Chapter 20
Isca
My life settled into a slower rhythm in the castle.
With Nisien’s departure and no more visiting lords to entertain, the formal pretense fell away.
Meals were shared with the household guard in the great hall.
Lunches were more subdued since the men were tired from training, but dinners were always a boisterous gathering with hearty laughter and the clinking of tankards.
I never expected to, but I enjoyed those evenings immensely.
I took the opportunity to speak with the men those nights, to try to understand the political undercurrents in the castle. Nisien, before he left, had always watched with approval. While Emrys, on the rare occasions he appeared, looked at every interaction like we were plotting treason.
I discovered that the men loved both princes, but for different reasons.
Nisien was the caring administrator who ensured they had warm cloaks and full bellies.
Emrys was the battle-hardened leader they would follow into any fire.
But I was still flabbergasted that the man who inspired such loyalty in his soldiers could be the same one who fled a council room to avoid a peasant mage.
The borrowed silks I wore still felt like a costume, yet unlike in Caervorn, everyone here (besides Emrys) made me feel like I belonged. It made me want to prolong my stay for my own sake, not just my family’s continued security.
But that way of thinking changed when I received my first letter from Chancellor Maeron. His reply about my late-night run in with Emrys had been chilling in its simplicity: A good start. Your family’s allowance will not be cut.
Those two sentences implied that my family would suffer in short order if I didn’t do enough, fast enough. Maeron’s malicious interpretation of our agreement filled me with a simmering rage. But all the power was in his hands, so my feelings were insignificant.
I was trapped. Even if I could somehow make it back to Caervorn, I wouldn’t be able to save them from the Assembly if they decided I required punishment. I had to make tangible progress, and soon.
With Nisien gone, that was proving to be a challenge. I wasn’t purposefully avoiding my duty; I was being kept from it by one dark-haired, brooding escape artist. The throne wasn’t truly vacant with him in the castle. Practically speaking, however, it ended up being empty more often than not.
Emrys did everything he could to avoid me.
He arrived either very early or incredibly late to meals, and he spent most of his time chatting with the men.
The only other time he left his rooms was when he directed drills in the training yard.
And it wasn’t like I could walk out there and yell at him to talk to me, even if I wanted to.
The memory of his back as he walked away from me in the council chamber was a fresh wound.
For five days, I’d done nothing but bury myself in the library, reading everything I could about Darreth’s history and alliances.
Hoping to find something in one of these tomes to help me satisfy the Assembly’s first demand—not because they wanted it, but because Darreth deserved stability.
And because there was always the faintest possibility that I would read something that would allow me to hit back at them.
Nisien would be gone for four or five days more.
I counted every hour until his return, hoping that his calm presence might anchor Emrys enough to come out of hiding.
Until then, I was alone in a gilded cage, with only the ghost of a prince and the emptying hourglass of the Assembly’s patience for company.
I was used to working all day, talking with customers or preparing bundles of herbs and tinctures. This slower pace didn’t agree with me. I came from a large, boisterous family, so the quiet solitude of those long hours while Catrin did other things most certainly didn’t agree with me either.
I was just about to go back to my room for yet another nap when the thud of footsteps trailing in from down the corridor broke the silence.
Catrin burst in like an autumn storm, breathless, her freckle-splashed face flushed, skirts clutched in her hands.
Her slippers screeched on the stone as she came to a halt.
“Lady Isca!” she gasped, breathless. “There’s a nobleman at the gates. He—he just arrived—no warning. No one can find Prince Emrys.”
The tedium had reached such a peak that even the most mundane happenings sparked a flicker of excitement within me. Instantly, I started the process of returning my book to the shelf. “What?”
Catrin nodded frantically, her auburn braids bouncing with the movement. “His bannerman rode ahead, saying he wanted an audience. Business with the throne. We can’t leave him standing out there. It would be a scandal! Please. You have to receive him.”
“What? Why me?”
She wrung her hands. “You’re the highest-ranking soul besides the stewards in the castle at the moment!”
“I’m not part of the household,” I said quietly.
“But you are a diplomat and a representative assigned by the Assembly! That makes you even more fitting than the stewards to greet him.” Her eyes were wide with pleading. “Please.”
That sounded like a weak justification to me. But bluffing had brought me this far. I stood slowly, straightening my skirts, and lifted my chin.
Catrin grinned. “I knew you’d see reason.”
In truth, my heart was thudding with trepidation. Sure, I’d gotten used to speaking with Nisien, and even a bit comfortable conversing with a large group during the last meeting, but another noble one-on-one? I was in over my head.
“Am I even dressed appropriately?” I asked, glancing down at the soft wool day gown in muted green, unadorned save for the golden belt at my waist.
Catrin winced. “He’s nearly at the steps. You could be in rags, and it wouldn’t matter.”
That didn’t inspire confidence. I followed her quickly through the castle, smoothing my hair and composing my face into something I hoped looked serene and stately, pretending my borrowed authority fit like a crown instead of a mask about to slip.
Two footmen threw open the heavy doors at our approach. I could already hear the clatter of hooves and the creak of saddle leather.
Sunlight spilled across the flagstones of the porte cochere. Accustomed to the dim interior of the castle, I squinted to make out our visitor. A tall man, he swung off his horse with practiced ease, boots hitting the ground as if he were used to immediately springing into action.
My spine was ramrod straight, my smile serenely fixed, but a cold dread, a cacophony of fear, pulsed beneath my skin, screaming that my deception was about to be unmasked.
The visitor’s dark chestnut hair framed his face in a way I could only describe as rakish. A closely trimmed beard framed a strong jaw. His blue eyes, so dark they seemed violet, met mine steadily.
When he smiled, it was not the golden gleam of Nisien, nor the haunted smolder of Emrys. It was the earthy, disarming kind of smile that still held something of an edge.
Interesting.
Behind me, a servant cleared his throat with ceremony. “Announcing His Highness, Crown Prince Owain of Larethia.”
Prince.
A gasp clawed up my throat, but I strangled it before it betrayed my surprise. Larethia was Darreth’s neighbor to the east, and lately more friend than foe.
The prince stepped forward and bowed deeply. “My lady.”
I curtsied in return, hoping my face didn’t betray the sudden tumble in my chest when he took off his helmet. Another handsome man.
Inside my skull, I unleashed a parade of curses at Emrys for vanishing when I needed him most. This was above my rank and possibly above my ability to survive with my head attached if he was the moody sort and I managed to botch this seriously.
“Prince Owain,” I said, voice even despite the flicker of nerves in my belly, “Darreth is honored by your presence.” I met his gaze.
“I am Mage Isca of Caervorn, sent by the Assembly to serve in a diplomatic capacity. His Highness Prince Emrys is presently unavailable, and Prince Nisien is granting his blessings upon a marriage. I do hope my greeting in their stead is not too disappointing.”
He reached for my hand, raised it gently, and brushed his lips across my knuckles. “On the contrary,” Owain said, eyes twinkling with warmth, “I rather prefer this greeting. Beauty and civility. Two things Prince Emrys…lacks.”
A soft laugh escaped me, too late to pull it back.
“Only honesty, I assure you.” He winked.
Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.
None of the emotions I sensed from him were hostile. He emanated gentle curiosity, devoid of malice. And he was surprisingly comfortable visiting a foreign seat of power. From that, I guessed he must’ve visited Tir Darreth before, and on good terms.
I turned to the steward standing stiffly behind me. “Has a repast been prepared for the honored guest?”
“Yes, Lady Isca,” he replied with a bow. “Rooms as well.”
The servants were complicit in our show. Thank you, Catrin.
I faced Owain again. “The choice is yours, Your Highness. Food or rest?”
He considered for a moment then inclined his head. “Rest, thank you.” Taking my hand and bowing low once more, he said. “But I trust you’ll be at dinner this evening?”
“I shall,” I said, smiling broadly.
He gave my hand one last lingering touch before following the steward toward the guest wing. I stood for a moment in the hush that followed his departure, trying to quiet the nerves in my chest.
That had gone far better than I’d hoped.
I’d expected him to question me about Nisien or press for more information on Emrys, but Owain seemed to take my greeting in stride.
Maybe I’d simply been lucky. Maybe he truly was tired and thus happy to overlook any small indiscretions in his rush to get off the road.