Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
“I’m sorry about father.” Valentin sighs, leaning against the banister on my balcony.
“It’s all right.” I pull my sleeves down over my bruised hands.
“It’s not,” my brother retorts. “No one has the right to speak to you like that.”
“I don’t know my place.” I retreat further, the weight of my father’s words casting a shadow over my thoughts. Maybe he’s right. Perhaps I am an awful daughter. Impulsive, defiant, and too astute for my own good. I am the sum of everything Ulrik is not, and that infuriates him.
“Nonsense,” Valentin says firmly. “Father was in a mood.”
“When is he not in a mood?” I reply bitterly.
My brother huffs a laugh, knowing that I’m right. “I need your advice on this.” He passes me a letter from his pocket, changing the subject.
I read the letter from the kingdom of Erynthe. King Francis demands a large payment from Cathros for not protecting their northern border, claiming we ruined their trade routes after the battle at Crossgate.
“I thought the rations were suspicious,” I comment, realizing that the so-called ‘rations’ to Liora are part of a secret trade deal that bypassed our kingdom. “The fish they catch would never make it in shipment. So, what did they attempt to send north?”
“I’m unsure,” Valentin replies. “Why send it that far west when Rykaris is closer?”
“Right?” I agree. “Rykaris is not aggressive either. Most of them are loggers and woodworkers.”
“It’s still an Elvarran kingdom. We can’t fully trust them.” Valentin runs a hand down the back of his neck.
“Are we to defend every border in the south?” I say in annoyance. “We have one army. You can’t spread yourself thin trying to protect everyone.”
“We have the biggest army,” Valentin boasts proudly.
I wave him off. “If we protect the northern border, everyone else is supposed to supply us with gold or goods as payment.”
“I know, but we need Erynthe,” he counters. “The human kingdoms must remain united.”
“The only kingdoms that have helped us are Oderris and Nythara. With Nythara gone, we are severely lacking in the hunting and fur trade. Father should be incredibly worried about the food supply,” I rant, anger bristling in my tone.
“Meanwhile, Avelisar siphons us dry with their demands, and we send our people to die!”
My brother takes the letter from me. “You’re right.”
“I know I’m right.”
“If Wrath’s Blade were to appear on our doorstep, we would have sent all our men away, leaving us vulnerable.” Valentin’s tone is severe.
“Exactly. Avelisar needs our army.” I remind him, pointing a finger at his chest. “Not the other way around. Don’t let them push you around when you’re on the front lines risking your life.”
“This is why I need you,” he admits. “Snap some sense into me.”
“House Valantis has not stood this long only to fail now,” I urge, stepping closer. “You’re the future king! They should respect you. You’re the one who won Crossgate for the south, not them.”
My brother nods, rubbing the stubble on his chin as he thinks. “I did. I restored all the land the Elvarrans captured and took control of the passage.”
“Precisely,” I assure him. “Avelisar’s stonecutting and masonry have been of little help to us during this war. They would crumble without our support. And Erynthe is as reliable as a bridge made of glass.”
Valentin paces across the balcony, crumpling the letter in his grip as he works out his frustrations. His chestnut brown hair sways slightly with each step, his thick brows furrowed in thought. He often did this when he worked out a new plan or strategy in his mind.
“Raelys?” Eleanor says as she enters my bedchamber.
“We’re out here!” I call out to her.
“I’m here to pack your belongings for Avelisar.” She walks toward my wardrobe and opens it.
“All right.” Valentin nods, moving toward the door. “Let me talk to Father.”
“Thank you.” I am eternally grateful to my brother. “Just remember.” I grab his arm, stopping him. “I am wholly loyal to you, no matter what. Avelisar may be where I end up, but Cathros is my home.”
My brother’s eyes burn with determination as he grasps my shoulders. “The same to you. I am loyal to you until the end, Raelys.”
I nod. “Always.”
He pulls me into a tight hug. I won’t miss much about Cathros, but I will certainly feel Valentin’s absence—his warm personality, sharp wit, and the kindness he always showed me.
Tears gather at the edges of my eyes. The weight of saying goodbye is too much to bear.
My brother leaves the room, taking a part of my heart with him.
I watch Eleanor fold up dresses and shawls, tucking them away.
She packs my worn pair of slippers that I don’t have the heart to throw away.
My favorite wool gloves. Eleanor knows exactly which pieces to pack—those I like or those with the comfort of familiarity.
She doesn’t know that I won’t have a need for most of the items. I don’t intend to stay in Avelisar long, likely not even a day.
After Wrath fulfills his end of the deal, things will return to normal, and I’ll come home.
There is no turning back now. Our fates are bound together.
“Do you have a satchel, Eleanor?” I ask.
“You’re a princess. What would you require a satchel for?” She folds another dress into a large trunk.
“That’s enough things.” I walk over and shut the lid.
“You need more than one trunk of clothes, Princess.”
“Thank you, but I’ll handle packing myself. Please get me a satchel so I may carry some books with me on the long carriage ride to Avelisar.” The edge in my voice makes her flinch. I hate that rank is the only language she seems to hear.
“Yes, Princess,” Eleanor replies quietly as she bows and leaves the room.
Pulling open the trunk, I remove several of my favorite gowns and pack the older and simpler ones for the trip. I replace some of my slippers with riding boots and swap a thin nightgown for a thick winter cloak.
I slowly open my door and peek out into the corridor.
There isn’t a new guard at my door yet, as they are likely rotating for the afternoon shift.
Exiting my bedchamber, I move through the corridors as quietly as I can toward Valentin’s room.
If he is out sweeping the grounds for Elvarrans again, it gives me a chance to steal a pair of pants from him.
I crouch down to peek through the keyhole. Empty. Twisting the knob, I open the door and slip inside Valentin’s chamber. I open the wardrobe and rummage through for pants.
I hold the first pair I find up to my hips. Too big. I toss them back into the wardrobe. Holding up the next pair, I can see a large red stain. Too bloody. I keep searching until I find a third pair. It is a dark brown color and made of thick material. That will have to do.
I close the wardrobe, then fold the pants and tuck them close to my bodice, hoping I can conceal them as I exit Valentin’s bedchamber. If all goes according to my plan, I must make the ten-day journey home from Avelisar on horseback. These pants will provide comfort and practicality while riding.
Upon my return, Lydia stands at my door, clutching something close to her body. A silk cloth wraps around the object, masking its shape from me. Her hazel eyes light up as she sees me, a smile forming on her lips as I approach.
“Lydia,” I greet her.
“Hello.” She gives me an impish look as we enter my bedchamber. “I got it,” Lydia whispers, unraveling the small cloth to reveal a dagger in a sheath.
I pull the dagger free and examine the blade. It’s strange, appearing to be made of black steel—the surface drinks in the light, not even a glint of reflection. The hilt fits perfectly in my grip, balanced and deadly without being too heavy and cumbersome.
“Where did you get this?” I keep my voice low in case anyone can hear us in the hall.
She has a devious look on her face. “I stole it from my father’s collection.”
“Lydia!” I say in surprise. She is never one for deception or trickery. “What if it holds significant importance to him?”
“Don’t worry about it.” Lydia pushes the dagger closer to me. “Take it! He has so many he won’t even notice it’s gone.”
I hug her close. “Thank you, Lydia.”
Lydia sniffles as she releases me, wiping a stray tear away. “I’m going to miss you, Raelys.”
“I’ll miss you more,” I say softly. “There is no one like you in the world, Lydia. You are my dearest friend.”
“Write to me as soon as you can.”
“I will.” I place my hand over hers, giving it a light squeeze. I can’t tell her of my deal with Wrath, the promise to write hanging heavier than she realizes.
It’s tempting to tell her what's going on, but I can’t drag Lydia into this mess. This is my burden—mine to carry and mine alone. No amount of regret or second-guessing can change the path I am on.
“Goodbye, Raelys.”
“We will see each other again,” I vow.
With one last hug goodbye, she leaves, returning me to my solitude.
I walk over to the trunk and hide the dagger wrapped in fabric inside one of my boots.
I don’t want to explain if Eleanor finds it while packing, or worse, if she takes it from me.
Closing the trunk, I lock the hinges and take a step back.
A part of me cannot believe I am leaving my home.
The halls I have walked since childhood will soon be behind me.
I prayed to Itheon day and night for my freedom, and while granted, the circumstances were askew.
I have always longed to see what lies beyond the castle walls—to experience more of what life has to offer.
Now, that chance is finally mine, but braided within it is a dark power I’m forced to contend with.
A knock sounds at my door.
I open it to come face-to-face with a new guard.
The soldier is stout and muscular, but I don’t bother familiarizing myself with his features.
To know him would be to admit that Timothy will not return.
There’s no room for grief, not for the friend who gave their life so I could keep mine. The world keeps dragging me forward.
“The King wishes to see you,” he says, devoid of joy.
As I exit, the guard follows me down the hall like a shadow, not speaking another word. I enter my father’s war room, watching him pore over maps on the large table in the center.
“You called for me, Father?” I ask, breaking the silence.
“Yes,” Ulrik starts. I anticipate his reprimands. A hacking cough wracks through him, causing him to double over. I wait for his episode to pass, standing there in silence while I watch him.
“Have you calmed down now?” Another lecture is hot on his tongue.
“I’m doing exactly as you ask. Tomorrow, I leave for Avelisar.” I try not to let the disgust fill my voice. My father is marrying me off to a man who is thirty-eight years my senior and sees no issue with that.
“You will do as told, Raelys,” Ulrik commands, and I know if I make him any angrier, it will send him into an early grave.
I hold up a hand to reassure him. “I understand. I’ll go to Avelisar, marry the King, and give him a son,” I lie.
“Don’t disappoint me,” he warns.
“I’ll miss you too, Father,” I say with a hint of cynicism. It’s difficult to shake the feeling that he won’t miss me. In fact, he’s probably pleased to be rid of me.
“We need this alliance.” Ulrik reminds me. He treats me like a wild animal that is a threat if released from my enclosure.
“I understand,” I comply, pulling my right sleeve down a little more.
“This is very important. The fate of the realm depends on this.”
I nod, forcing myself to stay still beneath the weight of his scrutiny. The deal I made with Wrath presses against my chest, tightening the air until it’s hard to breathe. I wait for what comes next, knowing the rant is far from over.
“You are a Valantis, one of the longest-standing human houses. I have raised you to act with poise, dignity, and grace, lest you forget.” Ulrik steps closer, pointing an accusatory finger at me. “And you will not ruin this for me!”
My father breaks into a haggard coughing fit as he doubles over in pain. His knuckles turn white as he grips the table's edge, his body trembling to steady himself—the once unshakable man, now brought low by an invisible force.
“Mother wouldn’t have wanted this,” I whisper.
“You dare bring Isla into this.” Vemon fills Ulrik’s voice. “You speak of her again, and there will be serious consequences.”
“Just because you refuse to speak of mother doesn’t mean she didn’t exist.”
I expect sorrow at the mention of her loss, but I only feel ire. It is a low blow, but I want to convey my point to him. She’s been gone for so long, but the wounds have not healed—I’m unsure if they ever will.
“This is your duty. You get to be a queen, Raelys.” He dismisses my point. “You ungrateful child.”