Chapter 37 #4
He opened and closed his mouth, but the argument died in his eyes as he slid the coin into his pocket and nodded firmly. “I understand. But…why, sir?”
I considered not answering, but I needed to quiet the boy’s interest in me in case gossip spread among the servants. “Count Drake Nazari will be taking ownership of him, and I am to ensure he is in good health.”
I tossed the shovel down and headed over to Gallow, the horse rubbing his face against me, a little whinny of content leaving him as the word “Apple?” flared hopefully in my mind.
“Not yet, boy,” I murmured. “But soon.”
I tickled his ears then reluctantly left him behind, making my way along paths and through courtyards I knew all too well, finding it strange to be doing so without orders to follow.
I headed into the palace, passing down the long, white corridors and taking the time to really appreciate the tapestries and oil paintings in a way that felt more meaningful than it had in the past, my time always focused on my duties.
It really was a beautiful palace with tiny courtyards and balconies hidden sporadically around every other corner, hand-carved door frames and exquisite art everywhere I looked.
I took my time but eventually made my way back up to Drake's chambers. The sinking sun cast amber light through the windows which led out to the private balcony and Drake was bathing in it, sitting on the floor with his britches rolled up to the knee and his right leg outstretched. Kyra sat next to him, cooing over his injury. A red and blue bruise was shining across the bone and Drake was lapping up every one of The Blessing’s soothing words and compliments over his fighting prowess.
I noticed the rosette had been removed from his chest now and two dots of red showed where the princess had slid it through his skin, the sight of it making me brim with satisfaction.
As Kyra cooed and fussed even more, I kicked the door shut to grab their attention. Drake didn’t so much as flinch at the noise, his instincts clearly as keen as my own, knowing full well that I was there.
“So?” he asked at last.
“So what?” I drawled.
“How did the final brawls go? I suppose I am comfortably in first place already and you’re eating your words like a hungry little orphan with his mouldy bit of bread.”
“That analogy leaves a lot to be desired,” I said coolly, and Drake’s head snapped towards me as Kyra continued to croon over him.
“Tell me, mate,” he demanded, a bite to his tone and I cocked my head at him.
“You’re interested now, are you? Makes a change.”
“I’m always interested in things when they concern me,” he said. “Come on, Cass, sound the winners trumpet and do a little celebratory dance for me. I’m first, aren’t I?”
“Second,” I delivered to him with a sweet satisfaction.
His face fell, like I’d slapped him, but he quickly schooled it into nonchalance.
“Kahn?” he guessed, and I nodded. “Oh well, he’s only first ‘cause he got himself an easy target in his brawl. If he faced me, he’d be firmly in second place where he belongs right now, and the princess would be swooning over me even more than she already was – ow.
” He turned to Kyra who had just poked him hard in the bruise with the blunt end of a spoon, but she fluttered her lashes innocently. “Woopsie.”
“Captain Hariot is positioned thir-” I started, but Drake spoke over me.
“Don’t care, mate. Anyone below me is already out of the running in my eyes.”
“That is a very foolish belief to hold,” I said, but he was clearly done talking about this as he ignored me entirely, returning his attention to The Blessing.
Kyra continued to pout and fuss over the wound while Drake clearly enjoyed the attention, and I narrowed my eyes at him irritably.
“Just ask her to heal it,” I said, shaking my head.
“I was just about to, mate,” Drake said with a slanted grin. “Would you fix my leg, little goddess? Keep the colour of the bruise though. Just in case anyone sees it.”
Kyra nodded quickly, shutting her eyes for a moment then Drake sighed, getting to his feet with a word of thanks. He strolled across the room, hooking a scroll from the dining table before approaching me.
“We were sent this.” Drake thrust the thick parchment letter at me.
“What does it say?” I asked as I took it, eyeing the royal seal stamped onto the fine paper.
“I can't read,” he grunted, gesturing for me to open it and I was stabbed a little too hard with that knowledge, especially as I’d been angry with him for not taking the time to read over the rules of the pageant.
I was once again forced to acknowledge the privileges I had been afforded while he was fighting for survival on the streets, and I didn’t like how that disturbed me.
I had been foolish not to think of it before.
Of course he couldn’t read. Orphans were not able to go to school in Osaria – another thing the emperor had been about to change before Magdor had arrived.
Education was important for the advancement of our people as a whole, and he had once spoken passionately about the desire to offer it to all.
I ignored the tug of pity in my chest over this man’s deprived upbringing and focused on the thousand issues this might present going forward as I tore open the seal upon the scroll and scanned the page. My heart sank as I read it and worries flickered through my mind.
“Fuck.” I crushed the parchment in my palm.
“What is it?” Kyra asked keenly, her hair floating around her shoulders for a moment before she wrangled the magic and it fell naturally once more.
“You're invited to a formal dinner tonight alongside the other victors.”
“Ohh, am I?” Kyra asked brightly.
“Er, no. Drake is,” I clarified with a snort of amusement as her answer caught me off guard.
“Well, he was looking at me, so I had to assume he meant us,” Kyra muttered to herself.
“And?” Drake questioned me with a shrug.
“ And it's going to fit the traditions of The Twelve Kingdoms. Meaning every course will hold the customs of each land.”
“So?” Drake shrugged again and I ground my teeth.
“Do you know the customs of every kingdom, Count Nazari ? Do you even know the customs of your own alleged kingdom?”
“Obviously not,” he said scathingly. “But you can teach me, right?”
I turned to the clock on the wall. There was only half an hour until the feast began. That wasn't nearly enough time to teach him everything he needed to know. And what if he messed it up and gave away the fact that he wasn't a real count? This could ruin everything .
“He can't,” Kyra breathed ominously. “His expression says he can't. Look at his face, it’s all scrunchy and worried and says, ‘oh no the world is ending!’” She pointed at me and Drake frowned.
“Is that true?” he demanded. “There’s really not enough time?”
“No, not even close to enough. I didn't realise this would be required or I would have been teaching you for days.” Anxiety burrowed into my chest as I tossed the letter onto the nearest table and began to pace.
There were so many layers to the customs around this meal, and even Fae who had been taking part in these kinds of things for years sometimes struggled to remember them all.
But that would be no excuse. Anyone of high enough breeding would be expected to know the entire thing to perfection. Drake could not do it.
By the Fallen, what were we going to do?
I couldn't risk Drake fucking this all up now. There would be a whole host of questions about the count once he proved he didn’t even know the customs of his own land, let alone the rest of the kingdoms’ traditions.
Everything could fall apart thanks to this single damn thing.
“Shit...maybe I can say I'm too badly injured to attend?” Drake suggested but I shook my head.
“Tomorrow they will see how well you are and assume you lied. That would cause even more of a scandal,” I growled, running a hand over my head.
“Tell them I have the shits then,” he said with a shrug and I damn near choked on my own tongue.
“Nobles do not say things like ‘I have the shits’ and even if they did, they would surely send a healer for you, and though I cannot claim to understand healing Affinities in their entirety, I do know that a healer would instantly be able to tell that you were fit and well,” I said, shaking my head and pacing faster.
Kyra started following me around the room, mimicking me as she clasped her hands behind her back and shook her head in frustration.
I nearly bumped into her as I twisted sharply around and she vanished into a puff of smoke, making my heart lurch in surprise before she materialised beside me instead.
“I suppose you'll just have to go,” Kyra gasped in realisation.
“That makes absolutely no sense, magic girl,” I said as I took a measured step away from her, still disturbed by the power she had just wielded.
“I'll make you look like Drake,” she said like it was obvious, and I wondered when she’d decided to start calling him by his name instead of master.
Her smile suddenly fell away as she thought on her suggestion.
“Oh, is that a bad idea? I suppose you wouldn't want to look that ugly, Cassius. It might make you very upset. Look how upset Drake is about it.” She gestured to him, and his jaw ticked with rage at her words.
I released a low laugh and Drake turned to Kyra, taking in a deep breath. “Firstly, I'm not ugly. You've got things all mixed up and it’s about time you got them straight. And secondly...” His eyes suddenly glimmered and a smile pulled at his mouth. “That's a fucking genius idea.”
“Really?” she asked, her eyes wide with hope and he grinned as he nodded.
This idea was absolute insanity. “I'm not fit to attend such a thing,” I said firmly, wanting to come up with a plan far less risky than this.
“Oh, but I am?” Drake blew out a breath of amusement. “You're high born, Cassius. That's good enough.”