Chapter 23
CHAPTER TWENTY THREE
The stone walls of Wrathbane Palace felt less oppressive as I walked between them, though nothing much had changed. But I found I no longer felt the keenness of my lonely existence while stalking along the stark corridors.
I had an ally in my rebellion.
We’d returned to the palace weeks ago, Bastian flying back to his rooms a day before I returned to the city on foot. And my prince hadn’t suspected a thing.
Of course he still watched my movements, tracked my interactions, be they with the kitchen staff or while training my Sinfair legion, but he hadn’t made any further demands of me. Nor had he released me to hunt Cayde down. And I was growing more than tired of his excuses.
Still, the war was raging, the Void causing havoc across The Waning Lands.
I’d even heard the Cascadians had stolen Cinder Vale from the Stonebreakers.
There was good reason for my prince to keep me here if the only considerations were strategy for battle.
But I was no longer interested in passing the time between bouts of warfare only to recuperate and head back into the fray once more.
What was the point of it all? No one ever won.
I knew it was treasonous to have such thoughts, but the more I tried to stop myself thinking them, the deeper they dug their way into my mind.
I’d been summoned once again to a feast in the ballroom and though I wished with all my soul not to attend, I knew I had to keep playing my part if I ever hoped to be let off of my leash and freed to kill the man whose death I yearned for.
So I strode through the corridors in a midnight blue dress which was even more beautiful than all the others I’d been gifted.
Its silver brocade spun a web of stars over the skirt which was cut short above my knees in the front but pooled into a wide train at the back.
A gift from Prince Evard who seemed disinclined to take my hints at rejection seriously.
Dragor had forbidden me from denying his brother’s proposal in full but I was fast approaching the end of my patience with the pretence that I was considering it. And if Evard thought that pretty gowns were the key to my heart then he really didn’t know me at all.
Guards stood either side of the doors as usual but as I approached them a hand grasped my elbow and tugged me aside into a small smoking chamber.
I had a dagger to the throat of my prince before I had the chance to recognise him and Dragor arched an eyebrow at me in warning.
I bared my teeth, reminding him how foolish it was to try and sneak up on me, then I reluctantly stowed the dagger back into the sheath at my hip beneath the folds of my skirt.
“What is it?” I asked as his gaze dropped over me.
Dragor sighed, irritation in his expression. He released me, his attention moving to the door for a moment before he spoke.
“You are not to overreact,” he told me firmly, my spine straightening at the warning.
“To what?”
“My father ails in his final days,” Dragor murmured. “We all know it. The readings have confirmed it. But of course no one is allowed to breathe a word about it. Which means–”
“Your siblings are all making their last power plays,” I said in understanding, my mind racing over what they might do now, what plans they’d all bring together, who would die, what secrets might emerge.
“They are,” Dragor growled angrily. “And I won’t be made a fool of. So I’m warning you to play the hand you are about to be dealt. Accept it. Don’t make a scene. Do nothing at all.”
“Or what?” I hissed, resentment bubbling up inside me as I took a step away from him. “You insist upon me proving my loyalty to you over and over again but you do not reward me for doing so.”
“Reward?” Dragor sneered. “And what reward would a lowly creature such as you imagine you deserve?”
“Only one,” I replied, my fingers coiling around the vial of blood which still hung from my neck, the power contained there pulsing. It felt as though I held a beating heart in my fist. My sisters were listening. They could feel my rage.
Dragor clucked his tongue and I made to stride from the room before my anger got the better of me but he threw his arm out to block the door before I could leave.
“Fine,” he barked, his pale eyes flashing dangerously.
“I don’t have time for this. Play your part, make no protest, smile, and await the culmination of my best laid plans.
It will serve you well in time. And if you can manage that then I shall release you from your oath to me so that you can hunt the bastard who you so ache to destroy. ”
I fell utterly still. So much time had passed since I’d found myself stained in the blood of my sisters and ruined by the loss of them that my all-encompassing need for vengeance had been forced from a boil to a simmer. But it was still there, waiting, for this.
“Swear it,” I breathed, releasing my grip on the vial of their blood so that I could offer him my hand.
Dragor scowled, his fury over me forcing this from him clear. But I’d lost any trust I’d once placed in him to keep his word, unless the act of doing so was bound in magic.
With a jerk of motion he seized my hand, his lips parting to make the oath. But I spoke before he could, not wanting his slippery words to create a loophole for him to wriggle free through.
“I swear to make no scene nor raise any protest to what will unfold within the ballroom tonight – so long as my life or the life of those I care deeply for is not threatened.”
Dragor arched a brow at my provision but said nothing to deny it, making me relax at least a little. He wasn’t planning on executing me then and I would be free to protect Bastian too. The stars knew he was the only Fae in this place I gave a shit about anyway.
“And if I uphold this bargain then you will deem my loyalty to you assured and our past agreement fulfilled. You will then release me to hunt down the man who pretended to be Cayde Avior so that I might seize the vengeance I am owed.”
“I swear to those terms,” Dragor agreed and a clap of magic rang out between our palms, binding us both to the stars.
I stared at him in surprise, uncertain of what fate I’d just agreed to but so overwhelmed with relief that I didn’t even care. No matter what happened within the ballroom tonight, I would be on the hunt for Cayde at the next opportunity.
I’d have my vengeance.
I’d fulfil my promise to my sisters.
Dragor released me and strode from the smoking chamber and I was left to reel in the sudden freedom I’d been granted. My pulse raced and my head swam. I was free at last. I could enact the punishments I’d been fantasising about for all these months upon the monster who so rightfully deserved them.
Just as soon as I faced whatever awaited me in the ballroom.
Tension tangled in my gut as I made to follow my prince but I stamped it down because nothing I might have to endure would change my mind on the decision I’d just made. Vengeance was owed to me and I was long overdue on its collection.
The first thing I noticed as I strode into the ballroom was the fact that it was far fuller than usual. It seemed every courtier in the land had made sure to be in attendance and I supposed the rumours of the king’s ailing health had called them all forth from their homes no matter the cost.
No one would want to miss the king’s decision on his heir. His choice would shape the entire kingdom after all.
Faces turned my way and trailed me into the room, a few whispers passing from ear to ear. I felt for their desires but none seemed fixed on me beyond the usual explosions of lust and desire.
I’d been in residence at the castle for long enough for most of the courtiers to be able to control themselves around me now but I still had to endure a few cat-calls and shrieks of devotion.
As always, I ignored them, my feet carrying me past the dancefloor towards the tables which were laid out with a glorious feast.
I wasn’t sure if I was surprised to see King Aquila in his normal place at the heart of the royal table. Certainly he didn’t strike me as the type to ail away in his bedchamber, but if the whispers of his demise were true then it must have been some feat to force himself into attendance.
My attention swept over the pair of Reapers who lingered beyond his chair and I wondered if they’d deigned to heal him so that he could attend.
Would that count as interference in the war?
If they healed one of the leaders of the fighting lands could they conceivably be perceived to be showing favour to us?
Then again, the Reapers had healed me at Dragor’s request so they clearly weren’t beyond doling out their secret magics for the right price, be it coin or bargain.
There was a prickling of tension in the air as I moved to take my seat at the banquet. The king hadn’t officially started the feasting yet so I wouldn’t be able to eat anything but I’d rather sit alone than endure the idle chattering of the court.
My eyes roamed over the sycophants who were edging closer to the royal table, my gifts gleaning insights into what they were hoping to gain from an audience with the princes or princess of our kingdom.
Land, marriage, promotion in rank, the only one of interest to me was the man who hoped to be granted permission to wed his pet goat, claiming his own Satyr Order form meant it wasn’t bestiality but was in fact a natural match for him.
I wrinkled my nose, hoping the goat managed to escape his clutches before the nuptials were performed.
I accepted a glass of wine from a waiter, ignoring him as he babbled incoherently about the colour of my eyes and instead looking across the table of royals.
King Aquila seemed to be lost in thought, his focus elsewhere and brow furrowed.
Dragor was tense. I doubted anyone else would have noticed it but his spine was straighter than usual, his fist balled tightly where it rested on the table.
Princess Laurena looked…smug. Discomfort tugged at me as I focused on her, her desire for power so consuming that it almost had me hungering for the death of her father too.
Of all the Aquilas, I wished for her selection the least. She clearly hated me but I wasn’t petty enough to allow that to affect my thoughts on the matter.
My issue with her was how she despised everyone like me.
Every Sinfair would suffer beneath her rule – she might even have them all killed.
Her hatred for the other elements was so visceral that she couldn’t see beyond it, refusing to accept us as anything other than foreigners unworthy of the element of air.
I took my attention from her, hoping she had no good reason to be looking so smug and glanced instead at her brother Roarson, the second youngest Aquila and the most likely to lose his temper if provoked.
He seemed unusually reserved tonight though, sitting back in his chair, refusing to speak with any courtiers who tried to approach.
In fact, if I had to guess, I would say he was waiting for something…
I followed his gaze towards the statue of Gemini which towered over the room at my back.
There were a large group of Fae standing near it but his focus seemed to be on the statue itself.
Was he praying to the stars? Asking Gemini for intelligence?
By all accounts, he could do with a greater dose of it.
I returned my focus to the royal table and was surprised to find Prince Evard looking straight back at me. His roguishly handsome features pulled into a wicked grin as he stood and knocked a knife against his wine glass to call the attention of the room towards him.
The silence that fell in reply was chilling. Not a cough, not a sneeze, not a shuffle of movement followed, as if every one of the gathered crowd had been waiting for this very moment. And now they all held their breaths so as not to miss a single piece of it.
“Father,” Evard called out clearly, his focus shifting to the king whose eyes slowly turned to meet those of his son in answer.
“It would be my great joy and privilege to announce my union this night – if you would be so kind as to grant your approval of the match? In times of war it feels…self-indulgent to waste time on extravagant celebrations so I instead seek your permission to confirm the marriage here and now without wasting time on any such frivolity.”
A shadow shifted in the dimly-lit space beyond the royal table, a man bigger than any other here drawing my gaze to him like a spark of fire catching on sawdust. There was no stopping nor denying it. And the blaze broke out beneath my flesh as my eyes met Bastian’s.
So it was him who I was looking at as Prince Evard spoke my name into the silence.
Him who I watched as the king barked a laugh of surprise and delight at the chaos this marriage could bring.
Him whose body rippled with energy, violence dancing in every piece of his flesh as the king gave his approval and confirmed my marriage without me so much as speaking a word.
And him who turned and disappeared onto the balcony as I was forced to hold my tongue against any protest I might have made.
And so I moved from Crossborn to Sky Witch, to Dragonsbane and finally Aquila. A leap I never could have dreamed of making when I was fighting for scraps in the waif house. And one I couldn’t afford to deny now that I knew with all my heart that I wanted no piece of it.
Because this was the price of my vengeance. And even if a crack juddered through my heart as I watched the shadow of a Dragon tear away from me beyond the windows, there was nothing in this world more dear to me than the fulfilment of my vow.