Chapter 4
Pausing at Eleanor’s words, I swallowed thickly, then said, “I told you. The king needs my help.”
She released an exasperated sigh so similar to our mother’s, I felt like I was thirteen and about to be scolded for behavior unbecoming of a lady. “Except you failed to mention exactly what he needs help with.”
I chewed my lip, considering how to respond.
She should be focused on exploring or her studies—not worrying about the reason we were dragged halfway across the kingdom by the King of Torglea.
I was here to shoulder those concerns. Her curiosity was always hard to deny; like a hound searching for a bone, she wouldn’t stop nagging until she got the truth.
I brushed her hair as I spoke, focused on the candlelight dancing over her brown curls. “There’s a … curse. King Terym needs my help to break it.”
She spun to face me, and the brush flung from my hand. “A curse? Like actual magic?” Her wide eyes sparked with disbelief, and I collected the fallen brush.
“That’s what I’ve been told.” I twirled my hand, motioning for her to turn around so I could keep working through her tangled strands.
“But why you?”
I hummed, unsure how to answer the question I had been asking myself for days; no closer to a response now than the first time. I pulled the brush through a particularly bad tangle, rougher than intended, and Eleanor clawed at my hand. “Ow, Lia!”
“Hush, you.” I smacked her hand away so I could get the brush free.
“Perhaps the Gods have a plan,” she said after I cleared the worst of the knots. “Perhaps this is their way of answering my prayers.”
I stilled again. “What prayers?”
“To leave Toreshire. To do something more, to be something more.” The last sentence was spoken on a whisper, and I blinked through the moisture gathering in my eyes.
She had asked me to leave before, questioned why we couldn’t escape the small village we’d sequestered away to.
I always thought it was simple curiosity, but it was more than that, she longed for more.
Little did she know she was destined for it.
I pulled her to face me, those beautiful hazel eyes glistening in the candlelight. “Eleanor …” I wiped an escaped tear from her cheek. “You’re young and have so much life ahead of you. You are destined for great things, I’m sure of it.”
Her teary-eyed smile pierced through my chest and the battle waging there. Was I doing the right thing?
“If nothing else, at least we’ll have a good story.” She beamed, and I forced a smile of my own. There she went, searching for a positive in her pain. She would always be a better person than me.
We were silent as I finished brushing her hair, then I worked it into a braid running the length of her back, and Wistari and Meline arrived with food as I was tying the end.
My mouth watered at the delicious scent of stewed beef and vegetables, and we accepted the bowls with thanks before the women left us to eat. We scarfed the meal, both ravenous after the long journey, then Eleanor curled up on the bed.
“Can you sing to me?” she asked on a yawn, already closing her eyes.
She hadn’t asked me to sing to her for over a year.
This sudden change in our circumstances must have disrupted her more than she let on, or she sensed I needed it.
Needed the comfort of our familiar routine.
I joined her on the bed, smiling when she cuddled into my side the way she had as a child.
I whispered our mother’s lullaby, the same I’d sung to Eleanor every night the year after she passed.
An old song about overcoming obstacles and facing your fears, the words more relevant now than ever before.
Eleanor’s confession settled heavily, and the battle against the promise I made and my own beliefs warred.
I stared at a cliff face with no idea how to scale it.
My heart was torn in two. One side aching as I struggled to keep the promise to my mother, questioning every day whether I was doing the right thing.
The other thumped in earnest, a strange mixture of excitement and apprehension rattling against my chest.
Magic was real.
I had to stop a curse that affected Terym’s armies and, somehow, keep my sister safe while doing it.
Magic was real.
It hadn’t sunk in yet, and I didn’t think it would until I saw proof with my own eyes. Our history was filled with tales of magical talents, both beautiful and terrifying, but they had become mere stories as the centuries progressed without access to the Gods’ power.
The lilting melody of the familiar tune filled me, and before long, Eleanor was asleep. I admired her dark lashes resting on rosy cheeks and repeated the lullaby until I, too, drifted asleep.
The next morning, I woke to find Eleanor gone and Wistari bustling around the tent, placing a tray of food on the table and pulling out another dress.
“Where’s Eleanor?” I asked, my voice and mind cloaked with sleep.
“She’s out exploring, Miss Adelia. Meline is with her.” That cleared the fog, and I leapt from the bed, replacing my rumpled dress with the new one, barely noting the soft fabric.
What was Eleanor doing?
I didn’t want her out by herself without telling me. The king had assured her safety, so was the guard he assigned with her?
Snagging an apple from the generous breakfast spread, I hurried from the tent, ignoring Wistari’s calls. I shielded my eyes from the glaring sun, which had a direct line to the entrance of the tent and when open, it would shine over the entire bed.
Once my eyes adjusted, I found Pierce standing on guard beside the entry. “Pierce? What are you doing here?”
“I’ve been assigned to protect you, miss,” he stated, like the answer were obvious.
“Me? What about Eleanor?” My words took a high-pitched edge. Terym had assured Eleanor’s safety. Pierce was here and she wasn’t.
His brow furrowed. “I’ve been assigned to you both, Miss Adelia. You’re the priority.”
“No, I can take care of myself. The king agreed to ensure my sister’s safety. Do you know where she went?” I crossed my arms to stop myself from doing something I would regret, like shake the handsome soldier in front of me.
“When I mentioned the lords were due this morning, she went to watch their arrival.” He nodded toward the outskirts of camp where we had arrived, and I took off.
Busier than yesterday, the camp was alive with shouts and hurried feet.
Soldiers and servants alike hustled between tents, most of them headed to see the impending arrival.
We reached a growing crowd, and I caught a flash of bouncing curls.
I scowled and headed straight toward Eleanor.
Not only was she in the thick of chaos, but she had released her braid—I would have to brush it out again tonight.
Too short to see over the crowd of men, I lost sight of her.
The heat was stifling as soldiers surrounded me, and I suddenly found it very hard to breathe.
Everywhere I turned, armor flashed, reflecting the sun, and I strained to break free.
I gasped in a breath, spots dancing before my eyes as darkness edged closer.
Let me out.
Pressure built in my chest and my vision narrowed, everything that had happened over the past few days flashing through my mind.
The burden of my mother’s secrets and my promise to her.
The king’s expectations. The need to protect and care for Eleanor.
It’s like I’d been shackled to an anchor and was sinking to the depths of the ocean with no way to break free.
“Come on.” Pierce’s grunt at my ear was a relief.
He gripped my elbow, firm enough not to lose me but not enough to be painful, and steered me through the throng.
When we reached the edge of the field, I took a moment to breathe in the expanse of blooming flowers, and the scent settled the panic I’d let overwhelm me.
“Are you okay, Miss Adelia?” Pierce stared at me with a furrowed brow.
He’d pulled me from the suffocating crowd.
A minute longer and I would have frozen up; five minutes and I would have passed out.
Not since my father’s death had anyone paid enough attention to see when I was caught in a loop of disparaging thoughts—he alone had helped me recognize the signs and worked on ways to stop the attacks before they started.
“Yes, thank you.”
He nodded once, stepping back to give me more space.
Once I caught my breath and my heartbeat settled into a semi-normal pace, I stalked down the line of animated soldiers until I reached the girl bouncing on her toes.
Completely oblivious to the swarm of men at her back, she kept her attention on the ridge we rode down yesterday.
“Eleanor, you can’t just disappear like that,” I scolded, drawing her closer to me and away from the crowd.
“I’m fine, Lia. There are soldiers everywhere, no one’s going to hurt me.” Those very soldiers were who I was most wary of. Her eyes met mine, and the light in them dimmed slightly. “What happened?”
I averted my gaze, training it on the empty ridgeline. “Nothing.”
“You had an attack, didn’t you,” she said, and I shook my head.
The newest arrivals breached the summit, shining armor reflecting the sun in long rays. Eleanor grabbed my hand, squeezing tightly, offering me comfort despite my denial. I’d always done what I could to hide the worst of our past from her. The worst of my flaws.
Flags for every Torglea territory dotted the growing line in the distance.
Yellow for North, green for South, orange for West and red for Central Territory.
Only black for East was absent, since Lord Orcan was already here.
Four men, one dressed in each color, separated from the procession, ambling down the hill to where Terym and Orcan waited, flags of navy and black with them.
The man in orange leapt from his horse gracefully.
Even from here I could tell he was young, a wide smile gracing his boyish face when he bowed to the king.
He reached for the man in red, offering his assistance to the elderly lord sliding from his horse.
His hunched back betrayed his age and instantly told me who he was, Lord Kheal of the Central Territory.
He’d been the closest adviser to Torglea’s previous king.
A position Lord Orcan had replaced when Terym ascended the throne upon his father’s death.
The four men followed the king into camp until they disappeared among the canvas. Their long procession trailed after them, some stopping amid the field of flowers to set camp. The sight of the crumpled blooms battered my chest. They should not be disturbed.
“Do you think you’ll meet them?” Eleanor asked, drawing my gaze from the field.
“Maybe.” I had a sinking suspicion that I would; things must be dire if every lord had traveled to meet with the king. Whatever I needed to do to end the curse, I hoped I would succeed. I doubted it would go well for me if I failed.
“Let’s look around. Maybe we’ll catch sight of them,” she said, looping her arm through mine.
Wistari caught up to us as the excitement of the lords’ arrival died down and the crowd thinned.
She and Meline took us on a tour of the camp, a quiet Pierce trailing behind us.
The newest arrivals marked their own area, separated by colored flags, and set up tents in record time.
The rest of the massive camp featured rows upon rows of tents.
The triangular ones slept four or five soldiers each, and the few long narrow tents housed all the servants.
I ducked my head into one before Wistari shooed us away, and I was glad my sister hadn’t seen inside—the sight made me sick.
While Eleanor and I had a spacious and luxurious tent each, the servants all shared a low and overcrowded space.
The appalling conditions gave some insight into how the king treated his people, which only disturbed me more.
Wistari and Meline left us to our midday meal in my tent, and afterward, we wandered to the temporary kitchens.
The area was busy with preparation of the night’s meals for the hundreds of men within the camp, several cooks and servants hurried between fires.
A mountainous pile of dirty dishes from the midday meal waited to be washed beside large tubs of soapy water.
I looked from Eleanor to the tubs and smiled. “I’ll wash, you dry?”
She huffed and grabbed a cloth from a pile beside the tubs, eyeing me closely. “If you wet me again, I’ll hide your laces.”
I gasped in mock outrage, clutching a hand to my chest. “I would never do such a thing.”
“Last time, you destroyed my favorite dress,” she said, a grin spreading across her lips.
“It was too small for you anyway.” I plunged my hands into the soapy water, finding several dishes already soaking. Losing myself to the mindless activity, I handed each clean dish to my sister, who watched the hustle around us with interest.
After we had cleaned and dried every dirty dish, a lanky man approached, his lightly tanned face covered in scruffy stubble. The burns spotting his hands indicated he spent a lot of time in front of a fire or stove.
“Yer the ones the king picked up in Toreshire. The tavern girls.”
“Yes,” I said, drying my hands on the fine fabric of my skirts, the cloths we used to dry the dishes now wetter than the tub.
His gaze jumped between us, then he eyed the clean dishes before looking to me again. “Yer ain’t like those other simperin’ women.”