CHAPTER EIGHT #2
“Then what is your concern?” I barked, momentarily forgetting myself. Of course, I regretted my tone as soon as I spoke. If the last twelve hours hadn’t been so disastrous, I would have never—
“Not you, apparently.”
Her words were deadlier than the dagger sheathed in her belt.
It took strength to raise my gaze, to search for the ire I could not bear to see in her black eyes, but none was found.
Instead, her pouty lips were quirked into a smirk, and she peered at me with unbidden fondness for perhaps the first time since we’d met.
“I don’t understand,” I managed, finally standing upright. I dusted off my uniform, refusing to wince even when it hurt.
“I’m glad you still have some fight left in you,” Anise said while clasping my shoulder. “You’re going to need it.”
I shrugged her hand off with narrowed eyes. If I wasn’t her “problem” anymore, as she so indelicately implied, then I’d gone from being her pupil to being her princess. I stood taller with the assistance of a deep inhale, surprisingly not enjoying the role reversal.
Even with my rejection, she smiled, palms up in defense. “Just remember, I’m not the enemy.”
“Who is, then?”
Anise drew a thumb to her chin, pushing at the indent there as she began circling me like some sort of predatory animal.
I tracked her with my eyes. None of the torches had been lit, I noticed.
She’d waited for me in the dark, and only now were the cold, iron sconces casting early-morning shadows across the stone walls.
Her grey boots scuffed against the floorboards, careful to avoid the one that angled upward like a deathtrap, even as her attention remained fixed on my face.
From months of training with Anise, I knew that look.
She was debating what she could and couldn’t say to me.
The indignant fury I’d wielded at that very expression smoldered only slightly, for I held now the distinct impression she might finally loose the words teetering on the tip of her tongue.
When she crossed behind me, I focused forward, refusing to turn on her behalf.
Instead, I studied the long wooden benches lining the perimeter of the ground floor.
A Sentinel’s cloak lay forgotten, spilling over the bench’s edge and pooling below—they’ll regret that, I thought.
When Anise finally spoke, I very nearly startled.
“What do you know about Prince Rowland?”
I swallowed the bile that threatened to fill my mouth. “I’ve come to train, not to discuss Hollowmire’s ailing heir.”
“Well, it’s unfortunate you made the journey, because I cannot train you,” Anise said, completing her circle and turning towards the same window she’d nearly dropped me out of.
The sun’s rays were now budding just above the hills, stretching the depot’s shadows.
“I’m not your Captain as of this morning. ”
It was all I could do to muffle my gasp. “You’ve been replaced?”
“No, you halfwit.” Anise turned to face me but avoided meeting my eyes. She tucked short strands of dark brown hair behind her ears before crossing one arm over the other. “You’re no longer permitted to train as a Sentinel.”
The wave of disappointment slammed into me with such force, I was surprised to remain upright.
Logically, I’d known this day would come sooner or later, but Rowland’s persistent absence from Lunamor had lulled me into hoping ‘later’ might extend indefinitely.
And even now, with his attendance at the Feast of Comets mere hours away, I hadn’t anticipated the shift from Princess of Lunamor to Prince Rowland’s betrothed to disturb my life so immediately.
Before joining the Sentinels, my days had been fine, I tried to remind myself.
They were filled with prayer, embroidery, meandering about the gardens, and attending lessons on topics I had very little passion for learning.
It hadn’t been torture, but it had been static.
The activities that were fashioned to placate me until my sixteenth birthday, when Rowland was meant to whisk me away, had grown stale in the following years.
And as that staleness worsened, so too did my jealousy.
While Linus matured with the other Riders in training, learning how to perfect his horseback maneuvering and combat skills, I was left strolling in dresses and practicing dance.
I had enjoyed the extravagant gowns and gleaming gems Nora had insisted I wear, and even dancing had its moments of excitement, but none of it could hold a candle to Linus’ muddy face and wild eyes when returning from Cavalry training.
He reeked of something raw and thrilling, a yearning for life that I had never myself experienced.
I would have preferred to embroider the rest of my days than go anywhere near a horse, I’d reluctantly admitted to myself, but that was the precise moment it had struck me.
Those looming Sentinels, stationed along the wall and practicing hand-to-hand combat in those respectable grey cloaks—perhaps they might allow me even the smallest piece of the thrill Linus had hoarded for himself.
Sometimes I’d wondered if Father had perceived my growing displeasure with the monotony of my schedule, and that’s why he so easily allowed me to volunteer.
But that was worse than wishful thinking; it was active self-deception.
I’d never seen Father do anything that wasn’t immediately self-serving, but I needed this, so I disallowed myself from contemplating his potential motives.
Yet as the reality of my situation solidified, I could no longer contain the question burning brightly in my mind: why did he allow me to train in the first place?
He had no discernible reason to yield. And maybe it would have been better if he hadn’t—to never have been a Sentinel at all, rather than falling in love with my training only to have it ripped away.
Even with Linus’ constant reminder that I would never be a real Sentinel, I’d convinced myself that I belonged somewhere, to something. I mattered for more than just my blood. I had a purpose, a way to improve myself and help keep Lunamor the haven I’d always known it to be.
But that was over now.
The discontent that had soured my adolescence careened into my chest as though it had never left. That same gaping hole had formed in my center, and I carefully drew a hand there, gripping the thread of my treasured tunic to ensure the fabric itself hadn’t given way.
“Princess?” Not Lyssa, but princess. The word had never sounded so vile.
“I heard you,” I said, hand dropping to my side as I regarded her with a hardened expression. I needed to protect myself; I couldn’t let her see the wound. “That’s unfortunate, but not entirely unexpected, given the circumstances. You were saying something about an enemy?”
Anise rolled her head to the other side, her expression knowing. It seemed she could see right through me, but I maintained my stony countenance all the same. “Prince Rowland. What do you know about him?”
“I know whatever he has isn’t contagious,” I said, my tone devoid of humor.
“I’ve also been told that, despite what ails him, he’s—what were the words?
—unreasonably handsome, I think it was.” I expected at least the whisper of a smile to pull at her lips, but it never surfaced. “Why? What have you heard?”
“That his condition isn’t physical.” Anise seemed almost restless as she bounced her heel against the wooden floor. I’d never seen her exhibit anxiety or nervousness before, so it was all I could do to dampen the warning bell sounding in my mind.
“Tell me.” I swallowed against a rising ache. The effort it took to control my face did not extend to my heartbeat or breath, which both increased in rhythm.
“Some of the Hollow servants arrived earlier in the week to prepare chambers. Apparently, their lot is rather… particular,” Anise began.
I felt she was stalling, but I stood patiently, waiting for her to continue.
“One of ours overheard them speaking about the prince. They say he’s mad,” she finally admitted.
“And not harmlessly mad, like the blacksmith’s apprentice.
Mad in a frightening, cruel sort of way, a way that might make you lock up your own son until you’re confident he won’t hurt those around him, or those given to him. ”
“No.” I shook my head in disbelief. I reached for the nearest chair and lowered myself delicately, refusing to accept her claim.
I’d never expected to find love with the Hollow Prince, but cruelty?
It was a nightmare come alive, if it were true.
“No, I… I would have been told. Someone would have said… something. Father, he—”
“He has no choice.” Anise came to crouch by my side, resting a hand on my arm.
No one else in the kingdom would dare touch me so familiarly, and my attention fell there, heavy and unsure.
“The Treaty Princesses of Lunamor are given to the princes of Hollowmire. That’s how it’s been for centuries, and that’s how it will continue to be.
It’s a symbiotic relationship. Lunamor could not thrive without Hollowmire’s aid. The Treaty—”
“I’m aware. I did attend some of Tilda’s lessons, you know.
” My weak attempt at levity did little to soothe, so I rested my hand atop hers, and for a moment, our contact dislodged the boulder that was crushing me.
But my facade was starting to slip, a dry mouth and shallow breaths causing my voice to crack. “I… I’m afraid.”
“I know, Lyssa.” Anise drew me into a hug, the first we’d ever shared, and I melted into her arms with a quivering inhale. “But you’re prepared. I’ve prepared you.”
My brow furrowed as we pulled apart. “What do you mean?”
“You’re not collateral damage. Not to me,” she admitted, our lips hovering mere inches from one another. As our eyes connected, warmth bloomed in my lower abdomen. Her hand lingered over my braid, caressing the strands in a way that somehow felt right.
I searched her features with parted lips.
Anise had been my Captain for over a year now, and it had taken an enormous amount of effort to ignore the way sunlight caught her hair, and how her full lips glistened whenever she sipped from a sheepskin pouch.
I had prided myself on eschewing the persistent, provocative fantasies that forced me to press my knees tightly together in denial of those taunting daydreams. I had succumbed only a handful of times, and was sure to chastise myself afterward; what if my betrothed sensed the guilt marring my conscience?
Would he notice my heart and heat had been claimed by another, a galloping beat and a wetness that did not gather for him?
It didn’t matter, because of the infinite number of reasons why Anise and I were an impossibility, I’d been certain her disinterest was one of them—except we were so close now, it would take only the lift of my chin to connect our lips.
Breaths mingling. A gleam in her dark eyes, disproving my belief.
“I didn’t think—”
“I know,” she interrupted. “I convinced myself it was better this way. That it would be less painful when the inevitable came to pass.”
My knees fluttered apart instinctively, and I swallowed hard as she moved between them, looking up at me with an expression I hadn’t dared allow myself to imagine.
She was barely audible, her breath coming in quick huffs as she clutched my thigh: “The king might not have a choice, but you do. And I say, fuck the Treaty.”
Anise’s words were very near treasonous, but I had to be sure. With widened eyes, I lowered my voice to a whisper, my attention catching on her mouth. “What are you saying?”
Anise leaned in, a shiver snaking down my spine as her lips brushed against my ear. “I’m saying that if he dares to lay a malicious hand upon you, unsheathe your dagger and use it the way I taught you to.”