Chapter 22
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
EVONY
I will acknowledge the title and transfer of power to Prince Owyn under the condition of my pardon. Khasimir is yours if you agree.
– Correspondence from General Calvus to High Steward Merik.
Evony – Aedrialis, Sultira
Asteady ache squatted behind my eyes, and I cracked my neck as I stood. Exhaustion hit me as I placed my bow on the wall of the armory. Men and women shuffled about as I walked through the training grounds.
Ronan had taken Lord Stick-Up-His-Ass seriously.
The craggy old man, Lord Pavel, had stuck around for another week to help Ronan make plans, and it seemed the entire kingdom had been recruited to fight.
But while the Rising soldiers might believe anything Ronan had to say, the verdict was still out for the rest of the kingdom.
And when they asked who we prepared to fight? The answer depended on where you were.
“The elves!” I heard near the shores.
“The gods!” was called from a tavern.
“The Lords of Marisarma!” was the conclusion outside the Temple of the Sky.
Misinformation was rampant throughout the city. The truth was obscure and difficult to understand for those who grew up in a world without magic—those who grew up worshipping the beings they were now told to fear.
I felt bad for Ronan. It kind of sucked to be him right now.
I rubbed my eyes with my thumb and forefinger, squeezing my lids shut and praying like hell this headache would go away.
Between ward duties for the high steward and archery training with the new recruits, I’d barely had a moment to rest. The weight of my duties was heavy.
Though I had no urge to return to Cantor Manor.
Lyvia’s home had all the elaborate comforts of Aedrialis that I used to dream of, but it was cold, empty.
And the walls of her home only heightened my worry.
Would she and Tiberius return? Why did they leave? I didn’t understand.
It was easier to forget I was alone when I was surrounded by the distractions of war, and in this moment, I had none.
Ronan needed me in the Grand Council chamber in an hour.
Not enough time to return to Cantor Manor and far too much time to let my mind wander, to risk unveiling whatever waited in the corners of my heart, whatever was born in the moments on top of that roof in Rivaner, fueled in those moments outside the gates of Aedrialis…
To let myself remember my parents’ screams… Their blood…
My nostrils flared as I forced an inhale.
My thumb ran over the sharp edge of the lucky arrowhead in my pocket.
Lucky because I’d found the old thing at the back of Mum’s cave when I was hiding from the kingsguards last year.
Lucky because I’d found Gork and the others minutes later, minutes before the kingsguards had discovered my hiding spot.
Lucky because I’d escaped into the tunnels with them just in time.
Its sharp edge bit into the calloused pad of my finger, the pain a critical reminder I was still here and not floating away. I made my way to the outer walkway, blinking against the blazing glow of the rubelline stones of the castle.
The sun hid behind a hazy, overcast morning, and I stared at the horizon as the gray-blue sea rose to meet the dingy docks in the distance. A strong breeze blew my braids across my neck, and I closed my eyes and took a deep breath of the fresh air, clearing away the stink of the city.
“Beautiful.”
I jumped, my eyes snapping open as Vander appeared at my side.
“The city?” I asked, my heart restarting at the sight of him.
He smirked and pulled his attention to the horizon.
“Sure,” he murmured, nodding.
Butterflies took flight in my stomach. Had he been looking at me?
Vander’s gray eyes flared as he scanned the Juniper Sea in the distance, as if in quiet recognition.
“What was it like growing up here?” I asked, propping my forearms on the glowing stone wall.
Vander stilled before turning his gaze south and scanning the gray and brown buildings of Aedrialis. His light brows narrowed before he pursed his lips and turned to me.
“Exactly as you might imagine,” he replied, his stare dipping to my neck. “Busy, loud, putrid, exciting, and repulsive at the same time.”
“That’s exactly how it has been,” I replied, nodding my head. “I always imagined it to be grander, more… sparkling. I dreamed of coming to Aedrialis my entire life, and now that I’m finally here, it’s…” I paused, my brows pinching as I shook my head.
“Domineering,” Vander answered for me. “Aedrialis is a hard place. More of a jagged rock than a shimmering gemstone.”
I huffed a laugh. “Yes. It’s exactly that. Including this.” I gestured with my thumb over my shoulder to the imposing red castle we stood outside.
Vander grunted his agreement. “You seem to know a lot about Mount Telum,” he said, turning to face the massive castle. A muscle feathered in his neck as he craned his head to look up.
I liked looking at his neck. And maybe his lips too.
“I do. Lyvia told me all about it, and I guess I’ve spent a lot of time here in the past few months,” I replied.
“Why don’t I accompany you to your meeting in the Grand Council room, and you can tell me all about it?”
I tucked a braid behind my ear as my heart jumped.
“I was going to stop in the infirmary first to check on Father Marcus with Marian if you’d like to walk with me there,” I suggested. My heart banged in a hopeful desperation as I waited for his reply.
His lips tilted up as he nodded and offered me an arm.
My face hurt from smiling by the time we reached the infirmary after a leisurely stroll. Vander’s endless questions about Mount Telum were the perfect distraction from the torture of my own thoughts.
“And then they hiked through the sewage tunnels.” I laughed, shaking my head as I recalled Lyvia’s tale of her escape from the dungeons of Mount Telum so long ago. She, Vulcan, Nerissa, and their friend Oslo had walked miles in the filth. “Can you imagine the stench?”
Vander threw his head back as he laughed, and I stared at his neck as the strong column worked.
“Yes, she told me. I had no idea they lead to the sea.”
“Only some of them do,” I answered, hopping up the last few steps as we neared Father Marcus’s room. “The northernmost. There are others that empty out near the mouth of the Ripped River. It’s why it smells so bad there.”
I paused before the door and shook my head softly.
“What if they don’t come back?” I asked, slowly looking up at the tall soldier as I reminded myself of Lyvia’s unknown fate.
Vander’s gray eyes scanned mine, and his hand twitched, as if he might lift it. “They will, Evony. I’m sure of it,” he replied in earnest, finally lifting his hand to push the door open.
Marian looked up from where she sat with her legs crossed on a stool next to a cot draped with thick brown linens.
Her attention flicked to Vander. Whisps of her graying hair fell from her loose braid, framing her face.
She brought a finger to her lips in silent command, tilting her head at the form beneath the blanket whose shoulders rose and fell softly.
Asleep, then.
“How is he?” I whispered.
Lyvia’s old Death Scholar master existed down here as a wraith, his eyes as distant as his presence.
Marian spent most of her time in the infirmary since the Rising took Aedrialis, using her experience as a midwife to assist the Life Scholars with healing and spending as much time as she could with the old priest.
My stomach knotted as I scanned Father Marcus’s exposed arm. Slowly healing wounds peppered his parchment-like skin. The permanent markings of what High Priest Helmar had done to him in his captivity were on full display.
I wasn’t exactly sure what Marian’s relationship with Father Marcus was, but it was clear she knew him from a past life. And I’d learned quickly not to push her on questions she didn’t want to answer. Marian could slap your wrist without lifting a hand.
“The same,” Marian signed, her hand signals resigned.
“I brought you some round rolls,” I replied in a hushed tone, handing Marian the small bakery sack. “Ronan said they are served regularly in the Temple of the Sky. I thought they might bring him some comfort.”
Marian’s brows softened as she took them. She opened the small sack, and Father Marcus stirred, as if the buttery scent called him awake.
Marian helped him sit upright, tucking the cotton sheets tightly around his waist before sitting back on the stool. His eyes slowly drifted up from the blanket, and I waited for the haunted blank stare that always landed at the foot of his cot.
Marian stilled as Father Marcus’s eyes flitted around in jerky movements before finally landing on Vander. My lips parted at the recognition, at the life, flickering in his gaze.
Vander offered Father Marcus a handsome, wide smile as he placed his hands on his hips. Marian turned back to Father Marcus and gripped his hand, but the old priest’s gaze remained fixed on the handsome soldier beside me. I couldn’t blame him.
Marian leaned in and squeezed his hand, and my heart caved at the sight. She wanted him to look at her.
I placed a hand on her shoulder and murmured quietly, “He must recognize Vander. He probably would have known him through Lyvia.”
Marian tensed, and I pulled my hand away, straightening as I stepped beside Vander.
“It’s good to see you, Father Marcus,” Vander murmured, his arm brushing against mine as he gestured to Marian. “We’ve brought you some bread.”
Marian pulled a round roll from the sack, but the priest remained focused on Vander.
“Maybe you should—” I began as the door to the small room swung open.
Ronan’s eyes widened as they landed on Father Marcus, his lips parting as he recognized the notable change in the old man’s demeanor.
Vander tensed, breaking his stare with Father Marcus and brushing his arm against mine as he dropped it to his side.
He straightened, standing at attention to the high steward.
Ronan’s sapphire gaze cut to Vander, clocking the space between us before narrowing in on me.
“You’re late, Evony.”
Oh, shit.
My eyes snapped to the oval window, noting the hazy outline of the sun sinking too close to the horizon.
Our stroll had taken far more time than I planned.
I hurried past Vander to the door. Ronan remained standing where he was a moment longer, his brows narrowed in the direction of the others, as if trying to figure out some complex puzzle.