Chapter 13
Elorie
The morning doesn’t bring the relief I long for. If anything, the weight of the promises I made last night hangs heavier.
Guards lead me through the palace to take me to training while Callum walks silently at my side. When he arrived this morning, he didn’t try to speak with me like he did last night. I can’t tell if it’s because the king’s guards surround us or because he’s given up.
After all, Callum is one of them.
On Alyssium, I was able to separate Callum from my judgment of the rest of the Crown Guard.
He was kind to the villagers, and he spent more time with humans than with Fae.
On late nights, he’d share drinks with us at the tavern.
He’d join hunting parties, putting his honed senses to use.
He’d climb onto slick roofs to repair shingles for those too weak to do so.
He took care of the village in a way he didn’t have to.
He cared about the people in Alyssium, or so I thought.
But here at the palace, there’s no denying that he is one of them.
Glancing up, I take in his armor. It’s clean. Not a speck of blood or dirt. I’m used to it appearing a bit more worn, like it has served a purpose. In the Ley Court, guards walk around dressed as trophies instead of a front line ready for battle.
I look away and hug my stomach, trying to reconcile this change. Callum was one of my closest friends, and now it’s like I’ve never really known him.
My shoes squeak against the reflective floors with every step, filling the uncomfortable silence.
I’m thankful today’s outfit is fit for training, and not another dress like the one last night.
My leather pants fit snugly, making it easy to move without worrying the fabric will catch on anything.
The shirt is dark-navy cloth with a brown leather corset that protects me around the ribs.
Small straps loop at one side, where I could sheath daggers if I had any.
It puts me at ease to be wearing something closer to what I’d wear back at home.
Braids tie my long hair off my face, ready for whatever training entails.
“How did you sleep?” Callum asks as we near an intricately carved oak door.
“Better than I did in the cell.”
He frowns, but I don’t bother meeting his gaze. His loyalty is to the king, and I need to remember that. Father didn’t see that truth in Alyssium, but there’s no denying it in the Ley Court. Callum is a loyal soldier to a fault.
Which is why I don’t bother telling him I tossed and turned all night as something crackled at the edge of my thoughts. Or that each time I drifted off, nightmares brewed like I was back in the prison. Those obsidian walls stared back at me in my mind. Shadows I can’t seem to shake.
It’s like I’m free, but my mind isn’t.
Callum continues to watch me, so I roll my shoulders back and school my expression.
My teeth clamp down on the inside of my cheek in an attempt to bury the sudden swell of panic and exhaustion.
Of all the Fae abilities I could have inherited from my mother, I didn’t gain the keen sense of sight, smell, and perception. Not like those surrounding me now.
Thankfully, if Callum reads anything in my mood, he stays quiet about it.
The guards open the large door ahead of us, and fresh air breezes into the palace. For the first time in a long time, my chest clears as I inhale deeply.
The doors lead to a courtyard, which is paved in stone and surrounded by trees.
A stunning landscape. But it’s the sky that catches my attention.
Even on the warmest, clearest days, the sky over Alyssium is still slightly gray.
It’s nothing like the shade of blue overhead. Perfectly clear and bright.
I take a deep breath, savoring the sweet scent of honeysuckle.
Magic is often measured by destruction, but this is magic to me. The scent of flowers blooming. Sunshine soaking into the ground. Life stirring.
Flowers dot the tree branches. Vines twist between them, enclosing us in. Alcoves line the edges of the palace, greenery climbing the trellises. At the center of the courtyard is a large training space with a knee-high stone wall encircling it. Greer waits for me with her foot propped on the wall.
Her armor is simpler today than it was at the ceremony last night. Not as bulky, even though it covers her from the top of her throat to her boots. Only her arms are bare.
Sparks fly as she sharpens her dagger, but she’s not watching me. Her narrowed stare is focused across the training ring, where another figure casually leans against the wall.
“What is he doing here?”
The corner of Wilder’s mouth tics up at my question. He’s shaded under a tree, but his aura crackles. His golden eyes hold Greer’s angry stare for a moment before flitting to me.
It might as well be a blow to my chest. His gaze pulls the air from my lungs. My ribs tighten, but I refuse to break his gaze.
I will not be the weak one. If he came here to intimidate me into failing, then that’s more motivation to prove him wrong.
Wilder lifts off the brick wall but doesn’t approach. His dark tunic and pants are similar to what he was wearing last night, but slightly more casual. A leather holster wraps one shoulder and arm, and there are four blades tucked in the front of it. A sword is strapped to his back.
Quite a wardrobe selection for a male who just escaped prison.
“Escaped? I seem to remember you being the one who let me out.”
My hands clench, but I don’t bother responding when I’d rather he get out of my head. With a final glare, I beeline for Greer.
“Please tell me I get to fight him.” I jut my chin toward Wilder.
A slow smile crawls up at the corner of her mouth. “You’d take him on with no magic? It’s brave. I’ll give you that. Maybe you’re not so bad after all.”
I didn’t realize she had any opinion of me after our brief meeting, but at least her comment sounds like a compliment.
She pushes to stand, sheathing her dagger and resting her palm on the pommel of her sword. “What’s your preferred weapon?”
“Weapon?”
“That’s what I said.” She breathes out an annoyed breath. “Sword, dagger, bow and arrow—”
“I thought you were teaching me how to access my magic.”
Greer snorts, opening her mouth like she’s going to say something, but pausing when a guard shifts on his feet behind me.
“You can leave us.” Her tone is cold, and the guards immediately turn to leave.
Except Callum, who hasn’t taken his eyes off Wilder.
“You too, Wilhelm,” she calls out Callum by his last name.
“Are you sure you don’t need help?” His eyes stay trained on Wilder. “The king wants Elorie protected.”
“Are you implying I’m incapable of protecting her?” Greer’s stormy gaze is downright lethal, like she hopes Callum will challenge her just so she can prove her point.
Callum clears his throat, obviously torn. He offers me a final glance before taking a step back. “You know where to find me if you need me.”
“We won’t.” Greer stalks across the training ring, stopping in the center while Callum disappears.
I hadn’t realized there was a breeze a moment ago, but the air stills once Callum is gone, and I wonder how much of that was him.
“Weapons.” Greer slings open a wooden chest and points down. “Pick one.”
While I’m thankful the audience has left, now that it’s just the three of us, I feel Wilder watching my every move. His attention sears into the side of my face, and my cheeks burn. Or is that my freckles?
“Do I make you flustered, Starfire?”
“Stop calling me that.”
“That’s not a no.”
I storm across the ring, stopping in front of the chest and taking in the collection of weapons. There’s a bow, arrows. Strapped to the sides are an assortment of swords and daggers. At the bottom is a mace.
I select a dagger that reminds me of the one Callum used to give me when we trained back home, and suddenly I’m wishing I practiced more. If my fighting skills are as pathetic as my inability to summon magic, I doubt Wilder will let me hear the end of it.
“Interesting.” Greer slams the chest shut.
“What is?”
She unsheathes a dagger herself, spinning it in her hand so quickly that I know I’m definitely outmatched.
“The choice of weapon says a lot about the warrior. Archers prefer keeping their distance. They’re patient but precise.
A swordsman attacks with brute force, relying on their strength.
But a dagger wielder…” She spins hers around in her hand.
The polished blade sparkles in the sun. “It’s personal.
It forces you to look your opponent in the eyes when you gut them. ”
Her fingers wrap the handle, and it stops so quickly, I jump. My eyes move up, and I find her judgmental gaze lit with amusement.
“Callum trained me with a dagger because I can’t outmatch a Fae in strength or force. Catching them off guard is my best chance.” I hold my dagger at my side, my fingers aching from my tight grip. “It’s what I’m used to.”
“So you’ve had some training?”
“A little. Once the rebels started finding their way into the village, we had no choice.” I glance at Wilder, but it’s impossible to read his expression.
All my life, I wondered why Vaelier rebels would bother with a magicless island. Turns out, they were looking for their king.
Wilder breaks my stare first, marking the first time he’s done that.
“Why are we training with weapons?” I ask Greer again, turning my attention back to her.
“There are weapons in battle.”
“Isn’t there also magic in battle?”
“Magic isn’t reliable like it used to be. Especially not on the battlefronts.” Shadows cast over her expression.
She’s talking about fighting near the Well, where it drains so fast that Callum said the Beating is spreading worse than it is here.
“Don’t worry.” She purses her lips. “That won’t be an issue in your case. The king will keep you comfortable in the palace.”
Her comment doesn’t sound anywhere near complimentary.