ESSA
Torches flickered. Voices murmured. The scents of roasted duck and boar, fresh bread and toasted herbs, cooked onion and wine, wafted through the hall.
I sat at my table of honor feeling like I’d been kicked in the gut and the head at once.
Auntie Dreya, who sat by my side, looking as pale and ill as I felt, had suggested we plead sick and skip dinner tonight.
And how the gods knew I wanted to. But with my plan in place, I couldn’t afford any suspicion, especially on the part of Kortoi, who I knew had eyes on me any time I was out of my chambers.
In truth, with his scrying, he might be watching me in my chambers, as well.
But scrying was a finicky thing. I could only hope his Lords of the Void hadn’t managed to transmit my plan to him. Otherwise, I was finished already.
Regardless, it was critical to act as normal as possible until the bydrune. And that meant sitting through dinner, even if we felt like we were going to die.
Fortunately, it wasn’t like the first few dinners I’d sat through, where everyone in the castle seemed eager to come to me and either gloat over my capture or offer their allegiance—and sometimes both.
I didn’t know if it was the pallor of my face or the sharpness of my glare that kept them at bay, but for the most part, they left us mercifully alone.
That didn’t mean the feast was enjoyable. I tore the tiniest piece of bread off the chunk on my plate and placed it in my mouth. It was all I could do to chew it and force myself to swallow.
“Ugh. I don’t know how you can eat,” Auntie whispered. I glanced over and saw she looked even worse than she had a moment before, her face so pale it was almost green despite the reddish firelight.
“I can’t eat,” I said. “Not really. But I’m putting food in my mouth anyway. And you’d best do the same with all these eyes on us.”
“So they can watch me vomit all over the table?” she whispered.
“Master your stomach, durram,” I said with a mischievous smile. Plenty of times over my training with her she’d told me master your dragon, Essa... master your body... master your fear.
She found the joke so unfunny she kicked me under the table—weakly.
“Your Majesty.”
I looked up to find a specimen of a man standing before me.
He was tall as a cart horse, with broad shoulders, a slim waist, tousled sandy-brown hair, cheekbones and a jawline that might have been sculpted by elven statue makers of old.
Once upon a time, the sight of such a man might have made my heart aflutter.
Now, I watched him with distrust—especially when I saw the crest on the front of his velvet tunic.
“Jaynr Natath,” he said. “At your service.”
I gestured to my plate. “I have food, and my wine glass is full. I require no service at this time.”
He smiled. “My uncle’s descriptions of you were accurate to the letter, but I’m afraid they don’t do you justice. I’ve traveled all the way from Gatepass in hopes of making it here for your bydrune. I’m glad I arrived in time.”
“Well… I’m glad you’re glad,” I said.
Auntie nudged me with her foot again under the table. If I had access to simnal, I could guess what she’d have been telling me. Courtesy, Essa.
My enemies were supposed to think that I was compliant now. But if I was suddenly all rose petals and no thorns, that would be more suspicious still. It was a tough thing to balance.
The beautiful man before us bowed. “I won’t take up any more of your meal. Just know I’m your devoted admirer. And if I can ever be of assistance to you—for anything. Please don’t hesitate to call on me.”
He turned and departed. I felt a tug of intuition and glanced across the room to find Braimar’s eyes fixed upon us. When he saw me looking, he glanced away fast.
One man I despised, jealous of another. Fancy that…
“I preferred it when every noble in court wanted to murder me rather than bed me,” I sighed.
Auntie held a green bean upon her fork, apparently pondering whether she could stomach it. “Be realistic, Essa,” she said. “They want to do both. But look, another admirer approaches.”
When I saw who it was, I casually picked up my meat knife. Romia stopped before us, though she skipped the customary bow.
“Your Majesty,” she said. “Your face is looking better than I thought it would after our… disagreement the other night.”
I’d been able to cover most of my cuts and bruises with makeup—but not all of them.
“I wish I could say the same for yours,” I said.
She had a cut near the corner of her right eye from one of my knuckles, but in truth, I’d taken the worst of our exchange, though I hated to admit it. She wouldn’t allow herself to laugh at my jibe, but dark amusement shone in her eyes.
“I imagine you must be getting rather bored in your chambers all day. I spoke with the Prelate, and he granted permission for you to train with us tomorrow.”
I arched an eyebrow.
“Why would I do that? I can train on my own. Or with Auntie. You know, people who won’t try to kill me?”
At this, she did laugh. “Kill you? No, Irska. That would be treason. We would never do that. But as to why you might join us—the Prelate promised to let Othura out for a training session. With one of the Brothers’ tracking collars on, of course.”
The Gray Brothers were known to fashion enchanted collars that could keep men or beasts from straying outside a certain area. I was surprised they hadn’t put one on me, actually—but they must’ve guessed, rightly, that I wouldn’t abandon Othura, and therefore, I wouldn’t leave.
“Othura must be going a bit mad locked up in that cell,” Romia went on. “If you have the opportunity to set her free for a while, shouldn’t you take it?”
Auntie met my eye and gave me a small shake of her head.
Romia went on, undaunted. “Meet at Othura’s cell at dawn, and Kortoi has promised to let her out. From there, we’ll fly to the Cauldron for some… fun.”
“I’m afraid she can’t, Romia,” Auntie Dreya began. “Essa has to—”
But I interrupted her. “I’ll be there,” I said.