Chapter 20 #3
Queen Noemi’s smile had tightened—not that they could have possibly heard what Eiko had said—and King Grigori’s fingers flexed on his wife’s shoulders, the colours of growing agitation and fury emanating so strongly from him that Eiko was forced to blink away the colours.
Her second sight wobbled, threatening to plunge her into darkness, and she forced the word out like it was a splinter in her throat.
The acceptance torn from her just as it was torn from Rion, both of them finding their voices at the same time.
“Yes,” Eiko muttered.
“You honour me, Your Grace,” Rion whispered. “Of course I’ll marry you.”
The hall erupted. A tidal wave of cheers and gasps and applause. Music surged back into existence as if the musicians had been holding their bows in mid-air, waiting an eternity for the spectacle to conclude.
Ceran rose, his gloved hand capturing hers. He slid the ring onto her finger with a careful, practised gentleness.
Eiko’s vision flickered again, tears gathering along the lower line of her lashes as she stared down at the little band. She tried to blink them free, but they only seemed to thicken, and then she caught sight of a little spot of red on one of the chains dangling over her face.
Shit.
Shit, Hymn breathed. Your eyes are bleeding!
“Will you please escort me to Rion?” Eiko whispered. “I must … uh … retire, for a moment.” She kept her gaze downcast, her head lowered, hoping the chains obscured her bloodied eyes, thanking the sun that she was so much shorter than the prince.
Ceran hesitated for a moment, but then, ever the gentleman, he escorted her over to Rion and Corvan. Eiko’s vision flickered for the last time, plunging her into darkness.
She grabbed for Rion out of instinct, muttering low and hurried, “Privacy.”
Rion pulled her close, her grip firm, anchoring, and she stepped slightly in front of Eiko. Even now, even shaking, she moved like a woman who had been trained to survive balls just like this—situations Eiko could never have even dreamed up.
“Your Grace,” Rion said to Corvan, her voice bright and breathless in exactly the right way. Overjoyed. Overwhelmed. Perfect. “May we be excused for a moment? We … we need to compose ourselves.”
“Of course,” Corvan said, and then, for the first time that night, he sounded less like a rehearsed heir and more like a soldier. “Take them.”
One of them moved closer, and Eiko stiffened, but Ceran’s voice was projected in the wrong direction. He had put his back to her, shielding her from the approaching cluster of slippered feet, surging towards them with delighted whispers.
“Ladies,” he said smoothly, the warmth in his voice bright enough to soothe the crowd back from the edge of chaos. “Please. I’ll not have my betrothed mobbed so soon,” he joked.
“This way,” an attendant urged—the person Corvan must have spoken to. Rion guided Eiko away, fingers firm around her waist, and Eiko clung to her with a shaking grip.
They were stopped by a pair of soldiers before they could escape the hall, the silver-white uniforms of the Kingsguard sounding different to the Godsguard uniforms, but similar enough that Eiko knew what she was hearing. She was hearing soldiers stepping into her path.
“Her Grace requested—” one of them began.
“She’s about to faint,” Rion interrupted, her voice still sweet. Still bright. “Unless you’d like her to faint on the marble in front of everyone?”
Eiko could feel the guard calculating the situation before stepping back. “Be quick.”
Rion ushered her on, and Eiko’s stomach lurched as the warm glide of blood began to seep down her cheek. She kept her head down, letting the chains hide the worst of it, hoping the gold would catch the light and distract anyone who looked too closely.
You’re bleeding more, Hymn whispered, horrified.
I know, Hymn. “Don’t panic,” she added under her breath, accidentally speaking out loud.
Rion’s grip tightened. “Absolutely don’t do that,” she agreed, quickening her step.
They reached an antechamber that felt small, quiet, dim, and blessedly empty. Rion quickly dismissed the attendant, quietly asking her to bring food and water, and then she shut the door with a soft click.
The second the latch caught, Rion’s poise shattered. She spun on Eiko, her hands flying up, and Eiko heard the tear in her breath. “Oh, light above, Eiko—”
“I’m fine,” Eiko lied automatically, pulling off her headdress.
“Your face,” Rion said, and the words were sharp with swallowed tears. “Sit. Sit down.” She directed her to an upholstered armchair, and Eiko obediently sat, the heavy silk of her gown pooling around her.
Rion hurried into an attached washroom, wetting a cloth at a sink, before returning to kneel before Eiko, dabbing gently at her cheeks.
“It’s stopped,” she finally said, returning with another cloth, this time to pat her face dry.
Eiko just swallowed and let it happen—let Rion fuss over her.
She was too weak to fight it. Her mouth was dry, her throat burning.
She couldn’t summon the energy to speak until the attendant returned with a tray of finger sandwiches and a carafe of sweet wine.
Eiko systematically worked her way through the entire tray and then gulped at the wine.
“It’s terrifying how you can do that,” Rion remarked. And she sounded it, too: terrified.
Eiko winced. “Sorry.” She set the carafe down and began to fiddle with the ring on her finger.
“Why no gemstone?” Rion asked curiously. “Mine doesn’t have one either.”
Eiko chewed on her lip. In her mind, she saw the way the crowd parted. The way the nobles instinctively gave Chasin space. The way his attention had landed on her ring box, his hard mouth twitching into the shadow of a smirk.
Eiko’s voice dropped to a whisper. “The commander.”
Rion fell still. The room felt colder, like just saying his title had somehow summoned him.
“I don’t understand,” Rion admitted. “Why would the commander confiscate the gemstones from our rings?”
“You don’t feel it?” Eiko asked, barely daring to utter the words.
“Feel what?” Rion’s genuine confusion chilled Eiko even more.
“Like … this … like you don’t randomly start obsessing over gemstones?” Eiko tripped over the humiliating question, her stomach rolling with that same deep, dark hunger, despite how much she had eaten.
“What?” Rion breathed. “Eiko … no. What—”
A knock cut her off. Three quick taps. Polite, but unmistakably unavoidable.
Rion snapped up, and Eiko froze, quickly reaching for her headdress. Rion helped her to arrange it back into place.
A man’s voice came through the door, velvet-smooth and careful. “Ladies.” Ceran.
“Your Grace,” Rion called, bright and sweet, as if she hadn’t just been on the verge of tears. “We’re just—”
“I won’t come in,” Ceran interrupted gently. “I only wanted to ensure you’re well.”
Eiko could hear the smile in his voice.
And underneath it, something else.
Concern? A soldier’s alertness? She wasn’t sure, but Ceran wasn’t stupid. Rion’s fingers slid into Eiko’s, squeezing once. A silent warning. Let me handle this.
“We’re well,” Rion said. “Just overwhelmed.”
“Of course,” Ceran murmured. Then, after a beat, his voice lowered. “Eiko?”
Eiko’s heart thumped painfully. Rion didn’t answer. She couldn’t.
So Eiko did, her voice hoarse. “Yes?”
Ceran said softly, “You’re bleeding. I saw it drip on the floor. Just a little. I only—” He paused, and when he spoke again, it was quieter. Less prince. More man. “I only want to help.”
Eiko attempted to copy Rion’s calm, bright tone. “It’s nothing, Your Grace. Just a nosebleed.”
Ceran’s voice shifted. Subtly formal again, safer for listening ears. “Very well. Take your time. The court will want you back soon.” His footsteps retreated.
The moment the sound faded, Rion sagged down against Eiko’s knees. “He’s very attentive,” she said thoughtfully. “Very charming. And clever. And the ladies seem to like him. Shit, there’s blood on one of the chains.”
Rion jumped up again, fetched her cloth, and began to polish away whatever spot of blood she had found.
Another knock came at the door. This one was heavier and sharper. The wood seemed to vibrate.
A voice followed: low, flat, and utterly devoid of warmth. “Open the door.” He seemed to expect immediate obedience.
Kingsguard, Hymn whispered.
Eiko’s stomach dropped straight through the floor.
It had taken no time at all for the King of All to tighten their nooses. Even a few minutes alone in the washroom wouldn’t be granted—not when there was a performance to be put on.