped by there,” she managed to say, voice not half as strong as she had been hoping. “They burn down houses and collect survivors to sacrifice to the god of dragons.”
Mckenzie didn’t look at her, thank the gods, as the memory forced moisture into her eyes.
“To what end?” Mckenzie asked to the ceiling where ornate burgundy and gold swirls curved over a cream surface. “What is their goal?”
“Linniue was one of them,” Gandrett reminded her. “She wanted Joshua to climb onto that same throne that the last Dragon King had used for his reign of terror.”
“Emperor of Neredyn,” Mckenzie mused, and her voice shook as if she could see it, the horror of a brainwashed brother, ready to kill, torture, and destroy, fueled with the power of an old god who should have been forgotten. “Thank the gods you saved him from that fate—” She sat up and faced Gandrett. “Thank the gods you saved all of Neredyn from that.”
Gandrett didn’t know what to say. Still, she was fighting to keep that moisture from swelling in her eyes.
“He will be a good king when the time comes,” Mckenzie mused, and Gandrett hoped that she was right.
It was late afternoon the next day when Nehelon finally appeared in Gandrett’s room, his expression schooled into a cold indifference, and barked a brief order for her to move her lazy self to the training grounds then left without another word.
Gandrett considered giving him a vulgar gesture, but what was the point if he was no longer paying attention. So she saved that impulse for later.
She jammed her feet into her boots and strolled down the stairs and hallways as if she didn’t have a care in the world. She flashed a smile at each guard, all of which seemed more scared than pleased when her gaze met theirs. It might have had something to do with the murderous expression that had formed by the time she made it to the yard—
Which immediately faltered as she stepped into the training ring.
“About time,” Nehelon said, his face as cold as earlier, before gesturing at the slender form beside him. “I have an assignment for you.”
Addie waved at her, little more than a young tree next to the oak of a male, heavily armed, beside her.
“You will show Addie the basics of self-defense,” Nehelon said, ever the commander. “You will not waste time on tricks and graceful movements. The raw basics. Understood?”
Gandrett eyed the girl next to the Fae, her eyes, blue and bright, her shoulders hunched, one of them slumping a bit more than the other—the one where Linniue had carved that symbol.
“Why?” Gandrett thought Nehelon would snap his teeth at her as she opened her mouth to speak, but he kept his restraint even as his eyes showed some sort of fire that made her wonder if he imagined throwing her off a cliff.
“Because I said so.”
And that was that. Nehelon stalked off the training grounds, leaving Gandrett with one of the four people who knew that her sword was no longer the only weapon she possessed. Addie had seen her magic back in the temple of Shygon, and from the look in Addie’s eyes, Gandrett wondered if the girl was scared.
Addie’s muscles hurt. Every single one of them. Gods, how had Gandrett endured that for ten long years?
“If you think this is bad, wait until two days from now,” Gandrett said to her as they walked up the stairs to Addie’s room. Addie had asked her to since the chancellor had instructed her never to be alone. She needed someone who would hold her back in case the chanting in her mind started again. “It will take weeks for your body to build the muscles you need to properly swing that sword.”
“I have no doubt about that,” Addie murmured. She had hardly been able to lift the sword over her head for longer than a minute. Gandrett had made her do that to see about her stamina, her balance—and Addie had demonstrated so well how degenerated her body was. Other than carrying that damn bucket of Dragon Water up and down the stairs of Eedwood Castle, she hadn’t been doing any exercise—that was if she didn’t count the hours of cleaning up Linniue’s rooms, scrubbing floors, and whatnot.
They reached the top of the stairs just in time for Addie’s legs to start shaking from exhaustion. At least, she wouldn’t be able to follow any call in her crazy mind if her legs were too weak to carry her anywhere. She stifled a dark chuckle.
“Why the sudden interest by the chancellor in you having training?” Gandrett asked, sounding sincerely curious. Addie had spotted them wandering off together at the solstice and the way he had clung to Gandrett’s waist, the way his gaze had swept over her, again and again, it had surprised Addie to hear the harsh, cold tone he’d used in the training ring. As if she was nothing more than a soldier to command. Addie kept that observation to herself. It wouldn’t help either of them if she brought up a sensitive topic with the person who was supposed to help her—and potentially lose that help.
So, Addie sighed through her nose and, in a hushed voice so as not to stir who—or whatever—lurked in the hallways, told Gandrett everything. About the scar, how it hurt sometimes, how the pain had almost knocked her out last night. The murmurs in her mind and the tug that had almost made her walk out the door. And about the Shygon worshipper’s warning.
Gandrett listened quietly, her face pale—paler than usual—by the time they made it to Addie’s room. The only reaction as the Child of Vala spotted Armand’s clothes from last night draped over the chair he had pulled up to place beside the bed was raised eyebrows. Other than that, her face betrayed nothing of what she thought of the surprise.
“Joshua gave us this room because of the view,” Addie said and was surprised it sounded like an excuse. “Armand and I are not—”
“I couldn’t care less who you share your bed with,” Gandrett said in response and settled on the free chair by the table at the windows.
“We are not,” Addie clarified.
Gandrett gave her a bored look.
&nb
sp; “Tell me more about that chant in your head,” she asked instead of inquiring details of Addie and Armand’s sleeping arrangements. “What language is it? Sivesian?”
Addie shook her head. “I don’t know what language it is other than that it is the same one those worshippers in the prison in the north used in their ceremonies.” She watched Gandrett’s eyes widen as she told the story of her time beyond Lands End where snow and ice dominated all seasons of the year. But when she was done, spreading her sad story before Gandrett—a confession rather than passing information—the silver was lining the warrior’s eyes.
“You were taken from Alencourt,” she whispered as if she couldn’t believe it.
Addie nodded. “And I have nothing to return to. My family is gone. So is the farm.”
Gandrett silently got to her feet and closed the distance between them in silent steps. Then slowly, as if she wasn’t sure she was really going to do it, she embraced Addie and pulled her against her shoulder. “You’re not alone, Addie.” And the way Gandrett said it made Addie believe her. Made her understand that there was a different, empathic, gentle soul behind that professional façade of a trained killer. She had spoken to Deelah, and the woman had confirmed that train killers were what the Children of Vala became in most cases. Assassins, mercenaries, bodyguards. Rarely was one so lucky as to become a young lord’s babysitter.
“Neither are you,” Addie said and almost let go as a sob shook the warrior.
But Gandrett held her tightly as she said, “My parents were Shulia and Grant Brayton. And my brother, Andrew…” Another sob shook Gandrett, and she clutched her arms more tightly around Addie, who could hardly believe the words the warrior was speaking, hadn’t she made her way past the Brayton’s farm every other day when running errands for her father. “…Andrew escaped a couple of weeks ago when the Shygon cult came to burn down my family’s farm.”
Gandrett was from Alencourt. And just like that, the sobbing warrior became the closest thing to family Addie Blackwood had.
Wicked Crown (Shattered Kingdom Book 2) Page 25