Chapter 8
8
CAT
A s dawn’s soft light began to filter through the curtains and bathe the room in buttery rays, I stirred awake. The unexpected warmth of another person beside me brought a moment of disorientation until I remembered who it was— Damien . We’d fallen asleep together. His presence, though startling at first, had become a strange source of comfort. His arm rested over my waist, a protective gesture that felt oddly reassuring.
My heart rate quickened as I realized the implications of waking up next to him. We hadn’t planned this; exhaustion had simply overtaken us after a long, emotionally charged conversation. Our argument ran circles in my head. He wanted me to trust him, which was funny. How could I ever trust someone like him? At least that was what I kept telling myself. But deep down, nestled in his arms, I felt a sense of security that I hated to admit. Was that trust? I wasn’t sure. All I knew was that if I fell for his charm, I’d be on the next episode of Dateline . And I was no sucker.
Before I could process further, the creak of the door snapped me to alertness.
I expected Maeve, but that was not who opened the door.
Gianna hesitantly stood at the threshold. The early morning light cast a halo around her, softening her features marked by surprise and a touch of hurt. She never came to my room. Like, ever. What the hell was she doing here now?
The sound of the door opening stirred Damien awake. His eyes fluttered open and settled coolly on Gianna as he quickly assessed the situation. His voice, when he spoke, carried a calm authority that left no room for misinterpretation. “Gianna,” he said simply, acknowledging her with a nod.
“Damien, I—I didn’t expect to find you here!” Gianna’s voice was quiet, tinged with sadness rather than accusation. Her gaze flickered between us, seeking an explanation. “What are you doing here… in her bed?”
“I came to talk to Cat,” Damien explained, his tone matter-of-fact. “It got late, and we fell asleep.”
I sat up, clutching the bedsheet to my chest despite being fully dressed. “Yes, it was just a conversation,” I quickly added, trying to ease the tension I saw building in Gianna’s eyes.
Gianna nodded slowly, her expression showing her effort to understand. “I see. I just came to check on Cat. The servants told me she didn’t return last night, and we need to prepare for Jacob’s arrival.” Her voice was gentle, with just a hint of bitterness. I wasn’t sure I believed her. Whenever she needed something from me, she went to Maeve. She never once came to me. This was definitely sus.
“There’s nothing to worry about, Gianna,” I said. Damien moved his arm from around my waist so I could get out of bed. I felt Gianna’s eyes on us.
“I hope not,” she murmured, her meekness masking the depth of her feelings. “Damien, can I speak with you for a moment? Outside?”
Damien paused, then nodded. “Of course.” He spared me a brief glance before following Gianna out of the room. The door softly closed behind them, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
The quiet of the room felt heavy after their departure. Gianna’s gentle approach was disarming. It was clear she still cared deeply for Damien, despite his blatant rejection. Whether he liked me or not was still up for debate, but one thing was certain… he didn’t like Gianna.
Unable to contain my curiosity any longer, I hurried out of bed and tiptoed to the door so I could press my ear to the wood and listen in on their conversation. Call me nosy, but what the hell? I might as well find out if they’re talking shit about me.
“She’s young, Damien. She doesn’t know any better,” Gianna warned. “I suggest you stay away.”
Damien chuckled. “You don’t know what you’re talking about, Gianna. You obviously don’t know Arya as well as you think you do.”
“I think I know my sister better than you do!” she huffed.
There was a pause, and I was sure he was tempted to say if she knew her sister as well as she claimed, then she’d know I really wasn’t Arya. But he wisely kept quiet.
“I told you we were over, Gianna. Move on,” he said coldly.
“My father won’t allow you to court Arya,” she cut him off. “The emperor already warned him about you and—”
“I don’t care what the emperor said. If Arya is what I want, then Arya is what I’ll have, and no one will stand in my way.”
Gianna scoffed and laughed. “How can you be so resolute about her and not me?”
“Because you weren’t the one.”
I winced and wanted to barge in on their conversation. He was being so harsh with her, yet had the nerve to scold me about how I treated her when he thought I was Arya! But now, he was treating her the same way Arya had.
Gianna sniffled. “You’re cruel.”
“No, I’m not. I’m a realist, and it’s time you started looking at reality, Gianna. We were never a good match.”
When I heard his footsteps approach the door, I scampered back across the room and vaulted onto the bed, my heart hammering from the fear of getting caught eavesdropping. By the time he opened the door, I was sprawled on the bed like some dramatic Victorian heroine recovering from a fainting spell. One leg was awkwardly crossed over the other, and my hand rested on my forehead as if I was moments away from reciting Shakespeare. Subtlety? Who needed it?
Damien paused in the doorway, his sharp gaze cutting through my Oscar-worthy performance. His eyebrows arched slightly, and I could practically see the gears turning in his dragon brain: She’s an idiot, but she’s my idiot.
He closed the door with a soft click, the sound echoing slightly in the stillness of early morning. The tension from their conversation outside hung about him like a cloak, his features set in an expression of frustrated resolve. “You shouldn't eavesdrop,” he said, his voice low but not unkind. It wasn't an accusation, more a statement of fact, but it stung nonetheless.
“I wasn’t!” I blurted, sitting up so fast I nearly gave myself whiplash. “I was… just… practicing mindfulness. On the bed. Lying very still. Listening to the universe.”
He stared at me, unimpressed. “The universe?” he repeated, his voice flat.
“Yes, the universe,” I replied, doubling down. “It has a lot to say if you just take the time to—”
“You were literally pressed against the door ten seconds ago,” he interrupted, crossing his arms. “Don’t insult my intelligence.”
I froze, my mouth opening and closing like a goldfish caught in the act. “Okay, fine!” I flung my hands up in mock surrender. “Maybe I was listening a tiny bit, but in my defense, you were being shady out there! And, uh, this house has terrible soundproofing.”
Damien didn't smile. Instead, he took a few steps towards the window and stared at the gradually lightening sky in silence. He watched the sunrise like some brooding romance novel cover model. I mean, all he was missing was a wind machine and an unbuttoned shirt. “It doesn't matter,” he finally said, his back still turned to me. “What matters is that you understand where things stand.”
“Oh, good.” I flopped back onto the bed. “I love a good TED Talk about where things stand. Enlighten me, oh, wise dragon prince. Where is that, exactly?” My voice rang with a defiance I wasn't entirely sure I felt. The emotional rollercoaster of the past hour had left me feeling drained and a little raw.
He turned to look at me, his expression hard to read. “Gianna is part of my past. And whatever this,” he gestured vaguely between us, “is going to be, it's not going to be anything like what I had with her.”
I swallowed, unsure how to respond. The intensity of his gaze was unsettling, as if he was trying to convey more than what his words expressed. “And what is this , Damien?” I challenged, needing to understand his intentions if I was to navigate the complicated dynamics of our relationship.
“We're allies,” he said after a moment, his voice firm. “For now, that's all we need to be.”
“For now?” I repeated, tilting my head. “That’s suspiciously vague. Is this one of those ‘will-they-or-won’t-they’ things? Because if it is, I demand better writing for my character arc.”
Damien groaned and muttered something under his breath that I couldn’t quite catch but which I assumed probably wasn’t complimentary. “You’re impossible.”
“And yet, here you are,” I shot back, smirking. “So who’s the real fool in this scenario?”
Damien snorted. “I guess you’re right.”
“Allies,” I whispered to myself, not quite able to hide the disappointment in my voice, which confused me. Was that all this was? Nothing more than a strategic alliance? His earlier actions and the kiss suggested something more, or perhaps I just read too much into it. Having Damien as an ally should be exactly what I wanted. I mean, technically I wanted to kill the bastard, so why the hell did I feel bereft?
The cobblestone streets thrummed with excitement, and banners of vibrant blue and silver fluttered high above as the town prepared for a grand parade. The Nightwing army's valiant return was a much-anticipated event, celebrating their recent victories at the border. Amidst the sea of townsfolk, I was swept along by the unmistakable buzz of joy and relief at the safe return of loved ones. Maeve and I threaded through the crowd, her hand on my elbow guiding me to a spot where we could get a good view of the soldiers as they marched through the town square.
As the sound of trumpets and the rhythmic beating of drums grew closer, my heart raced—not from excitement, but nervousness. I was supposed to be Arya, welcoming her hero brother Jacob back from war. The problem was, I had never met Jacob and picking him out of a procession of uniformed soldiers seemed on par with finding a needle in a haystack.
“Remember, my lady,” Maeve whispered, leaning close so only I could hear, “Jacob will be riding near the front, just behind the banner bearers. He has dark hair, much like yours, and he’ll likely be one of the few not wearing a helmet.”
I nodded and tried to commit her details to memory while scanning the approaching soldiers. As the first rows of the army passed by, each face seemed the same as the last—proud, tired, and covered in traveling dust.
“There!” Maeve suddenly pointed. “There he is, my lady!”
I followed her finger and saw a young man with strikingly familiar features—dark hair and a strong jaw, definitively resembling the portraits of Arya’s family I had seen around the Ryder residence. He was indeed helmetless, his hair tousled from the march, his eyes eagerly scanning the crowd.
I hesitated as a wave of impostor syndrome washed over me. Although I guess it wasn’t a syndrome since I was literally an impostor. How was I supposed to greet him? What if he realized I wasn’t Arya?
As if sensing my rising panic, Maeve gave my elbow a reassuring squeeze. “Just wave, my lady. He will come to you.”
Mustering a smile, I raised my hand and waved. Jacob’s gaze swept over the crowd, and for a heart-stopping moment, I worried he wouldn’t see me. But then, his eyes locked onto mine and a broad, relieved smile spread across his face. He waved back, a gesture filled with warmth and excitement.
Relief washed over me as he continued past, his attention briefly on his fellow soldiers before promising with a shout, “I’ll find you after!”
I exhaled, grateful for the reprieve. Maeve chuckled softly beside me. “Very well done, my lady. Now, let’s find a good place to wait for him. He will have much to tell you.”
As we pushed out of the crowd to wait for Jacob, I couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt. I was deceiving everyone, playing a role that wasn’t mine. But seeing the happiness in Jacob’s eyes at the sight of who he thought was his sister reminded me why I was doing this. For now, I had to keep up the act. For Arya, for her family, and maybe even a bit for myself.
Maeve and I found a quieter spot near a small fountain just off the main square, away from the bulk of the crowd yet still within view of the parade route. It was a strategic location to wait for Jacob, providing a calm oasis amidst the celebratory chaos surrounding us.
As we settled onto a worn stone bench, Maeve kept an eye on the lingering crowd, presumably to catch the first glimpse of Jacob making his way toward us. Her dedication and alertness made me feel a little more at ease, although the anxiety of continuing the deception nagged at me.
“My lady?” Maeve suddenly turned to me, her expression a mixture of concern and excitement. “When Jacob talks to you, just remember the stories he’s fond of. He loves talking about his training days, and he absolutely adores his horse, Midnight. If you mention that, he’ll warm right up to you.”
I nodded and tried to commit her tips to memory. “Thanks, Maeve. I really don’t know what I’d do without you.”
The crowd gradually dispersed as the formal part of the parade concluded, and families began to reunite with their returning soldiers. My heart pounded with nervous anticipation. The reality of meeting Jacob face-to-face as Arya was daunting. How long could I keep up this charade? Would he notice something off in my demeanor or speech?
My thoughts were interrupted by Maeve’s gentle nudge. “There he is, coming this way!” she whispered excitedly.
Holy shit… I was suddenly in need of a chamber pot. Damn nerves.
I looked up to see Jacob excusing himself from a group of soldiers and heading toward us. His stride was confident, yet there was a tenderness in his eyes that made him approachable. As he got closer, I stood and instinctively smoothed the front of my dress.
“Arya!” Jacob called out, a broad smile spreading across his face. He quickened his pace and enveloped me in a warm, heartfelt hug. The embrace was so genuine and filled with relief that for a moment, I forgot I wasn’t really his sister. “It’s so good to see you!” He stepped back to look at me. “You have no idea how much I’ve missed home.”
I smiled, fighting a twinge of guilt for the deception. “I’m glad you’re back safe,” I managed to say, hoping my voice didn’t betray my inner turmoil.
Jacob’s gaze lingered on me, filled with affection and perhaps a flicker of confusion. “You seem different, Arya. More... mature, somehow.”
I laughed nervously and glanced at Maeve for support. I forgot Arya wasn’t the affectionate type. “Well, a lot can happen in a few years, right?”
“Indeed,” he agreed, still studying me with a puzzled expression. “Well, I’ve brought stories and a small gift for you and Gianna from the border towns. Can’t wait to share them with you both. Where is Gianna, by the way?”
“Oh…” I glanced around, making eye contact with Maeve for assistance. After my little encounter with Gianna this morning, I hadn’t seen her. And I didn’t mention our run-in to Maeve because I didn’t want to tell her Damien had spent the night in my room. It was all very complicated. “I think she’s around here somewhere…”
“Are you still fighting with our sister?” Jacob smirked, giving me a knowing look.
“What? No!” I scoffed, brushing him off.
He froze and his jaw slackened as he stared at me in open disbelief. “You’re not ?”
“I mean, well… I’m growing up, you know…” I chuckled awkwardly and motioned to Maeve behind me for help.
“Young Master,” she hurried in for the assist. “Lady Arya has grown in the past few… weeks,” she grimaced. “She’s… different, but in a good way. She has grown significantly.”
Jacob's smile slightly faltered, his eyes narrowing as if trying to piece together a puzzle that didn't quite fit. He studied me for a moment longer, then shrugged it off with a shake of his head.
“It seems a lot has changed while I was away,” he commented, a hint of confusion still lingering in his voice. “I'm just glad to be back with family.” He reached into his bag and pulled out a small, wrapped package. “I brought something for you and Gianna. Just a little something from the craftspeople at the border.”
He handed me the package, his fingers brushing mine. The contact was brief, but it sent a ripple of awkwardness through me, reminding me of my ongoing deceit. I took the gift with a forced smile, feeling the weight of it in my hands. It was beautifully wrapped in soft, patterned fabric, tied with rough twine.
“Thank you, Jacob,” I said, trying to muster genuine enthusiasm. “I’m sure Gianna and I will love it.”
Jacob nodded, seemingly pleased with my reaction. “How have things been here? Last I heard, Gianna and Prince Damien...” he trailed off, giving me a curious look.
I hesitated, unsure how to navigate this part of the conversation. “Things have changed,” I admitted, choosing my words carefully. “Gianna and Damien... are no longer together.”
Jacob's eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Really? That's news to me. They seemed quite serious last time I was home.”
“Yeah, things... just didn’t work out,” I said, feeling the awkwardness thicken.
Jacob shifted, seeming to process the information. “Well, I hope she's okay. And how about you? All good with you?”
I nodded and offered a small smile. “Yeah, all good here,” I lied smoothly.
Jacob chuckled, shaking his head. “Home never changes, huh? Always something going on.”
Our conversation meandered to lighter topics, with Jacob sharing tales of his time at the border, about the dragons he saw. His stories were full of laughter and danger, and I found myself genuinely enjoying the conversation, briefly forgetting the lies that hung between us. His tales reminded me a lot of my time in the service. It made me miss home.
“My lady, we should return to the Ryder residence. Lord Zacharia is anxiously waiting for the young master,” Maeve interrupted our conversation.
“Oh, right,” Jacob said. “Father is home waiting for us. Gianna might be there, too.”
I nodded. “The carriage is nearby. Come on.”
We walked toward the waiting carriage as the parade's last notes drifted away and the crowd dispersed. The morning sun hung high, the warm glow softening the usual briskness and making the late morning air feel unusually gentle and inviting.
The carriage was stationed near a quaint square, where the lingering excitement of the parade still buzzed around us. As we approached, the carriage driver spotted us and quickly straightened and prepared for our departure, his actions reflecting the crisp efficiency expected in Elaria.
“Good morning, my lady, young master Jacob,” he greeted with a respectful nod, holding the door open as we climbed inside. The interior of the carriage was a welcome escape from the growing heat outside, with plush velvet seats providing a cool haven. The wooden panels inside were finely crafted, the intricate designs catching the light and creating a play of shadows and highlights across the fabric. The scent of polished leather mixed with a faint floral aroma, possibly from Maeve’s perfume, filled the space, creating a subtle, pleasing ambiance.
Once seated, Maeve across from Jacob and me, the driver shut the door with a firm click and took his place at the front. He gave the reins a gentle flick and the carriage sprang to life, the horses’ hooves clattering lightly on the cobblestone streets.
The ride through the Northern District was smooth, with the smooth suspension of the carriage cushioning the rumbles of the uneven road. Each turn and dip were gracefully managed, allowing us a peaceful journey. The sound of the city shifted around us, from the laughter and chatter of parade-goers to the quieter, rhythmic hum of daily life in Elaria.
Jacob, energized by his return, continued to regale us with stories from his travels, his voice lively and full of warmth.
“The dragon fleet dove in and destroyed the enemy in one single move. It was glorious!” he gloated. “If you ever get the chance to go up to Dragon Valley, you must go and see the dragons yourself, Arya. They’re beautiful, majestic creatures.”
I wanted to tell him I’d had a front row view from the back of one, but I couldn’t. No one was allowed to know Damien could shift.
“Have you ever ridden a dragon before?” I asked innocently.
Jacob’s brows shot up to his hairline. “What? No! That’s practically taboo, Arya. Humans haven’t ridden dragons in centuries. Don’t ever ask anyone that,” he whispered.
I frowned and nodded.
The Ryder grounds were buzzing when we arrived. During our absence, the courtyard had been transformed into an open-air banquet hall, with dozens of tables draped in white linen and adorned with vibrant floral arrangements. The air was saturated with the aromas of roasted meats and freshly baked bread, enticing even from a distance. A small ensemble played softly in the background, their music blending seamlessly with the rustling leaves and quiet chatter of the servants setting up.
Gianna was there to greet us, her smile pleasant but somewhat reserved as she approached. She enveloped Jacob in a warm embrace that spoke of genuine sibling affection. “I'm so glad you're back safely,” she said, stepping back to look at him with evident relief.
Lord Zacharia approached with stately grace, his voice resonant as he greeted his only son. “Jacob, your return warms my heart!” he said, clasping his son's shoulder.
Gianna then turned to me, her expression carefully neutral. “Arya, thank you for accompanying him.” Her tone was polite yet distant—a clear reminder of the tension simmering between us.
“Of course,” I replied, trying to keep the mood light. “It looks like you've prepared quite a feast.”
The banquet was indeed impressive. Tables were set with gleaming silverware and crystal glasses while servants moved smoothly, offering trays laden with delicacies. Gianna led us to the main table.
“We've missed these family gatherings since you’ve been gone, Jacob,” Gianna said, managing a smile as she gestured to the seats. “Please, let's enjoy the meal together.”
Jacob, clearly eager to shift the focus from formalities to the food, chimed in cheerfully. “I hope there's some of that smoked ham I love. It's been far too long since I've enjoyed a good meal at home!”
“Indeed, it's on the menu, along with several other specialties,” Gianna confirmed, her smile becoming more genuine at her brother's enthusiasm.
As soon as we took our seats, the first dishes were brought out, each more aromatic and inviting than the last. Despite the lavish setting and the array of delicious food, there was an undercurrent of formality that made the atmosphere stiff and uncomfortable. Gianna's occasional glances in my direction were polite yet searching, as if she wanted to bridge the gap between us without stirring up past disagreements.
The meal unfolded with a combination of light conversation and shared laughter, especially as Jacob regaled us with anecdotes from his time at the border. Despite the underlying complexities of our relationships, for a moment, it felt like a genuine family gathering with loved ones celebrating a long-awaited homecoming.
“Is there anything important I’ve missed since I’ve been gone?” Jacob cleared his plate of a third serving and looked up at his father.
I tensed and peered up, meeting Maeve’s eyes from across the way. This was the prime time for Lord Zacharia to tell his son about the family’s bankruptcy, but from the look that stole across his father’s face, it seemed he planned to postpone telling him the truth.
Gianna cleared her throat. “Prince Damien and I are no longer in talks of marriage.” Her cryptic gaze turned to me. “But it seems he might be pursuing our little sister.”
My eyes widened in shock at her bold declaration that seemed so out of character.
Lord Zacharia slammed his fists on the table so hard, the cutlery and dishes rattled. “Arya!” his voice boomed. “Explain yourself!”
Jacob glanced between the three of us and frowned. “I’m not following. While I can see it being upsetting for Gianna, why is Arya not allowed to be in talks of marriage with Prince Damien?”
Of course this outburst seemed odd to Jacob, especially since Arya had always been Lord Zacharia’s favorite. That declaration shouldn’t have been enough of a reason for their father to be this angry with her and side with Gianna, the black sheep.
Lord Zacharia grunted, “Because the emperor warned us to stay far away from Prince Damien and cut ties with him completely. Associating with him could bring catastrophe to this family, Arya!”
I stirred a bowl of watery porridge as Lord Zacharia yelled until he was blue in the face. I peered up at Gianna and saw the slight twitch of her upper lip. It was obvious she was enjoying this a little too much. I rolled my eyes. “Petty bitch.”
“Did you just roll your eyes at me?” Lord Zacharia shouted. “I’ve put up with a mountain of your antics, Arya, but this one, I cannot let slide by! You are grounded until further notice!”
“My lord!” Maeve tried to plead, but I waved her off.
“Don’t bother, Maeve. Obviously, he’s going to believe what he wants, regardless of what we say.” I sighed and pushed my chair back to stand.
“You have not been dismissed!” he yelled.
I shrugged. “And you haven’t told Jacob we’re broke. But you don’t hear me complaining.”
“Arya!” Gianna gasped, her eyes widening in shock.
“Broke? What are you talking about?” Jacob asked, glancing between the three of us.
I chuckled and nodded my head towards Lord Zacharia. “Ask Pops over there. The mines are empty and they aren’t producing iron. We have no money. So this fancy lunch we’re having? I honestly don’t even know who’s footing the bill.” I snorted and looked over at my so-called sister. “Good job, Gianna.” She looked at me in horror.
Jacob’s brows furrowed deeply as he turned his incredulous gaze from me to our father. “Is this true?” he demanded, his voice heavy with disbelief and a growing edge of anger.
Lord Zacharia’s face was a mask of frustration and resignation as he nodded slowly, his eyes darting away from Jacob’s piercing stare. “Yes,” he admitted in a low voice. “The mines have run dry. We've been trying to find a solution before it becomes public knowledge.”
Gianna’s hands were tightly clasped in her lap, her expression a mixture of shame and fear. “We were going to tell you, Jacob,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “We were just waiting for the right moment.”
“The right moment?” Jacob's tone was incredulous. “When were you planning on it being the right time to mention that our family is on the brink of ruin? After dessert?”
I couldn't help the small, bitter laugh that fell from my lips. “Seems about right.” I crossed my arms. “We do love our dramatic timing in this family.”
Lord Zacharia glared at me, his anger palpable. “Arya, this is not the time for your caustic sarcasm.”
I shrugged nonchalantly, although my heart was pounding with the thrill and fear of confrontation. “Why not, Father? It seems perfectly timed to me. Everyone's here, after all.”
Jacob shook his head, clearly struggling to absorb the news. “This is serious,” he said, his voice firm. “We need to figure out what we're going to do. We can't just sit back and watch everything fall apart!”
“That's what I've been saying,” I replied, my voice softening a bit. “But it seems like some of us are more interested in personal affairs rather than addressing the real issues.”
Gianna shot me a sharp look, her eyes filled with unspoken frustration. She opened her mouth to speak, but Jacob cut her off.
“Arya is right. We need a plan,” he said decisively. “Let’s discuss our options. This isn't just about money; it's about our family's legacy and future.”
Lord Zacharia nodded, the weight of the situation finally seeming to settle on him. “Yes, of course. We'll meet tonight and weigh our options.”
As they started to suggest potential meeting times, I felt a strange sense of detachment wash over me. There I was, stuck in the middle of a family crisis that wasn't truly mine to bear. Yet, somehow, I found myself deeply entangled, playing a role that was never meant for me. As I excused myself from the table, the chilly breeze that swept through the courtyard seemed to echo my inner turmoil, leaving me cold and feeling more alone than ever.