17. Reyla
17
REYLA
I woke the next morning to Lord Briscalar’s call at the door. “My lady. My lady? It’s past seven, and I’ve brought your breakfast tray. Would you unlock the door, or do you want me to do it for you?”
I didn’t like that magic could let almost anyone inside my room, especially after what happened on deck.
“My lady? Are you there?” he cried. “I’ve come with your breakfast, but I can bring it back later if you’d rather sleep.”
I sat up, blinking away the haze clinging to my mind. Pale light filtered through the porthole window, staining the floor wherever it touched. My eyes burned, the last of the night's emotional storm pinching the corners.
Farris groaned but lifted his head from where he lay curled up beside me, his eyes fixing on mine as if he was trying to figure out why we were getting up early. I pressed a kiss on the top of his head and slipped out of the bed. After running my fingers through my tangled hair, I approached the sitting room door and unlocked it, stepping back as I swung it inward.
Lord Briscalar bustled inside carrying a tray, his eyes snagging on my leather-clad form the moment he crossed the threshold. A practiced mask of diplomacy settled across his face, the twitch of his lips telling me he wasn’t thrilled with my bedwear choices.
“My lady.” He placed the tray on the table and turned. “Still in yesterday’s attire, I see.”
“I like this outfit.”
“And I would like to cleanse it.”
“I’ll take it off later.”
“Delightful.” He waved to the tray. “Sit, please, and we can discuss your activities for the day.”
Such as sitting in the bedroom? Staring out at the sea? Strolling on the deck in a lovely gown?
Oh, I know. Grinning ferally as I created new scars on the back of my bedroom door. I had a feeling that wasn’t one of the activities Lord Briscalar had in mind.
I dropped down into the chair and contemplated the fancy tray. “What are your thoughts?”
He let out a brief, satisfied gust of air. “I believe a gown will suit the occasion.”
“What occasion?”
“Visiting with the king, of course.” He sounded affronted that the thought wasn’t in the forefront of my mind. “The king has been . . . How shall we say? Eager to be with you again. I couldn’t help noticing how well you two appeared to be getting along. I’m sure he’d like to further your relationship during our journey. Then, when we arrive at Evergorne, you can settle into your new role by his side with complete confidence.”
I wasn’t sure my confidence would ever be complete, let alone boosted by chatting with the king, but Lord Briscalar had a point. Merrick might be my only ally at Evergorne, if the other courts I’d visited, excluding Lydel, were anything to go by.
The lord tilted his head in that gentle, questioning way, waiting for me to respond.
“That sounds . . . intriguing,” I said, unsure when I wanted to face Merrick again.
“Delightful.” The word came out with a whoosh, and as my reward, he lifted the cover off the tray, revealing the food I’d requested when I first boarded the ship.
While I ate, he puttered around the room, straightening this and that, though most things were bolted down to keep them from becoming lethal objects if we traveled through a storm.
“Shall I draw you a bath, my lady?” he asked, and at my nod, he scurried to the bathroom. The gush of water soon rang out.
Farris sat patiently beside me, watching me take each bite.
I fed him a piece of rusher, and he gobbled it up as Lord Briscalar returned to the room.
“Oh, my.” He frowned at the nyxin. “And here I’ve magicked a delightful meal for your pet in the bathing area. Perhaps he’d prefer that?”
If he was like me, he’d rather eat rusher, but I urged Farris to go with the lord, and he did so after sending one longing glance at my plate.
Finished, I sat back to sip my tea, staring out the porthole beside me, though there wasn’t much to see but water, more water, and still more water. At least the sun shone, and it didn’t appear windy.
“I’ve selected another of the gowns the king crafted for you,” he said, returning to the sitting area. “It’s hanging in the bathing area, and if I do say so myself, it’s quite delightful. You’ll be dressed in the height of fashion, and I know the king will be unable to drag his eyes away.”
“Thank you.” I placed my empty tea cup on the table.
A pleased smile touched Lord Briscalar’s lips as he scanned the tray. “Finished?”
“I’m stuffed. Thank you for the . . . delightful meal.”
His cheeks darkened. “It’s always a pleasure to serve you, my lady. I’ll give you time to bathe, and then, if you’ll allow me after you’ve donned the vision of a gown, I’d love to arrange your hair.”
“Sure.” It was getting harder to pretend enthusiasm about this. Was this the life stretching in front of me, bathing, wearing pretty but constraining gowns, with the only thing to look forward to was someone arranging my hair?
I hoped not.
“Do you have dragons at Evergorne Court?” I asked as I rose from the chair.
“We did in the past.” He paused, blinking fast. “They were a vital part of . . .”
“Of what?”
He shook his head. “There are only a few, aged dragons left in the aerie now, I’m afraid. Most died.”
My heart seized. “How? ”
“Halendor Court cast a nasty spell on our eggs and none of them hatched. Then our adult dragons started to die.”
“That’s horrible.”
He followed me into the bathing area and shut off the water, the tub brimming with bubbles and a floral scent drifting through the air. “It is indeed. Without them, we’re . . .” He glanced around. “Is there anything else you need for your bath, my lady?”
“Without dragons, you’re . . . what? You didn’t finish the thought.”
“What thought?” His face remained clear.
Odd, but he wouldn’t be the first to start something only to forget what he’d been about to say.
“I won’t need anything else, thank you. I can take care of things from here.”
He bowed. “Please call out if you need help dressing.”
The time I called out for help putting on a dress might as well be the day I died. I nodded and gave him a pleasant smile as he backed from the room, shutting the door behind him.
Farris finished his meal and scampered over as I stripped and stepped into the water, sinking down and leaning back against the smooth side. While he hopped up onto a stool and watched me with grave concern, I washed my hair and body. I lounged after, letting the warmth soak into my bones and wash away my lingering sadness.
This was my future, and I might as well adjust to that fact. Once I arrived at Evergorne, I’d find something worthy to do because I refused to sit around all day in pretty dresses, doing nothing .
After I dried off and while the tub drained, I held up the gown Merrick had created for me to wear. Elegant. One might even call it regal, but it had been made in a design softer than what I’d worn the day before, with subtle embroidery along the edges of the dark green fabric.
When I started to tug the gown over my head, the skirt wouldn’t fully part.
Ahhh . . .
My first true grin of the day split my face. The skirt had a subtle split and had been sewn up to the waist, creating “pants”.
“This is amazing,” I called out through the door.
“Ah, yes, you’ve discovered the king’s surprise. Delightful, isn’t it? When I mentioned your favorite outfit, though I will say that ladies rarely wear leather tunics and pants at court, he laughed.”
“Mocking me?”
“Oh, no, not at all. The admiration in his eyes . . . He said he’d craft something special for you and that I was to suggest you wear it today.”
I stepped into it and tugged the lovely bodice up, settling the sleeves across my shoulders before spinning around to make the full skirt bloom around me. It may look like a regular old—though gorgeous—gown, but this was something a warrior could wear.
King Merrick was . . . a surprise, and I didn’t know what to think about that.
Pleased with how light the gown felt compared to others I’d worn, plus the ease with which I could move around, I strode into the bedroom and dutifully took my place at the vanity. As Lord Briscalar’s fingers worked through the tangles in my hair with an adeptness I had to admire, I set my sights on a new line of questioning.
“Tell me more about Merrick.” I kept my voice casual. “Was he always like he is now?”
His brush paused before continuing with a steady rhythm. “The king has always been destined for greatness.” He kept his tone measured. “Even as a child, it was evident he had a strong sense of duty and responsibility.” His lips quirked as if he was recalling a distant memory. “But he was not without his moments of warmth and kindness, nor his rebellious streaks, such as they were. That, of course, smoothed out once he turned seventeen.”
I wasn’t sure what age had to do with it, but sure.
“What about Lord Lorant?” I fidgeted with an earring left on the vanity. The stones appeared real, and they must be. They wouldn’t dress their future queen in fake, now would they? “Are he and Merrick close?”
Lord Briscalar picked up a delicate silver hairpin, staring at it as he twirled it between his fingers, as if contemplating how much to share. “He and the king were born at about the same time.”
“Who’s older?”
He frowned. “Lord Lorant, though I don’t believe by much.” His face smoothed. “His mother served in the royal court, though I never met her. My family has always served the royal family, but I’m only fifteen years older than the king, which means my father served back then. However, I assure you, my father personally took care of my training. ”
“It’s impeccable.”
He gave me a sweet smile. “Lord Lorant’s mother passed away when he was young, and the bond between the two boys grew. Despite what happened . . . His scars—”
“Scars?” That slash on his face . . . The network on his hands and what I’d seen of his arms . . .
Lord Briscalar’s gaze met mine in the mirror. “I’m sorry, what did you ask?”
“You mentioned Lord Lorant’s scars, that something happened.”
“Such is the way with injuries, is it not?” He secured the pin in my hair. “They were raised like brothers. Not unlike you and your own brother, though obviously without the, hmm, fearsome reputation, shall we say?”
“Why aren’t you telling me how Lord Lorant received his scars?”
“Such a terrible thing.” He shuddered. “It makes him appear quite fearsome.”
“What happened?”
He blinked, his head tilting and his gaze losing focus. “I’m not quite sure I ever heard the full story.”
“Do scars cover his entire body?”
His posture tightened. “I’m not one who’d know such a thing, and I suggest you avoid getting drawn into court gossip to find an answer to that question.”
I was never one who enjoyed that type of conversation, but my curiosity appeared eager to be fed. It appeared the lord wasn’t going to give me a straight answer, however. “I heard Lord Lorant is called the Viper. ”
“Sailor’s gossip.” He huffed, his mouth pinched. “It’s always wise to avoid being drawn into such things, don’t you think?”
I was getting nowhere with this conversation. “Both Merrick and Lord Lorant appear to share a similar magical skill.”
“You speak of the lord’s elemental aegis and King Merrick’s elemental symbiosis? A common enough ability.” His brow furrowed. “It must be since I know of at least two men who command it. In any case, while the two skills may seem similar, they’re anything but.”
“Could you explain them to me?”
“This might provide a stimulating conversation between you and the king, don’t you think?”
What about Lore? Should I ask him about his magic and see if our conversation would be equally stimulating?
“I’ll be sure to ask him, but could you give me some basic details?” I asked.
Briscalar delicately placed another pin in my hair, his focus on the art he was creating on my head. “Both the king and Lord Lorant possess a deep connection to the elemental forces, though each expresses it differently. Merrick’s gift lies in shaping the very essence of nature, while Lord Lorant . . . Well, he has an affinity for things that were once alive and those you might say are brought alive in a different way.”
Curiosity still banged on my mind. “Interesting, but not what I would expect from a mere bodyguard.”
His eyes snapped up to meet mine in the mirror again. “Lord Lorant may serve as a protector, but he’s far more than only that to the king. Their bond is one of deep trust, forged through trials and shared burdens. I would venture to say he’s an extension of Merrick’s will, and the fates help anyone who dares challenge that.”
A shiver tracked through me. I’d already seen the king’s more deadly side, though I’d expected that more from Lore than the king.
But how well did I know either of them?
Lord Briscalar shifted the topic. “The king asked about you not long ago.” He tweaked a curl into place beside my face. “He suggested you might enjoy a stroll on the deck this morning. Some fresh air, perhaps.”
Tension flickered through me at the thought of seeing Merrick again after what happened. I clenched my hands in my lap, reining in the whirlpool of memories and sensations Merrick had stirred.
“I’m afraid I’m not ready to venture out of my suite yet.” I curved my lips into a faint smile. Remaining indoors and locked away with Farris wouldn’t solve anything, but at least it would keep me from falling for Merrick’s considerable charms. “I’d like to catch up on some reading this morning.”
His brow arched, but his face remained smooth. “Of course, my lady. The king will understand.” He finished the last touches on my hair. After stepping back to admire his work, he nodded. “There. You look every bit the queen you’re destined to be.”
I glanced in the mirror. The elegant gown flowed around me like a soft cloud, the intricate hairpiece he’d secured at the top of my head twinkling in the light.
An odd emptiness tugged at me, but I chose not to examine it closely .
“Thank you.” I offered him a weak smile.
He returned it before making his way to the door. “Please don’t hesitate to call me should you need anything throughout the day, my lady.” With that, he left, closing the door behind him.
I paced the length of the suite, back and forth, the soft slap of my shoes against the polished floor providing no calm. I nibbled on my nail until I realized—again—that I was doing it and made myself stop. A bad habit I couldn’t seem to kick. My gaze caught on the worn spine of Ember's Shadow peeking from beneath one of the pillows on the bed. Lord Briscalar had made it up neatly while I bathed. I’d tucked it beneath the mattress, but he must’ve seen the subtle lump and investigated.
Although, this book had a habit of turning up where it needed to be—and for being mostly unreadable. It dealt out hints and teases in equal measure, but it had shared vital information in the past. When it wasn’t in the mood to reveal anything, it remained as blank and useless as the walls around me.
I tugged it out from beneath the pillow and settled on the bed, the mattress creaking underneath me. Farris trotted over and jumped, landing beside me with a soft yip. He curled up, his fluffy tail waving as he nuzzled my leg.
“Alright, book. Show me what you’ve got.” I flipped through the first blank pages. “Come on. Tell me something. Don’t be an ache in the ass.”
When I turned another page, the faint, ghostly outline of the table of contents materialized, the ink unfurling across the page in cursive script. My pulse leaped, and I ran my fingertip down the page. “Table of Contents. Hmm. On the Origins of Fae Animagery. That’s more Tempest’s thing than mine.” My friend could coax almost any creature into licking her face. “ The Intricacies of Gown Magic , a topic only Lord Briscalar would find appealing. Twilit Realm: Trade Customs and Laws of Silent Courts. What in the fates is a silent court? From what I’ve seen, they’re all equally demanding and loud.” Although, the people of Lydel had been silent when I first arrived on the island. Frowning, I returned to the page. “ Chapter Fourteen: Evergorne Court. ”
I gasped. Farris looked up at me before sighing.
I feverishly thumbed through the book, flipping past blank pages to the chapter, Evergorne Court . And there, nestled in the middle of the page, I found . . . something. It appeared sparse and written simply, but I knew this book well. Every word it shared would be more weighted than the last. The ink shimmered like it held more than just words embedded deep in the fabric page.
Seek ye the mystery hidden
behind Evergorne’s gilded walls,
Where whispers fall and secrets have forevermore crawled.
Upon joy’s path or at sorrow’s gate
lies a choice ye must make.
Will ye step close or back away and seal fate?
Be wary, lest the jaws of magic ensnare ye as well,
And steal the hearts thou didst not know ye craved.
I grunted. “What in the fates does that mean?”
My heart fluttering, I reread the poem. Was this a warning or a dare? Cool air hissed through the cracked-open porthole, a briny scent clinging to the breeze.
A chill settled over me.
Palming the edges of the worn pages, I closed my eyes. I needed to memorize this, because unlike other books, Ember’s Shadow had a nasty habit of playing games. The next time I opened it, this particular page would most likely be blank. Like the wicked fae and their tricks, this book followed its own rules, and they were not only elusive, but they were also unpredictable.
I repeated the lines silently, searing them into my mind. “. . . secrets have forevermore crawled . . . jaws of magic ensnare . . .” A mystery meant to either give joy or destroy. This referred to me. I knew it in my heart.
What in the world did “seal fate” mean? What mystery waited for me at Evergorne Court?
Since I would step into the viper pit within days, “jaws” and all, I’d soon find out.
Farris shifted beside me, lifting his head to rest it on my thigh, a light snore escaping his parted lips. I stroked the fur behind his ears. “A choice is often a fork in the path.” I’d read enough riddles in mystery novels to sense when one held more beneath its surface than it revealed. Either way, I had to be a step ahead of this or risk falling prey to whatever lay in wait. Secrets, no matter how deeply buried, were always waiting to spring their traps. And from Lord Briscalar’s vague hints, Evergorne was a court full of secrets.
The book slid closed with a soft thump, and I let it rest on my lap, my pulse still jumping around in my throat. I refused to step into Evergorne Court blind. I’d keep the lines in my mind and think about them every now and then to see if they held new meaning.
I’d lost myself in thought, my fingers twisting through Farris’s fur, when a firm knock echoed at the door, snapping me back into the room. My spine tightened.
“Reyla,” Merrick’s teasing rumble came from the hall. “Do I need to storm in, my fawn bride, or will you open the door and pretend you’re happy to see me?”
Great. Just great.
Heat burst in my chest, a slow burn that seemed determined to become a full flame. Muttering under my breath, I scrambled to hide the book underneath the mattress again.
Farris lifted his head, his ears twitching, and I gave him a quick pat.
“Stay here, little fella.” In the sitting area, I pressed my forehead against the door. “Pretend you’re good at courtly games, Reyla.”
Yeah, sure.
I wasn’t ready for Merrick. I suspected I’d never be ready for Merrick.
When I opened the door, I found him standing in the hall, tall and imposing, but with an air of nonchalance that somehow lit my guarded walls on fire. His green eyes met mine, amusement with something deeper simmering below.
“Have you been avoiding me?” he asked with a smile curling the corner of his mouth.
I swallowed, unsure how best to handle him. “I’ve been reading. ”
Not a lie.
That damned smile grew bolder, a spark of laughter lighting his gaze. “Reading after all we’ve been through, huh? And here I was thinking you’d be eagerly awaiting my company. Pining for me, actually.”
The playful teasing, the easy way he spoke, sent warmth and irritation through me at the same time.
“Are all kings this arrogant?” I thought of stepping to the side to let him in but there was a bed in my suite, and if I did nothing else, I would avoid lying beneath him again on a soft surface. “Let’s stroll on the deck, shall we?”
Maybe the wind and distractions would keep him from fraying the edges of my composure.
“I’d love to.” He stepped back and offered his arm to me as I closed my door.
With a sigh, I slid my hand along his forearm, trying my best to ignore the thick flex of his muscles beneath my fingers.
With a calm, commanding stride, he led me along the hall and up the stairs. We burst through the top door and out into the sunshine.
“I wouldn’t call it arrogance,” he said in a low voice. As we paused to adjust to the bright light, his gaze flicked to my lips before returning to lock on my eyes. “Call it confidence earned, tempered with the knowledge that you’re not running to see me yet.”
His words sent a shiver through me, kindling feelings I wasn’t ready to name.
This was Merrick, dangerously charming, smug in his kingship, and a deeper person than I wanted him to be. I couldn’t say he shied from hardness, not after what he’d done with the sailor. Other than carrying me down the stairs and dumping me onto his bed, he’d been kind and gentle with me. Teasing me instead of making demands like any other king would. His duality confused me. I hadn’t quite figured what sort of man I’d chained myself to yet.
“Careful, Merrick.” I stepped away from him and his too-overwhelming appeal. “You might find me less willing if you keep talking like that.”
He caught my challenge easily, tilting his head with a grin that bore the right amount of roguishness to scatter my will to resist. “I have no doubts about that, Reyla. But,” his tone shifted, quieting for my ears alone, “there are worlds in you that need unlocking, and I believe I’m the perfect man to do so.”
The words didn’t settle—they sank deep inside me. He couldn’t know what I was thinking or feeling, though I’d told him about losing Kinart. He must’ve seen the devastation on my face and heard it coming from my heart. His words reached me in a way no one else’s ever had. I wasn’t sure if that scared or stunned me. Both.
I could run from him now. Let’s face it, I’d essentially run already, hiding in my cabin for so long.
Or I could lift my head and do what I’d told myself I would do when I agreed to be his willing bride.
I stepped forward with my eyes—and my heart—open, determined to see what this man brought next.