Chapter 20
20
T he experience sharpened her.
If it hadn’t happened, she might not have noticed the message when it arrived. She would have probably skipped right over the small floating boat made of leaves that drifted down the stream toward her spot in the garden. As though sent there by the magic of the land itself. It blended in with the landscape. Designed that way to avoid notice.
At first, she saw it as a glint from the corner of her vision, like the skip of light over the water. There and gone in a blink. When she turned to face it head-on, the small craft seemed like nothing but the curled leaf of a fallen oak.
A small niggling instinct in the back of her head had her looking twice. Once she noticed the unnatural way the craft zigged closer, her throat went tight. She snapped the book on her lap closed.
The leaf boat skipped against the current of water and counter to the ripples made by the wind in a beeline for her. Her heart lifted, and she threw the book to the side, hurrying to the water’s edge and grabbing at the boat.
Her first swipe got her nothing but a face full of water. The second time she reached for it, the leaf zigged close enough that she knew it had been sent for her. Incredulity zapped the air right out of her lungs, and she stared at the compact leaf resting against her open palm, surprised and confused.
She gripped it between her thumb and forefinger and held it up in front of her face for a long moment before she crushed it to her chest. There were words written between the veins, shimmering like a mirage in desert heat.
“Miss? What’s the matter?”
She jumped because she’d completely forgotten that Nora waited with her in the garden. Her lady’s maid kept her hands busy weaving the frayed edge of a tapestry back together while Aven had been reading a book on fae history.
She shoved the leaf into the pocket of her gown and turned with a wobbly smile, forcing herself to meet Nora’s confused stare.
“It’s nothing,” she insisted, swallowing hard. “I thought I saw something in the water and I wanted to see for myself.”
Her lungs stilled in her chest and her muscles seized as though paralyzed, a bristly sensation spiraling down her spine.
“Are you trying to catch one of the goldfish?” Nora let out a soft laugh. “They’re beautiful, but they are slippery little things, literally and figuratively. They like to be fed, but they do not care for our touch.” She sighed and returned to her stitching. “There was once a time when the animals in this place spoke to us. My mother used to tell me stories about?—”
A thundering in her head made it impossible to follow along with the story. Aven’s attention lay firmly with the note in her pocket. That’s what it was. She knew without a shadow of a doubt.
Somehow, her people had managed to get a message to her.
There was no way she’d be able to read it now.
The leaf note burned a hole in her gown through the rest of their afternoon in the garden. Although she pretended to read, Aven kept sneaking looks at the stream, waiting for something else to find its way here to her. The lines of text on the page blurred together into a twisted mess of black and white.
Her people worked magic all the time.
Now, they’d managed to work a miracle and spell a note to find its way to her.
She’d been too focused on survival, or waiting for another opportunity to run, to even think about getting a message out to her men. If she was ordered to stay with the princes, then she thought she would at least attempt to find a way to adapt to her surroundings.
No.
That wasn’t the whole reason. The truth was, she couldn’t stop thinking about the fae princes, how each of them got under her skin in their own way.
Damn it. Aven wanted to slap herself all the way through Nora’s story.
Why hadn’t she tried harder to reach her men?
Her attention had fractured. The day around them appeared normal, with fat white clouds floating in the sky above, stark against the vibrant blue. On such a beautiful day, she hadn’t expected anything out of the ordinary, and yet it found her regardless.
Nora paid her no attention and didn’t seem to care when Aven remained silent. Not until the sun sank lower in the sky and she ushered them inside for dinner.
Finally.
“The Crown Prince will want you showered and dressed for dinner,” Nora remarked cheerfully. “Do you want to pick out your dress this time or have me do it?”
Aven might have made some snort of snide remark if it hadn’t been for the message waiting to be read. “Thank you, I’ll find something. There are so many beautiful pieces for me to choose from.”
Was that too obvious?
Nora gleamed at her answer until she realized Aven hadn’t moved from the bathroom doorway. Then her sharp eyes narrowed. “What’s wrong, Miss? You’re being too accommodating.”
Damn it.
“Me? No.” Aven pressed a palm to her chest and felt her heart race beneath her skin. “Maybe I’ve just gotten used to wearing dresses. I might even like them now. I’m excited to get clean and wear something pretty.”
Nora snorted. “I’ll believe it when the sky turns green overhead and that haughty Thousand-Year King takes a queen,” she replied, clicking her tongue. “Now hurry to bathe and I’ll fix your hair.”
“Sure.” It was a useless answer, but it gave her the space to bathe in private.
She had to work on being squirrely. It drew too much attention even from Nora, who might very well run back to Cillian and say that something was amiss with the human princess.
Aven hastily closed the door behind her and let out a breath. Savoring every moment she spent alone as she slipped her hand into her pocket. She only had a small amount of time before she had to actually get in the bath. Flipping on the faucet, she let the sound of running water hide her scramble as she brought the leaf in front of her and unfolded the edges.
The moment she did, the magic keeping it in its form released. The boat leaf turned into a sheath of paper with her name on top.
Princess Aven,
We will never stop looking. We will find a way to overthrow the occupation and rescue you. Have faith and keep looking for us. We are on the way. Never give up!
—M.S.
Major Stone. Her battalion had risked much to send this secret message to her. Hope crinkled her nose, and she read the message a second time, a third, and a fourth, memorizing the words and keeping them in her heart.
Unwilling to risk having anyone else find it, she lit one of the candles on her vanity with a long match and burned the note in the crackling flame. Watching until every lovingly written word disappeared.
“Is something burning in there?” Nora called out. “I smell smoke.”
Aven gulped, blanched. “Candle, sorry. I’m trying to relax.”
“I understand.”
They not only got their message to her, but they were looking for a way to rescue her. The more she thought about it, the further her stomach dropped until she became nothing but an empty yawning chasm.
Her men couldn’t come to the palace.
There weren’t enough of them to stand up against the princes and their soldiers. Yes, with a full squad, they might be able to storm the gates, but they’d been crushed during the last skirmish.
Now?
Major Stone and the others would be demolished before they stepped a foot over the palace threshold. They were ill-equipped to fight up against the fae despite the battles they’d won in the past.
Aven ducked her head as she peeled off her day dress. Slowly, she lowered herself into the heated bathwater and flipped off the faucet, sinking low until she was submerged up to her chin.
She refused to have any more of their blood on her hands.
She lifted said hands out of the water and stared at her palms, her calluses back in place thanks to her daily training. Hadn’t she spilled enough already?
And what did it mean for her to have saved the young fae the other night? Major Stone would consider her differently if he knew.
Guilt lifted to mingle with worry until soon it became impossible to focus on the small spark of hope the note had given her. Saving a fae grunt’s life only meant another body to stand against her men when, if , they arrived.
They’d used magic to get her this message, but with so many eyes on her, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to do the same without raising an alarm. Everyone in these walls scrutinized her constantly.
Even Nora, who seemed cheerful and charming, remained with Aven through the majority of the day when the princes weren’t available. The only time she had alone was at night when she needed to sleep. And even then, Roran?—
No, she mustn’t think about him.
She hurried to scrub the floral-scented soap along her skin like it might somehow wash away the guilt. Nothing, she knew, would make any difference until she managed to get herself under control.
Aven lathered soap into her hair and ducked beneath the water to rinse. Holding her breath, she let the bubbles fade away although her mind continued to race a million miles an hour. There would be no relaxing now.
Especially when she had to make it through another dinner with Cillian where, no doubt, Roran would be somewhere lurking in the shadows. Watching her only to come back later to taunt her with everything she’d said and done.
Would Cillian make an attempt to repeat his kiss from two days ago?
She wondered, doubted, and… hoped. Then, frustrated with herself, she let the water drain out of the bath and walked out to face Nora dressed only in a towel.
For dinner, she chose a sky-blue tunic and a soft pair of pants that flattered her shape. Nora had lined her eyes in black, a slightly heavier aesthetic than she did for normal dinners. When Aven asked her why, she only smiled coyly and moved on to braid her hair.
Nora wove small flowers they’d picked during the day through the strands and sent Aven on her way within the hour. Beauty had never been something she cared about before. Regardless, when she saw herself in the mirror, she hadn’t been able to look away. Not when a woman stared back at her rather than the warrior she was used to seeing.
Aven never considered herself ugly in the past.
She’d always been practical. Focused on the things in front of her rather than nebulous things like makeup, love matches… feminine, soft things.
But now, staring at her reflection, she didn’t see herself. She saw Maeve, Geleis, Iona—her long-dead mother too—all of them more elegant, more fitting for this moment than she would ever be.
She almost laughed at the absurdity of it all but bit down on her lip instead, letting Nora’s glowing compliments wash over her, though they felt like a cruel reminder of what she’d lost.
The two of them walked down the oddly empty hallways toward the dining parlor. The windows were thrown open to the night, and a breeze brought with it lilacs, jasmine, and green growing things.
Cillian met her at the doorway to the parlor with a curt bow at the waist. “You look gorgeous tonight,” he murmured.
“I didn’t realize we were having a special dinner. Is something going on?” she asked in an attempt to prod him into an answer.
Cillian only smiled and held out his arm for her.
“Is it another picnic?” She wasn’t sure she could handle another surprise. Not tonight.
Nora handed Aven off from her company to Cillian’s and disappeared silently down the halls. The doorway opened up into a night of color and sound, music coming from somewhere in the distance.
“A walk,” Cillian clarified kindly, “and I thought it might be nice for us to have some entertainment with our dinner.”
“I certainly don’t need any. There’s no need for you to keep carving out time for me every morning and evening.” The less he accompanied her, the more opportunity she’d have to?—
Well… what? What would she do that might make any difference?
Except the heat from his arm seeped into her and unwound some of the tension in her chest from finding that note. She sashayed at his side, and Cillian glanced over at her with a grin.
“You don’t like the music?” he asked.
“There was not a lot of time for entertainment at home,” she answered easily. “Especially when the coins were already spoken for.”
“You’re telling me your father never held balls.”
“He did, occasionally, but they were more for my siblings than they were for me. I never took part in those things unless forced.”
But she always remembered the music. The further into the garden they walked, the louder the sound of strings, and Aven allowed her eyes to drift closed and the sweet symphony of strings to fill her.
“The look on your face is rapturous. I don’t remember seeing it at the last ball we threw,” Cillian observed. They stared at each other with neither one breaking contact. Finally, he grinned, and it was so quick and genuine her gut lurched.
Aven quickly looked away. The last ball had been different. How did she explain herself?
“You and my brother are very similar creatures.”
Aven looked to Cillian at his remark, noticing the easy way he moved, the way his eyes brightened, and something similar to mischief lit them from the inside.
“If you want to insult me, then you are starting off well,” she replied. “The last thing I want is to have you compare me to Roran. Tell me where we’re going?”
Rather than answer, Cillian leaned in close and his breath tickled the whirl of her ear and whispered, “If I tell you it’s a surprise?”
She knew it. “I’d say you may have too much time on your hands if you need to keep surprising me. You already did enough by taking me to the village. And our picnic.”
He waved away her reminder and led her off, navigating down the paths by starlight.
“I only made the comparison because Roran hates balls as well, as I’m sure he told you. He no doubt complained the moment you were alone. You will rarely catch him engaging in those sorts of things, although it is very much our duty. We must play the simpering princes when our father demands it. And it’s no hassle to surprise you. In fact, I find it a pleasure. It keeps me on my toes when there are other things that weigh heavily on me.”
This time, Cillian led them to a spot in the garden she hadn’t seen before. The trees pushed back away from a wide pond, no doubt filled by one of the tributary streams she’d sat beside today.
The music flowed from a trio of stringed instruments standing at the edge of the meadow.
Cillian kept his hand on her waist as they looked out on the high grasses bordering the water. Moonlight played across the pond’s edge, and on its surface floated white swans winding their way through a maze of purple water lilies.
“You really are saving the best for last, aren’t you?” With the exception of the tree, this was one of her favorite views. Especially when fireflies began to twine their way through the air like tiny glowing ghosts.
“I’ll admit,” Cillian began, “things aren’t always what they seem here. Our dinners mean a lot to me, Aven. They give me a chance to get to know you better. And they give me a chance to be myself. As you know, war is devastating. It impacts lives in ways you can’t even begin to guess when you are so focused on winning. These nights with you, I can set the mantle aside even if it’s just for a little bit.”
“My company is nothing special.”
“You underestimate yourself. Or maybe you’re like me as well. Maybe you are too hard on yourself and you end up shoving the essence of who you are into a box.”
She swallowed over a grin. “Or maybe I just don’t like the way you watch me.”
His eyes were on her again as his smile turned lazy. “Everyone watches you. They find it hard to look away from you, even if you are a mortal.”
Mortal. The word clanged through her, and she forced herself to pull back from the magic presented by this night. By his presence. Cillian was nothing but stoic and charismatic grace. He knew who he was and he knew the path in front of him. From what she’d seen of him, he never balked at his duties.
And yes, they had it in common.
She was mortal though. Human. A small piece of this earth and as easily pushed around as a speck of dust in the wind.
Yes, she did know the effects of war. How it changed a territory, how it changed a body. Physically and mentally. So far she’d been looking at Cillian, and Roran for that matter, as separate from the fight. They weren’t the ones on the front lines beating their heads against a shield in an attempt to gain ground. They were the masters pulling the puppet strings from the safety of their golden palace.
Yet the way Cillian sat himself on the blanket he’d spread on the ground, only feet away from the edge of the pond, she saw his exhaustion.
She saw the weight of dark times.
“Mortal I might be, but I’m still managing to best your brother when he joins me for training.” Aven accepted the glass of water Cillian held out to her and lifted it to her lips, changing the subject to something a little more palatable.
War only made her think of the note, and Major Stone.
“Are you? He’s been closed-lipped on the subject.” Cillian lifted his own glass to hers for a toast. “It’s about time someone showed him up. I hope you knock him to the floor.”
“Didn’t you two ever spar as kids? Wrestle each other to the ground?”
“There were always other things to do besides playing,” Cillian responded, the word almost sounding foreign when he spoke it. “Private tutors gave us our studies on history, literature, ecology, and economy. There were dinners to attend with Father and meetings once we were older.”
“Do you ever miss your mother?” Aven regretted the question the moment she said it, watching something shutter in the crown prince’s eyes.
“Do you?” Cillian countered.
Sounding too much like Roran there for her own good.
“Every day,” she admitted honestly. “And I think if she’d been around long enough, she probably would have made me stay on the path you describe. The one where there is no deviating from pattern. Scholars and meetings…”
She could almost see her mother’s insistence on a match with the Clawborne prince, the man she would have been forced to marry if it had gone according to her father’s will. Thankfully, he had declined all talks of engagement. Last she’d heard, he’d gone into a frenzy and burned down Thorncrest. Whoever ended up with him had her pity. But it had cleared the way for her. Even though what she did was considered unorthodox for a princess, she would not change a thing.
Cillian gestured toward the almost faded runes on her skin. “You don’t think she would have approved of what you did with yourself?”
Aven laughed, her head tipping back. “Oh, absolutely not. She would have been horrified. But desperate times and all. You do what you have to do in order to make sure the people you care about are safe.”
She’d failed. Miserably.
Cillian reached across and rested his hand on her knee. This time, she did not jump. Did not shy away when the now familiar desire entered his gaze. “I’m sure she would have applauded your passion and dedication.”
“I like to hope you’re right.”
Cillian continued to chat easily through their dinner.
When they walked the gardens afterward, Aven paid more attention to the grounds, taking mental notes in regards to the layout. Every walk they took together from that point on, she did the same. Noting where the bunkers were located.
Noting the ins and outs of every small foot trail and the vulnerabilities of the forest surrounding the palace. No doubt the thick wildness of the trees provided a haven for the fae before. Outside of their one attack on the palace, she hadn’t remembered hearing anyone speak of an ambush before, and the shutdown had occurred only as a precaution. No army had broken down the walls or cut the trees. Only a ragtag band of humans and their protocols had been executed flawlessly.
How would they react, she wondered, if her battalion seized the barracks instead? If they stormed the village?
She forced herself to see these things through the eyes of war and strategy rather than touring them for pure pleasure. There would be no more enjoying Cillian’s company as a reprieve.
Much to her surprise, Roran said nothing to her. Not through the training sessions where he joined her and not when she swore she felt his eyes on her neck. Marking her movements, her closeness with his brother.
Alert, she studied his movements. Studied Cillian down to the inflection of his words and the trails he took her on each night, doing her best to recognize a pattern. Even when somewhere deep down inside of her, it felt wrong.