Chapter 15
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“Morning, Bryn,” I say as I enter the kitchen for breakfast.
“Hello, Raelys,” she replies, plucking a bowl of food from the counter and passing it to me. The fragrant smell wafts up, making my stomach growl in excitement.
“Thank you.” I take the bowl from her. “I have a question. Do you have a moment?”
Bryn wipes her hands on a rag. “What is it?”
“Do you need any extra help here in the kitchen?” I start. “There’s a girl I met in the eastern part of town whose father is abusing her, and I want to help her.”
A crease forms in her brow. “All employment has to go through the king's justiciar.”
“And that would be…?”
“Barnham Bainbridge.”
“Wrath's brother?” My eyebrows raise in surprise.
Bainbridge. The king's house name! I wonder why Wrath is so secretive about his namesake. He must be hiding something. I should research his family’s history and potentially uncover if he is hiding anything.
That is, if I can find the library in this labyrinth of a castle, which I am constantly getting lost in.
Bryn nods. “You gotta ask him.”
“Much appreciated.” I smile up at her. “Could I—”
She waves me off. “Take as many scones as you’d like.”
Plucking a few extra scones to take with me, I wave my goodbyes and head back to my room. As I turn the corner, I notice a petite servant girl waiting by my door. She wears a clean, simple blue dress with her pale blonde hair pulled back into a bun.
“Hello there,” I greet her.
Her sorrowful brown eyes don’t lift to meet mine. “The king asked me to deliver this to you.” She hands me a rolled-up piece of parchment with a small piece of twine around it.
I take it from her, wondering what it might be.
The servant girl curtsies before silently walking away.
Closing the door, I set down the parchment and pull the string.
As I unroll it, a castle map reveals itself before me.
Wrath got me a map—how thoughtful. I did not think the King was capable of kind acts, let alone attentive enough to hear a small comment I’d made.
Taking a large bite of my scone, I let out a small sigh of pleasure, reveling in the warm, sticky-sweet pastry.
I continue to eat my breakfast, my fingertips tracing the castle’s corridors as I study the map.
That’s when something exciting catches my attention—the gardens.
After seeing the Dormishade on our way into town, I wonder if there are more unique flora here in the North to discover.
Rolling up the parchment, I tuck it into my satchel in case I need it later. I set down my empty breakfast bowl, plucking my copy of the Warlord Chronicles from the bedside table as I exit my room. After wandering around for some time, I find the gardens.
The air is crisp with a slight chill, a sign that snowfall is imminent.
The oak trees are tall and mighty, their branches thick with leaves, providing ample shade.
Walking along the path reminds me of the last time I went wandering around in a garden—the night the Elvarrans captured me.
I sit on a shady bench beneath a tree, opening my worn copy of the Warlord Chronicles right to my favorite chapter.
Someone approaches me, and I startle at their footstep.
My gaze meets Sebastian’s, and I give him a polite smile as he stops before me.
His warm, brunette hair billows in the breeze.
He wears a loose tunic that hangs comfortably over his frame, the fabric wrinkled somewhat as if he threw it on in a hurry.
“Sebastian,” I greet him. “We seem to be running into one another quite a lot.”
“I’ll admit I purposefully sought you out today,” Sebastian replies. “Will you take a promenade with me?”
I hesitate, then accept. “Sure.”
Closing the book, I tuck it in the crook of my arm as I stand. The two of us walk down a path that leads deeper into the gardens. I scan the space to ensure no one is watching us together. The last thing I need is a rumor spreading of my involvement with a duke.
“You’ll have to forgive me, Raelys, but it’s strange to find one of the King's guests working in a tavern that… unsavory.”
My brows lower. “I’m not sure what you mean.”
Sebastian’s steps are leisurely as he glances sidelong at me. “There are whispers of your house name floating around the castle.”
A thread of apprehension shoots through me. Sebastian’s usual lighthearted demeanor toward me has shifted into apprehension. I wonder what has changed since the last time I saw him.
“I belong to House Valantis,” I tell him forthrightly.
“Then you are the sole survivor of the attack on Avelisar,” he points out. “Which means you are still the queen.”
My heart nearly skips a beat. It is something I haven’t given a second thought to in weeks. I am technically a queen, but there is no point in being a queen of an empty castle.
I redirect his attention with a lie. “Ah, that would be true if the King hadn’t launched his attack in the middle of the ceremony. We did not complete our vows.”
“Then why did the King keep you alive?”
I give him a lazy shrug. “Perhaps he is using me as a negotiation piece with Cathros. I’m not mistreated if that concerns you.”
Sebastian grows quiet beside me. I can see he’s deep in thought as we stroll through the lush gardens. There are several things I need him to explain to me, so I steer the conversation away from me and towards him.
“Now that I’ve told you something, you must tell me how your negotiations with the King went.” I lighten my tone, stepping closer. Our shoulders accidentally brush against one another.
He releases a heavy sigh. “He will not listen to any of my king's requests. If this continues for much longer, Erynthe may ally with Rykaris. If that happens, it could leave your kingdom as an easy target for The Blade.”
That information is exactly what I need to inform Valentin about. The only issue is sending a letter without getting caught. Wrath may let me roam freely, but I am about to push the boundaries of our agreement.
I lean close and say, “I’ve heard whisperings of a rebellion.”
He chuckles. “You are well informed.”
“What makes you say that?” I ask curiously.
Sebastian gives me a quizzical look as we stop at the garden's entrance. “Good day, Princess.”
Taking note of his rather cold departure, I nod, lowering myself into a curtsy as he departs. If there is a limit to my intrusive questions, I found it. Sebastian’s usually friendly demeanor turned as soon as I inquired about the rebellion.
I reenter the castle, poking my head into one of the dimly lit rooms I discovered while wandering around.
It’s empty. I slink inside and rummage through old drawers and shelves, causing specks of dust to stir into the air.
I pull brittle parchment from the desk. It’s a little rough, but it will work.
I open the cabinet behind me, and the hinges creak so loudly I flinch.
My gaze snaps to the door as I tensely wait to see if someone discovers me.
When no one enters the room, I continue my search, finding nothing but empty ink bottles.
My frustration grows with each empty shelf until, at last, I see what I am looking for—a quill with a fresh bottle of ink.
Grabbing it, I swiftly exit the study and return to my room.
Placing the parchment on the bedside table, I dip the quill into the ink and write in my family's cipher. I can disguise the coded message as a shipment update of livestock, so that it wouldn’t be apparent to the naked eye, but my brother would understand.
I plan out each word carefully so I can weave the message into the page, my pen flowing quickly across the parchment.
The inside of my right wrist burns like a brand, as if the magic is thwarting me directly—the muscles in my hand contract.
I let out a pained cry as I grip my wrist with my left hand, forcing myself to continue writing through the pain.
My fingers shake as wobbly letters form.
The mark is like a snake coiling tightly around my arm, moving upwards to my shoulder.
Eventually, it constricts so tightly that I lose feeling in my arm.
I drop the quill, unable to take the excruciating pain. Sharp jolts of pain shoot into my fingertips like tiny lightning bolts as tears gather in my lashes. My breath is ragged as I wait for the sensation to fade, swallowing the lump in my throat.
I cannot betray Wrath, not directly, no matter how veiled my attempts. Swearing under my breath, I take the parchment and toss it into the hearth to burn. I must be more creative with my plans if I want to find a way out of Khalessor.
Pushing my frustrations aside, I pack the pastries and work apron away. I sling my satchel over my shoulder and head out for the afternoon. I exit the castle and stroll down the busy streets, making a stop to deliver the pastries to Zinnia on my way to work.
She gasps. “For me?”
I smile. “Yes. They made extra at the castle. I brought you some.”
“Thank you!” Zinnia takes a bite. “I love scones.” She lets out a sigh of approval while she chews.
“Me too. Especially the pumpkin ones.”
“I’ll have to bake you some of my blueberry scones. I have the best recipe,” Zinnia insists.
“I’d love that,” I say with a smile. “Hope you make lots of sales today!” I call out to her as I walk away.
“See you!” Zinnia waves.
Making my way to the Whispering Willow, I open the door and enter.
A throwing knife flies across the space, narrowly missing my nose.
I jerk back out of instinct as the blade lodges itself into the wood.
Drawn on the opposite wall is a poorly shaped target with three rings.
Six other knives are buried in the wood, proof they’ve been at it for a while.
I inch around the target practice by pressing my back to the wall and slowly slinking around the perimeter of the tavern. “Hey, Alastor,” I say as I reach the bar, pulling my apron over my head and tying it in the back.
“Afternoon,” he replies, unfazed by the knife throwing.
“Girl! I need a refill now!” someone calls out from across the room. Glancing in the direction of the voice, I see an older Elvarran sitting at a table.
I walk over and pick up his tankard to refill it. Walking the empty tankard to Alastor, he fills it to the top. I return to the old Elvarran, who tosses me a bronze coin. I fall into a rhythm—picking up tables, filling glasses, and avoiding wandering hands from drunk men.
Dropping off a tankard, I see the beautiful brunette woman who accompanied that elixir peddler now sitting on a soldier’s lap. Her dark eyes meet mine, and a smile forms on her plush lips. She slides off him, and the soldier leans back with a scoff, drumming his fingers against the table.
“I wasn’t done—”
“One moment.” Her voice is melodic, laced with sensuality as she glides a finger underneath his chin. “Good boys get rewards when they’re patient.”
A flush spreads across the man’s face, and he quickly clears his throat, drowning his fervor beneath his ale. The woman circles the table, elegant fingers untying my apron and pulling it over my head.
“What are you…?” I watch her fold it in half, rolling it slightly before reaching around me.
“You’re never going to make any tips like this,” she mutters under her breath, tying the apron low on my hips.
She unties the front laces of my corset, pulling it low before re-tying it, pushing my breasts together. She yanks my dress down, hiking part of the skirt up into the apron, revealing one of my legs.
“There!” she says confidently, stepping back to examine her work.
“Thank you?” I blink in confusion.
She sweeps my long hair over my shoulder. “My, you have lovely hair.” The woman adjusts my corset one last time, making sure my breasts are even more exposed. “Men should pay you silver to gaze upon you. You’re a halfling, too—so exotic.”
“What’s your name?” I ask her.
“Kaia,” she replies warmly.
“Rae,” I tell her. “I saw you with that… peddler. He’s not—?”
Kaia snorts a laugh. “Oh, ‘ole Renwick? He’s harmless. You live over two hundred years and see how solid your mind is.” She shrugs. “I do that sometimes to make a bit of extra coin on the side.”
“What do you normally do?” I ask, drawn to her confidence and charm. She is so effortlessly bold and sharp-tongued, an amplified version of qualities I pride myself in—the version I might have been if it wasn’t trained out of me.
“A little bit of this, a little bit of that,” Kaia replies vaguely. “I have lofty aspirations.”
“I see…” My curiosity piques. “I think we’re going to be excellent friends.”