Chapter Two
There is a battering freshness to the air outside as I fumble my way down the steps that stream down from the mouth of the stone castle, all dress and no grace.
My lady’s maid, Lillienne, trails behind me.
Her cheeks are flushed with nerves, and every few steps her feet catch on the hem of her dress, almost sending her tumbling into me.
She’s bound to be struggling to adjust to life at court too, with her life uprooted from the countryside just as mine was.
Her father is the Duke of Oberle, and it was seen as the highest possible honour that the King of Reyhen himself chose the youngest daughter of the Duke to be my lady’s maid and companion.
Neither of us know whether it was purely by forced proximity, or through true connection, but we instantly became like sisters, creating our own unique definition for the word family.
My heart aches when I think of the simplicity of our slow life in the countryside, how we used to lie on our backs in the endless grass fields and giggle about pranking our governess with spiders in her shoes.
All the boys we’d smiled at playfully in the village, with all the blushing giddiness of girlhood flushing our cheeks and making the rest of the world just an occasional dream in a thousand nights of our adolescent bubble of innocence.
I roll my eyes at her as she catches up to me and links her arm with mine. Her smile is the biggest comfort of all, and I instantly wash over with a familiar calm as it reaches her earnest eyes of blue.
‘On a scale of one to lets-run-off-into-the-emptiness-of-the-mainland, how are we doing?’ she asks, her voice airy, like she’s almost out of breath, most likely from running about all morning, fixing last minute arrangements for today’s festivities.
‘Hmmm.’ I feign deep thought. ‘I would have to say about a seven. I would like to postpone today’s events for at least another century, but I’m not exactly desperate enough to escape to any barren wastelands just yet.’
‘Oh yes, because another hundred years of your whining about duty and the futility of your existence as a noble sounds much more enjoyable than a day of stuffing our faces with decadent treats and laughing at the duchess of Straek trying to keep her husband and her lover separate all day.’ She giggles to herself with a genuine excitement.
I guess she’s adjusting much better than I thought.
At least one of us is successfully finding the joy in being chained to this castle for all eternity. Her gentle optimism sparks a crackling flame of guilt within me, as I have yet to match her effort in finding contentment here.
I pull the muscles of my face into something that at least resembles a smile, albeit somewhat strained.
‘I suppose I could allow myself to enjoy one piece of cook’s infamous cinnamon walnut sponge,’ I say, shaking my head at how easily she pulls me out of my moping spells. ‘I think I was seven the last time I had some.’
As we near the bottom of the stairs, where the huge stone steps melt into the sea of gravel that covers the expanse of ground to the front of the palace, flowing out in a river of road that floods the vibrant green of the royal gardens, I see the ultimate sign of royalty.
A Pegasus. Or rather, two of them.
How odd they look with their sleek feathered wings held tight against their backs, and their hooves planted firmly into the crunching gravel.
Squint, and they might be mistaken for a regular horse; an equestrian creature much more ordinary yet infinitely more rare in this part of the world.
There are certainly no horses on the isle of Valtayre.
As I approach the carriage, hearing the impatient chuffs of the two Pegasi hitched, I think of wild horses, stumbling through the charred rocky terrain of the mainland Attanae, where food is scarce due to lack of active vegetation, and the nights cold, relentless and bleak.
Perhaps there is no life left on Attanae at all.
The gods know we haven’t dared venture that far from the safety and predictability of our half of the isle in forever; and I doubt there’s been any Umbrians breaking loose from their shadows to embark on a nautical adventure across the Silver Sea in any recent years.
I plant my right foot firmly on the golden step to the carriage and haul myself upwards using the frame of the doorway to boost myself up.
Lillienne follows, crouched but almost bumping her head on the top of the carriage before dropping her weight down on the bench opposite to me, the tips of our shoes kissing in the cramped space between us.
She exhales like she’s never sat down in her life, a strand of her fair hair falling into her face, her gaze trailing the carriage’s lavish interior with slightly narrowed eyes.
‘You’d think the Royal carriage would be a little more ornate,’ she jokes, leaning back. ‘And infinitely more spacious.’ She gives the side of my foot a light-hearted knock with hers.
‘Yeah, well. I’m not exactly Queen,’ I say, smirking in jest.
‘You’re still the princess,’ she counters. ‘And today you will officially become a member of court.’
I shrug, my lips puckered nonchalantly. ‘I could still decide to flee as soon at the carriage reaches the Cathedral,’ I tease. ‘I might not even bother waiting until we come to a full stop, seeing as I’ve always wished to indulge in the dramatics of throwing myself out of a moving carriage.’
I look out the curtained window, confirming to myself that we are indeed being walked to our destination, seeing as we’re barely venturing from the castle grounds. As much as I want today to be over, I don’t quite fancy plummeting to my death in order to speed things up.
Lillienne doesn’t reply, she too, staring out the window to her left, her head lightly bobbing with the sway of the carriage as we move, her fingers fidgeting in her lap as she contemplates something.
‘Come on,’ I say, knowing exactly where her train of thought is taking her. ‘Out with it.’
Lillienne doesn’t hesitate to oblige. ‘Aren’t you scared the king will actually turn up?’ she spews out. ‘I mean we’re not exactly prepared to fight off any demons of darkness in these corsets.’
I sigh, secretly relieved I do not have to tell her myself. ‘Who told you?’
‘Morven may or may not have done a little snooping in my honour.’ She sucks her cheeks into her mouth and looks anywhere but my face. ‘You aren’t usually so secretive, Eira.’
There wasn’t any real reason why I didn’t tell Lillienne about the letter, apart from the fact that I didn’t want to worry her. Maybe a small, shoved-down part of me knew there was a dangerous chance the words in the letter were true, and the reality of it is petrifying, to say the least.
‘It wasn’t a conscious decision not to tell you. Today is a day of duty,’ I reply diplomatically. ‘And I honestly doubt the King of Umbra would send a letter notifying me of his intentions to murder me and sacrifice the advantage of a surprise attack in doing so.’
Lillienne raises her brows quizzically, not believing a word, which is fair considering I myself struggle to believe the words as they leave my lips.
Thinking of my earlier conversation with my mother and how truly terrified she had been to find his letter in my room, I can’t help but feel like I should be afraid of what might happen today.
If he does attend. And Lillienne deserves my honesty, so she can at least prepare mentally for whatever the day might bring.
‘I’m shitting it.’ I slump. ‘To be frank.’
Lillienne smiles softly. ‘Well, Frank, the feeling is most definitely shared.’ She mirrors my action, leaning further back into the bench.
‘I have had a nervous stomach-ache all morning. And the thought of him appearing here leaves me alarmingly close to actually shitting it,’ she imparts, unashamed.
I let out a childish giggle, her blasé tone aiding in suppressing my nerves. My muscles relax at the how natural it is, to laugh with my best friend, something I was worried I would miss out on once we were sent back to court.
‘I think your stomach-ache has less to do with the potential appearance of the dark Umbrian king, and more to do with the four liqueur coffees I saw you put away this morning.’
‘It calms my nerves,’ she admits in defeat, smirking to herself at having been caught. ‘I am a much more enjoyable person with the alcohol in my system, and the caffeine is an added boost.’
‘You should’ve sent some my way,’ I joke. ‘The gods know I am not a very likable person today.’
‘Hey!’ Lillienne kicks at my foot again. ‘You’re still you today. My best friend and biggest annoyance. You’ll just also happen to be an active member of the most powerful court in the history of the universe,’ she says in hyperbole, taking a pause before continuing. ‘That, changes nothing.’
I smile at her sweetly, half in jest, half out of genuine love for her innocent optimism.
Because it most definitely changes everything.
The streets are alive with the bustle of excitement as it intermingles with the sounds of everyday life.
We pass by the markets, where merchants shout enticing deals and the smells of fresh bread and produce swirl through the air.
People wave to us as we pass, and children race alongside us, trying to keep up, a few almost colliding with a farmer and his Olca, a large bovine creature that could very much impale those children with one sharp turn of his horned head.
The carriage comes to a steady halt as we approach the entrance of the Cathedral, its large stone steps filled with the citizens of Grange.
‘Your mother was terribly worried you’d forget this,’ Lillienne says, throwing me a mesh veil of gold. My image to be hidden until after the ceremony. A tradition I have never quite understood.
‘I was hoping I could get away with leaving it behind,’ I laugh as I place it over my head, the harsh fabric scratching at my nose as it rests on my skin.
‘Get out there, Princess. Your kingdom awaits.’ Lillienne grins.
I exhale. There is no going back now. Everything begins now, the moment I step out of this carriage.
Up until this point, we have lived a simple life, untouched by fear or worry.
No responsibility, no expectations. Just Lillienne and I, running free like wild girls untamed by wealth or rank.
After today, we will never be those girls again, and the thought brings up bile in my throat.
A footman appears with an outstretched hand to steady me as I set my foot down into the street, cheers and applause rising in the air as I bow my head to onlookers.
My subjects.
They line the steps to the entrance of the Cathedral, some falling to their knees as I pass by, clutching their hearts and weeping words of praise.
Women hold their young children out for me to see, hoping that their child might be blessed with the touch of a Reyheni initiate.
Lillienne tails me, keeping the appropriate distance that her position of Lady’s maid demands, and two castle guards guide me to the gaping mouth of the Cathedral’s arched doorway.
Something tugs at the veil as it hangs over my face, like the insistent pull of a stiff wind. I bring up a hand to hold it in place, to avoid a premature reveal, but something catches my wrist. Fingers clamped until my skin twists beneath them.
‘You should be ashamed of yourself!’ the owner of the hand shouts as he is ripped from me by the guards and restrained. He spits through gritted teeth. ‘This is all a disgusting display of superiority. You do not care for us.’
I stumble backwards, my breath stuttering in my chest. The man can be no older than I, sweat adhering his dark hair to his forehead, his eyes pleading, his skin paled to a greyish hue.
For what it is worth, it doesn’t look as though he has anyone to care for him at all.
The guards pull his arms behind his back, and he writhes in their grip. ‘She’s a fraud!’
The guard to his right slams a fist in his side, winding him. The man wheezes.
‘Unhand him. Our people should be afforded the right to speak freely of their opinions.’ I cannot help but look at his clothes, his breeches dirtied with mud, his white shirt turned grey with ash. ‘For how else are we to know what they seek our help for?’
The guards make no move to let him go, but my words seemed to have only angered the man further.
He screams as he yanks free one arm and extends it out in front of him, fingers tightening in a grabbing motion.
My veil is tugged upon once again, only this time, it snakes around my neck and tightens, constricting my throat.
I choke out, clutching at the veil in the hopes that I can pull it free from me.
Oh gods above, this is how it ends, before it has begun at all. I am going to die here, on sacred grounds, strangled by a ridiculous scrap of fabric, that I am only wearing because my mother demanded it.
Lillienne crashes to my side, fingers scrambling to tug the mesh free from the Relic’s power, as the man wills it to. But before she can make any real difference, the veil loosens, the man brought to his knees with one blow to the head by the guard to his left.
‘Eira, we have to get inside.’ Lillienne takes me by my shoulders and tries to direct me up the remaining few stairs, my legs weak and wavering as I try to follow her instruction.
‘Bitch!’ the man screams out to me as though I was the one to issue the blow directly. ‘Burn in hell!’
Another punch, this time to the throat.
Lillienne half drags me up the stairs, but I cannot bear to tear my eyes from the man as they begin to beat him, feeling awfully like I deserve to watch as punishment for how he felt towards me.
Because, it sounds as though he does not feel the benefits of our kingdom’s wealth – and that is exactly what I was afraid to be the case.
I almost fall over the threshold of the Cathedral, regaining my balance before one final glance over my shoulder at the man as the doors close, on his knees as though in prayer, staring at me through the tears that stream from his eyes.
His mouth seems to beg, ‘please,’ just as a sword is brought up above his head.
I turn my head away before I hear the sound of metal meeting flesh, and the definitive thud of a pleading man meeting his end.
My mother has a lot to answer for.