5. Chapter Five
Chapter Five
I rise earlier the next morning.
I’m already up and out of bed when Tiffy and the rest of my ladies’ maids come in to dress me and style my hair for the day. When they’re satisfied with how I look, they bow and trail from the room as quickly as they came.
As soon as they’re gone, I loosen my corset and take a deep breath.
I don’t know how noblewomen breathe with these cursed things tied so tightly.
Perhaps that’s why noble fae females are so pretentious.
With a chuckle, I slip into the hall. Even though my bed chamber alone is the size of our entire first floor back home, I’ll grow restless if I stay in here, confined to these four walls.
Instead of turning left outside my room—which leads toward the main stairwell—I turn right, itching to explore and discover what’s waiting for me this way.
More wooden doors that look like mine line the hallway. More bedchambers, or sitting rooms, perhaps? I continue ahead until I reach a small circular area, lined by more stone archways.
A large library sits beyond the arches, with books filling shelves that stretch all the way up to the ceiling. I wander inside and crane my neck to look up. Exposed wooden beams cross above my head, below a grand cathedral ceiling. Tall windows, lined with gold, sit between the colossal shelves, filling the room with bright sunlight.
I move deeper inside.
Intricately carved mahogany tables and chairs are spread throughout the space. Silver candelabras sit atop them, some joined by stacks of leather-bound books.
“Ah, Miss Thurdred.” Myrdin presses his lips together, flashing an embarrassed smile. “I mean, Cryssa. It's lovely to see you.”
I offer him a polite smile in return. “Lord—Myrdin Tarrantree. It’s a pleasure to see you as well.”
Myrdin’s not alone. Sitting with him is another fae male, with white-blond hair that looks like pure silk. His crystal-blue eyes find mine, a stark contrast to his sun-kissed complexion.
Myrdin extends his hand to his companion. “Cryssa, I would like you to meet Lord Asheros Larmanne. Son of Head of House, Lord Eldred and Lady Avourel Larmanne, and heir-apparent to the Silver Court.”
Asheros dips his head. “I’m honored to make your acquaintance, Miss Thurdred. I am afraid I can’t say I know much about you.” His voice is smooth, but not like Viridian’s. While Viridian’s is deep and rich, Asheros’s voice is lighter, with an airy quality to it.
I bow my head. “The same to you, Lord Larmanne.”
“I’m sorry if I’ve disturbed you,” I say, glancing back at Myrdin. “I was exploring.”
“Not at all.” Myrdin waves me off. “Asheros and I were merely discussing politics.”
“Indeed,” Asheros agrees. “We were due for a distraction.”
I get the sense that they were debating, or arguing, rather than merely discussing. But I keep that to myself.
“Where are you from, Miss Thurdred?” he asks.
“Slyfell, my Lord.”
“Ah, the Gold Court. I’m sure the summers there are a sight to behold.”
“They are,” I say, suddenly homesick. “The entire valley is lush with greenery and the wildflowers in full bloom.”
I think of running through the meadows as a child with Acantha. We would play games while Father foraged for berries and mushrooms and filled baskets with richly colored flowers to proudly show him.
Now, the memory only makes my heart hurt.
Asheros laughs. “Whereas all you will find in the Silver Court is snow and rock.”
“I’ve heard the fjords are beautiful,” I say. “The Silent Chasm especially.”
Asheros leans back in his chair. “Indeed, our cliffs and waters are beautiful. But few brave the cold winds to see them.”
“If you’re looking for a place to honeymoon,” Myrdin cuts in, his voice rolling with pride, “I’d suggest the Copper Court.”
I cross my arms with a smirk. “Is that so?”
Asheros’s expression lights up at my challenge. He leans toward Myrdin. “Oh, I like her.”
“The Blood Dunes are a sight to see,” Myrdin explains, ignoring Asheros’s remark. “Crimson sands softer than anything you’ve ever felt before. Warm waters you’ll want to dip your feet in, and the food…” He places a hand on his stomach. “Oh, the most wonderful cuisine you’ll ever taste.”
“He’s only saying that because it’s his home court.” Asheros rolls his eyes.
“No,” Myrdin counters, the thrill of the debate rising to his face. “I’m saying that because it’s true. The use of spices in the Copper Court is truly exceptional.”
Asheros just grins, amused .
Myrdin holds up his hands. “I’ve yet to be proven wrong.”
I laugh. “I’ll consider that when it’s time to decide where we’ll honeymoon.” Though, I know that time will never come. I won’t be marrying Viridian, and I certainly won’t be honeymooning with him.
“The Crown Prince is a lucky male,” Asheros says, looking me up and down. “You are a rare beauty.”
“She is.”
Myrdin and Asheros instantly rise to their feet. Their faces pale.
“Your Highness.” Asheros bows, voice tight, as if he knows he’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t. “My apologies for being so forward.”
“I’ll accept your apologies.” Viridian levels his tone, as if to keep himself in line. His cool stare lingers on Asheros before turning to me.
“I’ve been looking for you,” he says, eyes locked with mine.
“Have you now?” I taunt.
“You weren’t in your room.”
“Am I not allowed to leave?” I uncross my arms and put my hands on my hips.
“I didn’t say that,” Viridian growls, amber eyes stormy.
“You certainly implied it,” I snap.
“I have no recollection of doing such a thing.”
I lean back, face hot with irritation. “I seem to recall it quite differently.”
Viridian presses his mouth into a fine line and takes a deep breath. “Then perhaps I should choose my words more carefully next time.”
“Perhaps you should.”
He looks away from me, clenching his jaw.
“Will you join me for dinner this evening?”
I could say no and deny him in front of two other males. I’m sure that would absolutely infuriate him. Or wound his pride. But as much as I don’t want to spend any more time with him, it would be beneficial to dine with good silverware. If I want to make my escape, I’ll need some kind of easily concealed weapon.
So, I raise my chin and even out my expression.
“Yes,” I tell him. I let toxic sweetness flow freely from my voice. “I’ll be so lovely as to grace you with my presence this evening.”
Viridian’s jaw ticks, and for a moment, I think he’ll say something rude back to me. But to my surprise, he doesn’t. He reins in his temper.
“Very well,” he grinds out. “I will see you tonight.”
Myrdin and Asheros exchange an awkward glance.
Frustration still clear on his face, Viridian turns to them stiffly, as if suddenly remembering that they’re still here. “My Lords.”
Before I can say anything in return, he spins around on his heels and storms from the library .
Throwing up my hands, I let out a groan and do the same. Though I make sure to keep him out of my sight.
It’s only once I’m back in my room that I let out my aggravation. Pacing about my room, I cross my arms.
“The nerve of the male!” I fume. There’s no doubt in my mind that my cheeks have grown a deep shade of red. “Does he expect me to be a pretty face, merely existing to be at his beck and call?”
I let out a huff and sit on my bed. Then I lay back with my arms outstretched.
I have no desire to dine with Viridian.
Crown Prince or not, he’s an arrogant, possessive fae male like the rest of them. We’re not even married, and he probably thinks he owns me.
My anger bubbles over at the thought.
“I am not going through with this marriage,” I promise myself.
This dinner is my opportunity to arm myself.
And that is the only reason I’ll be going.
H ours later, my ladies’ maids arrive.
“Come, come,” Tiffy says, practically picking me up and dragging me to the washroom. “We must get you cleaned up.”
“Cleaned up?” I ask, looking down at myself. “Didn’t we do that this morning?”
“Well, yes,” she says, without stopping. “But we must prepare you for dinner with the Crown Prince. You want to look your best to see your betrothed, don’t you?”
I roll my eyes. “I couldn’t care less.”
Tiffy clicks her tongue and shoots me a disapproving look. “Nonsense.”
“I mean it.”
She merely puts her hands on her hips and stares me down the way a mother would a naughty child.
“Fine,” I groan.
With a drawn-out sigh, I let her and the others scrub me until my skin is raw. Once I’m clean, they stuff me into a lacy evening gown. It’s richly colored emerald, with gold metal sewn along the hemline. I look in the mirror while the ladies’ maids style my hair, pinning most of it to my head while leaving elegant ringlets hanging down my back.
“There,” Tiffy says when they finish tapping powder puffs to my face. “You look wonderful.”
And I have to admit she’s right. The emerald color makes a striking match to the vibrant auburn of my hair and my golden-brown eyes.
“Now you must get going,” Tiffy says, ushering me out the door. “The Crown Prince is expecting you.”
I take a deep breath, filling my lungs. Nerves jitter in my stomach, and I wonder if I’ll be able to eat at all. Exhaling, I smooth my skirts.
I can do this, I tell myself. It’s just dinner .
I’ll find something I can use, take it, and leave. It’s that simple.
I have to do this, I remind myself. I’m Loren’s only hope.
Gathering my courage, I make for the great hall.
When I arrive, I find Viridian sitting at the long dining table alone. At the head of the table, he leans back in his chair, elbows resting on its arms. One of his hands drapes nonchalantly over the side, while the other cradles a silver goblet in a relaxed grip. Free of his bronze crown, his black hair hangs loose, as if he’s been running his hands through it. His gaze is stormy, brows knit together like his mind is far from here.
Guards stand at attention around the room. The two closest to me are positioned on both sides of the entrance. I take a mental note of where they are. I’ll have to be stealthy if I want to slip past them with a weapon of some kind.
Viridian takes a swig from his goblet when he sees me.
I approach the other end of the table, closest to the door, and sit. The table is empty, save for a bronze tablecloth, candelabras throwing off dim light, and silverware.
I eye the butter knife resting on the table before me. With a serrated edge, it’s not much of a weapon, but it seems to be my best option.
He doesn’t say anything to me, and instead signals to the servants waiting along the wall. “Bring the first course.”
“Of course, Your Highness.” The servants bow, and then slip into the adjoining room.
Viridian and I sit in silence until the servants return with trays of steaming bowls.
Simultaneously, they place the bowls in front of Viridian and me.
“Thank you,” I say, offering the servant a small smile.
He blushes, eyes lingering on me for a moment before backing away.
Viridian clears his throat. He glowers at the servant, tightening his hand around the armrest until his knuckles go white.
Is that…jealousy?
It couldn’t be. Other than what I look like, he doesn’t know anything about me. And he said it himself when I overheard him with Lymseia. He doesn’t want this betrothal. He has no claim on me. No right to be jealous.
I wait for Viridian to pick up his spoon before doing the same. Then I dip it into my still hot bowl of what seems to be a pale broth with chopped vegetables and a leafy garnish.
Still keeping a close eye on each other, we both lift our spoons to our mouths and blow on them before swallowing.
“So,” Viridian says, finally breaking the silence. “How has your stay been?”
I snort, making no effort to hide my scorn. “Delightful.”
Viridian’s jaw tightens. “Unpleasant, it would seem.”
“Don’t tell me that surprises you.”
“Then perhaps, if it’s so awful,” he says roughly, in an attempt to be cordial, “you should tell me what would make your time here more bearable.”
I have half a mind to demand that he tell me where the dungeons are, and to let me go, while I’m at it. But I know how that conversation will go, so I don’t waste my energy.
I settle for something else. Something he can do for me. “A sketchbook.”
Viridian arches a dark brow. As if he expected something more. “A sketchbook?”
“Yes.” My tone shifts, becoming defensive. “Is that too common for you?”
He doesn’t take the bait.
“No.” He considers the thought while sipping another spoonful of soup. “I’ll have a sketchbook brought for you.”
“How gracious of you,” I say, my voice sickeningly sweet.
Viridian’s cheek twitches.
My eyes fall to my soup. We sit there, in tense silence, until we finish our bowls. It’s as if neither of us know what to say to each other, yet we’re forced to suffer in each other’s company. It brings me some joy to know he’s not enjoying this any more than I am.
The servants bring out the main course—baked fish with warm, buttery potatoes seasoned with aromatic herbs, and freshly baked artisan bread loaves.
My tastebuds buzz with the rich flavors, but I harden my expression, so Viridian doesn’t know how much it pleases me. And it seems to be working—every time I catch his gaze, he’s scowling .
Viridian holds out his goblet, and the servants fill it with more wine. They move to do the same for me.
“No,” Viridian orders, voice blunt, like a dulled sword. “No wine for her.”
“Why not?” I challenge, defiance brewing within me. Who does he think he is? “You’re not my keeper,” I snarl. “You don’t get to make decisions for me.”
To my dismay, I don’t get a rise out of him. He simply says, “It’s for your own good.”
I roll my eyes with a huff. The arrogance of the male, thinking he knows what’s best for me .
“As if you care,” I mutter, loud enough for him to hear.
Viridian ignores me, but his hands curl around his fork and knife. I can’t help but notice the way it makes the muscles in his forearms flex.
A blush rises to my cheeks. I hate that he has this effect on me.
Guilt grips my stomach. How would Loren feel if he could see me now? Blushing in the presence of the enemy?
I know there’s still one more course, but I’ve suddenly lost what was left of my appetite.
“Am I excused?” I keep my eyes trained ahead of me, though I don’t look at Viridian.
His eyes flick up to me. “Yes.”
I press my hands to the table as I stand, sliding the butter knife toward me. Slowly, I wrap my fingers around it, and tuck it to my body. I bow, clutching my skirt to obscure the knife.
Then I turn around and make for the door.
My skirts swish with my movement, further concealing the silver in my grasp. I slow my strides, so I don’t give myself away, and briefly make eye contact with the closest guards.
They merely dip their heads in return, just short of a bow. Completely normal, the way they would to a guest.
I’m only a few paces from the exit.
So close now.
“Stop.”
I freeze. My heartbeat accelerates, but I breathe, forcing myself to calm down.
I hear the chair slide across the floor behind me. Footsteps follow.
Viridian grabs my arm and spins me around. In a whirl, I collide with his hard, muscled body, my palm to his chest the only thing between us. My other hand has the butter knife to his throat.
The guards quickly draw their swords.
No doubt aware of the cool metal pressed to his jugular, Viridian’s eyes glint with amusement.
“Do you really think I would be so much of a fool as to let you leave with that?”
I play innocent. “It’s just a dull butter knife.”
His face is inches away from mine now. “We both know how much damage you could do with that, Little Fawn.”
His pet name for me has me wrinkling my nose. Who is he to call me “little” and compare me to a weak, feeble creature? Still, I don’t acknowledge it, merely to deny him the pleasure of a response.
Instead, I tighten my grasp around the butter knife. “You don’t know me.”
“Perhaps you’re not so hard to read.”
His hand clasps around mine and squeezes, hard enough that I’m forced to let go. The butter knife falls to the floor with a clang.
But Viridian doesn’t release his iron-grip on my hand.
“If you ever try to cross me again,” he hisses, amber eyes ablaze, “I will personally see to it that your lover pays the price. Understand?”
I clench my jaw, hardening my expression. Anger swirls in my chest, and I don’t care if it shows.
“Coward. I hate you.” Venom laces each of my syllables.
But Viridian doesn’t even flinch. “Do you understand me, Little Fawn?”
Curling my lip, I say nothing, and my silence makes my disdain for him all the more clear. My nostrils flare with the force of my loathing, barely able to keep myself from screaming in his face.
“I said, do you understand me?” His face hardens even more than I thought possible, amber eyes looking as if they could slice right through my flesh. “I won’t ask again.”
It takes everything in me not to continue fighting, but I can’t risk pushing him too far. If I step out of line again, he’ll hurt Loren to punish me. I can’t let that happen .
“Yes,” I spit. “I understand.”
“Good.” He releases me and backs away. The guards relax, lowering their weapons.
Gesturing to me, he tells them, “See to it she makes it back to her quarters without any more trouble.”
The two closest guards take me by the arms. I tug and wriggle against them, but their hold on me is too strong.
“Oh, and one more thing,” Viridian says, the spite in his voice more than palpable.
“What?” I croak, looking back at him over my shoulder.
“Since you can’t be trusted not to mishandle your silverware, you’ll be dining with me from now on. Every night.”
Anger sets my cheeks on fire.
“Fine.” I don’t need to see myself to know that my eyes shoot poison his way.
“Good.” Viridian glowers back at me. His tone matches mine.
When the guards pull me away, I let him have the last word.
Because I vow to be so insufferable, that he regrets his decision to spend any more time with me.