Chapter 15 Astrid #2
“Me, too. But we’re doing everything we can to help. It’ll be okay.” Her mum links her arm in Astrid’s and guides her inside, Jessa relieving Fionn from guard duty before following with the familiars. “How was training?”
“Pretty good, actually,” Astrid says, even if she doesn’t fully believe it.
She doesn’t want to add to those worry lines on her mother’s forehead.
“Mum? It is going to be okay. I’ll make sure of it.
” And she will. She’ll win the duel and bring the Heart back to Arturea—she will be a descendant worthy of Nyx. Or try to be, anyway.
Thinking of Nyx reminds her of the tapestry, of those strange details. “Did you know Nyx had a mate?”
Her mum frowns at the abrupt change in subject. “He didn’t. He and Kira weren’t mated.”
“No. No, I didn’t think they were.” She supposes it might not be true; one tapestry showing him with a mate mark does not a robust historical fact make.
“Where did you get that idea?”
“Nowhere—just something I saw. A tapestry around the castle,” she adds at her mum’s quizzical look.
“Oh? I’d like to see that.”
There’s not a chance in Hel she’s going to tell her mother where it is. “I can’t even remember where I saw it—everything has been such a blur. He had a wand in it, too.”
“Did he really?” Gwen is very interested in that. “I’ve not heard of that before, either.”
As Astrid thought—obviously just artistic license, then. But still, she can’t help thinking of the date the tapestry was made. That the weaver had lived at the same time as Nyx and Aeloria, and there were so few records from that time. Which Astrid had always thought strange, as had her father.
An explosion of noise comes from the mezzanine above them, and Astrid’s heart skips.
Bjorn rises to his hind legs, Quincy leaping next to him to face any threat; but the ruckus, it turns out, is not yet another assassination attempt—it’s the Vatran heir.
Her voice is a shriek as she demands that the blond man, Axel—who is currently dragging her along behind him, his face lit up with fury—take his hands off her.
A gaggle of Dreki follows them, Zryan at the rear.
“What in Sqa?i’s name is going on there?” Jessa asks.
“He looks like he’s about to kill her,” Astrid murmurs.
They all watch as Skylar is pulled through another set of doors, her shouts gradually fading. The prince glances down at them, says something to one of the Dreki, then evaporates.
“She’s a Hel-damned wildcat, that one,” Jessa says. “Don’t let her near you in the duel. Fire a vial and end it quickly.”
“You and your vials.” Zryan’s voice comes from directly behind her, and she nearly leaps out of her skin.
She turns and her words get stuck in her throat.
He’s wearing a sleeveless black shirt, showing off his powerfully built arms, deeply tanned and glistening with perspiration.
His right arm is covered in burn scars from the wrist all the way up to his shoulder, disappearing under his clothes.
Goddess, he is something else. And she really needs to stop gawping.
Enemy, she chides herself. He told you he needed you dead.
“Stars, can you not keep popping up out of nowhere?” Jessa and her mum stare at her, at her familiarity with him, and Zryan’s eyes spark with delight.
Astrid considers stamping on his foot, given the satisfaction it brought her last time, but then his gaze begins to coast over her body, taking in her bare stomach and legs, and she freezes.
There’s an altogether darker look on his face now that Astrid can’t quite parse.
“Oh, but where’s the fun in that?” He moves closer, so close she’s hit with that scent of oceans again.
It’s wild and utterly divine, which is deeply unfair, as she must smell like old damp flannel.
Jessa shifts next to her, and Zryan doesn’t miss the movement.
“She’s right, you know. If my big sister gets her hands on you, she’ll tear you to shreds through the power of sheer spite. ”
“It’s understandable she’s feeling angry. I would be, too, if I’d discovered I was related to you.”
Zryan gives a sly smile. “Yes, but you’d be mad for a very different reason.
” Jessa almost chokes next to her. Astrid opens her mouth, but he cuts across her, eyeing Quincy and Bjorn.
“I’ve only ever noticed two familiars among the three of you, and I’ve been wondering what the missing one might be.
” He slides his focus to Astrid, that quirk of his lips telling her he knows full well Quincy isn’t hers.
She grips the familiar’s fur and he presses in against her.
“Can we help you, Prince Zryan?” her mother interrupts, her harsh Vatran jarring after listening to Zryan’s melodic tones. No, not melodic. Goddess, get a grip, Astrid.
“What did she do?” Astrid asks quickly. “Axel looked about ready to murder her, and I’d like to know if I’m going to drop dead.”
Zryan considers her, and she’s pleased to note he’s struggling to keep his eyes only on her face. “She tried to break into my father’s office.”
“What?” Jessa bursts out. That explains why the king canceled dinner, then.
“Indeed,” he replies, though he doesn’t break eye contact with Astrid. “Good to see you’ve acclimatized to the Vatran weather.” His eyes flick down to her body, and her face heats. “This outfit suits you better than the cloak.”
With that, he disappears into nothing.
Astrid’s skin must be flaming red, and her mum and Jessa both turn on her, but before they can interrogate Astrid, she says, “He’s figured out about Quincy.”
“You don’t say,” Jessa drawls. “I’d like to know how.”
Because he’s smart, Astrid wants to reply, but that’ll only lead to more awkward questions.
Jessa and her mum start talking over each other, but Astrid tunes them out.
Zryan may have cottoned on that Quincy isn’t hers, but he shared something altogether more interesting.
Skylar tried to break into the king’s office.
The king’s office, where he’d keep all sorts of private and confidential information, maybe even the books that are missing from the library.
Perhaps news on the Heart, or the Blight.
By the time she makes it back to her room, she’s come to a decision. She has a proposition to make to the Vatran heir.