Chapter Twenty-Four
Ingrid
“So it was the discovery of the halemercy meadow and subsequent trade around it that began to reunite the reaches after The Great Fall?” I ask, interrupting Marchioness Drevane in the middle of her history lesson.
I brace myself, waiting for an insult or admonition. At the same time, I hold her gaze, a silent challenge being issued. In the few weeks I’ve been receiving these lessons, I’ve definitely become a better student, but not to the extent that my tutors’ complete turnaround makes any sense.
“Halemercy was an important part in establishing the Blooming Road, but not the sole driver of trade,” Duke Calessevan says, a firm correction delivered with his usual haughtiness, but there’s no sneers or scoffs. There haven’t been for my last couple of lessons.
What could have led to the change of heart?
“It’s just… I’ve looked for more information about halemercy and the meadows, and I can’t find anything? Morwen said if there isn’t any here, there may not be any in all the reaches, so if that’s the case, wouldn’t it be worth re-establishing the trade?”
The marchioness begins to scoff, then conceals it in a cough. “There is none here, Your Highness, because the flower is extinct. Choked out by soulstem. Something that any child of the reach would—”
“Ysenna,” the duke says in a warning tone.
Marchioness Drevane clears her throat. “If you’ll excuse me,” she practically hisses, dipping her head toward me before leaving the room in a hurry.
“I believe that is enough for today,” the duke says, the hard set of his jaw belying his easy posture.
I don’t have to be told twice. Scooping up my study materials, I scamper out of the twisting tower before even my guards notice I’m on the move.
It’s been more than a week since my lessons have brought me to tears, but that doesn’t mean I want to spend longer than necessary in that terrible classroom.
What I really want to do is see Xandril again.
I haven’t bothered him since our dinner in the war room.
After hearing about all the troubles he’s tasked to solve, I can’t imagine he has a second to spare for me.
Dinner that night wasn’t exactly what I expected, but in a way, it was better.
I saw a side of Xandril that I never expected him to show me.
Something on the other side of his thorny walls, where there’s a tender-hearted demon who cares so deeply for his homeland and will do anything to save it.
I’m no stranger to that kind of love and sacrifice.
Xandril feels about the reach the way I do about Phillip, and whether he knows it or not, the demon king is a large part of why my brother’s life will be spared.
Without Xandril and his deal with Anumar, I wouldn’t be here, I would have had no value to the Dealmaker worthy of the bargain I required. Phillip would be…
I can’t finish the thought, but I follow it long enough to reach the conclusion I’ve been dancing around since my first day in the demon realm: I have to do what I can to help here. It’s only right.
And that means not letting Xandril deal with the Iron issues alone.
Asking around about the king’s whereabouts leads me to the training grounds, barely able to contain my smile as I climb to the ramparts with my guards.
The sound of steel on stone unravels my last bit of restraint, and by the time I’m able to see over the railing of the guard tower down into the fight, I’m already grinning ear-to-ear.
Xandril’s stance is wide, knees bent and claws at the ready while three—no, four—other demons surround him with weapons drawn.
The scorched and scratched ground tells the story of a battle that’s not been kind to any of them, and I notice that more than one of the demons on the battlefield is breathing hard, a few are bleeding, and all are sweating despite the winter air.
One of Xandril’s opponents charges, then another.
He seems to anticipate their moves, stepping out of the way of one and lowering his head like a charging bull, ramming into the second and sending them sailing over his back, spikes leaving deep furrows in the other demon’s armor before they hit the ground.
He straightens just in time to turn into another blow, blocking it with the spikes on his shoulders.
It’s incredible to watch. For someone so large, he moves with such sure footing, out-maneuvering even those half his size.
I guess there’s something to be said for never being able to remove one’s armor.
Xandril’s lack of armor—or anything at all from the waist up—gives me an uninhibited view of his honed muscles, how they bunch and flex, how the heat inside him flares and wanes as he navigates the fight.
I could have watched this from my spinning room, could have enjoyed the show without my guards pressing in on all sides of me, but then I wouldn’t have had the pleasure of hearing the blades scrape along his impenetrable shoulders or the thrilling sounds he makes when thrusting forward with his own weapon.
Even I am feeling the fight’s intensity, lowering my hood to cool the sweat beading along my hairline.
Down below, Xandril stumbles, for a moment looking up toward me.
Too long a moment, actually. His lapse is quickly pounced on, and the gang of guards takes him down like a pack of wolves after an elk.
Expecting to see the earth around him steam, his heat glowing, I’m surprised to watch Xandril stand and graciously congratulate the guards while brushing off snow and dirt. He looks back up toward the guard tower where I am, pinning me with that fiery gaze as he approaches.
“That was an impressive display, Your Highness,” I say when he reaches the ramparts, my guards quickly scattering to leave us alone.
“I lost.”
I shrug. “Even so, one against four, you gave them a challenge—I thought Captain Hilduin said you distract them?”
His eyes are the only part of him that flares, but those burning coals could singe right through me. “Curiously, she’s designed some exercises I can assist with. You wouldn’t have had anything to do with that, would you?”
“I’m not sure I know what you’re implying, Your Majesty,” I say, still utterly failing to keep my smile tucked away. Damn. There goes any plausible deniability.
“Is that not why you’ve found yourself here?” he asks. The deep rumble in his voice and the heat coming off of him together are enough to make my cloak wholly unnecessary.
“Is it not reason enough to want to watch my betrothed display his considerable skills?” I tease.
He says nothing, only raising his brows, skepticism on full display.
“My lessons finished early and I hoped we might find the chance to dine together again.”
“I’d like that,” he says, a softness in his voice I don’t think I’ve ever heard before. “How have your lessons been? Have they…improved since we last talked?”
Shattered realms, I’ve been an oblivious fool.
“They have, in fact. You wouldn’t have had anything to do with that, would you?” I ask, tossing his own accusation back at him.
He doesn’t outright admit it, but his inability to look straight at me after I ask is admission enough. I didn’t have to tell him my tutors were bullying me for him to fix the problem right under my nose.
I don’t even know how to react. I’ve never had anyone fix things for me.
It’s always been the other way around. It’s always been the needs of everyone else before my own.
And now here’s Xandril, every bit as competent and capable as I am, every bit as stubborn to right the wrongs he sees in the lives of those around him…
and every bit as derelict in caring for himself.
It’s a mirror I’m not prepared to have held up to me, and I’m not sure he’s even aware it’s in his hands.
His big, strong hands. Work-roughened, practiced and skilled, and still gentle enough to help deliver a newborn back to life from the brink.
The moment I let my eyes drift to his hand, it’s too late. I don’t have a chance to stop myself before I’m slipping my fingers into the spaces between his, tugging him toward the stairs.
“Come on, there’s someone I want you to meet.”