Chapter Six
I have read the journals of all of those who come before me, and if there is one thing the goddess has never let us forget, it is that she is not our ruler.
The Mother of Rahvekya will always love us, but like any good mother she wishes to see us grow up and make our own choices—and our own mistakes.
The lost journal of High Priestess Tona
Even if Aleksi had not warned Naia that word had gotten out about the intimate nature of his relationship with her and Einar, the knowing looks from the High Court would have spoken loudly enough on their own.
Rather than gathering in the Great Hall, people milled about outside in the antechamber.
Its vaulted ceilings were normally solid stone, but this morning, sunlight flooded the room.
Large sections of the roof had been lifted away, leaving behind only the bare stone arches.
As a result, the room felt more like an open courtyard.
A line of stone tables along one wall held pastries, hand pies, and fruits, and servers moved through the slowly growing crowd, bearing trays laden with steaming drinks.
Across the way, Elevia leaned against a pillar and stared assessingly at Naia. Unable to avoid the scrutiny, Naia lifted her face and studied the sky with more dedication than was strictly required.
But such things could not deter the Huntress. She prowled over, still eyeing Naia like a newly discovered wild creature—or a battlefield map. “We haven’t had many opportunities to speak, have we?”
It wasn’t exactly a subtle opening, but Naia imagined that very well could be part of Elevia’s strategy. Predators did not always lie in wait; sometimes they preferred to ambush their prey. “I imagine I haven’t done much to merit your curiosity,” Naia told her. “Until now.”
Elevia arched one eyebrow in clear appreciation of the return salvo. Maybe she enjoyed playing with her food. “On the contrary. Ulric and I took great notice of you. On the battlefield, I mean.”
“You protected him,” rumbled a low voice from behind Naia.
Ulric. Naia had to laugh, honestly. She had forgotten that a frontal assault could be just that. But, other times, it served as a mere distraction so the real attack could begin.
She turned to face the Wolf, who was dressed in his customary simple leathers and furs. “Protected who?”
“Aleksi, of course.” Elevia caught a passing server and lifted a tiny cup of coffee from the tray he carried, thanking him with a brilliant smile. “When Sorin’s witch severed him from the Dream, and he was too staggered to stand and fight.”
There were large swaths of the battle that Naia barely remembered.
The moments had simply run together to form a desperate, bloody blur.
She could not recall now if she had noticed Aleksi on his knees and gone to him, determined not to let his momentary distraction be the end of him, or if Einar had led the charge.
Perhaps they had decided together, in a split second of unspoken agreement. “He needed me. Us.”
“He did.” Ulric plucked the coffee from Elevia’s hand and took a sip before handing it back. Then he tilted his head and studied Naia. “He does.”
Naia bit her lip. Agreeing felt vaguely traitorous, as if she would be betraying a lingering weakness, but arguing felt like protesting too much.
So she said nothing.
Elevia’s gaze sharpened, and the corner of her mouth ticked up. But before she could comment, a prickle of awareness washed over Naia. Goose bumps rose on her arms, and she turned her head just as a protective hand touched the small of her back.
Einar stepped up beside Naia, a small mug of her favorite honeyed tea in his free hand. He handed it to her, then nodded respectfully at the Huntress. “Elevia.” The nod he offered her companion was briefer. “Ulric.”
“Relax, Kraken.” Elevia squared her shoulders. “We were just having a conversation with your clever girl.”
A bustle of activity near the corridor caught Naia’s eye.
Sachi, Zanya, and Ash had entered the makeshift courtyard, wearing far more casual attire than they had the day before—simple, unadorned shirts and trousers, along with sturdy boots.
The nobles nearest them immediately began vying for their attention, but Sachi hurried past them all, a bright smile lighting her face.
“Naia!” She threw her arms around Naia’s shoulders and squeezed tightly. Then, in a low voice meant only for the two of them, Sachi whispered, “Are they giving you an immense amount of trouble?”
“I would never do such a thing,” Elevia said blithely. “And good morning to you, too, Princess Sachielle.”
Naia laughed, both at Elevia’s mild defense of herself and the way Sachi rolled her eyes in acknowledgment of it. “The Huntress and the Wolf have been on their best behavior.”
“Precisely what I’m afraid of,” Sachi rejoined, eliciting a growling laugh from Ulric.
Ash stopped in front of Einar, his dark eyes unreadable. For a moment, tension and a hint of power twisted through the crisp morning air as the two men stared at one another. Then Ash pulled Einar into a fierce embrace.
At first, Einar stood stiffly, his arms held awkwardly at his sides. He cast a wild, seeking look at Naia, then gingerly folded his arms around Ash and returned the embrace.
Ash drew Naia into a hug next. “It has been too long since I saw my brother so happy.”
The words made a painful lump swell in Naia’s throat, and she had to swallow hard before she could answer. “I only hope you’re never able to say that again.”
He pulled away with a grin just as Aleksi walked into the courtyard with Gwynira. Elevia brushed past on her way toward them, suddenly intent, all teasing and humor forgotten.
She met Gwynira halfway and dropped a proper, though quick, bow. “Grand Duchess. May we speak?”
Gwynira nodded to one of the guards, who edged open one of the doors to the Great Hall, permitting only their assembled group entrance before securing it behind them.
Now that they enjoyed a measure of privacy, Elevia dropped all pretense of social politeness. “Have there been any developments in your investigation?”
Rather than answering immediately, Gwynira shifted uncomfortably. “Yes, there has been one. My harbormaster is missing.”
Elevia nodded, clearly unsurprised by the news.
“That’s to be expected. Either he was directly involved in allowing the mercenary ship to dock, or someone bribed or threatened him to facilitate its arrival.
Whether he is dead or has fled, you’ll not see him again.
” She paused. “Has he any family? I’d like to speak with them. ”
“Even if he did, I doubt they would know anything,” Gwynira said icily.
But Elevia was unfazed. “They might, without even realizing it.”
Aleksi stepped into the brewing standoff. “Elevia means what she says, Gwynira—talk. No harm will come to them.”
After several heartbeats, Gwynira relented. “He has a wife. Had a wife.”
“Thank you.” Elevia began to turn away, then stopped. “Do I remind you so much of her, then? The Stalker?”
“The physical resemblance is . . . strong,” Gwynira admitted reluctantly. “You could be sisters.”
Again, the Huntress did not seem shocked by the revelation. “Makes sense. Sorin always did like the way I look.” She leaned closer, catching the other woman’s gaze and holding it steadily. “It was everything else about me that he despised.”
Gwynira’s eyes widened, but then she nodded in grateful acknowledgment. “However much you might remind me of Eirika, you are not her. I should remember that.”
Elevia smiled softly. “I won’t let you forget.”
Gwynira’s eyes glittered with what looked like unshed tears, but she cleared her throat and blinked them away quickly. “I wish I had time to properly entertain you all this morning, but I am afraid I do not. I have a prior engagement today, in Jamyskar.”
“The village we defended?” Aleksi asked.
“Yes. I will be overseeing efforts to rebuild.”
The assembled members of the High Court all cast glances at one another. Some were accompanied by raised eyebrows or intrigued expressions, others by nods or shrugs, but no words passed between them.
Finally, Ash turned to Gwynira and inclined his head. “We will accompany you. It sounds like you could use the help.”
Gwynira scoffed. “Nonsense. I could never ask it of you.”
“Why not?” Dianthe pinned Gwynira with an assessing look—reminding Naia with a jolt that the Grand Duchess was Dianthe’s counterpart in Sorin’s twisted little court. “Do you believe we consider such work beneath us?”
“I know my way around a hammer,” Ulric added with a feral smile. “I built my home with my own hands.”
Gwynira blew out a breath that managed to sound both long-suffering and exasperated. “And so I learn that you are all like this.”
Aleksi laughed and threw a loose arm around her shoulders. “Yes, we’re relentless. Best just to accept it.”
She groaned, though the noise trailed into something that sounded suspiciously like a laugh. “Fine.”
Naia was pleased—to escape the Great Hall with its endless crush of Imperial nobles, to get outside, and to see Jamyskar again under more pleasant circumstances. “Will we be riding reindeer again?” she asked.
Sachi perked up. “Reindeer?”
“No.” Gwynira’s smile held a hint of apology. “It’s such a lovely day. With no imminent threat requiring speed, I thought we’d just walk.”
They filed out of the Great Hall. As the herald announced the morning’s plans—much to the clear and obvious disgust of the gathered nobles—Aleksi made his way to Naia and Einar. “Tell me—was it absolute torture?”
“Dealing with your friends? You underestimate us,” Naia admonished. “Ash hugged Einar.”
“Really?”
Einar huffed. “I thought he was going to challenge me to a fight at first. And that might have been less shocking.”
Naia nudged a laughing Aleksi with her hip as they walked out into the bright midmorning sunlight. “I am not intimidated by your friends.”