Chapter 18
Isca
The sunny day had warmed the library, making it cozy enough that a fire wasn’t necessary. I stared at the abandoned chess set sitting in one corner, waiting for Emrys longer than I cared to admit, pretending I wasn’t annoyed.
The wait gave me far too much time to think about the dark prince of Darreth.
Too often, my thoughts ventured into dangerous places when it came to him.
Something about him made me feel like I was standing at the edge of one of the two rivers surrounding Caervorn on a sweltering day, knowing the current could drag me under, yet feeling my feet inch toward the water anyway.
His pull was undeniable, even as every rational part of me screamed to step back, stay away.
The only thing I cared about was what I could gain from this interaction.
He was my target to calm. Nothing more. More comfortable lies among many I already told myself when it came to everything about my mission here.
I forced myself to focus on my duty, trying to silence the other thoughts about him that buzzed relentlessly in my head.
I stood and began perusing the shelves. If I had to wait, I could at least try to understand more about this kingdom. Knowledge was power, and I had far too little power. But I could get knowledge.
My fingers trailed down the pages of a book titled A History of the Northern Lords of Darreth.
I’d read the same sentence twice, distracted by the sunlight filtering in through the windows.
I needed to learn about what might be happening in the north, but heavy reading wasn’t distraction enough today.
Cubbyholes for scrolls lined one corner of the room. That might be a good place to start. Beneath each cubby, etched bronze plaques displayed the contents of the scrolls. The largest one caught my eye: Architectural Plans.
Curious, I tugged it free. Nisien hadn’t said anything was off limits. The parchment was old, crisp at the edges, but still intact. I carried it to the table and unrolled it, anchoring the corners with the chunks of granite left there for exactly that purpose.
A map of the castle unfolded beneath my fingers, rendered in exquisite detail. Every corridor, every beam, every courtyard was marked in dark, purposeful ink. I leaned in, tracing lines with a fingertip, enchanted by the artistry on display.
The dates along the margin showed that the scroll had been copied four times across nearly four centuries.
The original plans were ancient. I sat in a place that was a piece of history.
It had stood while Avanfell’s empire still reigned, while the heroes of tales walked across the land of the living.
I studied the plan until a dull ache settled between my brows, my eyes straining against the careful lines and measurements. The sloped terrain beyond the battlements was an example of exquisite architecture, designed for brutality.
I leaned in, squinting at the tiny script there until I could just make out the word: glacis.
My father had explained the strategy for these strange slopes around castles.
The ground was deliberately angled to create a vast killing field.
Any enemy foolish enough to approach would find themselves exposed on that barren slope, with nowhere to shelter from the rain of arrows descending from above.
But I’d noticed a problem on the western glacis earlier while walking with Catrin, where the plans did not match reality. One section of the foundation and ground beneath seemed to sag slightly just below where I’d seen the gaping hole in the roof.
I was still bent over the scroll when my body tensed, and every nerve lit up.
Him. I knew it was him from that particular stillness he carried that could feel too cold and yet too hot all at once.
It was like the pause between heartbeats, always there, wholly necessary for life, but never receiving the attention it deserved.
“Why are you reading that?” I’d heard so little of Emrys’s voice since arriving that its depth surprised me.
Finally. I didn’t look up. Just gestured vaguely toward the cubbies. “It wasn’t hidden.”
I could be nonchalant too.
He stepped closer. His eyes skimmed the plans like they were familiar, but I was far too aware of the heat radiating off him, the faint brush of his sleeve against mine, and the way my own breath felt suddenly shallow.
“I haven’t seen this in years,” he murmured.
“I noticed a problem.” I pointed to the western wall—a handy distraction. “There’s a hole in the roof above this section, and here,” I traced the slope again, “the glacis is sagging. Probably erosion from water getting in.”
“You seem awfully interested in my walls.”
It sounded temptingly close to a joke.
“Both types,” I said, smiling, “but only the stone and mortar one is showing signs of weakness right now…unfortunately.”
For a long moment, Emrys regarded me with a sidelong glance. I worried I’d misread him, but his scarred lips sent me a half-smirk before he refocused on the plans.
His hand moved close enough to nearly brush mine and hovered there. Neither of us visibly reacted, but our magic touching charged the space between us with vibrations that niggled at my sixth sense like a million tiny wings beating the air.
As if he’d felt the same charge and was already trying to avoid it, Emrys moved away quickly, dropping into the chair on the other side of the table with a soft sigh. He was guarded again, but for once he wasn’t rigid. I hadn’t yet seen him so physically at ease.
“People walk past that slope a dozen times a day,” he eventually said, eyes stubbornly focused on the plans. “They haven’t mentioned it.”
I hesitated but spoke the truth anyway. “Maybe they just haven’t mentioned it to you.”
That made him pause. His eyes found mine, and for a heartbeat, he looked a bit guilty. “That area’s been damaged for nearly a year now.” A bitter note crept into his voice. “But we hadn’t thought of problems with the land underneath the structure.”
Buoyed by his surprisingly normal tone, a welcome change, I explained.
“I’m not an expert, but this seems like it could become a serious issue.
Years ago in Caervorn, a building with a family inside was swallowed by a failing riverbank.
Now the Assembly sends an ice mage out to shore up the banks of the river every time high rains come.
” The memory was still terrifying. I didn’t want something like that happening here.
“If it collapses here, with that steep slope…” His gaze didn’t leave mine. He tapped the map, slower this time. “We could lose the entire wing.”
Even if I couldn’t read him, it felt like Emrys was doing more than just hearing me; he was with me in that rare and precious way that makes a person feel seen.
“And how would you fix it?” He leaned in, shoulder brushing my arm, his breath a whisper against my skin.
I should’ve been focused on the map, but all I could think was how easily I could lean into that comfortable warmth if I just sat beside him.
Focus, Isca!
I swallowed. “I’m no engineer. Stop the erosion. Redirect the water. Reinforce the slope. Definitely stabilize the foundation before anything happens.”
“Reasonable,” he murmured, tapping the same spot on the plans again. I couldn’t tell if he was humoring me or seriously considering fixing it. Honestly, either was progress.
Worried that silence might give him an excuse to slink away again, I asked, “What happened to that wing, anyway?”
His faint smile faded into a bitter, self-deprecating grimace. “Me.”
“Oh.” My voice was small.
Shame showed in the slump of his shoulders and tight lines of his jaw. I should’ve noticed it sooner. I’d been relying too much on my magic to know how others were feeling. Time to change that.
“I’ve been told you’re magically gifted,” I said carefully. “If you can find an engineer, maybe they can tell you exactly where to move the construction materials to fix it without putting men’s lives at risk under the foundation.”
He stared, his expression unreadable.
I squirmed under it. “Sorry. When I find a solution, I tend to push. I hate seeing something so beautiful…threatened. Caervorn, parts of the fortress, are crumbling, and the Assembly does nothing about it.”
My nervousness was so intense that, by the end of my short speech, my dress was sticking to my chest from sweat. While spending time with Emrys was a nice change from the constant influx of others’ emotions, he still made me nervous in ways I didn’t want to admit.
I couldn’t shake the weight of his perceived judgment—or how much I cared about it.
His expression was stony, just like it had been back at my market stall. “You want the prince to act as a laborer?”
I met his eyes, prepared to backpedal. I didn’t want to lose this. We were having a real conversation. “No… I mean, yes.” I fumbled for an argument that might make my mundane suggestion sound more regal. “Why not? If nothing else, it would demonstrate your fitness, the strength of your house.”
The jagged scar that split his lip twisted into a lopsided grin.
Somehow that made the flash of mischief in his eyes spark even brighter.
“My fitness?” He leaned back, smug. “My people can see my work in the training yard on any given day.” He gave me a look that was pure heat. “You seemed to enjoy the show.”
I gasped, scandalized. And unfortunately caught. My cheeks immediately betrayed me with a flush, and my heart beat out a strange, nervous flutter.
I had enjoyed it a bit too much. The image of him and Nisien, glistening with sweat, muscles straining with exertion, flashed vividly in my mind.
Flustered, my tongue ran away with itself. “Must be exhausting to be so admired.”
Emrys’s grin was pure trouble. “It’s a burden.”
From the face he made, I would’ve bet he had a new lady waiting in his rooms every night. I wasn’t jealous—at all.
His hand moved, warm and calloused, covering mine. The contact was light, barely a touch, yet it sent a shock through me and my magic so sharp that my breath stilled.
“I like your idea,” he said, his voice hushed. “Most wouldn’t consider the people first, as you just did.” As soon as he finished speaking, he froze. His eyes widened, and he jerked his hand back like I’d burned him.
“Lord Prince Emrys,” I said softly, wanting to seize this moment, “I was sent because my magic can soothe. But I can’t help if you don’t let me in. Every time you get near me, you raise your walls. Please let me help.”
I wanted to reach across the widening distance between us, to mirror what he’d done not a moment before, but stopped myself.
“We discussed this during your little midnight foray.” His expression darkened, and his voice grew impossibly deeper. “It’s not safe. You nearly collapsed just from reading my aura. You’re far too sensitive.”
I narrowed my eyes, unsure if that was an insult or a backhanded compliment. “Let me decide that.”
He stared at me for a long moment, his gaze darting between my eyes and lips. Except this time, I didn’t get the feeling I was being watched by something lurking behind it.
“You’re not afraid of me,” he eventually said, as though it were the most shocking thing in the world.
“No.” It was a half-truth. I was more nervous around him than anything else. My voice dropped to barely more than a breath. “But you are.”
A shocking truth I hadn’t truly realized until that moment. The most powerful man in the world ran away from me at every opportunity.
His jaw became rigid, and his eyes flashed with fear, or desire, or both. He scoffed. “You don’t understand—”
Were our conversations always destined to become arguments? I took a step toward him without realizing it. My hands ached to reach out and grab him before he ran away again. But a single touch from me that night had been enough to send a visible shock through him. I didn’t want him to flee again.
“No, you don’t understand.” My voice rose.
“I’ve been bombarded by everyone’s emotions for most of my life.
Anger, grief, exhilaration, lust—all of it.
Do you know what it’s like to feel someone else’s heartbreak in the middle of walking down a street?
To feel a stranger’s fear so strongly that you drop your things and run? ” I shook my head. “Well, I do.”
“This is different,” he snapped. “It’s not just me you’re reading. I’m cursed.”
“Is it a curse?” I challenged, “or a self-fulfilling prophecy? Because from where I’m standing, you seem more melodramatic about it than anyone else. Help me understand, Prince Emrys!” I regretted the words the moment they were out of my mouth.
His eyes flashed. Something dark flickered behind them, and our moment of human connection snapped closed. “Fine!” He crossed his arms and dropped all his barriers at once.
I was instantly caught up in his flood.
Gasping, I stumbled into the nearest chair, clutching my temples. The pain wasn’t physical—it was him, and he it. Grief, guilt, fury, fear, and a strange, exhausted longing were all bundled up together in the core of his being.
It was too much. He’d been so normal for the past few minutes that I’d forgotten what lay beneath his skin.
Through the haze of his overwhelming agony, I heard the shifting of fabric and the creaking of parchment being rolled. When I creaked one eye open, he stood, smoothing out his robes as he straightened, architecture plans in hand.
“I told you.” His voice was hollow. His walls were already back up, and the emptiness I’d seen in his expression in the training yard was back on his face. Emrys stood, smoothing his tunic. Then he turned, taking the map with him.
“You have to allow me to get used to it!” I shouted after him, my voice ringing through the empty corridor. I felt the guard in the hall’s shock of surprise.
That was definitely not a very ladylike thing to do. Every moment I spent in these fine dresses, eating sumptuous meals, surrounded by the pleasant people of this kingdom, seemed to be turning me into someone else. I’d just shouted down the hallway at a prince.
I remained in the chair, slumped over, shaken and disoriented, contemplating the consequences of what I’d just done. I knew he’d begin to avoid me even more when all I wanted was to be close enough to help.
We both felt too much in terrible, opposite ways. Why couldn’t he see that?
I could still feel traces of his magic, his warmth persisting in the air, now growing cold without him. Even through the lingering pain, I wanted him to come back. I didn’t yet know if that meant I was becoming brave or more foolish.