Chapter 20 #2
I bent my elbows slowly, managing only the slightest dip before my arms began to shake. I straightened them with a strained grunt.
Again.
And again.
By the fifth, I could barely lower myself an inch, my arms feeling as though they might tear clean from my shoulders.
Segolayne remained entirely unsympathetic. “If you collapse after five again, I’ll be embarrassed for you.”
“I hate you,” I muttered through my teeth.
Segolayne laughed without a trace of remorse. “Good,” she said. “Again.”
The drills blurred together after that.
Running. Squats that left my legs spasming uncontrollably. Endless stance corrections. Lunges. Balance exercises that usually ended with Segolayne shoving me sideways just to prove a point.
By the time she finally called for a rest, every muscle in my body screamed in protest. I collapsed onto my back on the mat, chest heaving.
Segolayne, infuriatingly, looked fresh as ever, her short black hair still sleek, slicing across her jawline.
“You need to strengthen your legs and core,” she tutted. “Right now you’re about as solid as an overcooked noodle.”
“I get it,” I gasped.
Segolayne slid her boots back on, balancing effortlessly on one leg at a time with the poised ease of a heron standing in shallow water.
“I would’ve thought a lifetime spent running from Tharnyx’s undead would’ve left you with more to show for it.”
The words hit harder than the training had. Before I could stop them, the memories surged forward—the stench of the Infection thick in the air, bodies burning outside the strongholds, severed heads rolling through muddy streets, my father—
I shoved the memories back down violently. Kept my expression neutral.
“It was better to hide,” I said evenly, wiping sweat from my face with my forearm. “The Plague-Hunters usually dealt with them for us.”
One of Segolayne’s brows arched with interest.
“Plague-Hunters?”
“Sellswords,” I said, struggling to sit up. I reached for my boots. “Mercenaries hired to protect the strongholds and towns. Coin, lodging, food…” I shrugged tiredly. “Whatever they demanded.”
“What if you had nothing they wanted?”
“Then you died.”
“Hm.” Segolayne tilted her head thoughtfully. “How very enterprising.”
I fixed her with my best death stare as I pushed stiffly to my feet. “So we’re done, then?”
She inclined her head. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”
“Tomorrow morning?” I repeated, aghast. If my muscles ached this badly now, I doubted I’d even be able to stand by then.
“Every day,” she said. “Until Rìan decides otherwise.”
“Wonderful,” I muttered.
“I don’t understand why you find it so dreadful.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I find it rather generous, actually, that he’s taken it upon himself to make you a little less useless.”
“Very generous,” I said dryly.
She gestured for me to walk ahead.
By the time we reached the ornate double doors leading into the royal apartments, my legs were trembling from the walk alone. The doors swung open soundlessly before us, and Segolayne strode inside without waiting for me.
That morning, in the darkness before dawn and in Segolayne’s rush to drag me down to the training chamber, I hadn’t spared the Dark Prince’s quarters more than a passing glance. But stepping into it now, in the full light day, the sheer grandeur of it was nearly breathtaking.
Warm light spilled through towering panes of glass, catching on dark wood, pale stone, and soft woven rugs in muted shades of charcoal, cream, and deep sea blue.
The ceilings rose high overhead, crossed with dark exposed beams. White sheets draped most of the furniture, yet even beneath their coverings, the place was breathtaking.
Rooms unfolded one into the next—an enormous living area large enough to host a gathering, a formal dining room, and hallways branching toward bedchambers and bathing rooms.
Another glass door opened onto a private courtyard.
Moss climbed between weathered stones, and flowering vines crept lazily up the walls.
Segolayne pulled the door open and waved a hand, as though personally inviting inside the cool fragrance of salt, rain, and the stubborn summer blooms that thrived along the wind-beaten coast.
Then she strode through the apartments, catching the dust sheets and stripping them from the furniture one by one.
Beside the picture windows overlooking the sea, a long, low couch emerged beneath its covering, piled high with thick cushions that looked dangerously inviting.
Another sheet fluttered away from a pair of plush armchairs flanking an enormous black stone hearth veined faintly with silver.
At the dining table, she tugged the last linen free before running an assessing finger across the surface.
She held it up to the light, inspecting it for dust. Finding none, she hummed in satisfaction.
“It’s nice to be back,” she said, planting her hands on her hips.
“Does no one find it odd that Rìan’s quarters were reopened just to accommodate me?” I frowned. “What will people think?”
“That Levinica is barking mad. Oh, don’t give me that look,” she waved a hand. “She was the one who suggested it. It’s been empty for three centuries.”
I blinked. “Why doesn't Rìan stay here?”
A slow smile tugged at her mouth. “Why? Were you hoping he would?”
Heat climbed my neck. “Forget I asked.”
She snickered.
I drifted farther into the suite, unable to keep my gaze from wandering. It was curious, really. For all its size and beauty, there was nothing ostentatious about it. No glittering displays of wealth. No statues or gilded ornaments. Nothing to indicate this had once been a royal suite.
Instead, the rooms felt… lived in.
The furnishings were undeniably masculine, all dark polished woods and worn leathers, yet there was a warmth woven through the space that I hadn't expected.
I ran my fingers along the dining table, tracing the shallow scratches and faint ring marks worn into its surface.
Meals had been shared here. Maybe even laughter.
Shelves overflowed with books whose cracked spines and dog-eared pages suggested they'd been read and reread a hundred times over. I pulled one free and flipped it open. The margins were filled with notes, written in a cramped, slanted hand.
I peered down a darkened hallway where no doors stood save for one at the very end, large and imposing, adorned with intricate mother-of-pearl inlay. There was no mistaking whose bedchamber it had once been. I had no desire to see the inside of it.
I heard a door click open and caught a glimpse of Segolayne slipping into the bedchamber beside mine before it swung shut behind her.
A moment later came the sound of running water.
Apparently throwing me around a training mat and insulting me for the better part of the morning had been exhausting enough to warrant a bath.
I rolled my eyes, but continued farther into the suite, a little more relaxed now that I was alone to explore it properly.
The living area opened onto an enormous glass wall overlooking Half Moon Bay. After a moment, I realized the panes folded back entirely, allowing the room to spill onto the terrace beyond.
Gods. The view.
The bay curved below like a crescent of silver-blue glass, fishing boats drifting across its light-flecked waters.
Finally, I returned to my bedroom and peeled off my sweat-soaked clothes, leaving them in a heap on the floor before crossing into the bathing room and sinking straight into the bath. Heat enveloped me, slowly easing the ache from my battered muscles.
If I was being honest with myself, the lesson had been brutal. Humiliating. But had I hated it? Not really.
To my surprise, the exercise had shaken something loose inside me.
The fog of fear and exhaustion that had smothered me since Solmire no longer felt quite so suffocating.
My mind was clear again, no longer dulled by panic and dread.
Thoughts came quickly, one flowing effortlessly into the next instead of dragging through mud.
Even the world around me seemed somehow brighter, every detail thrown into startling focus.
More remarkable still, I didn't even feel the urge to reach for a drink.
I felt awake. Present in my own body again instead of trapped somewhere deep inside myself.
The realization brought the faintest smile to my lips.
I climbed out once my fingers and toes had begun to wrinkle, wrapping myself in one of the fluffy towels stacked nearby.
Idly, I wandered toward the tall wardrobes lining the bedroom wall, their mahogany wood polished to a soft sheen beneath bronze handles.
Perhaps the servants had moved my belongings from the guest chamber.
The moment I pulled one open, the smell hit me like a blow.
His smell.
Leather and spice threaded with something electric, like rain gathering before a storm.
Rìan's clothes. Nothing but Rìan's clothes. Dark jackets hung in perfect rows beside neatly folded shirts, every piece immaculate.
Why were they in my room?
My fingers brushed the sleeve of a long, black coat before I realized what I was doing.
I jerked my hand back as though burned and shoved the wardrobe shut harder than necessary, heat flushing my face despite the fact that no one was there to witness it.
I didn’t need to open the other wardrobes to know there would be nothing there for me.
Tightening the towel around myself, I spun on my heel and stormed from the room, fully intending to pound on Segolayne’s door until someone provided me with actual clothing.
I barely made it three steps into the suite before I stopped short with a gasp, my heart lurching into my throat.
Straight-backed and tense, her gloved hands folded neatly atop the scarred dining table, Levinica sat beside a carefully stacked pile of books.
Waiting for me.