Chapter 2
Chapter
Two
W hile I’m not the most diplomatic of princesses, I have to admit that I excel at petty court aggressions. Some people are good with lutes, I’m good at getting under King Lionel’s skin. He’s an absolute twat and doesn’t deserve to be on the throne, but such is fate. I flick a hand over my wide, heavily embroidered panniers, and adjust the puffy yellow sleeves of my chemise. They poke out between the cuffs like lemony tufts and look garishly bright on such a solemn occasion. Wholly inappropriate and absolutely perfect. Sitting by the window in my room, I toy with the jewel-encrusted belt at my waist and wait to be summoned.
I don’t have to wait too long. The king’s official messenger arrives and I pretend to be very interested in the embroidery upon my cuff as Riza harasses him on my behalf. When she finally lets him in, I feign surprise that the king wishes to see me. My sister has been married to Lionel for all of a year now, and other than official holidays in which he cannot avoid me, Lionel avoids my presence. It suits me quite fine, as I loathe the boor.
Gathering my skirts, I follow the herald through the enormous keep. Castle Lios should be a place of enlightenment, of learning and joy like it was in the time of my ancestors. But Lionel has taken to ruling things with an iron fist, and he picks endless fights with the rocky borders of Darkfell. Now, instead of courtiers and musicians, Lios is filled with tense advisors and soldiers. They give me uneasy looks as I swan through the halls in my garish clothing, as if my cheery presence offends their war-leaning sensibilities. Lionel is going to drive this kingdom to ruin, I just know it.
And he will drag us all down with him.
“The Princess Candromeda Vestalin,” the herald cries as I enter the throne room.
I feign more surprise to see the throne room full of courtiers and ambassadors, and blow kisses and wave at the gathered men as if they’re all here to see me. The men in their armor and wearing their war-cloaks look less than thrilled at my antics, but I don’t care. I beam at everyone and then sink into a low, perfect curtsy before the paired thrones on the dais.
When I rise, I glance over at my sister, who sits at King Lionel’s side.
I shouldn’t have looked. Erynne’s face is blotchy with tears, her eyes red. She dabs at them with a silk handkerchief that matches her dress, and a woeful expression is on her pretty face. Her other hand caresses her heavily pregnant belly, and I’m stricken with guilt. Here I am, acting the jester and my sister is weeping over the loss of our sister. I’m filled with a hint of shame that I don’t have the same memories of Meryliese that she does. I was too young to remember much, but Erynne is four years older than me and probably remembers a great deal more.
I bite my lip, because a princess shouldn’t cry in public, but Erynne’s tears can be blamed upon her pregnancy at least.
“Greetings, my queen,” I say sweetly, and then add, “and my king.”
Lionel’s jaw clenches and I just know he wants to say something unpleasant to me. I brace myself, ready for it. We’ve gotten into such spats in the past—he thinks he gets final say in all things, and I think he is a dreadful louse, and so we’ve squabbled in front of courtiers many a time. He can’t do anything to me as I’m Erynne’s sister and I clearly have the cursed blood of Vestalin in my veins, but I know he’d love to bring me down a notch if he could. He glances over at his bride, frustration clearly written on his face.
I dislike Lionel intensely. I dislike his florid face and his blond beard and the way he laughs so loud so as everyone will look over at him. I hate his jovial manner because it’s fake, and I hate that he married poor Erynne when Erynne is in love with her maid, Isabella.
And I really hate it when Lionel looks over at me. “Who would have thought that plump, silly Candromeda would suddenly become important to the court?” He gives me a scathing smile. “Today truly is a day of precipitous events.”
“Why, whatever do you mean?” I ask, fluttering my lashes and feigning ignorance. “What has happened, Your Grace?”
Lionel’s eyes narrow on me, and for a moment he looks just like his father. King Balnor was an unpleasant man with cruel eyes, and he came perilously close to marrying my mother to secure his claim on the throne. Luckily for all of us, Mother was penniless (and already married, but such things are unimportant to a king), Balnor had an heiress wife and a marriage was arranged between Erynne and his oldest son, Lionel, instead. Lionel has the same aggressive, cruel streak his father did, and he’s determined to have a glorious war, again, just like his father.
Which is why we’re in the situation we’re in. He wants a war with Darkfell and he won’t stop until Lios is fully embroiled in a new conflict.
I keep the dumb smile on my face as I rise to my feet and wait for him to tell me the news.
“As you know, the Golden Moon is rising once more.”
I nod. “Praise to the Golden Moon Goddess,” I say automatically. The golden moon—the symbol of the goddess of chaos—appears in the skies every thirty years and remains for seven long years. During those years, the seas are violent, the weather full of madness, and it’s a sign that the goddess is unhappy with mankind. She has been since the First War, when Ravendor Vestalin defeated her champion and established the first kingdom, Lios. To appease the prickly goddess, when the Golden Moon arises, a Royal Offering of bloodlines from both Lios and Darkfell must both be given to the Tower of Balance. There, the best of both kingdoms’ bloodlines must remain for seven years, until the Golden Moon Goddess disappears from the skies.
To step foot out of the tower is to anger the goddess once more.
Meryliese was supposed to be the sacrifice from the bloodline of Vestalin. Our ancestry reaches back to Ravendor, and no other bloodline in Lios is as pure. Even now, we stand apart from the rest of Lios.My sister Erynne is the swan of the court. The blood of Ravendor runs through our veins, evidenced by our dark hair and green eyes in a kingdom full of blue-eyed blondes. It’s rumored that Princess Ravendor married a warrior of Darkfell, and all descendants of her line have Fellian dark hair and eyes. My sister Erynne is pale and beautiful, her figure willowy and her manner elegant. Her jet-black hair flows down her back like a waterfall, and jewels gleam amongst her tresses like stars in the night sky. She is gorgeous and ethereal, a credit to the Vestalin bloodline.
Me…well, I am more of a plump sort of hedgehog. But a charming one, I like to think. I’m good with wooing people and winning them to my side. Unless you’re Lionel. He can rot in the Gray God’s dungeons for all I care. I’m not charming for him deliberately.
“If we do not send a sacrifice to the Tower of Balance, the land will be in turmoil,” King Lionel continues. “The seas will be impossible to sail, our ships dashed upon the rocks. The crops that feed the people will be decimated. We must send our sacrifice to the tower within the next three days.”
Three days. Three days until the Golden Moon Goddess returns.
Dragon shite. I am in such danger.
My lungs tighten, and I feel a swell of panic, but I tamp it down. “I trust in the king to do what is right,” I say sweetly, all the while mentally flinging daggers at Lionel’s fair head. “You will guide the people properly.”
“Your sister, Meryliese, was to be the sacrifice to the Golden Moon Goddess,” he says. “Her ship was on the way to the tower and was destroyed. There were no survivors.”
His blunt voice makes me flinch. I recover quickly and affect a pious expression. “And I shall keep her in my prayers, poor thing. She would say to us if she had to give her life, that she should give it in the service of the gods.”
“Her death poses a new problem,” King Lionel says, drumming his fingers on the arm of his throne. “The last two of the Vestalin bloodline are yourself and my lovely wife.” Then, he puts a hand on Erynne’s stomach, deliberately touching her very pregnant belly. He goes silent, clearly waiting for me to speak up.
Fresh tears roll down my sister’s face.
And I’m neatly trapped.
Because my sister can bear children and I cannot. She is keeping the Vestalin bloodline alive and I am the useless one. She is also heavily pregnant with the heir to the throne. She cannot go to the tower, and Lionel’s hand on her stomach seems to proclaim that, even as he gives me a challenging glare.
Well, if he’s expecting me to volunteer myself, he’s delusional.
I clear my throat. “It will be difficult, but I am sure the people of Lios will be able to endure seven years of hardship if we prepare.” I smile brightly. “It is good they have a strong and mighty king to lead them.”
A titter surges through the court, and Lionel’s face goes florid with anger. “You would rather have your people suffer than volunteer yourself to the tower?”
He’s calling me out in front of the entire court, just as I suspected he would. But still, I feign ignorance. I put a hand to my breast and gasp loudly. “My lord, I cannot go. I have the blood sickness. I am tainted .” I do my best to look helpless and woebegone. “I must be administered medicine daily and we all know that the one that goes to the tower must go alone.”
“Your nurse will teach you how to dose yourself. And the kingdom will supply you with food and drink so your stay in the tower is a comfortable one.” He leans forward on his throne, clutching the arms and glaring down at me. “If you do not go, the ships waiting to bring our men to the borders of Darkfell will be stranded here. The ships that carry grain to our people from across the sea will be unable to arrive. Cities would starve. Children would go hungry. You would sacrifice all of this for your personal comfort? Are you not the line of the hero? Are you not the blood of Ravendor Vestalin?”
Ugh. I hate his sanctimonious tone. I look at my sister, at her red-rimmed eyes, and I hate the sorrow I see there. She’s going to be so disappointed in me, and yet I’m not going to commit myself to such a terrible fate. Seven years in the tower will be a death sentence for me. Even if I learned how to give myself my medication, I cannot be away from court for that long. I am the eyes and ears for my sister, hearing rumors that she does not. I am busy, too. There are holiday feasts and banquets every month until the next solstice. I cannot go to the tower and miss those. I am…too popular. Yes, that’s it. “I can’t do it. I’m sorry.”
“Very well,” King Lionel says, his expression full of remorse. “Then your sister must go.”
I gasp in shock. So does Erynne.