Chapter 40
The Pell
“Rumor has it that several of society’s elite will be arriving in Eiden within the coming days. Merchants and hosts are advised to prepare their establishments accordingly.”
— The Castivian Chronicle, most recent issue
I didn’t bother picking out a dress in the morning, though I was sad to pass up several of my new ones.
Instead, I dressed practically, in a long-sleeved black shirt with matching pants and boots, and tied my hair back in a lousy bun.
Singer and the orb were clipped at each hip.
Leaving them behind wasn’t a mistake I would make again.
Slipping out of the house at dawn, cool morning air and salt from the sea filled my nose.
The longer I lived in Castivian, the more it smelled like home.
I held onto that feeling, letting it fester into hope.
I never wanted to breathe in the death and decay of the Waywards again, and if we won the war to come, I’d never have to.
Nodding to the Blademan posted outside the house, I took off down the street in a quiet jog. I despised running, but I would give everything to never see the disappointment in the eyes of Xavian, Riven, or Lady Jocelynn ever again.
In the evening, all the lords in Castivian would arrive in the capital to attend Xavian’s meeting.
My betrothed included. I was equally as nervous as I was intrigued to be introduced to him.
Navigating my relationship with Riven would be the most challenging part; surely my betrothed had his own baggage to be attended to as well.
Political marriages were common. There was nothing to get worked up about.
While I had no actual destination, I kept jogging, letting my mind wander free.
I ran when I could and walked when I couldn’t.
My chest burned, but I knew once I’d gone far enough, I would have no choice but to run the whole way back.
Determination, anger, and resentment towards myself was the only fuel I needed.
When I finally made it back home, breakfast was being prepared by Juni, one of the cooks. She smiled at me, far more energetic than I was.
“Oh good, at least one of you will be eating. Your brother already went to the training grounds. Must have a lot of energy to get out before the big meeting!” she beamed, brushing dough with butter.
I needed to get to the training grounds too, but didn’t want to disappoint Juni by rushing off. She’d been working so hard on this meal.
“Thank you for preparing food this early. Can I help with anything?”
She laughed herself damn near to tears and adamantly refused. Everyone seemed to be keeping me away from the kitchen ever since I’d made a foul-smelling, overcooked soup a few days ago.
As she finished preparing breakfast, I sat at the dining room table, mindlessly studying a map of Castivian. Hopefully, the pieces would click into place.
Once the food was ready, I invited Juni to join me at the table, but she, of course, declined. Picking up my plate, I excused myself to the ocean-facing terrace, barely making it to the table before scarfing down a flaky croissant.
Sitting outside was bittersweet. Lady Jocelynn hadn’t invited me to tea overlooking the training grounds like she usually would. She’d probably be uninterested in my company for several days, if not longer. Whether or not she was involved in the meeting later, I wasn’t sure.
All I knew was it would begin an hour before sundown at the House of Sterling, in the same meeting hall where members of the brotherhood were initiated.
Lady Jocelynn had told me plenty about it. It was the oldest room in the kingdom, built by the first bastard to ever rule. The rest of the House of Sterling had been constructed around it.
After breakfast, I went straight to the training grounds, ignoring blank stares as I crossed the yard wearing pants instead of my usual dresses.
Riven had a new group of initiates, so I did my best not to draw his attention. I passed quietly by, then past another practicing group, not bothering to join them. Instead, I went to the far back corner where the children fought ferociously one another with wooden pells.
As I approached the small group, they turned their attention to me, scrunching their noses up in the sunlight.
“Are we in trouble?” one asked, his pell dropping to the ground.
I shook my head, pushed my pride aside and grabbed a small pell of my own out of the barrel.
“I’m quite bad at using these,” I admitted, waving the training stick around. “I was hoping you all could teach me what you know.”
The four children were tickled pink, and took the task at hand with the utmost seriousness and diligence.
A boy named Ryder, the eldest of them, instructed me to hold the pell above my head while running a lap around the training grounds. I was hesitant until Kyla, the youngest, insisted she would go with me.
“There is no shame in runnin’ like a war-ri-or,” she said proudly.
Warrior.
I winced at the word. Sitara had wished every day for a warrior. The woodland village had claimed me to be one.
“You’re right,” I said. “Let’s go run our lap.”
Kyla couldn’t have been older than six, but she did exactly as we were instructed. With little black bangs and pigtails frolicking around her face, she ran next to me with her pell held high above her head.
When she started to tire, I slowed with her, but that was no good to Kyla.
“No,” she demanded. “We speed up, not slow down. Just like the boys do.”
I ran at her pace, which was surprisingly fast. With shaking arms and red faces, we made it back to our corner of the training grounds, ready for another task.
There was a twinkle in Kyla’s eyes as she set down her pell and stretched her arms out. A literal twinkle, like a star chasing the moon.
She was a Nightcastor.
Not all of them had it, but it was a telling sign they used their Nature often.
She would certainly be impressive one day, assuming she kept up her training and continued working on skills outside of her Nature. Combining the two would make her a force to be reckoned with.
I wished I wasn’t starting so late, but thankfully, I had help, even if it came from adolescents.
As the rest of the children finished their laps, Ryder began instructing us on wielding a sword—well, pell. We all stood there, me with twice the height of little Kyla, holding our practice swords as the oldest child went over the rules.
“So, uh, what my father says is that you have to hold tight to your weapon, so it doesn’t go fallin’ on the damn floor,” Ryder recalled.
I held back a smile. The other children admired Ryder like a victorious leader, though he couldn’t have been older than twelve. Even so, he had our small group pair up and begin practicing against each other. I partnered with Kyla.
She boldly smiled. “The biggest versus the smallest. That is cool,” she declared, holding her pell firmly.
“Begin!” Ryder called.
Kyla was fast and fiery with her attacks, forcing me to work up a sweat just to keep up with her. Despite her being a child, the spar was challenging, but not hopelessly impossible. It was a starting point that I’d desperately needed.
“I have something I know,” Kyla chirped.
I parried. “What do you mean?”
“You asked us to teach you what we know, and I know something.”
I suppose I had said that.
“Well, go on then,” I said, out of breath. She was tiring too, her chest rising and falling heavily and face blazing red.
Kyla hit my pell, blocking me efficiently. “Sometimes, biting works.”
“Biting?”
“Mhm. In fights with boys, sometimes I’ve won by biting them.”
I winced at the memory of tasting Payn’s flesh. “Oh, okay. Thank you.”
The other children sporadically gave me tips as we switched partners. From ‘in a tussle, turn your head in the direction you want to go,’ to ‘if you spit, they get distracted for a second.’
I caught Riven watching me with the children a few times, but he never walked over to judge or question it. He minded his own training groups, leaving me be.
Several hours went by before Xavian graced me with his brotherly presence.
“Elora,” he called out, walking over. His black suit was polished beyond his usual attire.
The top was decorated with a silver ruler's pin on the left side of his chest, with matching buttons going down the middle. His curly dark hair was groomed neatly behind his ears, and he’d even trimmed his beard.
“What do you need?” I wasn’t done training yet, if that was what he was going to ask.
“We have a meeting in a few hours.”
The cloud-scattered skies overhead weren’t becoming dark yet, just a bit overcast as the afternoon settled in. I still had time.
“I remember the meeting,” I assured him.
“Then remember how to get ready for it.”
“Excuse me?”
“We’re busy!” Kyla yelled.
I whipped around.
Was she not aware Xavian was the king? Back in Drakington, we couldn’t speak to the Draker’s like that, much less a king. I would have to explain to Xavian that she was young and didn’t understand. I could teach Kyla the proper—
“Your mother is going to want you home soon as well, Kylarove. We have company this evening,” Xavian said, giving her a stern look.
I took a meaningful glance at Kyla, honing in on her brown eyes and the little shadows around her ankles.
She was a spawn of Lady Jocelynn. She’d probably known Xavian her whole life, like an uncle.
“Nooooo,” she whined.
“Yesssss,” Xavian mimicked.
Kyla glared defiantly. “No.”
With that, she disappeared, shadows coiling where she had been. I held in a laugh as the grass softened where her steps trailed straight out of the training grounds. She had more control over her Nature than most of the adult Nightcastors back in the Waywards.
Xavian shook his head. “Are you going to run off with your new friend, or go home and get dressed?”
I shrugged, as my training partner was long gone. “I still have a few hours.”
“So use them to get ready. Mentally. Physically. We need to be every bit of what this kingdom represents when the lords step into the House of Sterling.”
“What do we represent?”
I squinted as the sun peeked out from behind a cloud, nearly blinding me. Xavian was so kind as to step in the path of light, casting a shadow over me.
“Strength. Tonight we show that our bloodline is an unyielding force, and will continue to be for ages to come. There will be no option but to follow us through the storm against the blood bathers and the Nature blamers.”