Chapter 12 – Vale
Chapter 12
VALE
H and in hand, Neve and I walked to where the Courting Festival event of the day would take place. With each step, my shoulders grew tighter.
Though my sister had protected Neve against our mother’s magic—something I was disappointed in myself for not having thought of—so much could still go wrong. And that was only considering the fae.
I wasn’t worried about the vampires. Not yet anyway.
It would take days for Captain Barvo’s ship to land upon the shores of the Vampire Kingdom and hours still for him to reach Sangrael, the heart of the Blood Court. Then the royals would have to hire assassins. Or worse.
Will the King and Queen of the Blood Court come?
Before the thought could take root, I vanquished it.
No reason to worry about that when threats lived inside the castle. Threats to my new wife, a fae of Winter’s Realm I had sworn to protect. Threats who shared my blood.
Father and Rhistel remained my primary concerns, and I wasn’t sure which one posed a greater risk.
No one outside our family knew the full truth of Rhistel’s magic. My father had seen to that. With the use of my twin’s gloves, spun from the strongest ice spider silk, his dark power was easy enough to hide. He also possessed winter magic, though that was far less concerning and not as powerful as Father’s winter-based magic.
Nor was mine.
It vexed the king that his sons could only manipulate portions of winter magic. I wielded my winter magic as frigid gales and frost pulled from the moisture in the air. Rhistel favored his winter magic in the form of water, which he turned into weapons of ice.
Of the three Aaberg children, only Saga possessed the full magic of winter, able to make snow fall, create a cage of ice, and gusts that would freeze a fae solid. But even her powers were weaker than Father’s by quite a lot. Her visions were the stronger of her magic, though far less predictable.
Music up ahead snapped me into protector mode.
Neve glanced up at me. “Everything all right?”
Since seeing the blood vials, her assurance against Warden Roar’s wrongdoings, smashed on the floor, she’d pulled herself together. I needed to do the same.
“Fine,” I assured her. “We should stick together.”
“I have no desire to be caught alone with your father.”
“Or my brother. ”
She laughed dryly. “Definitely not.”
Although I was certain she was curious about him, my new wife had not asked about Rhistel. An oddity. Most people wanted to know more about the heir—even if they disliked Rhistel as a person.
Unfortunately for the public, with few exceptions, my twin was a very private male. Once, I’d have been counted among those he confided in, but not for many turns. I couldn’t stomach some things he did, and that tore us apart.
We approached the solarium where Father was hosting the afternoon’s event. His choice of the bright, plant-filled space told me that this festival event would be smaller than the others.
I was proven right when we reached the door to the sun parlor and two Clawsguards waved us inside.
I inhaled the scent of vegetation and humidity. This room had been designed differently from others in the castle—always kept warmer and smelling fresh.
“It’s lovely.” Neve’s wings fluttered slightly and stretched as if they, too, were taking in the fresh air. “Not at all what I expected.”
“Mother’s doing,” I said. “She brought in plants far more suited to the Summer Court to give the solarium an exotic look. The decor requires many earth fae to keep alive. A tremendous drain of resources for the beautification of one room.”
“Maybe so, but I appreciate the effort.” Neve’s lips curled up in a small smile, and my stuffiness evaporated a touch .
After all, resource suck or not, the solarium looked nice. And those flitting about inside appeared to appreciate the efforts. Many Winterborn and bred fae had never seen so much green in one place.
At first glance, one hundred fae milled about, most of them members of the Sacred Eight or the wealthiest jarls in the kingdom. My father and brother huddled in a group of three such jarls. I frowned when one smiled with glee.
Jarl Triam was young for a faerie of his elevated position. At forty turns, he lived in a small city in the midlands and enacted law right beneath House Vagle. His land was known for being infested by ogres, but that wasn’t the most disgusting thing about the place.
Since Triam came into power ten turns back, he’d taken three wives, all of whom had died under mysterious circumstances. Had the wives not been lowborn and Triam not been such a close friend to Fival Vagle, my mother’s brother and acting lord of the Staghorn Castle, there would have been an investigation. But there hadn’t been.
Was Triam in the running for a new wife? My nose wrinkled, hating the idea.
“A smaller gathering than the ball,” Neve said, squeezing my hand. “I think that’s a relief?”
She didn’t sound so sure. Understandable. A smaller event meant fewer eyes on us, but it could still be dangerous.
“Always keep your defenses up,” I murmured back as, from across the room, Sian caught my eye and waved. “Let’s begin over there.”
Together, we wended through the room, moving closer to the vast windows spanning the far wall and curving up to form a large part of the ceiling. Outside, the Shivering Sea stretched into the horizon. Whitecaps tipped the waves, hinting that the wind was up. Flurries of snow fell too, and dark clouds stretched across the sky like a bruise. A storm was rolling in. Again. Of late, we’d had many more than normal.
Inside, though, Frostveil Castle was as warm as ever. At least in temperature.
The experience of walking through a crowd of fae and no one stopping me to speak was decidedly frigid. As I was a newlywed fae, congratulations should spew from the lips of every courtier.
That did not happen. Most stared, but if I caught their eyes, they looked away. I suspected that, at the moment, few wanted to be associated with us—the pair who had earned a trusted Clawsguard a whipping.
I cringed. Before we retired for the evening, I needed to stop by the healers’ sanctuary to see if Sir Qildor was awake and how he fared. The knight was a dear friend, part of my inner circle. A cabal member. I huffed out a laugh, unable to deny that I was warming to the term, though I had yet to let my sister know. Some things an older brother needed to keep to himself.
“Vale.” Sian patted my shoulder when we joined his small group, consisting of Vidar Virtoris, Thantrel Riis, and two of Sian’s many siblings, his sisters, Baenna and Eireann. “I take it the journey back to the castle was uneventful?”
“The vampires have already sailed west for the Blood Kingdom,” Vidar interjected, brushing aside a large leaf caressing his shoulder.
Neve let out a low breath. She hadn’t seemed worried about the vampires. Apparently, she’d been hiding her worry well. Not a surprise considering how well she’d been playing a part at court.
“We stopped for lunch at Ragnor’s,” I replied as a servant appeared with a tray of sparkling fae wine and small toasts topped with a fermented fish and winterberry. Not wishing to have bad breath, I opted for the wine, then handed a glass to Neve. She took it and sipped, her lovely eyes going wide at the taste.
“It’s good, isn’t it?” Vidar asked, bestowing the same smile on my wife that I’d seen steal the hearts of many courtiers. Unfortunately, he was already taken.
Father had betrothed Saga to Vidar a few turns back. Their union had not yet come to pass because Vidar had, until recently, been sailing the seas for the majority of the last three turns. It was a voyage every heir to House Virtoris took. For her part, Saga didn’t seem to mind his absence, but I suspected that soon they’d be wed, and I’d be able to call my dear friend brother.
“Did anything out of turn happen?” Vidar asked. “In the city?”
The question surprised me, but it shouldn’t have. The Virtoris heir was always one to expect trouble. I supposed that was only natural when you would inherit an armada that often had to deal with pirates in the northern seas around our kingdom.
I shook my head. “Nothing happened.”
“Except that I ate far too large a lunch.” Neve’s hand landed on her belly. Her gowns were limited to those that Warden Roar gave her, but she’d found a navy blue one in the lot of House Lisika colors. So much bleeding crimson and gold.
I made a mental note to have Saga’s seamstress come by my suite and measure Neve for new gowns. Ones in my house colors. Even if our relationship was a sham, she needed to look the part for as long as it lasted.
“Ragnor’s is so good!” Eireann’s wine sloshed close to the top of her glass as she gesticulated. “I haven’t been since we arrived in the city for the festival, but Father always takes the family.”
“Says it costs him a fortune because Ragnor’s is expensive, but it’s worth it,” Baenna added.
“More like it costs him a fortune because your parents have so many bleeding children.” Thantrel laughed, his cheeks flushed pink from the drink.
My outgoing friend had changed from sparring attire into an outfit I could only describe as a half dress. The back flowing long, the front ending in a normal tunic. Thantrel had eccentric tastes, and I suspected he liked the attention those tastes earned him.
“Only one way to stop that.” One red eyebrow, trimmed and darkened slightly, probably to emphasize the gold shimmer Thantrel wore on his eyelids, arched. He pretended to toast the Baliks .
Eireann scowled. “Perhaps give your own father that advice? He has too many children to count!”
They were both right. Lord and Lady Balik of the great house of the southlands, had nine children, quite a lot for a faerie family. Our kind often had trouble reproducing, but as we also lived for thousands of turns, larger families could still be created. The Baliks, however, did not seem to have any problem birthing heirs as once they began, many were born in rapid succession.
Lord Riis had never wed. And yet, the Lord of Tongues sired as many children as House Balik and House Armenil, the great house of the north that boasted six heirs, combined. The only difference was Lord Riis’s children were all illegitimate.
Many expressed their surprise when Father allowed Luccan, Arie, and Thantrel to attend the Courting Festival. Or summoned them, more like.
Then again, the king hadn’t done so out of the kindness of his heart. He possessed a reason for wanting the nobles here, and Lord Riis had to be included in the lot. Hence, Father legitimized Lord Riis’s eldest sons, and they received invitations.
The ladies set to discussing other matters, and Neve fell right in with them. That surprised me for a moment, but then I recalled that the day Neve arrived at court, and Saga invited her to a game of nuchi. Baenna and Eireann had probably been playing too.
Happy to let Neve relax a little, I turned to Sian and Vidar, the latter of whom was nodding excitedly.
“You and Sayyida would make a great match.” Vidar plucked a small hand pie off a tray as another servant came around. “If you wish, I can bring it up to the king?”
“Appreciated,” Sian said. “And I agree that we’re well suited. If anything, we’re aligned in personal matters.”
Vidar nodded. “She’ll need a husband who is understanding. One who expects little in the, uh, bedchambers, and who doesn’t mind if she takes to the sea.”
My lips curled. It wasn’t well-known at court, but Vidar was close to his sister and two turns back, she’d confided in him that she preferred female company. Since then, Vidar had been fretting over the day Lady Virtoris set a marriage for her daughter.
The proposed match between Sayyida and Sian worked out well, as he preferred male companionship.
That and the fact that, although Sian was the eldest son of Balik, he was not the heir to their house. That honor went to my squire, Filip, for House Balik, and Vidar for House Virtoris—both the magically strongest of their lines.
Of course, Sayyida and Sian would still be required to expand their noble houses, but once that duty was done, I expected the pair could pursue their own desires. A clever match, indeed. Normally, I would offer to broach the topic with Father, but after my actions, that would not go over well, a fact that I was sure Sian had considered already.
“It’s odd that the king has not set any matches yet,” Vidar mused.
“The Festival has only been on for a few days,” Sian countered. “I’d rather the king take his time. Observe us and set matches that benefit those in them. Not just House Aaberg.”
At that, my cheeks warmed. A Courting Festival had not been called for a long time. And everyone recognized it for what it was: a way for the king to curate matches, power structures, and the futures of noble houses that benefitted the king and his lineage.
Not that matches benefiting House Aaberg were the only reason for the Courting Festival. Far from it.
“I see nothing wrong with you and Sayyida marrying,” I replied, not about to bring up the Ice Scepter.
My friends, nor anyone else, knew of how Father, Mother, Rhistel, and I suspected one noble house held the Hallow of Winter’s Realm. And, though I disagreed with Father and my brother in many respects, in this, we were of one mind. The search for the Hallow of Winter would stay a family secret.
Sian waved over the closest brownie bearing a tray of wine and switched his out for a fresh glass. All the while, he watched the circle around my father. “I wish those jarls would shove off. Then I’d go speak with the king about a union between my house and the Virtoris family right now.”
“One is Jarl Salizier,” Vidar said, taking in the group of lesser nobles with interest. “He tried to court Sayyida just last turn.”
Neve twisted, apparently having been listening in despite appearing engrossed in her own conversation. The sly fox. “She told me that! We ran into him on the way to the tourney and Sayyida mentioned how she didn’t like him at all.” My wife smiled at Sian. “No competition.”
To my shock, Sian, an elite warrior of the southlands, blushed at Neve’s attention. Had I not known him so well, I’d almost have thought he was taken with her romantically, but that wasn’t it. No, it was that Neve was so sincere and bright, it took Sian by surprise.
“Thank you, Princess Neve,” Sian replied. “I?—”
Horns blared, making me start slightly. Perhaps it was the bubbly drink, or perhaps being among my closest friends, but I’d lulled myself into a sense of calm.
My father waved for attention and the crowds fell silent. “My wife, Queen Inga, and I would like to thank you all for coming today. I realize we sent invitations to the Courting Festival on short notice.” Father lifted his glass. His pale cheeks had already taken on a ruddy sheen.
“Invite?” Sian whispered with a snort. “A summons, more like.”
“Shh,” his sister, Baenna, hushed him.
“I’ve called you here to announce that I have settled on two more matches during this Courting Festival,” Father continued. “As you know, my first blessing did not go as planned.” His ice-blue eyes sought Neve and, taking the king’s gaze as an open invitation to gawk, others stared too.
She slunk back, but I would have none of that. I took my wife’s hand and squeezed it. Remembering herself, and I hoped that she was stronger than nearly all the fae in this room, Neve’s shoulders rolled back, and her chin lifted .
The king scowled but continued on. “The matches I’m about to announce, however, I believe will be quite beneficial to both houses involved. And the kingdom at large.” Father turned to a gathering of faeries, most of them with red hair and wings in various shades of green—House Armenil. “Marit Armenil, come forward.”
Neve sucked in a breath, but I waited, wondering what Father had decided. Marit was the eldest child of House Armenil, the great house of the northern territory. She was not the most magically powerful and hence not the heir, but to hear Saga tell it, Lord Sten Armenil, Warden of the North and his wife, Lady Orla Armenil née Balik, valued Marit’s opinions on many matters. Their daughter was well-educated and kind and knew how to relate to the people of the northern territory.
The Armenils would expect an excellent match for such a prized jewel.
With grace born from many turns of etiquette classes, Marit glided over to stand next to Father. Though she appeared pulled together and was quite far away, I caught the slight trembling of her light green wings. The king nodded at her, a smile growing on his face—one that made my blood grow cold. That was the smile Father used when he was about to deal a blow.
What was he thinking?
The Courting Festival was a means for the king to exert power and dominance over other houses, but if Father was about to set a poor match for Marit . . . No, that was a horrible idea. He wouldn’t be so foolish.
“You, Marit of House Armenil, will wed a male I have chosen for you. One with great wealth and influence. Together, you’ll bring the midlands to prosperous times.”
I blinked. Midlands? That left only a handful of lords.
“Jarl Triam, please come forward and greet your bride,” Father said, loud and clear.
I stiffened as murmurs rippled through the crowd. Father was matching Marit with a jarl who had been thrice wed already? One who had likely murdered his wives?
He’s insane.
Two males stepped out of the crowd to face the king. One, Jarl Triam. The other, a mountain of a male, bearing the white wolf insignia over his breast—Lord Sten Armenil.
“I won’t allow it,” Lord Armenil shouted. “Not my daughter. Not with him. I?—”
“I thought we might hit this hitch, Sten,” Father cut the great lord off as Clawsguards closed in around Lord Armenil. “Thought you might wish for more say over which house your eldest landed in? So I’ll give you a compromise. The only one I will allow.”
Lord Armenil’s eyes narrowed. “You must’ve realized this was a poor match if you premeditated a compromise, Magnus.”
“ King Magnus,” Father growled. “And yes, it is my job to foresee outcomes. Now, would you like the chance to hear your option? Or shall I bring in a staret to perform your daughter’s ceremony right now?”
Sten Armenil’s freckle-strewn face paled. “What is the compromise? ”
“I have yet to send a diplomat to the Blood Court. If you wish for a say in your daughter’s marriage, you will go. Explain what happened to their prince, and I might allow you to sway my choice.” Father held up a single finger. “Until then, she will stay with Jarl Triam.”
Lord Armenil appeared shocked and for good reason. Usually, the Crown tasked Warden Roar to deal with the vampires. In his absence, Father sent my uncle Captain Vagle. But the Warden of the North? We had never sent him into vampire territory.
He had no past with them. No rapport. No ties. It very well could be a suicide mission.
And I suspected Father knew that. My fists clenched, but as Lord Armenil spoke next, I knew the future was set.
“I’ll go,” the Warden of the North said. “But she will not stay with him. Marit is pure, and she remains with my family until they are wed.”
“During the nights only,” Father shot back. “During the day, your daughter will be with her fiancé. She may have a chaperone if you wish. Upon your return, we will speak about a different match.”
The words he didn’t say, ‘ if you return ,’ hung in the air.
Marit’s chest heaved as silent sobs wracked her, but her father only gave a stout nod and went to collect her.
With the matter settled; Father captured the crowd’s attention once more with that conniving grin of his. “Now, for the second match of the day . . .”