Chapter 25
Chapter Twenty-Five
Maris led me through the winding halls of Sunspire Palace, the heart of Emberfall, and I couldn’t help but feel out of place in this world of light and warmth. The walls of the palace were made from gleaming white stone, each corridor bathed in sunlight streaming through massive arched windows. It was as if the entire place had been designed to worship the sun itself, every corner filled with golden light, the warmth of the day trapped within the very stones of the castle.
The breeze from the sea floated through the open windows, carrying with it the scent of saltwater and wildflowers from the gardens below. The warmth of the air felt foreign against my skin, as though I didn’t quite belong here. The vastness of the kingdom stretched out beyond the palace walls, where rolling golden hills met the endless horizon of the ocean.
I shifted awkwardly, still feeling the weight of everything that had happened pressing down on me. Maris, however, moved with ease, her pale blonde hair catching the sunlight as she walked beside me, her movements graceful yet purposeful.
“Your quarters are in the east wing,” she said. “It faces the sea. The views will help… ease the adjustment, I think.”
I nodded silently, glancing at the tapestries lining the walls. Each one told a story of Emberfall’s past—battles fought under the blazing sun, mythical creatures bathed in fire and light, and gods I couldn’t name. The people of this kingdom worshiped the sun and its power, I knew that much, but the details were still murky to me.
“The gods here…” I began as I struggled to find the right words. “They’re everywhere, aren’t they?”
Maris smiled gently. “Yes, the gods are woven into the fabric of Emberfall’s existence. We believe that the sun god, Solen, is the source of all life. His light brings the crops to grow, the seasons to change, and guides us through our lives. Everything we do honors him in some way.”
I tried to imagine it, but it felt foreign—impossible even. Icespire had no gods. We didn’t worship the light or anything living. No, our devotion was to the dead—the frozen bodies entombed in the crypts. The dead in Icespire were eternal, their power a constant, cold presence that sustained the living. I had grown up in the Crypt of Silence, where the royal dead were more revered than any god could ever be. It was their magic that fed the land, not some distant sun deity.
Maris seemed to sense my discomfort. “It must seem strange to you, coming from Icespire. I’ve heard your people worship… differently.”
“We don’t worship gods,” I said quietly, my eyes tracing the sun symbols embroidered into the banners hanging overhead. “In Icespire, we honor the dead. Their magic lives on through us, sustaining our kingdom. It’s… practical, not spiritual.”
Maris nodded thoughtfully. “That’s why your power is so different. It’s tied to something ancient, isn’t it? Something… colder.”
Maris gave me a look of sympathy, her green eyes soft. “Here, magic and the gods are inseparable. The third wife, Lady Selene, as I told you, is a priestess of the sun god. She has devoted her entire life to serving Solen, and she’s responsible for many of the sacred rituals performed here. ”
I shifted uncomfortably. “She sounds… strict.”
“She is,” Maris said with a small nod, “but she’s not cruel. Selene’s devotion to Solen is absolute. She believes deeply in the power of the sun god and the importance of honoring him through every aspect of our lives. When you meet her, just be respectful. She’ll be watching closely.”
We turned a corner, and the halls opened up into a grand courtyard. In the center was a fountain, water sparkling in the sunlight as it cascaded from a statue of the sun god himself—a tall, imposing figure with his arms raised toward the sky, rays of light carved into the stone around him. Small shrines were placed around the fountain, with offerings of fruit, flowers, and coins scattered at its base. People knelt in prayer, their heads bowed in quiet reverence.
It was such a stark contrast to the frozen crypt of Icespire, where only silence reigned. Here, there was life. Color. The people of Emberfall lived with the sun’s warmth and worshiped it as the source of all creation. I tried to imagine what it would be like to believe so deeply in something, to feel the presence of a god in every sunrise and every golden beam of light.
Maris gently guided me toward a set of carved wooden doors, pushing them open to reveal my new quarters. The room was bathed in sunlight, the large windows overlooking the sea, the sound of waves crashing against the cliffs below. The room was simple but elegant with soft blue silks draped over the bed, and gold accents lined the walls. The scent of lavender wafted from a vase of fresh flowers by the window.
“There’s a bath drawn for you,” Maris said, motioning to the adjoining chamber where steam rose from a large marble tub, the water glimmering in the light. “You should wash and rest. It’ll help after everything you’ve been through.”
I nodded, suddenly feeling the exhaustion settle deeper into my bones. The events of the day—of the shipwreck, of Lady Lyra’s interrogation—had drained me, and the idea of sinking into the warm water was tempting.
As I moved toward the bath, Maris hesitated at the door. “Princess… I know this is all overwhelming. But remember, you’re not alone here. Just… be careful. Not everyone in this palace will have your best interests at heart.”
I met her gaze, and for the first time, I saw the weariness in her eyes—the weight of the court’s politics and the constant maneuvering that must have been her daily existence.
“Thank you, Maris,” I said quietly.
She smiled, a small, reassuring smile, and nodded before leaving me alone with the sound of the waves and the soft trickle of sunlight filtering through the windows.
I made my way to the bath, letting the warmth of the water engulf me. The heat seeped into my skin, melting away the tension and the cold that had clung to me since I’d left Icespire.
I sank into the bath, letting the warmth of the water soak through my tired limbs, the lavender-scented steam rising around me. The heat was a welcome change, chasing away the cold that had settled deep in my bones.
But as the water lapped gently around me, I tried to let it soothe my aching body. My mind raced, though, still filled with thoughts of Lyra and her interrogation, the threat in her dark eyes. I closed my eyes, sinking deeper into the water, willing myself to relax.
The door burst open without warning, and I jerked upright, water splashing over the side of the tub.
“Elara!”
Rhydian’s presence filled the room as he stormed in, his eyes wide with barely-contained frustration. His dark hair was still damp, clinging to his forehead, and his clothes were disheveled, streaked with sea salt and dirt from the shore. He looked wild, like someone who had just barely survived a battle. Which, in fairness, he had.
I blinked, my heart pounding as I instinctively brought my arms around myself, suddenly hyperaware of the fact that I was very much naked in the bath. “Rhydian!” I snapped. “Do you not know how to knock?”
His gaze flicked to the water, then quickly darted away, his jaw tightening. “I’ve been calling your name. You didn’t answer.”
“I didn’t hear you! And, hello, I’m in the bath!” I spluttered, still trying to make sense of the fact that he had barged in like a soldier on a battlefield.
“You disappeared,” he growled, taking another step into the room, his boots heavy on the stone floor. “The first wife’s goons dragged you off, and I couldn’t do a damn thing about it.”
I frowned, realizing just how much worry was laced in his tone. “I’m fine, Rhydian. It wasn’t exactly a tea party, but I’m alive.”
He ran a hand through his damp hair, pacing just short of the tub, as if he didn’t know what to do with himself. “Fine? You call getting hauled away by the first wife fine?” His voice dropped, frustration leaking into every word. “I was too weak to stop them. We barely made it off that ship, and you?—”
“Saved your life again?” I cut in, half-smiling, though my body was still tense from his sudden arrival. “I think that makes, what… three times now? The frostwolves, the dragon, and saving you from drowning when the ship was bombed?”
He stopped pacing, glaring at me. “That’s not the point, Elara.”
“Isn’t it?” I raised an eyebrow, leaning back against the edge of the tub, trying to regain a shred of control over the conversation. “You’re alive because of me, Rhydian. Maybe a little gratitude is in order?”
His face flushed—either from the heat of the room or the fact that I’d caught him off guard. “You could have gotten yourself killed! Do you ever think about that?”
I sighed, wiping a hand across my forehead as I let the heat of the bath wash over me. “I’m alive, Rhydian. Isn’t that enough?”
He didn’t answer right away, his gaze flickering to the water again before he turned and faced the wall, fists clenching at his sides. “You can’t keep doing this.”
“Doing what?” I asked, frowning. “Saving your life?”
“Throwing yourself into danger like it doesn’t matter!” he snapped, his back still turned to me, the tension in his shoulders visible even from where I sat. “You don’t have to… you don’t have to be the one saving everyone all the time.”
I stared at him, surprised by the vulnerability in his voice. This wasn’t the Rhydian I was used to—the brooding, stoic soldier who was always prepared for the worst, who seemed to think I was more trouble than I was worth.
“I’m not trying to be a hero,” I said quietly. “I just?—”
He turned, his eyes meeting mine again, and for a moment, the anger was gone. “You saved me,” he said. “Again. And you could’ve died doing it.”
My heart stuttered in my chest. He wasn’t yelling at me out of anger—he was scared. Scared because he thought he might lose me. The realization hit me harder than I expected, leaving me momentarily speechless.
Rhydian took a deep breath, his expression hardening again as if he were trying to push those feelings back down. “You’re important here, Elara. Keeping your secret is important. You can’t afford to be reckless. If anyone finds out who you really are…”
He didn’t have to finish the sentence. I knew what was at stake. I wasn’t really Princess Aeliana, heir to Icespire. I was a handmaiden who had been thrust into this role to protect the kingdom’s alliance, and if anyone here discovered the truth… everything would fall apart. Maybe he didn’t care about me. He cared about his duty to the queen.
“I know,” I said. “I’m being careful.”
Rhydian scoffed, though there was no real bite in it. “Sure, because nearly drowning and facing down a dragon is the definition of careful.”
I couldn’t help but smile slightly. “Dragons aren’t as bad as everyone says.”
He gave me a look that said he wasn’t in the mood for jokes, but I could see the hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. “You’re impossible, you know that?”
“And yet, here you are,” I teased, raising an eyebrow.
His eyes softened for a moment, and the tension between us shifted. The air in the room, thick with steam, felt warmer now—more intimate. He wasn’t standing as rigidly as before, and the way he looked at me, even briefly, sent a strange flutter through my chest.
“Yeah,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair again, as if trying to ground himself. “Here I am.”
I shifted slightly in the tub, the water lapping softly against the marble. “You know, barging into a woman’s bath isn’t exactly polite.”
He flushed again, this time fully turning away, clearly remembering the situation he had walked into. “You didn’t answer the door,” he grumbled. “I thought something had happened.”
“Well, I’m fine,” I said, my tone softening now. “So maybe you should… let me finish my bath in peace?”
He waited for a moment, his back to me, as if he wanted to say more. But instead, he just shook his head, muttering, “Just… don’t do anything stupid.”
Before I could respond, he turned and walked toward the door. His hand hovered on the handle for a second longer than necessary, like he was debating whether or not to say something else. But then he opened it and left without another word, the door closing with a soft click behind him.
I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding, sinking back into the bath, my heart still racing from the encounter. Rhydian was frustrating, impossible even, but… there was more to it.
But I couldn’t trust him. He worked for the queen, and that meant he was my enemy. I hated him most in the moments he was kind, because cruelty is easier to survive.
The warmth of the bath did little to chase away the lingering tension in the air.
No sooner had the door closed behind Rhydian than it flew open again with a bang that rattled the walls. I jerked upright, water sloshing over the edge of the bath for the second time in as many minutes.
“Oh, stars above, Princess!” Bertha’s voice stormed into the room like a hurricane, her plump figure barreling in with a flurry of skirts and flapping hands. “You’re alive! Bless the dead! I’d kiss the ground ye walk on—if I didn’t think I’d keel over doin’ it!” She clutched a hand to her chest, her face flushed and tear-streaked as if she’d been wailing since the sun came up. “If ye’d gone and died, what a waste it would’ve been, all that fussin’ over yer pretty—well, passable—face!”
“Bertha!” I sputtered, drawing my knees up again and glancing desperately at the door, half-expecting another interruption. “I’m fine! I’m right here!”
“You saved me!” she wailed, ignoring my protests as she flung herself beside the tub, grabbing my hands with her warm, slightly clammy grip and squeezing them like she was wringing out a washcloth. “Saved us all, Your Highness, from that blasted shipwreck and the Dragon King! Never thought I’d live to see the day a princess like ye’d survive a tempest like that—especially with that complexion! Sea air’s not doin’ ye any favors, love.”
I blinked, unsure whether to laugh or cry at her mix of dramatics and insults. Bertha had always been a whirlwind of emotion, but today she was in rare form.
“It was nothing, really,” I managed to say, though her grip on my hands made it nearly impossible to gesture toward the bath in a please let me finish sort of way.
“Nothing?!” she gasped, pulling back with a look of pure scandal. “Ye survived drownin’ and a dragon! A miracle, that is! The ancestors must’ve decided to take pity on ye—even with those scrawny arms of yers. Could use a bit more meat on the bones, if ye ask me.”
I opened my mouth to respond, but Bertha was already on her feet, bustling about the room with the energy of a woman half her age. “But never mind all that! We’ve got to get ye ready for the king, and time’s a-wastin’!” She wiped her tears with the back of her hand and started yanking towels and oils from a nearby cabinet, tossing them over her arm with the precision of a woman who’d done this a thousand times.
“Ye need to be lookin’ irresistible, Princess—like a ripe peach ready to be plucked from the tree!” She grabbed a towel and rushed toward me with alarming speed. “He needs to see ye and think, ‘By the gods, I must have her now!’ Ye can’t afford to dilly-dally; strike while the iron’s hot, if ye catch my meanin’!”
“Seductive?” I asked, not sure if I should be offended or amused by her comparison.
Bertha huffed, waving a hand like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Aye, seductive! What else? Ye’re the seventh wife, but ye don’t have to stay at the bottom o’ the barrel. And let’s be honest, with a nose like that, ye’d best rely on charm rather than looks. Get him between the sheets before he starts noticin’ the competition. A warm bed’ll do wonders for his memory—or his forgetfulness, if ye know what I mean.”
I stifled a laugh as I took the towel and stood up from the bath. “I’m not sure seducing the king is going to be that easy, Bertha.”
Bertha raised an eyebrow, her lips pursed like she’d just bitten into a sour apple. “Easy? Nothin’s easy with a man who thinks he’s the sun, moon, and stars—especially not with that jawline of his. But startin’ with the fact that he blew up the ship we were on—his own bride-to-be aboard—and he’s tossin’ bombs like they’re invitations! Well, ye’ve got yer work cut out for ye, don’t ye?”
I grimaced. “Yeah… Not the best first impression.”
“Back in my day,” Bertha declared, tossing her hands in the air for emphasis, “a king’d be sendin’ parades, musicians, and flowers—aye, and not the cheap kind, either! Not bombs! Can ye imagine? He should’ve been throwin’ petals at yer feet, not blowin’ ye out of the water! And lookin’ the way ye do, ye can’t afford any more mishaps.”
“I don’t think he cared,” I muttered, wrapping the towel around myself. “Besides, I’ve been through worse.”
“Worse?” Bertha tutted, pulling a comb from somewhere deep in her apron, shaking her head as if I’d just told her the earth was flat. “Princess, ye’ve had enough adventures to last ten lifetimes, but ye need to get on with the next one. And trust me, love—there’s no adventure more excitin’ than warmin’ a king’s bed! Start now, while ye’ve still got a bit o’ bloom on ye. Ye’re no spring chicken, after all.”
I sighed, amused by her relentless enthusiasm. “I’m not exactly trained in seduction, Bertha.”
She stopped mid-comb and fixed me with a look that could wilt flowers. “Training? Ha! Ye don’t need training, love. Just show a bit o’ skin, flash him a smile, and let nature take its course! Men are simple creatures—give ’em what they want, and they’re loyal as puppies. But ye best keep an eye on yer pup, ’specially with that wife, Selene. She may play the pious priestess, but I’ve seen how she bats those eyes. And don’t get me started on?—”
“Bertha!” I interrupted, laughing despite myself as she rattled off more insults for the other wives. “Badmouthing the king’s wives isn’t going to help me.”
“Oh, don’t ye worry about them,” Bertha replied, waving a hand like she was swatting away flies. “The key is the king. Win him over, and the rest’ll follow like sheep. And trust me, once I’ve got ye all dolled up”—she stepped back, looking me over with a critical eye—“he won’t stand a chance. Even with yer… unique charms.”
I stared at her. “You really think it’s that simple?”
“Simple? Ha!” She winked, tossing a gown at me from the wardrobe. “Darlin’, life’s a battlefield, and the bedroom’s yer best weapon. Ye’re smart, ye’re resourceful, and ye’ve already survived more disasters than I can count. How hard could it be to get a king to fall into bed?”
I shook my head, slipping into the gown she’d picked out, my heart pounding at the thought of meeting the king so soon. “And if he doesn’t like me?”
“Oh, he’ll like ye, alright,” Bertha said with a dismissive wave. “And if he doesn’t, remind him ye survived his own bombs! Guilt him right into yer favor! Men are all the same—do somethin’ heroic, and they’ll be on their knees, beggin’ for forgiveness.”
“Right,” I muttered, trying to convince myself. “Because nothing says romance like, ‘You tried to kill me.’”
Bertha let out a cackle, patting me on the shoulder once she’d finished fussing with my hair. “Now that’s the spirit! Keep him on his toes! Let him know ye’re no simperin’ maiden. Ye’ve got fire in ye, Princess, and once he sees it, he’ll be burnin’ for ye. Or at least he’d better—otherwise, I’ll be havin’ words with him!”
I couldn’t help but laugh at her saucy bluntness, the knot of anxiety in my chest loosening just a little. With Bertha at my side, anything was possible—or at least far more chaotic.
Now, I just had to survive meeting the king.
And the wives.
And whatever else this sun-drenched kingdom had in store for me.