Chapter Twenty
Ingrid
Back in my own bedchambers, I toss the half-made blanket onto my bed. Not satisfied, I snatch it, ball it up again, and fling it across the room. It’s too light and floaty to be satisfying, but failing twice has taken the wind out of my sails.
What did I expect?
I know Xandril’s not the type to show overt gratitude, but is it too much to ask for him to at least not act like I made a mistake by caring about him?
Though, judging by his reaction, maybe I did.
He’s as prickly inside as he is out, and it’s my own fault for thinking that aiding his recovery might change that at all.
Truthfully, this is probably to my advantage. I have no way of knowing what he bargained for with the Dealmaker, but I can be reasonably sure he’s not thrilled about having a bride. It’s possible he’s as eager to delay the whole process as I am.
I’m hard-pressed to find another explanation for his actions.
“Whole castle’s buzzing about the king’s recovery,” Morwen says when she brings me dinner that night. “Everyone’s wondering if it means the throne’s accepted him.”
She looks to me with a question in her eyes, as if I’m privy to information she’s not.
I shrug. “The king shares little with me,” I say, hearing the sour tone in my voice. “Have you any updates on the calf?” I’ve spent enough time thinking about my grumpy betrothed and what might be going through his mind.
Morwen’s mouth thins at the subject change, but she takes it in stride.
“It’s doing as well as can be expected. Hasn’t shown signs of bonding yet, which is making folks nervous.
If it doesn’t find a soulbond, it won’t stay domesticated for long.
Would be a shame to lose it to the wild herd.
” Her words show more concern than her voice does.
The dread and ache that settles in my chest surprises me.
I’ve been mostly worried about the calf not freezing to death.
I never realized there’s a possibility it might leave the stables of its own free will.
After all we did to save it, after all the much-needed hope and joy that spread through the castle, that can’t happen.
It’ll be a blow to morale that this place might never recover from.
“I know you have no interest in joining me,” I say, quickly eating enough of my supper to prevent any coming lectures. “But I’d like to go visit the stables. I haven’t been since everything happened.”
Morwen’s clearly not happy about the choice, but she also doesn’t look surprised at all. “Don’t get upset if they tell you you’re in the way.”
She means well. I think. But with my regular deliveries of scarves and hats for the grooms and stablehands, I’ve never felt unwelcome. I don’t have any knitted things to bring them this time, so I make sure to stop by the kitchens for a basket of treats—both for the staff and the ifrak.
Bundled up in my fleece-lined cloak, offering in hand, I head out to the stables with my trio of guards lagging only a few paces behind.
It’s colder than I remember it being, the wind cutting like knives on my exposed cheeks.
By the time the stables are in sight, there’s frost clinging to my eyelashes and I can’t feel my toes in my boots.
“Your Highness!” Visri calls in greeting, his arms full of feedbags. “Why aren’t you warm in the keep?”
“It’s been too long since I’ve shown my appreciation for the hard work done here,” I say, holding up the basket.
Visri’s eyes widen, his steps quickening as he hurries to set down his load.
“Are any of those gliidberry?” he asks sheepishly, pulling back the cloth covering the treats.
“You think I’d forget your favorite?” I tease, while other grooms gather around, quickly picking the basket clean of its goodies.
Everyone’s in good spirits, which is more than I expected from the way Morwen was talking.
“I was hoping I could visit the calf?” I ask, slipping into old habits.
The mood around me instantly shifts, tension taking the place of camaraderie as the other grooms slowly drift away, focused too intently on their snacks. Visri’s expression is grim, and he glances toward the stable that houses his bonded ifrak.
“I’m not sure Starcaller would let you,” he says.
“She hasn’t been letting anyone close since giving birth.
Not even me,” he adds, the lack of connection clearly weighing on him.
The bond between rider and ifrak isn’t one I fully understand, but I know that it’s deep, like family, or even stronger.
And I couldn’t imagine Phillip turning his back on me, how much it would hurt to still have to see him every day knowing that he wants no comfort from me.
“I’m sure she’ll relax once her baby has found its soulbond, but until then… She’s a little unpredictable.” He forces a bit of brightness into his voice, but there’s no doubt it’s forced, that he’s trying to be positive against the odds.
“I’ve dealt with my fair share of unpredictable,” I say, sidestepping around him. “I’ll keep my distance—”
“Your Majesty, please,” Visri argues, jogging to cut off my path. “The king would have me drawn and quartered if something happened to you here.”
A huff of laughter escapes before I can stop it. “The king would have to notice my absence first,” I joke. “You’ll have more than enough time to flee.”
Visri’s face scrunches, and I immediately regret the dumb joke. Perhaps my fraught relationship with the king isn’t as well-known throughout the castle as I thought.
Whoops.
Using his moment of shock to my advantage, I skirt around Visri and make my way to Starcaller’s stable, humming and clicking as I approach, treats in hand.
“Hey mama, how are you doing?” I coo, letting her have her fill, not getting any closer.
“You’ve been doing such a good job,” I add, clicking and humming to keep her calm.
Despite Visri’s warnings, Starcaller seems entirely unbothered by my presence, even nudging my hand once it’s empty, asking for more treats.
I dig another handful of dried flowers out of the bottom of the basket, holding them out for Starcaller while casually trying to spot her calf.
The ifrak’s velvet-soft nose brushes against my palm while she inhales every crumb she can.
From the indecipherable tangle of fur on her underside, a ball of fluff—already as large as a horse—emerges, toddling toward the stall door, its triplet of swirling eyes focused on me while it makes soft, squeaky clicks trying to imitate its mother.
My heart jumps up to my throat, every part of me desperate to get closer. I don’t dare move, though. I’m scared to breathe too hard for fear I might startle one or the other.
Unlike Starcaller, whose coat is entirely white, the baby is covered in black splotches, its coat much more fluff than wool. It looks impossibly soft, and so cute I want to squeeze it. Keeping my feet firmly planted in place is a test of will like I’ve never had.
“Hello, little one,” I say with a series of soft clicks. “It’s such an honor to meet you. I know you’re new here, but I think if you stick around for a little while, you might start to feel like it’s home.”
Both ifrak are now focused on me, their swirling eyes seeing way more than I can comprehend. It’s not unsettling the way it was at first, though. Now I can almost feel Starcaller telling me it’s okay. Like they’re both eagerly waiting for what I might say next.
I look around the stables, but there’s no one nearby.
Even Visri has busied himself with tasks elsewhere, perhaps hoping for an alibi if I wind up gored on what should have been his watch.
Of course my guards would be blamed, too, all three of them standing outside the stables, warming themselves by a fire instead of staying at my side.
Not that I’m complaining. One of my favorite parts about visiting the stable is that Morwen and my guards all despise it and I have a moment to myself.
“I know it might seem strange,” I continue, talking to the ifrak pair as if they’re old friends.
Ones who will never interrupt or chastise me.
“I felt the same way when I got here, but it grows on you. Nothing’s easy, but it’s rewarding…
most of the time. The king is…difficult.
He cares deeply, but it’s easy to convince yourself he doesn’t like you. ”
Starcaller nudges my hand, looking for more treats with her rough tongue.
I sigh, dumping out everything that’s left.
“Surprisingly, I don’t mind life here all that much.
It’s different, but not altogether bad. I might not be so intent on leaving if not for my brother…
He…” I can’t help but smile even at the thought of him.
“You’d love Phillip. Always smiling, always bringing a spark of joy, a thoughtful gift—the warmest, tightest hugs in the world…
” My voice breaks at that. While I’m here knitting through the winter and feeding treats to adorable fluffballs, my brother is…
What?
Is he still frozen in time in that jail cell?
Has the Dealmaker’s magic worn off, and Phillip is cold and suffering?
Is the Judge torturing him, trying to find out where I’ve gone?
Guilt claws at me, making my throat raw and my eyes sting with tears. I’ve been so selfish, focusing on this world and its problems instead of the person I promised to be there for.
The ifrak calf hums and clicks in its squeaky voice. It cracks through the wall of self-pity I’m building, making me chuckle instead.
“I know, you don’t understand what I’m talking about. It’s nice to be able to talk to someone, though.” Without thinking, I reach out and pat the baby’s nose. A moment too late, I realize what I’ve done and freeze, glancing over to Starcaller, half-expecting her to be poised for a charge.
Instead, she’s in the opposite corner of her stall, circling the same spot before settling down.
Relaxing a hair, I withdraw my hand, my chest aching.
Until now, I didn’t realize how much I needed to talk about these things.
And how much I wish it was Xandril I could share it with.
But I think if I actually tried to talk about the things I’m feeling, he’d run away like I aggravated a hornet’s nest.
At least I’m not entirely alone here. I have Morwen, Visri, and…
Brightstar? I look at the calf, tilting my head to the side.
The name came from nowhere, but I like it.
Whoever manages to bond with the calf will be able to name it what they like, but it won’t hurt anything for me to have a pet name for them in the meantime.
“Will it, Brightstar?” I ask, running my fingers through their soft, fluffy down, my worries and conflicted feelings forgotten for the moment.