Chapter 11 Just Breathe
SOUNDTRACK: Coma by Taylor Acorn and Cassadee Pope
~ brEN ~
I woke shaky, but centered—and discovered that in the bond, Donavyn had steadied as well. I hadn’t realized how unstable he’d been feeling until it was gone, and suddenly my mate was a rock once more.
A humble, self-recriminating rock, who still ground his teeth any time Ruin or Hanson were mentioned.
But he’d stopped feeling like a bull on the edge of a charge.
He’d returned to that place he held when we first met.
The anchor. The leader ready to battle, but rightly unwilling to throw himself headlong into risk without thought.
I dressed for breakfast that morning as if preparing for war—after all, if Donavyn were truly an ally of Fyrehold, visiting for the purpose of the dragon herd, and unaware of my duplicity, then I had to maintain my usual schedule.
And if Hanson was a willing participant—or a target—for Ruin who now suspected me, it was important that he see me unafraid.
But, of course, just as before, there was no Hanson at breakfast the next morning. And not at lunch either. I was wary when Faye appeared, but whatever the queen had told her about my absence from the ball the night before, she believed it was a reason to sympathize.
She asked a few sly questions about Hanson, obviously suspecting that I’d disappeared with him—because he hadn’t attended, either. But when I didn’t bite, she gave in to her hangover and didn’t pursue it.
I was still uneasy with her after her trickery the previous afternoon.
But without her, we would never have gotten this far.
I needed her to remain on my side. So, while I was cool with her at the beginning of the conversation, letting her know I was less than impressed with her deceit, I pretended to give in to my curiosity when she began recounting gossip from the ball.
By the end of the meal, I was reminded that she was ambitious, thoughtless, and probably harmless. I would still watch her, and not trust her to lead me anywhere alone again. But I could use her fascination with the dragons, and with gossip. So, I let myself thaw over the course of the meal.
Yet, that evening at dinner, when I’d finally stopped feeling ill because my body was certain Ruin would emerge suddenly from any unseen corner, Donavyn was once again blustering with the king, and being invited to cards and whiskey, as there was no formal event.
And when he returned to the room late that evening, he’d sensed no ill from the king, no suspicion at all.
“…Either the man is a far more adept deceiver than I, or he truly has had no news of the events of last night. He did ask me if I was with Hanson, who also didn’t attend—but I could honestly tell him I hadn’t seen the man.
That it had been Vosgaarde business that kept me and you away.
He wasn’t pleased—he’d wanted to introduce us to some of the wealthier dignitaries that were there last night.
But he commended me on my mystery, and said the men were all salivating to come to the Festival Ball now that they’d had their appetites whetted to meet us. ”
“Lady Faye mentioned Hanson was gone as well. But she didn’t know why.”
“He did as we did and sent a note late, telling the king he’d been called to his estate for an emergency. My guess is either that Ruin returned for him and took him home, or he had to walk. Either way… he didn’t make it in time to attend, even late in the night.”
I was uneasy that we were still so unclear on Hanson’s role in all this, but that only made me more determined to engage him when he returned.
Which, of course, meant that the intense man decided not to appear at all.
Three days of attending every meal alone, of listening to Lady Faye’s gossip to glean any tidbit I could, of enduring the queen’s pompous comments about Donavyn’s unreliability, and we were no further ahead in our quest.
I grew stronger and more steady with every passing hour—and yet, I’d take an occasional jolt of adrenaline when something moved, or I caught sight of a tawny, male head in my peripheral vision. My body still waited for Ruin to show himself, even when my mind was consumed with other things.
And while Donavyn had retained that old steadiness, and no longer felt like a string pulled too tight, his tension also crept higher and higher as it seemed we did little but wait in suffocating silence.
By the morning of the fourth day, my body hummed with a vague, formless anxiety. I questioned Donavyn again about whether he’d seen any indication from the king that there were suspicions around us.
“No, nothing,” he admitted as he dressed. “But these men are all very adept at hiding their true motives and feelings. I haven’t knowingly seen the king lie before, so I can’t be sure how deft he is at it. I presume he’s extremely good.”
With no other productive options, on that fourth day, I once again headed to the dining hall without Donavyn for the breakfast meal, just in case Hanson made an appearance.
When I reached the long, grand room, there was a bustle in the air that perked my instincts. But it was merely the servants, busy preparing for the first feast of the Festival.
The Fyrehold Annual Festival was a full fortnight—two weeks—long, and appeared to be little more than an excuse to indulge. The tales from the nobles about why the festival was held were all vague, and questions were waved off with bored expressions.
Still, as I looked for Lady Faye—who had taken a late morning, it appeared, because she wasn’t at the table—and had to select a seat, I was surprised to see a young, blonde woman seated near the top of the table, looking around nervously.
She didn’t look any older than me. I hadn’t seen her before, but she was alone, and anything new was worth exploring.
So, I decided to play into my commoner-roots, and pretend I didn’t know it was rude of me to speak to her without a formal introduction.
“Hello! What’s your name?” I asked her brightly as I pulled up the chair across from her at the table.
Her brows rose, but she smiled. “Hello. I’m Lady Grace Barnslow.”
“Hello, Lady Grace, it’s lovely to meet you,” I said with a smile. “Are you here for the Festival?”
“Yes,” she said somewhat bemused. Then her eyes scanned my leathers before returning to my face with her brows high. “And… you as well?”
“Oh, no—I mean, I will be at the Festival,” I said eagerly. “But I’m here assisting the General from Vosgaarde to find dragons for our kingdoms to exchange for breeding,” I said, crunching into an apple while I waited for the servants to bring me a plate of hot food.
“Oh! That’s—you’re she. Yes, I’d heard,” Grace said, her cheeks pinking slightly. I wasn’t surprised she’d heard gossip about me, but it was refreshing that she didn’t seem to take delight in it. “That must be so thrilling to work with the dragons.”
“It is,” I assured her. “I love it. And it lets me come to places like this!” I said, flapping a hand around the room like we were at the theater and I couldn’t wait to see the players.
Her eyes widened slightly, but once the servants moved away, she leaned forward over her plate and dropped her voice.
“I had heard that you and the, uh, General had been here for some time. Everyone seems… very admiring.”
“Thank you.”
She nodded politely. “And I see you’re dressed for your work?” she asked hesitantly, as if she weren’t sure if it was polite.
I smiled. “Yes!”
“Please… I would love to hear about what you do. It seems so exciting and adventurous. I’m an avid horse-rider myself, but dragons?! I didn’t even know dragons allowed women to fly with them!”
“They normally don’t—or at least, they haven’t before,” I said with a shrug, thanking the servant for the plate they brought and digging straight into the meal.
“The dragons are very generous—and when Akhane mated with Kgosi, and Donavyn had to come here, it was needed for someone to come along with Akhane so she was managed in Fyrehold, you understand. But Kgosi didn’t want a male close to her, and all the Furyknights were busy anyway…
Well, she spoke with me, and now, here we are,” I said, flapping that dismissive hand again.
“It’s been a wonderful time. I’ve never seen such a beautiful place as the castle.
And Donavyn—excuse me!” I pretended to be embarrassed, like I’d made a terrible gaff, “The General is very grateful for my help, so he gives me a great deal of freedom and rewards,” I said with the tone I’d learned from the nobles here that suggested far more than was said.
But to my surprise, rather than responding with the sharp-eyed delight of most Ladies, Grace looked slightly horrified and dropped her eyes to her plate, stammering prettily as she chased a piece of crisp potato around her plate with a silver fork.
“That is… uh, I am very pleased for you, I’m certain—”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” I said, immediately changing tack and softening both my tone and expression—leaning towards her and lowering my voice so no one else would hear. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you. I just… it seems as if it’s encouraged here to—”
“Yes, I know what you mean,” she cut me off abruptly. “But I’m not married, you see, so…”
“Oh. Oh! I understand. Please forgive me, Lady Grace. I had no desire to offend. I’m lowborn, and sometimes it’s hard to know what’s the right thing to say or do here.
I didn’t wish to make you uncomfortable,” I said, looking down at my plate with genuine remorse, because she seemed like a very nice woman who was now quite horrified.