Chapter 10 – Vale
VALE
Horn of ale in hand, I leaned back in the armchair and rolled my neck to the side to gaze out the window.
A thousand faelights illuminated the streets of Myrr, and though there was no sea nearby, the Jewel of the Southlands reminded me of Avaldenn. Always bustling, always alive.
Many hours had passed since we’d spoken to the Warden of the South.
Hours in which Lord Balik’s household had shown us to our rooms and fed us.
Hours of peace, familiarity, and a sense of safety.
For the first time since leaving Riis Tower, those I loved were truly protected, and I could relax. A little, at least.
My mate, Thyra, Lord Riis, and the Fellhelm siblings were in a meeting with Lord Balik, so I would not be completely relaxed until I saw them again. Heard what Tadgh Balik had to say.
What was more, a part of me wrestled with the idea that claiming my parentage today had been the right thing. Once word spread, and it would spread, my mother would be in danger.
But Isolde and I had discussed that at length with Saga.
My sister insisted that Mother had known she’d be in danger soon enough—that maybe she’d even anticipated this.
And Lord Riis had not appeared surprised or angry at my proclamation, so I had to believe I’d done the right thing.
That the truth had finally come out for the better and my words might destabilize my father and Rhistel.
“I have to ask, Vale. Is it odd to call Neve by her birth name?” Sian drawled lazily. He was on his third horn of ale, while I remained on my first. Sipping. Waiting.
“No.” The fire in the hearth crackled and popped, and the scent of burning wood seemed to intensify. “She spoke the name out loud today, but I’ve been seeing her as Isolde, as a Falk princess, for some time now.”
I’d known that my wife would come out to the world as Isolde, just as I’d come out as Vale Riis.
“I’ve been practicing in my head,” Luccan admitted. “For when the day came.”
A grin split my face, as others shared a laugh, happy and easy.
Of our traveling party, only Bac, Aleksander, Anna, and Clemencia had retired for the night.
The vampire assassins had split, two guarding the Hallows that had been stored in sleeping chambers, and the third waiting outside the door where the princesses and the Warden of the South met.
Saga, Marit, and the Balik sisters lounged in front of the fire, gossiping. Though separated for little more than three weeks, they talked as if they had a lifetime to catch up on.
“You don’t want to go around calling a queen the wrong name.” Luccan crossed his arms over his barrel chest, not finding the matter of his practice as funny as the rest of us.
“Queen is assuming Isolde takes the throne. And that’s assuming we win.” Caelo said.
“It’s strange that the sisters haven’t settled on who will sit the throne yet, no?” Sian asked.
“They only found one another a couple of weeks ago and had a lot to work through,” Thantrel spoke up. His wings remained lightly bound with gauze, though to hear Rynni tell it before we left Valrun, Than’s wings should heal very well. If not perfectly.
I sipped an ale tasting faintly of mountain berries. I wondered what Thantrel thought about Thyra taking the Crown of Winter. Or what he thought about his mate in general. She still had not claimed him.
“Ha!” Caelo shouted, startling me and a few others. His finger thrust toward Qildor. “I caught you staring at her again. Time to fess up. What’s going on with you and Marit?”
“You two were holding hands in the grand hall,” Duran pressed. “Are you together now?”
Qildor shared a long history with House Armenil—the direwolves of the far north. Before Qildor journeyed to the capitol and took his Clawsguard vows, he lived in Morial and was best friends with Connan Armenil, heir to the House of the Direwolf.
Or perhaps their lord now. I swallowed. We’d recently learned that Lord Sten Armenil died in service to King Magnus, which meant that Connan had likely already been elevated to his new title.
“She’s married but not to me.” Qildor stole another glance at the lady with the long red hair. She caught him this time and smiled back in a way that had me smirking.
“Doubt she cares much, friend.” Caelo let out a low whistle. “From Marit, that sort of smile is as good as an invitation to climb into her bed.”
Thantrel sniggered. “He’s not wrong.”
“You two would know best,” Qildor teased.
Out of our friend group, Caelo and Thantrel were the two with the most experience with the ladies. I had to agree, though. I’d seen a grin like that on Isolde’s face, usually right before she shoved me to a bed and had her way with me.
“I’m feeling jealous of all the romance in the air.” Caelo wagged his sword-sharp brows. “Been traveling and protecting for too long. Do you think Lord Balik would have his guards stop me if I went to a tavern to find a lady of my own?”
“By the dead gods, Caelo, not everything is about you.” Duran waved him off. “I want to hear the details, Qildor.”
“What is there to tell? She’s married. To Jarl Triam.”
I cringed, the name bringing forth the horrible memory of the day the king had announced that betrothal. Marit had been utterly distraught. As had her family. All of that devastation had gone according to King Magnus’s desire and plan.
Another reason he should no longer rule. No one should delight in seeing others so miserable.
“That murderous jarl has gone north to fight for the king,” Sian said. “He left his wife at home, and you happened to scoop her up. The bastard didn’t want a highborn wife that badly after all.”
“I did not scoop her up.” Qildor muttered. “Fates, you make her sound like a damsel or a treat to be gobbled down. She was trying to escape on her own, and I helped.”
“After traveling south to break her out. You’re not getting out of this without looking like the hero you are, Qildor. So stop trying.” Sian crossed one ankle over his knee.
I stared at the knight, unable to believe that I hadn’t worked it out sooner. “You forsook your Clawsguard oath to rescue her, didn’t you, Qildor?”
He swallowed. Nodded.
My stomach pitted. No one here would care, especially not after the king had whipped Qildor nearly to the afterworld for bearing witness to my wedding.
But if the King of Winter ever got his hands on my friend again—if any lord or lady loyal to Magnus did—they would kill my friend. They would call such a killing justice.
“Thyra and Isolde will wipe that marriage off the slate.” Thantrel waved a nonchalant hand through the air.
Perhaps I was the only one thinking about the broken vow, but I doubted it.
Even for Than, his carefree tone sounded forced.
He was trying to change the subject. “You may as well go woo the lady. It’s clear you want to, and that she wants you in return. ”
“We’ll see.” Qildor took a deep drink of his ale, and I searched for a topic that would take the heat off of him.
I did not need to do so. Not with Filip, who had not said more than two words since we entered the den, took control of the conversation.
“So, what’s going to happen to Prince Rhistel?”
And just like that, I wished we’d stayed on the topic of Qildor and Marit.
“I’m not sure,” I admitted.
Not that those in the Falk Court hadn’t spoken about it. If my brother harmed Isolde or her sister or anyone here, I’d beat him bloody. And yet, no matter how irredeemable my twin was, I still found it difficult to condemn him to death.
“Exile maybe.” I swallowed.
“Right,” Filip seemed to stare right through me. He was in the small group of those who knew Rhistel was a whisperer. Though Filip had learned from experience, not my lips. I hadn’t shared that information with Sian, and we’d been friends since childhood.
Both of the remaining secrets I held burned within me, hotter by the day. I wasn’t sure which was worse—that my wife, the love of my life, and her twin had shadow magic or that my mother and brother were whisperers.
A rumor that the Falks kept such dark powers secret for thousands of turns would suit Magnus’s purposes of sowing distrust with regard to the Falk twins. Particularly when paired with the truth that the twins possessed no control over their shadow magic
“The matter of Prince Rhistel should be better thought through,” Filip added, sourness obvious in his tone. I wasn’t sure he’d ever liked Rhistel, but my squire had thoroughly despised my twin since the day he’d witnessed Rhistel trying to take advantage of Isolde in Frostveil’s library.
“What do you want from me, Filip?” I retorted. “That I’ll say my twin should die? Well, sometimes I do want that. Other times, I feel like an ogre for saying such things. It’s complicated.”
“You wouldn’t have to do it,” Filip countered.
“Why are you pushing him so hard on this?” Sian placed his elbows on his knees as he took in his younger brother. “This is unlike you.”
“Perhaps I’m growing into my role,” Filip replied. “If Father allies with the Falk sisters, I may end up being Lord Balik sooner than I’d like.”
By the dead gods, I was a real arse. This wasn’t all about me, but about what an impending war could do to a family. To the Balik family and thousands of others.
“Don’t think like that.” Sian aggressively tapped a finger on the arm of his chair.
“How can I not?” Filip gestured to our group. “If the worst happens in our family, you have us and them, Sian. Your cabal. I have only those who share our blood, and that will not be enough.”
He wanted support. Of course he did. Filip had been very vocal about wishing to be in my cabal, and I’d always told him that he was too young. Thantrel too.
Things needed to change.
“I can’t make promises of what will happen in the future, Filip, but I can offer you a place among us here and now.” My gaze went to Thantrel. “You too, brother. And Arie, I know you dream of the House of Wisdom, but Duran studies there, and he stands with us.”
No one in the cabal countered that they were too young. No one said anything, and the high ladies had gone suspiciously quiet by the fire.
“I’m in,” Filip and Thantrel answered in unison.
“Arie? We could use another sharp mind in the bunch.”
“Fates, could we,” Duran muttered.
The middle Riis brother cocked his head before nodding. “To my own surprise, I’m in too.”
I raised my horn. “To the expanded cabal.”
Filip waved a hand in the air. “Wait. There’s no ceremony? No secret handshake or password?”
Duran barked out a laugh. “You think far too much of our ragtag group, young Lord Balik.”
I shrugged. “We’re a simple bunch.”
“You do the right thing,” Filip countered. “That’s not always easy or simple, and that’s why I want to join. Why I’ve wanted to join since Sian told me about the cabal.”
Pride welled in me at the truth of his words. Standing with Isolde wasn’t the first time I’d gone against the king’s wishes. It was the most public occurrence, but I’d done so a hundred times with my cabal brothers at my side, righting wrongs done by King Magnus or others in power.
I lifted my horn again. “Don’t make me try this a third time and look like a fool, Filip. This is the ceremony you’re getting.”
“Savor the simplicity,” Caelo added. “Things are only going to get more complicated from today forward.”
“Can’t argue with that.” Thantrel lifted his horn to the middle. “To the cabal adding a stunningly attractive member, a brilliant one, and . . .” giggles came from the ladies as he looked at Filip, “a faerie who loves to play by the rules!”
Filip rolled his eyes as we toasted to the cabal and drank deeply.