Chapter 19 #2
She had heard of monsters granting miraculous powers, but nothing like the power to heal people at will.
He’s a Rustling. He’s ancient, Hymn reminded her, hesitantly climbing back to her ribcage. His power is immense.
Chasin’s monster had given him the power to heal.
But apparently not the power to heal himself.
The attendant returned, and Ceran’s eyes lingered on her, one of his brows inching up at her newly healed, glowing skin.
“She’ll need some more work,” King Grigori said flatly. “Five days should do it.”
Chasin’s jaw tightened, his shoulder notched against the windowsill as he faced his father.
“I want her fattened up,” the king continued. “And I want her uninjured until the ball. No more of this—” He gestured vaguely at her body. “—Godsguard brutality.”
Chasin seemed to grow impossibly larger, his expression tightening, his eyes growing so dark that Eiko wasn’t the only one who shuddered in response. The attendant was trembling, sweat breaking out across her brow.
Chasin signed slowly and precisely, with unmistakable intent.
She is my recruit. He emphasised that one sign. My.
The king’s eyes narrowed.
Chasin continued, his hands steady. You will have her as a princess. Eiko struggled to keep pace with the signing, even though it was being done with deliberate slowness, like Chasin was drilling the words into his father.
You will not interfere with her as my soldier.
For a moment, Eiko thought Chasin might be struck down where he stood, but King Grigori only laughed. It was short, sharp and utterly devoid of any real humour.
“Just put some weight on her,” the king snapped, apparently backing down on the rest of his order.
Chasin simply returned his dark stare to the window.
Eiko didn’t know whether to be furious, grateful, or terrified.
The attendant stepped away, murmuring about fabrics and colours and cohesion, none of which Eiko understood. She was handed back her cane and led back to the privacy screen, where she was permitted to dress again.
She still had no idea what she was wearing to the Copperlight Thingy—
Copperlight Ball—Hymn tried to interject.
She only knew that she was being matched to Ceran, as Rion was being matched to Corvan.
They were being dressed—no, sold—as warrior princesses, which could only mean that the engagement was probably about to happen, whether she liked it or not. Probably at the Copperlight Thingy—
Copperlight Ball, Hymn inserted again, his tone dry this time. You’re doing this deliberately now.
When she stepped out from behind the screen again, all three of the men were gone. The attendant was also gone.
She was completely alone. Forgotten about … again.
Five days later, she found herself staring at the mirror in the Eclipse washroom at a woman she didn’t recognise.
The gown clung to her like it had been poured rather than sewn.
Heavy silk, the colour of molten metal, slid from the smooth slope of her shoulders in a liquid flow to puddle against the ground.
It skimmed her collarbones, fitting smoothly over her chest, and then fell in long, fluid lines that moved with her breath, pooling at her feet in controlled, deliberate folds.
The bodice was exquisite. Structured just enough to flatter her shape without breaking the silk’s natural fall.
Fine goldwork was stitched into the fabric itself, narrow, shimmering lines falling straight down to make the dress look like it was raining sparks.
Each glittering line caught the light when she shifted before the mirror, flashing and disappearing and flashing again as she twisted her body.
At her hips, the gown opened into layered panels, each one edged in whisper-thin metallic thread.
When she moved, they parted and overlapped in slow, liquid motion, revealing glimpses of silk beneath that shimmered beautifully.
The weight of the dress was luxurious and grounding, but it moved effortlessly, never dragging or resisting her, just like her uniform.
Her favourite part wasn’t the dress itself, however.
The headpiece was a work of art. It sat high and elegant across her brow, a sculpted circlet of brushed gold that curved with anatomical precision, hugging her temples and framing her face.
The metal was etched with impossibly fine patterns, thin suns and moons, a repeating sky littered with blinking stars.
From the circlet fell strands of gold chain so fine she was scared to touch them.
They draped softly through her hair, cascading down her back and shoulders in delicate filaments, each strand weighted just enough to move slowly, to sway when she turned her head.
When they touched her skin, they were cool and whisper-light, and when the ends collided, they chimed faintly with a sound like distant bells brushing together.
The chains also fell over her face, dripping down to brush against her collarbone, shrouding her countenance in mystery.
Perhaps an attempt to hide her eyes … or worse, her entire face.
Her wrists were free of jewellery, as was her throat, and she had noted that even the dress and headpiece were bare of gems. She wasn’t sure why it mattered—why she searched for them, but something ugly and furious twisted inside her at the lack of precious stones.
Except that when she tried to examine the sudden feeling, shocked by it, she found it had already dissipated.
It was like she had imagined it.
She leaned closer to the mirror, studying the way the gold warmed her skin, the way the silk caught and released the light, the way every piece seemed made for her, measured to the smallest detail, even though she had managed to put on just enough weight over the last five days to make it look like she at least wasn’t starving.
The only way she could achieve it was by refusing to use the second sight at all.
I can’t believe this is the first thing I’m seeing in days, she crooned to Hymn, turning in the mirror again.
It was, without question, the most beautiful thing she had ever worn.
You look incredible, he told her. Like a real warrior princess.
Warrior princess.
The thought landed with a strange, hollow weight.
Her skin glowed faintly, her arms, throat, and face completely free of bruises.
It was a sign of Chasin’s silent, terrifying mercy that Cairn had been recently training her in a way that only bruised her legs and midsection—parts of her that would be covered by a gown.
She could feel the aches and pains of their sessions, but the mirror showed none of it.
She leaned closer, examining her eyes. Gold threaded through the pearl of her pupils, reflected off her headpiece when she tilted her head. She looked dangerous and expensive, but also like something that had been claimed.
She swallowed, her fingers curling around the edge of the stone basin.
“Don’t panic,” she whispered to her reflection. “You’ve survived worse than a Copperlight Thingy.”
The door behind her creaked, and she froze. She had skipped out on training to get ready early, while the washroom was empty in the early hours of the afternoon. She hadn’t been expecting an audience just yet. Perhaps she had been in there longer than she realised.
Boots scraped against stone and then paused. A sharp intake of breath followed. She turned slowly, already wincing in expectation.
Would the others laugh at her?
One of the Eclipse soldiers stood just inside the doorway, gloves tucked under his arm, travel dirt from the road streaked across his face.
It was normal for Eclipse bannermen to be sent away on mysterious missions, for them to disappear and reappear at random, sometimes in groups and sometimes alone.
This soldier was mildly familiar, but she didn’t actually know any of their names. They seemed to have accepted her, but they didn’t talk to her. They didn’t spend time with her—unless it was to watch her training sessions with Cairn for entertainment.
This man stared.
He stared like she was Rion, not like she was … well, herself.
“Light above,” he breathed, then immediately snapped his mouth shut, colour flooding his face.
“Shit—sorry. I didn’t mean to … I’m gawking.
And babbling. Pretend you didn’t see—” He bit off the word, his eyes widening like he couldn’t believe he had almost told a blind person to pretend she didn’t see him, let alone the oddness of acting like he was barging into a private washroom instead of their shared one.
He stepped out of the room and slammed the door.
Eiko lifted one brow, some of her confidence returning.
That was a damn good first impression.
Would have been better with gems, Hymn said, a little despairingly.
Right? she agreed. What’s a girl gotta do around here to get some bloody gems?
She fortified her spine and stepped out of the washroom.
The stone was cool beneath her slippers.
Torches flickered low along the walls, throwing out warm light that caught and slid across the gold of her gown.
Every step made the silk whisper. Every movement sent the fine chains of her headdress chiming softly, a sound so delicate it barely felt real.
She made it down to the ground level without tripping over the gown by some miracle, expecting the Godsguard soldiers to treat her exactly as they had when her gold lace was revealed. Not to ostracise her, or treat her cruelly, but to silently clock the thing amongst them that didn’t belong.
That wasn’t what happened at all.
Conversations stalled mid-sentence. Boots slowed. Men were elbowing each other. One of them giggled.
A scary, Godsguard motherfucker giggled at her.
A Crescent pair leaned against the wall ahead—veterans, by the look of them.
One of them straightened so fast he nearly smacked his head against the torch bracket.
The other crossed his arms, uncrossed them, then settled on gripping his own forearm like he had forgotten what arms were supposed to do.
She spotted Ren first. He was halfway through an argument with Kaito, his hands moving, expression sharp, when he glanced up.
Whatever words he had been about to unleash died instantly.
He just … stopped. His mouth parted and then closed.
His brows drew together like his brain was trying desperately to catch up with his eyes.
He took a step towards her, then another, slower this time, as if afraid she might vanish if he moved too quickly.
“You …” He stopped before her, his voice failing. He exhaled hard through his nose. “Wow.”
“Really?” She hated that colour was burning her cheeks.
That seemed to snap him out of it. His lips curved into something more familiar. A smile she had caught many glimpses of since arriving in Goldmoor. It was crooked, fond, relieved, a little indulgent.
“Really.” He glanced at her headpiece, her dress, the way the gold caught the torchlight. Then his gaze dropped deliberately to the floor. “You look … really good,” he said, quieter now, his brow knitting for a different reason. “It’s going to happen tonight, isn’t it?”
She also stared at the floor. “I don’t know.
Probably.” It was on the tip of her tongue to ask what her possible engagement meant for them.
Did it change anything? He hadn’t tried to sneak into her room since they were caught by Chasin, and she hadn’t tried to seek out his. She wasn’t sure what they were anymore.
Was it because they were busy? Was it Ceran?
She didn’t know how to start the conversation, and it seemed he didn’t either.
Kaito cleared his throat, appearing beside Ren, his eyes flicking between them. “You look …” He frowned. “You look incredible.”
He offered his arm without thinking, operating on pure instinct, and then he hesitated, glancing at her gown.
“May I?”
She hooked her fingers lightly through his sleeve. “Always.”
He walked her halfway down the hall before reluctantly letting go, his hand lingering at her elbow as Ky appeared.
Ky took one look at her and stopped dead.
“Oh,” he said, the colour draining from his face. He blinked. Then shook his head. “Okay,” he said, very carefully. “So, it is happening tonight, then.”
His eyes flicked to Kaito, then to Ren, both of whom were still hovering, arms crossed, jaws tight. He stepped forward decisively and claimed her arm without hesitation, sliding in at her side.
“Mine,” he said mildly, lifting his chin at Kaito in challenge, even though Kaito had already anticipated exactly this and had already released her.
Kaito rolled his eyes. “She’s my sister.”
“She’s my person,” Ky shot back. “Go find Rion. She’s out in the courtyard.”
Eiko squeezed Ky’s arm, warmth blooming in her chest. “Can you walk me there? They said I can’t bring my cane.”
The colour of rage quickly bloomed across his skin. “Of course.”
Together, they made their way towards the front courtyard where Rion waited.
She stood near the gate, dressed just as exquisitely—her own gown a vision of gold and shadow, her headdress catching the fading light as she turned.
Kaito moved to her side, glad for a chance to hover protectively over someone.
“There you are,” Rion said softly, clasping Eiko’s free hand. “You look stunning.”
“You look … unbelievable,” Eiko returned.
For a moment, they just stood there, warm and trembling. “An engagement is just an engagement, right?” Rion squeaked. “It’s not a marriage, yet.”
Eiko cringed. “Sure, why not.”
Ren opened his mouth like he might actually tell them exactly why not, but Rion held up her hand, cutting him a look that said, “don’t you think this is hard enough?” before she added, out loud, “It wasn’t a real question, Ren.”
Kaito offered Rion his arm before an argument could break out. “Ready?”
She nodded. “As I’ll ever be.”
“Wait.” Ren scrubbed the back of his neck, his eyes downcast. “I … I’m sorry you’re in this position.
” He flicked his attention between Eiko and Rion.
“I know you didn’t choose this. I know they haven’t given you a choice …
I just … I want you both to know that even though they’re treating you like you’re just little village girls they can manipulate, you aren’t.
You’re the strongest, fiercest, and cleverest women I’ve ever met.
Don’t let them look down on you. Don’t let them make you feel dumb or silly.
You’ve survived more than all of them. You’ve achieved more than all of them.
If they try to make you feel small, just realise they’re jealous of how far you’ve climbed.
That’s why they’re angry about where you came from.
Because you started lower than them and still climbed higher than them. Just … just remember that.”
Eiko and Rion broke away from their escorts and threw themselves at Ren, absorbing his embarrassed little huff as they both wrapped their arms around him, silently thanking him.
“Love you,” they both whispered.
“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbled. “Whatever.”