Chapter 22 #3
“We train again in the morning,” Lorcan said, his eyes cold and impersonal. “Try not to be a disappointment.”
He left.
For a moment, I stood alone in the corridor, Lorcan’s footsteps fading in the air. A second later, more footsteps rang out, and a knight with chestnut hair eased around the corner. He nodded as our eyes met.
“Good afternoon, Your Highness.”
“Good afternoon.” I paused, studying his face. He was handsome, and his blue eyes seemed young. “What’s your name?”
His lips parted, surprise touching his features. He darted a look down the corridor before saying, “Gawain, Your Highness.”
“How long have you served in the castle, Sir Gawain?”
“Three years, Princess.”
I smiled. “Then you’ve seen a lot more of the Drakhold than I have.”
One corner of his mouth lifted, and something that might have been pride touched his voice. “I’ve been a garrison knight since I earned my spurs. I’ve seen every inch of this place.”
I kept my smile firmly in place as I tucked away that useful information. “I hope your duties aren’t too tedious. Standing outside bedchambers can’t be very exciting.”
“It’s an honor to serve, Your Highness.”
“And you do it admirably, sir.” I put a hand on the door latch. “Please don’t hesitate to knock if you need anything. Water. A chair. I’m heir to the Drakhold. I want its people to be comfortable.” I bit the inside of my cheek, my nerves prickling. Had I said too much? Gone too far?
Sir Gawain’s smile grew, his wide shoulders relaxing as he took up position against the wall opposite my door. “Thank you, Your Highness.”
With another nod, I slipped inside and shut the door. Slumping against it, I let relief wash over me. First, Sir Hubo. Now, Sir Gawain. They were small steps, but they were something .
Straightening, I gazed around the room. Delphine was gone, but someone had left lunch on one of the tables. I ate, then paced, the looming wedding dominating my thoughts.
When the sun began to sink, Iggleboddle appeared with two female servants who helped me into a voluminous wedding dress. Iggleboddle was as unpleasant as the first time, but I couldn’t deny he was gifted with a needle and thread.
Wonder spread through me as I stood before the mirror, the gown’s black, figure-hugging simplicity stealing my breath.
Long sleeves covered my arms, and a high neckline concealed my bust. Unlike the dragonstone dress, the wedding gown wasn’t designed to seduce.
But it was just as compelling in its own way, the midnight-colored silk making my waist appear tiny before flaring into a gauzy cloud that floated around my legs.
Black beadwork flowed down the skirt, the flower pattern worked into a scrolling design.
The women settled a jeweled belt around my hips. As red fire flared in the center of the stones, I widened my eyes in the mirror.
“These are dragonstones,” I said.
Iggleboddle grunted as he pulled my hem outward and let the gown settle. “It’s a Drachvi design. His Majesty was very specific about the style. He said Prince Lorcan would appreciate seeing his bride properly dressed for the occasion.”
One of the women made a soft sound as she pulled a straight pin from between her lips. “The king does enjoy his little reminders.”
The other woman sent her a worried glance. “Hush, Satrina.”
A chilly weight settled in my stomach. “What kind of reminders?”
Iggleboddle looked up, hesitation in his eyes.
For a second, it appeared he wouldn’t answer.
When he finally spoke, his tone was subdued, his brash demeanor tucked away.
“The gown is cut in the old style of the Drachvi royals. His Majesty thought it would be instructive for all of Nocta to see Prince Lorcan’s bride dressed in the regalia of his conquered people.
The king expects both of you to kneel once you’re wed. ”
The ice in my stomach formed into a knot.
A Drachvi queen for a Drachvi king. Rasimir dressed me as a symbol of his victory over Lorcan.
Wrapped in black with dragonstones gleaming around my waist, I was a living reminder of everything Lorcan had lost. Rasimir planned to humiliate Lorcan—and probably me, too.
By dressing me like the Drachvi, Rasimir signaled to his court that I was just another vanquished subject.
Iggleboddle and the women finished and left, and then I was alone with my thoughts once more. The first stars appeared in the sky, and a servant brought dinner.
When Delphine failed to appear, I settled in my chair in front of the balcony and watched more stars emerge. Below, the forest gave way to the maze. The splash of water from the fountain drifted through the balcony’s open doors.
Settling deeper in my chair, I let my gaze roam the maze’s sprawling hedges.
As the chatter of gurgling water filled my ears, sleep tugged at me.
If I’d been smart, I would have taken a book from Vander’s study, too.
Mama would have. She would have used every opportunity to research and learn.
All I’d done was stumble from one crisis to another.
With a start, I jerked my head up. Night reigned, the moon a narrow sliver in the black sky. How long had I slept? The courtyard was empty except for its audience of stone Noctans. Goose bumps rose on my arms.
A massive shape lumbered from the maze. I sat up, gripping the arms of my chair as Timmon the bridge troll blotted out the stars behind him.
Vander strode across the courtyard, a faint blue outline around his body. Had it been present the first time I saw him approach the maze? The moon had been brighter that night, and I hadn’t known to look for magic.
He met Timmon, giving the giant a pat on his bulbous wrist before stepping back. Their lips moved, but no sound reached me. After a moment, Timmon pulled something from his pocket and bent low, handing it to Vander.
Vander examined the contents in his hand, then looked up and nodded. With another pat, he turned and crossed the courtyard on swift legs. Timmon watched him go, then ambled behind the hedge and disappeared.
Another mystery. In Derryton, I’d longed for adventure. For flash and finery. Now, I had enough to last a lifetime.
Pushing to my feet, I readied for sleep. But when I sank back into my chair, the stars caught my eye.
Should I wish on one, Mama? I’d asked once.
Shaking her head, my mother had closed the window, then leaned a hip on my bed. Wishes are for those who want without the willingness to do. She’d smoothed back my hair, candlelight dancing in her blue eyes. You don’t need stars to make your wishes come true, Corinthe. Just power.
You mean willpower? She couldn’t have meant power. Always, she urged me to hide the monster that lurked under my skin.
Mama pulled the covers to my chin. Yes. That, too.