Chapter 34 #2
I had just finished giving instructions on securing the camp to Astrid and was walking back to the healer’s tent, where I was staying, when Ingrid approached, carrying a gown. “The princess requests your presence in her pavilion,” she said. “You’re to change out of your uniform.”
I raised a brow.
“She insists you attend in proper dress for her dinner party,” she said, following me inside. “She sent this.” Ingrid unfolded the mossy-green, velvety gown. It looked simple but elegant.
Sascha appeared behind her, eyes rounding in awe. “Ooh, who’s getting dressed up?”
“The princess wants me to wear that to dinner, but I don’t think I will.”
“You should,” Ingrid said, pressing it against my body, her eyes hopeful. “You’ve been stomping around in armor for days. Don’t you want to wear something soft and pretty? That leather’s probably rubbing you raw.”
She wasn’t wrong, but I was accustomed to it.
My uniform was a second skin. While I didn’t mind wearing dresses, it felt odd when I did.
Still, though I wanted to scoff, part of me was tempted.
The idea of shedding all the weight of my armor and letting my skin breathe sounded inviting, though I was shocked the princess had even invited me to dine at her pavilion.
The notion of watching her fawn over Jack made bile crawl up my throat. But a hot meal inside a warm tent…that I could stomach. Maybe.
Before I could change my mind, Sascha and Ingrid stripped me bare.
They brushed out my hair, weaving it into loose, wavy curls that coiled and fell over my shoulders. Sascha dabbed color onto my lips and cheeks, muttering about how I should consider wearing rouge and lip tints more often.
I swatted her away, but by the gods…I felt pretty. I barely recognized myself in the polished piece of metal they held up as a mirror. No war paint, no armor. Just Sylvi. A girl who once dreamed of a ballroom draped in winter blooms and a stolen kiss beneath the fairy lanterns at Hrímblót.
And now I was about to have dinner with the princess marrying my prince.
I shook my head and loosed a cleansing breath. No time to dwell on that. Draping my cloak over my shoulders, I stepped out of the tent and slowly walked toward her pavilion.
The princess’s large tent glowed gold in the night, lit by lanterns and warmed from within by several braziers. In addition to her half-brother, she’d brought several of her great-grandfather’s guards with her. A handful of them flanked the entrance and bowed their heads as they ushered me inside.
An attendant greeted me and took my cloak.
She wore a very similar gown to mine, which made me pause for a second, though my attention was quickly snatched away by the indulgent décor of the princess’s pavilion.
Plush pillows and settees, silk drapes and woven rugs, pines and ferns.
One would’ve thought we were away on a sojourn, not on a military envoy.
The table was already set: lavish, decadent, glinting with glass and gold.
No chair waited for me.
Princess Isolde looked up and smiled. “Ah. There she is.”
Every male at the table turned. Lord Thandoril sat to the right of the princess, General Brigmir sat next to the Star Court elf, Ravin across from him, swirling a glass of wine as he poised himself to take a sip. And sitting to the princess’s left…Jack.
Skadi’s grace, he looked…breathtaking. Clean shaven, hair freshly washed, gleaming like silken streams of starlight.
He was dressed in a silver-trimmed, black quilted tunic that hugged every inch of ripped muscle.
His fingers were wrapped around a goblet, his favorite silver rings glimmering in the candlelight.
My heart battered hard against my chest as he met my gaze, his wintry-blue eyes shuttering, a question in their depths.
He’d clearly not known I was coming.
“You asked for me, Your Highness?” I asked, shifting my attention to the princess.
Her dark eyes swirled like oil on water. “Indeed, I did. And you’re wearing the dress. Splendid. I thought it only appropriate you be dressed for the occasion.”
I glanced around and noticed both her attendants wore similar gowns to mine. My chest tightened. “Where would you like me to sit?”
The princess tilted her head, her voice too sweet.
“Oh, forgive the confusion, Sylvi. I’m afraid I forgot to inform you.
A hawk arrived earlier today with a missive from my great-grandfather.
It seems”—her eyes flicked to Jack as she placed a hand on his forearm—“my betrothed hasn’t been entirely forthcoming. ”
Jack slid his arm away. “I beg your pardon?”
“Oh?” she said, feigning shock. “Well, according to my great-grandfather, Captain Varik—I assume you know the name—has informed the queen of his wrongful dismissal.” She smirked, suppressing a cruel giggle.
My stomach turned.
Varik. That conniving slime.
Isolde’s gaze slithered toward me, her obsidian eyes shining with the type of predatory hunger I’d never even seen on the snow leopards. “Per the queen’s decree, you’re to remain the prince’s attendant. And, by relation, mine as well. Perhaps you’ll see to our wine?”
A frozen silence coated the room, broken suddenly by giggles from her two attendants.
The princess let a subtle smile curl her lips.
My blood iced. But just as quickly, scorching heat rose to my cheeks as I scanned the room, and every member of the princess’s retinue, guards included, smiled and giggled, looking at me like I had just been the butt of a cruel joke.
Jack stood with a snarl, and frost spread across the table, silvering over the plates. The wood cracked down the middle, and dishes and goblets shattered to the floor. Everyone sitting at the table leapt back, gasps reverberating through the tent.
The princess remained still as an evergreen, spine straight, dark eyes drilling into Jack’s.
“You’ve overstepped, Princess,” he gritted. “This is my army. You have no authority to strip her of her command.”
Rising to her feet, she took one step toward Jack, challenging him with her hardened gaze. “No. But your mother does. And according to this missive”—she tossed it at his chest—“she is to be stripped of command henceforth.”
That was it. I’d heard enough. “Get out of my way,” I growled at the guards stationed at the flap as I turned to leave, my voice vibrating with an animalistic rumble that surprised even me. The unseelie sentries parted immediately, with no attempt to stop me from leaving.
Jack’s voice boomed from inside the pavilion, but I didn’t turn around. Couldn’t. The rage bubbling up inside me was a geyser ready to erupt, and I swore, if I’d stayed inside that tent any longer, I would’ve gouged her eyes out.
I stormed into the woods, not caring that I wore no cloak, or that I might stumble upon those wraiths and corrupted wolves. I ran and ran until the firelight and the camp’s voices no longer reached me, my fists clenched so tight I thought I might bleed from my palms.
I didn’t know I was crying until I tasted salt. Leaning against a tree, I finally allowed myself to breathe. Breathe like I’d never taken a breath before, my chest heaving so violently it hurt, the air so cold it was difficult to inhale.
I knew the unseelie were vicious. This act of cruelty by the princess shouldn’t have shocked me. I’d witnessed firsthand the extent of the Frost Queen’s cruelty when she’d sentenced her son to fifty lashes. But to have another bloodthirsty unseelie royal join the Frostbound Court?
Doubt was beginning to creep over me like a storm cloud.
How could I possibly uphold my oath to serve and protect the crown when the crown itself was a corrupt pit of vipers? Goddess above. What would become of the people of Skadgard when Isolde became Jack’s queen? Could she truly be worse than his mother?
And beyond all that… how much more pain and humiliation was I expected to endure?
Seeing Jack with that harpy. Standing at court while they paraded their false devotion. Pretending I didn’t love him. Pretending I didn’t want him. Trying—and failing—to convince myself that night by the lake never happened…or that it hadn’t left me cracked straight down the center.
Having to accept his distance.
To lose the right to confide in him.
To lose the right to touch him.
To no longer be the one he turned to when the weight of the world pressed too hard against his shoulders.
For that someone to be her.
And who would be my someone? Jack had been everything to me since I was seven. I had no one else but him.
My father had raised me to be strong. He forged me to withstand whatever brutality Skadgard hurled in my direction.
But this?
No one could have prepared me for this…for losing my best friend.
Branches cracked behind me.
I reached for the dagger strapped to my thigh and I spun away from the tree, blade flashing up, ready to inflict pain, only to nearly collide into Jack’s chest.
I backed him into the tree, the edge of my dagger pressing against his throat.
I was furious with the princess. But I was furious with him, too. Maybe more so.
And that was the part that unsettled me.
I understood why he’d made the choices he had. He was the prince; he carried the weight of a kingdom on his shoulders. Duty wasn’t optional for him.
Still…a small, treacherous part of me had hoped that maybe he’d chosen me over her.
No matter how reckless. No matter how selfish. No matter how stupid.
He didn’t flinch and that only fueled my anger.
I inched the blade closer, but when I realized the high neck of his tunic shielded his skin, I cursed under my breath and shoved myself back several steps instead, my lungs breaking into a ragged mess of grief and fury.
“I’m sorry,” he said, taking a step toward me.
I snapped the dagger up, pointing it at his chest as hot tears spilled down my cheeks. “Don’t you fucking come any closer, Jack.”