by Paris Hansch
“This hinges entirely on whether she cares enough about them to step in,” Yukiya said.
“I have it on good authority that she does. And if we’re wrong, we will simply march for real.” Yuno edged the box closer. “Every princess before her has worn them before they ascended the throne. She will be safe.”
“She’ll despise me.”
Yuno tilted his head. “Your Highness, I have been your liaison since the empress passed, may her spirit rest in peace. With all due respect, I believe it’s safe to say, the princess cannot despise you any more than she already does. But if you were able to actually talk to her, she might have a change of heart.”
Yukiya took the box, the sunlight glinting off of the gold. So, he didn’t know everything, especially not how the curse worked. Although, his brother did have a point, even though his ulterior motives were obvious. The empire couldn’t last much longer without a true imperial couple. Perhaps an excessive strategy was needed to stop an all-out war from breaking out.
“Make the preparations to march,” he said.
Lyra moved to light a candle, then poured the melted wax in a small circle over each letter. Yukiya pressed his signet in, sealing the empire’s fate.
Yuno waved a hand at his servant. “Deliver these at once.”
As she gathered the letters, her hand slipped, knocking over the candle and leaving a trail of red wax running over the table. Yuno backhanded her, and she collapsed to the floor, clutching the side of her face. He immediately pulled her to her feet, rubbing his thumb over her jaw.
“Clumsy girl, look what you made me do,” he murmured. “Hurry up and go.”
Lyra bowed her head and scrambled away.
Yukiya frowned. “That was unnecessary.”
Yuno shrugged, running his hand through his hair. “She’s pretty but expendable.”
“Yet, you trust her with matters of imperial importance.”
“She’s extremely loyal.”
Yukiya refrained from shaking his head. That young woman had always been by Yuno’s side, but everybody had their breaking point, and not everyone could keep their loyalty out of fear.
His brother bowed. “If you’ll excuse me, then. We have much to prepare.”
Yukiya nodded, and his brother left. Clutching the box, Yukiya slipped out of his room and into the hallway, sweeping toward the imperial chambers. The servants knelt with their foreheads touching the floor as he passed. Intended for newlyweds, he had avoided this part of the castle until now. Four guardsmen pulled one side of the stonewood doors open upon his arrival, the gap exactly wide enough for him to pass through.
As it closed behind him, he took in his surroundings for the first time, at least by his own experience. It was a massive room that could have housed a small army, the stonewood trees that grew inside branching out to create extraordinarily high ceilings, clearly made with dragon proportions in mind. He chuckled. Human imaginations had their limits, after all.
There was a small stone garden at the other end of the room, featuring a large indoor hot spring, complete with a miniature waterfall. It was truly a grand room befitting the imperial couple, though the architects had been a bit excessive with the decorations. Every piece of furniture, even the walls and floor, had elaborate depictions of dragons painted onto them. While there was a certain degree of vanity involved, it was rather distasteful to find images of himself everywhere he looked, though none of them were quite accurate. It was as though each of the artists had drawn a slightly different design in the hopes that one would actually be right.
Yukiya placed the box on the bedside table, next to a vase with a single red camellia—the symbol of eternal love. It drooped, and its petals were beginning to fall. He gently ran his fingers along the stem, and it stood tall again. Better. He glanced up. Carefully perched on the wall above the bed was his spirit sword. The blade was long with a teardrop-shaped hole parting the metal near the base, flowing seamlessly into the white hilt. It had been a long time since he’d summoned it to his side.
A figure dropped onto the balcony in complete silence. Sensing the new spirit, Yukiya walked over to draw back the curtain. Lucan always seemed to know exactly where he was. Then again, that was his job.
“Any news?” the prince asked.
Lucan kneeled before him, pulling the cloth from his face. While his princess tended to collect people around her, he was content with just one loyal servant.
“The princess remains in Anadrieth, with her imperial guard soon to follow, including my… previous commander.” His jaw twitched. “I believe they intend to make a stand.”
Yukiya’s chest throbbed. The confirmation hurt. She was truly refusing to come home.
“As I feared.”
Lucan scratched the back of his head, his scruffy copper hair peeking out from his hood. He hadn’t been taking care of his facial hair, either, and he appeared older than he was. He’d been like that since he’d personally met Lucan, but the previous dragon’s memories spoke otherwise. He didn’t blame him. What happened between Lucan and Ryuko was a tragedy.
“That lord is getting close to her,” said Lucan, disrupting his thoughts.
Yukiya stilled. His blood ran cold, and his breathing and heart rate slowed. “Lord Alexander, was it?”
“Affirmative.”
He put his hand on the side of the doorframe. “Explain.”
“He follows her around, sometimes too closely.”
“And?”
Lucan swallowed. “He also kissed her… in the rain.”
Yukiya took a deep breath, forcing his body to relax. “Leave.”
Lucan was gone in an instant, propelling himself onto the roof.
Yukiya clenched his fist, and the stonewood doorframe buckled instantly. How dare that man even consider thinking about putting his hands on her. There would be no mercy for him, this Lord Alexander of Anadrieth, who had forced his betrothed to grovel as a mere servant. He would extract his judgment, piece by piece, until he was nothing more than a shred of meat.
And then, he would do it again.
Yukiya composed himself before exiting the imperial chambers, his servants leaping out of the way as he stormed through the palace. He needed information—history, fighting style, even his habits. He descended several flights of stairs in a few strides. At the lowest point in the palace, there was a single room, and he waved the guards away, slotting his key into the lock. Only those authorized by the imperial family had access to this room, where the very secrets of the empire were recorded. Securing the door behind him, he breathed in the scent of musty paper, allowing it to fill his lungs.
Calm down.
There was no use in getting worked up about it now. The room of records was small, filled to the brim with information on everyone of relative importance since the dawn of the empire. Mina was rarely in here, as she herself had gathered the recent majority of the room’s information.
His fingertips swept along the rows as he located the records on Anadrieth’s ruling family. Lord Alexander, fathered by Lord Alastair and his wife, Lady Adalynn. Two younger siblings, illegitimate. He skimmed the page. He took over Anadrieth at the age of sixteen, after his parent’s murder, subject to close investigation under the suspicion of the involvement of that woman, Mistress Marionette. He closed his eyes.
Those were the days when Mina had his brother delivering him almost daily correspondence. Perhaps he should thank Lord Alexander for that. He had almost wished the incidents would never cease so that they could have continued to work together, but her trail quickly went cold.
Apparently, the lord had a fear of heights, favored his right hand and was a virgin. Strange for a man of twenty-seven, though it explained his infatuation with his betrothed. A line of faded handwriting had been penned in at the bottom of the page. The barely legible scrawl was unmistakable; it belonged to Kakeru.
Confident, overprotective and dismissive of others. But he means well.
Yukiya sighed.
The deceased emperor’s memories were still fresh. It wasn’t his job to maintain a prior vessel’s friendships with those still living, but there was a twinge in his heart all the same. He returned the parchment, shaking his head. There was nothing particularly useful after all—the march would take care of Anadrieth for now—but gathering information on Lord Alexander wasn’t the only reason he’d come here.
He moved toward the back shelf, pushing aside a few books. A small bag sat in the corner, and he pulled out two wrapped sweets, slipping them into his robes. Beside the bag was a small indent for his signet ring.
Pressing his seal into the indent with one hand and resting the other against the wall, he pushed his spirit through. The two barriers, present at all times, meant that he was the only one who had ever entered through here. A door slid open, revealing a passageway. There were only a few steps visible before he was engulfed in the darkness, descending far beneath the palace. But he didn’t need light to see.
The air was damp and cool as the passageway opened out into a huge cavern. As far as he knew, not even Mina was aware of the network of caves and tunnels under the empire. Every exit was monitored by the cave’s single inhabitant.
The cavern itself was dimly lit, the walls, pillars and large pools of still water illuminated by tiny creatures emitting a blueish glow. There were empty sconces to hold torches on the walls, but the natural lighting was rather beautiful. It seemed wrong to introduce the harsh light of fire.
Yukiya placed himself on a crate, arranging his robes as he sat. The piles of supplies stored in various locations were enough to last a lifetime, but he shouldn’t need to wait long. While time was easily lost underground, they were able to keep to a regular schedule.
Sure enough, a young Lanadese boy scurried into the cavern a few moments later, raising a cloud of dust as he ran. Demetri barreled into him, smothering his robes with his grimy face and hands.
Yukiya ruffled his hair. He smelled like clay and earth. “Careful, my boy.”
Demetri grinned, bouncing up and down. His brown eyes were wide with excitement.
“Are we going to play a game? Do you have any presents?”
Yukiya smiled, pointing at his soiled robes. “Is this how you greet me now?”
Demetri stopped bouncing and scrunched his small nose, puffing his cheeks. He let out a gentle breath, and the dirt lifted from the cloth, the prince’s white robes pristine once more. His control was improving.
“Sorry, Papa.”
Yukiya pulled the sweets from the pocket in his robes. “Now, of course, I have something for you.”
Demetri stuffed the sweet into his mouth, then wiped his hand on his shirt. He didn’t need elaborate clothes here, but he wasn’t raised to be an animal, either. He was growing up quickly, however; it would be a good excuse to get him a new set of clothing.
Yukiya ate the other sweet, letting it melt on his tongue. “Perhaps I should hire some Elorian chefs for the palace.”
“Then, we can eat sweets every day!” Demetri glanced at the ground, his mood swinging rapidly. “What’s Eloria like?”
“It’s a place full of wonderful food and great big ships that sail the sea.”
The boy frowned. “Like what you see with your eyes?”
Yukiya shook his head, pointing toward the pools of water. “Like those, only as far as you can see.”
“Will you take me, Papa?”
He couldn’t. It wasn’t safe, not if the right people found him. Especially her.
“One day.”
The boy’s face fell. It wasn’t fair on him to keep him in the caves, but neither would it be to give him a glimpse of the outside world, only to confine him once more. With rumors of the four appearing, he had to keep Demetri’s existence a secret.
Yukiya took his hand. “Have you been practicing?”
“You said if I practice, you’ll take me on an adventure.”
“Show me.”
He crossed his arms, sticking out his lip. “Not till you tell me a story.”
Yukiya chuckled. “All right, all right. Once upon a time, there was a beautiful maiden who was madly in love with a handsome prince. One day, an evil, jealous witch cursed the maiden with eternal hatred for the prince. The prince was very sad because he loved her with all his heart. He vowed to get his revenge on the witch and free his beloved from the curse. However, he couldn’t do it alone—”
Demetri tugged on his arm. “I’ve heard this one before. You’re talking about Miss Mina.” He rolled his eyes. “Can’t you just get a new wife?”
Yukiya raised his eyebrows. “Love doesn’t work like that.” He pinched his cheek. “If you were gone, I couldn’t simply get a new you, could I?”
Demetri shrugged.
“Well, I couldn’t. Now, about your practice?”
“But I didn’t get to hear a story!”
“You didn’t say it had to be a new one.”
Demetri pouted but raised his hands anyway. The earth beneath them shook, and Yukiya managed a smile. Demetri had to be ready, whether he liked it or not.
16
Chapter Sixteen
Anton
Anton yelped as the hot iron nipped his finger. He let it crash to the floor, narrowly missing his foot. This was ridiculous. Running around like a servant all day had been exhausting. Even with the other soldiers subjected to the same fate, it seemed like the work only continued to pile up, despite their best efforts. He hadn’t realized just how much went into keeping the castle running.
Vivian clicked her tongue at him. “Come now, Milord. It’s going to go cold before you’ve done a single pair.” He suspected that she secretly enjoyed the power that she had over him as his teacher.
Anton sighed, picking up the iron again. Of all the things, too, she’d had him ironing women’s undergarments, frills and all. No one was ever going to see them; why should it matter whether there were wrinkles or not?
“Isn’t there something more useful we could be doing?”
In just two days, that girl had turned the entire castle upside down, halting their war preparations and forcing them to work together. There were several more intruders in the castle now, as well, and he had no doubt that the girl’s friends were going to be just as much trouble as she was.
“Just going on the princess’ orders, Milord. Don’t you want your sister to have nicely pressed delicates?”
Anton gagged, taking a step back. No wonder they were adorned with little bows. A servant wouldn’t keep things like this. Beside them, Ban laughed, his dimples in full view.
“It’s not that bad.”
Anton shot him a glare. Ban had ended up following them around the entire day, all because that other servant girl, Jane, was too meek to be away from Vivian, the head matron. How someone as passive as her had survived under Vivian’s hand, he couldn’t fathom.
“That’s because you’re not ironing…this.” He gestured in front of him, unable to make the words come out of his mouth.
Ban winked, and his smirk remained plastered to his face. He’d always been easygoing like that, nothing ever bothered him.
“Want to switch?” Ban asked, nodding to the shirt in his hands.
Anton made a show of turning his back, finishing the job as quickly as possible; there was no way that he would let Ban get his hands on anything of his sister’s. Not that he cared if he touched anything of hers, but the idiot would likely never shut up about it.
“It—it goes like this,” said Jane, adjusting the cloth.
Ban patted her hand, tucking his hair behind one ear. “Don’t worry, darling. I’ve got this.”
Anton put the iron down. That was it. “Don’t you ever take anything seriously?”
Ban moved to the side, showing him his neatly folded stack of ironed clothes. “Well, while you’ve been whining, I’ve been working.”
Anton bristled, forcing himself not to glance at his own meager pile of one garment.
“I’m only co
mplaining because this entire thing is a ridiculous waste of time. The Lanadese are probably sharpening their axes, getting ready to murder us all, and here we are, folding silk delicates and scrubbing the floors.” That stupid girl just wanted to punish them; he was sure of it. “She doesn’t give a dragon’s claw whether we live or die, and she evidently knows nothing of war.”
No matter what memories the girl claimed to have, she was still the same bumbling idiot, just in better clothes. Even his brother was being unusually subservient. If his castle had been turned upside down like this, he wouldn’t stand for it. Hopefully, the prince would come and collect the girl soon, and they’d finally be rid of her. Apparently, she’d even taken in some poor orphan girl who’d been skulking around the castle walls. Like they had the time and resources for that. He’d have to tell the servants to hide away the valuables.
Vivian and Jane had taken a step back, and Ban folded his arms.
“Do you believe you’re helping with that attitude? None of us have been through war. You’re just annoyed that you’re being ordered around by someone you hate.”
Anton opened and closed his mouth. Hate was somehow a strong word. He shook his head. “We’re not children anymore. You don’t have the right to speak to your lord like that.”
Ban’s face softened, almost disappointed. “You’re right, I don’t. But right now, you don’t deserve my respect, either. You’re the last person I expected to pull rank.” Then, his mouth widened back into a grin. “Ah, that’s it. You’re still bitter about losing our archery competition.”
Anton clenched his jaw. No, that wasn’t it at all. But before he could respond, a voice called out. A soldier was running through the castle, gathering as many people as he could find in the servant’s kitchens. Princess’ orders, of course. Anton sighed as everyone else moved immediately. It didn’t seem like he had a choice, but it couldn’t get much worse than this.
The servant’s kitchens had never looked this bad. Mountains of filthy dishes were stacked precariously on every surface, and the slightest breath could send the whole thing toppling. Grease seemed to creep over the walls, and bits of leftover food littered the floors. Anton wrinkled his nose. It smelled like sweat. That girl stood in the doorway, keeping her distance from the crockery. Now that she was dressed nicely, manual labor was clearly beneath her.