CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
“Are we safe?” I asked Brennan quickly, still holding onto him for fear he would fall.
There were even more screams in the crowd, the sounds of flesh hitting flesh, and swords clashing.
Mobs were forming, fights breaking out. People who’d been celebrating only seconds ago were being dragged away into the night.
Some soldiers from House Lafir were simply grabbing anyone they saw, even if they’d done nothing wrong, even when they laid down their weapons.
They were punching and hitting anyone they thought was in their way.
One show of senseless violence after another.
Brennan took my hand and squeezed. “We are. This will blow over. It happens from time to time.”
“Are the words of House Bathiner forbidden?” I asked.
They’d been shouted so freely earlier. I knew the existence of the house was a threat to King Tirian, but he’d done nothing about it until now.
He had even seemed to show support for his nephew who wore the sigil and rode into the tourney under their banner.
All while wearing the black witch armor that was supposedly meant for the king’s house. And now stood on the field in open rebellion, untouched while anyone else who supported his family was taken away.
Brennan paled. “The words are not forbidden. House Bathiner is part of our family, and history. The bloodline has a long, noble tradition in Eskalon. But there are many who believe that Jaron should be sitting on the throne—not my father. And because Jaron’s mother is in House Bathiner, they’ve taken up their support.
” He frowned, eyeing Jaron in the crowd.
“Of course there are some that just support House Bathiner outright, I suppose. They use Jaron’s father, my uncle, as an excuse.
But there is a fine line for my father between support and sedition. ”
Jaron nodded at someone. I couldn’t see who, but I knew he was giving a signal. Maybe calling off the sudden rally. The idea that he’d been behind this, that he might have arranged for many to show him their loyalty and then to be brutalized and arrested, sent a shiver down my spine.
I couldn’t care less if Tirian was unseated from the throne.
I welcomed the day it happened. The day he took his last breath.
But I would not see Jaron take his place.
And I didn’t like the way he stood there, confident and in control.
And all of those who so openly supported him were now in chains.
“I’m sorry you had to see this,” Brennan said. “It’s not always like this. But there are so many people here. This will pass. Everything will be normal again. It always is.”
And he was right. For soon the shouts for House Bathiner ended, and not one symbol of the chimera was in sight.
But any questions I had about Tirian giving the black armor willingly to Jaron were now answered.
Lady Alena’s request had been anything but innocent or born out of the love a son had for his father.
It was becoming increasingly evident that I wasn’t the only threat to Tirian’s rule or bloodline.
From the fervor of those yelling out in support and the sheer presence of the House at the tourney, I would almost bet that they took out House Lafir before I could.
They certainly seemed to be setting the stage.
I watched Brennan, hopeful for a second that I wasn’t going to be his destruction, that there was another way to see the prophecy come to pass. The Hermit had said they didn’t always happen the way we imagined they would.
But then he’d also told me: House Lafir’s reign will end …. And it will be a direct result of your joining with the prince.
The spark of hope barely flickering in my heart, extinguished.
Our guard returned then, escorting the nobles into tents that had been set up beyond the fields.
The king’s tent loomed taller and larger than all the others.
Shining cloth panels of blue and red, each one stitched with golden thread, sprawled over the wooden poles used to hold the structure up.
As I entered with Brennan, I saw a dozen tables, long and wooden, filling the space.
Beneath the tent’s center was a large chair and table that could have fit four people, set aside for the king.
Already silver platters filled the tabletops.
They spilled over with enough food to feed twice as many people as there were seats.
I felt a sudden twinge of guilt at the opulence—no tables in Azeal had ever seen such a bounty.
Nor was this something the people of Eskalon could manage or dream of.
There was no sign within the tent of Finlay, Thomas, or Cecelia.
I hoped they’d been invited to eat elsewhere.
But suddenly my own hunger was guiding me forward, the smells of food too much for me to ignore—especially after a full day of serving at the king’s feet.
Lord Brandon commandeered a table for the king and queen, and I joined them, leaving Brennan—still pale, but more steady on his feet—with Kienan and Rowan.
The friends still had dirt on their reddened cheeks from the joust, but they were all in good spirits, offering high-fives to each other and several armored soldiers standing guard.
Kienan was the first to grab drinks from a servant, handing out cold mugs to his friends and cheering Brennan on his victory.
The tension of the night’s end and the arrests were still clearly on the Spartvan’s minds.
I could hear whispers of more nobles speaking of it with distaste.
I was too exhausted to say anything in response.
Nor did I want the conversation to continue, especially in my presence, not after the king had hinted at problems with House Bathiner.
I just wanted to eat, and I wanted to go to bed.
My body was beginning to feel heavy, like I was walking through water in full clothing, all the pieces dragging me down.
With the adrenaline of the day’s events over, the exhaustion of maintaining my shapeshift all day was becoming unbearable.
Yesterday, I’d at least spent the morning as myself.
And while I’d fed more from Brennan than I meant to, in truth, it was hardly enough to make up for the magic I was constantly drawing from.
I dove within myself, feeling how much power remained.
There were enough reserves for another day, but that was it.
I’d have to feed again soon, not just take a sip, but eat a true meal.
Like the one I’d taken from Olivay.
Lord Brandon at least was doing his job—speaking animatedly about the day’s events, recounting his favorite parts to the king and queen, keeping their focus off of me, and off the arrests.
He’d done something similar in the morning as we made our way to the tourney.
Olivay’s mother had hugged me again, but it had been short and brief, not enough to form a connection.
The excitement of the betrothal announcement had passed, and her affection for her daughter, while still intense, had not been strong or present enough for me to take enough to drain her as I had before.
My cup of wine was refilled as musicians, none of whom I recognized, played quietly in the corner. Lord Brandon watched me cautiously from across the table as I finished my drink. I’d already devoured a full plate while everyone gossiped, but I was ready to eat another.
Normally I couldn’t eat that much food at once, but it wasn’t me who was hungry.
The Azete was. And regular food was all I would offer it.
In the past, when I’d been drained of magic and needed to keep up a glamour, it felt like nothing would satiate the hunger.
Nothing would fill me, so I’d try to satisfy myself in other ways, to pretend I was full.
Tonight, though, I grabbed more food, pushing it onto my plate, adding bread, cheeses, fruits, meat, and cakes.
My second platter had almost more food than I ate in a typical day as a dancer.
It was certainly an unheard-of amount for a princess.
It would have even been a lot for a knight coming off the joust. Something I had more than enough evidence of as I looked around.
But my stomach twinged, my eyes widening.
I got only a few bites in when the Hermit caught my eye. And from the look on his face, he’d noticed my unusual hunger. And he was betting on others noticing it, too, from the way his eyebrows narrowed.
Gods. I had to stop.
Princess Olivay was a dainty eater because, of course, she was.
“Take a stroll with me,” Lord Brandon said, rising from the table. “I wish to personally congratulate the prince on his victory. Maybe share a drink. Would you accompany me to greet him, Lady of Beauty?”
I stiffened. He was lying, and he wasn’t just trying to make sure I didn’t give up my cover by over-indulging.
He wanted me to feed. But so did the Azete.
Desperately. It didn’t matter how hungry I was, though.
I didn't want to do it now, not here, not with so many people and so many soldiers on guard. And above all, not to Brennan.
“You don’t need me to see Prince Jaron,” I said.
“Go on, love.” Queen Noemay grinned, squeezing my arm. The smallest connection formed between us. Now that she was halfway through a glass of wine, her emotions were heightened, looser. “Go see your betrothed.”
I stood at once, afraid to take any more, and curtsied to her and the king.
He smirked. “Good girl,” he mouthed.
I glared as I took his arm and let me lead me away. “I’m not feeding off of him,” I hissed. “Not again.”
“Maybe not tonight. You can avoid feeding—for a little while. You must keep anyone from growing too suspicious. But very soon you won’t have a choice.”