Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
It’s pitch black outside. I’m unsure what part of the wall the Elvarrans tossed me over.
I search for Timothy’s body, my hands blindly patting around to find a path.
As I turn the corner, I plow headfirst into a breastplate.
I groan as I stumble back, and a strong pair of hands wraps around my shoulders to steady me.
“I found her!” the guard calls out. “Come, Princess.” He beckons me to follow him.
The guard guides me through the darkness, and I’m now numb to the shrubbery scraping my skin and catching on the fabric of my dress.
The castle eventually comes into view, and I realize we’re on the southeast side of the inner bailey.
He calls out for help as we ascend the stairs, my steps shaky as we walk inside.
My brother sprints down the hall. “Raelys!” He stops before me. “What happened?”
“Elvarrans… they came over the back wall.” Tears well at the corners of my eyes as I try my best to play the role of the distressed princess. “They killed Timothy, and I ran away. They chased me, but I hid in hopes they would leave.”
“Thank the gods you’re safe.” My brother hugs me. “Come, let’s get you cleaned up.” He guides me in the direction of my bedchamber. “Thank you, soldier.”
“Of course, Commander.” The guard bows, lowering his head to us.
“I want the entire castle grounds swept; Elvarrans could still be on the premises. Use the hounds if you have to.” My brother barks out orders to every guard he sees. He’s the epitome of strength and composure, never missing a beat as he works.
Opening the door to my chamber, Valentin and I walk inside. He forces me to sit on a nearby chair. “I’ll call for Eleanor to draw you a bath. Do you need a healer?”
“I’m all right; thank you.” I try to reassure him. “Just some bumps and bruises.”
“I’ll end every single one of them.” He seethes with fury. “They will never touch these grounds again. It was a mistake ever letting them that close.”
“Val—”
The door swings open, cutting off my protests. Lydia comes rushing to my side, her long, peach-colored gown trailing behind her. Her dark brunette hair flows in soft curls over her shoulders, framing her sun-kissed tan complexion. She crouches beside me, her hazel eyes wide with concern.
“I’ve got her,” she says, taking my hand to comfort me.
“Thank you, Lydia. I must go and make sure the grounds are secure.” Valentin quickly exits the room. I hear him barking orders to the guards on the other side of the door. He’s furious—rightfully so.
“Are you okay, Rae?” Lydia asks.
“I need you to get something for me in secret.” I ignore her question. My mind spins, grasping for the next move. Now that I have a secret arrangement with Wrath, I must gather belongings to aid me in my travels.
“What is it?”
“A dagger, I think, or some type of small blade that I could conceal in my sleeve or dress,” I explain. “Tonight has made me realize that walking around unarmed is foolish.”
Lydia hesitates for a moment but nods. “Okay.”
I sigh, pulling my right sleeve a little lower. There’s a mark on my arm, a permanent mark. If anyone sees it, they will either lose their mind or accuse me of being a conspirator to the Elvarrans.
“You saw an Elvarran?” Lydia whispers.
“Three of them,” I tell her. “They weren’t at all like the tales people tell. They were human-like, and they had this…energy that pulled me in. It’s hard to describe. But they were not monsters.”
“I can’t believe you encountered three Elvarrans and lived.”
A tear falls from my lash. “Timothy didn’t live, Lydia.” I shake my head in disbelief that he’s truly gone.
Lydia’s arms wrap around my neck, pulling me into a hug. “I’m so sorry.”
The door opens once more just as we embrace, and my father enters. Despite his tired appearance, his eyes burn with disdain as he glowers at me.
Lydia slowly releases me and stands. “Your Majesty.”
“Leave us,” Ulirk commands.
She does as she’s told, giving the King a small curtsy before leaving. A tense silence settles between my father and me, a silent battle of wills neither of us is willing to lose.
“You are a disappointment to our house.” Each word is severe.
“I almost died at the hands of the Elvarrans, and that’s what you have to say to me?” I feel anger rise within me as I stand. “I have begged you for years to let me hold court, send correspondence, and do anything I can to help this house.”
For most of my life, I have heard my father complain about how insufferable it is to hold court.
He would sit there and listen to countless requests, doing his best to help villagers without draining too many resources.
They need him to pass judgment on trials or settle minor disputes, and people quarrel for countless hours.
“Duke Raoul Leonora holds court while I’m busy,” my father counters. “You know this.”
I know that Lydia’s father holds court while Ulrik is not feeling well or absent, yet he still denies me when I express that I’d like to do it instead. It’s as if he doesn’t trust my judgment or intellect, despite having spent my whole life learning to navigate these things.
“All I have wanted to do is help you!” I raise my voice. “I can take some of the burdens off of you if you’re not feeling well, I—”
My father cuts me off. “What makes you think I would let you have authority? You are incapable of having enough self-control even on a night as important as this!” Ulrik looks at me as if I am the grime beneath his boots.
“You’ve never given me a chance!” I implore him. “I know I can do it. Let me help while Valentin fights on the front lines to protect us.”
“It is not your place to speak about my son.” My father seethes, the scar on his neck flexing. “I’m talking about your insolence.”
I roll my eyes, trying to mask the hurt. “I’m a horrible disappointment and a stain on this house; you remind me every chance you get.”
It is no secret that Valentin is my father’s favorite. His golden boy. Heir to the throne. I never held it against my brother because he never treated me poorly. Despite my father’s blatant favoritism, we remain the closest of friends.
“This is exactly what I’m talking about.” Ulrik scoffs. “Have Margaret’s lessons taught you nothing?”
“She hits me!” I hold up the back of my bruised hand in the air.
“She doesn’t hit you enough.” My father regards me as if I were rot in the gutter, something dirty to be discarded.
A tense pause hangs between us as I process his words. They break me on the inside, but I try not to show how much it stings. Between Margaret’s abuse, my father’s hatred toward me, and my looming deal with King Wrath, I feel completely out of place in this realm.
“You think that little of me?” My voice breaks.
My father only looks down at me, his gaze burning into mine.
“Why?” I demand. “What have I done for you to treat me this way?”
“Do your duty, Raelys.” Ulrik’s voice is deadly. “You want my approval? Marry the King of Avelisar and stop this nonsense.”
I spent years earning a man’s approval who never intended to give it. My father doles out kindness the way others trade coin—only when there’s something to gain. I don’t know why I still expect anything different.
“I will, and it still won’t be enough for you.”