Chapter 24
Isca
Emrys vanished back into his rooms before Owain’s party had even departed. No one spoke of it—not the servants who slipped in and out of his quarters nor the guards who treated their absent ruler as just another eccentricity.
Dinner that night was another lonely affair. Emrys sat beside me in the great hall, but it was as though he were carved from marble—present in body but absent in soul.
The man who’d once listened to me in the library was gone. Seeing the difference decided me. I began making lists of the herbs I would need for more tinctures to ease Emrys’s suffering—whether he’d ask for it or not.
Worry over whether he’d accept it didn’t stop me from needing to do it—for him, for the piece of me that still ached when he vanished without a word.
The kitchen garden paths the next morning were still damp with dew when I stepped outside with a basket on my arm and Catrin by my side.
It was easier to scour the land surrounding the Tir for valerian root and mugwort than to think about the way Emrys had calmed under my touch, even after the curse had stolen his tongue from him.
“We could’ve purchased all of this from the market, you know,” Catrin suggested as she bent down to tug at some sage.
“I didn’t bring any money,” I said.
She laughed. “Isca, Prince Emrys ordered that you get anything you ask for.”
Emrys? I nearly dropped my basket. “Oh… Well, I need to stretch my legs. I’d go mad sitting in that library another day.”
She shook her head like she couldn’t believe I actually wanted to work.
We filled up our baskets while swapping stories of our childhoods.
Her talk veered unwaveringly back to the princes.
I shared stories of helping to raise my siblings and the disasters that popped up around the house when each came into their magic.
“Accidentally flinging spoons across the room with early telekinesis was practically a rite of passage. My poor father had to replace all our smashed bowls with wood at one point. Our good pottery didn’t stand a chance against the terrors of magical puberty.”
I laughed. My thoughts drifted back to the osprey Tegil had made me, still tucked away in my little box of treasures from home. I missed him. I missed Mama and Papa and even my horrid little market stall that always smelled of butchered pork and poverty.
Catrin must have seen the homesickness plainly on my face, because she grabbed my hand and tugged me toward the castle kitchens.
The moment we stepped inside, I wondered why I hadn’t come to this part of the keep before. A network of brick hearths filled the air with heat and the scent of baking bread and stewing apples. It reminded me so much of home, warm and safe, that I almost teared up.
The rafters were laden with drying herbs, their earthy scent mingling with the gamey smell of dozens of pheasants, ready to be cooked for tonight’s dinner.
The sturdy wooden shelves held an array of gleaming earthenware jars and amphorae, filled with fragrant wine, sweet mead, and imported olive oil, ready for the cooks’ use.
Catrin’s introduction pulled me out of that emotional swell. “Lady Isca, meet Sabha, my mother.”
She was plump and rosy, her riot of dark curls barely restrained by her kerchief . Before I could get a word in, her hug squeezed the air out of me—and probably half my ribs—but I wasn’t complaining.
“Mama, you’re going to smother her,” Catrin complained while grinning.
Sabha’s laugh was like warm honey. It refilled my chest with the glow only a mother’s care could create.
“Catrin said you’d need some vials for your tinctures.
Would glazed pottery do? Sit, sit. I’ve pastries cooling—you’re skin and bones!
” Her spoon waved at us like a wand of command. “Relax, relax!”
My heart nearly broke open at her fussing. I hadn’t realized how tightly I’d been wound until someone else took over, even if it was with a spoon instead of a sword or crown. If I hadn’t been so practiced at suppressing my emotions, I would’ve burst into tears right then and there.
It was now clear why Catrin talked so much. She’d grown up under the waterfall of her mother’s voice.
“Sorry about my mum,” Catrin whispered once her mother was out of earshot. “She’s a bit much, but she was dying to meet you.”
With my stomach rumbling and my spirits low, the offer of pastries and a mother’s comforting presence was impossible to resist. “No, Catrin,” I said honestly, settling onto the worn bench beside her. “This is exactly what I needed. Thank you.”
Sabha returned from the far end of the kitchen carrying a silver platter laden with three different shapes of treats that smelled of warm spices and sugar.
She offered up the tray. “Thought I’d get a pair of level heads to test these before the princes wolf them down without even tasting them!
The surprise visit from Prince Owain left us scrambling, so we’re determined to be ready with a tasty welcome for the next high-ranking guests. ”
She pulled out a massive cleaver and cut each in half for Catrin and me to share. “Hazelnuts, berries, and the last one has something special.”
We eagerly ate the first two, but Catrin and I shared a look when we smelled the third one. Its aroma had a tart and herbal mix I hadn’t expected.
Catrin raised one brow. “Mama, this smells almost like soap. Has the heat already addled your brain?”
“No, child.” Sabha scoffed. “Try it!”
I bit, and flavor burst on my tongue—vervain, jam, mint. “Sabha,” I gasped. “You sorceress!”
Sabha’s freckled cheeks creased with a wide smile. “She told me you were an herbalist. Thought it suited the upcoming celebration. Think the princes will like it?”
Catrin shook her head. “I don’t think it matters, Mama. They see flakey bread and inhale whatever it is without hesitation.”
“That’s how these warriors are.” Sabha shook her head sadly, though her emotions shone with pride and adoration. I sensed that Sabha’s nurturing had shaped the princes’ upbringing.
She took me in a sideways hug, still holding the platter laden with treats.
“Poor thing’s been surrounded by nothing but menfolk lately.
Whenever you need to get away from that masculine energy, come by the kitchens, and I’ll bake you up a batch of something sweet and lend an open ear.
I’ll enjoy it. Catrin’s been too busy chasing that guard lately to pay her old mother any mind! ”
My eyes shot to Catrin. So that was what she was busy doing when she’d gone missing randomly. Her cheeks, freckled just like her mother’s, were blushing fiercely.
I begged, “Catrin, don’t hold out on me. I need to hear all about this.”
I knew almost everything there was to know about her paramour within the hour. As I laughed through Catrin’s blushing confessions, a tender, essential part of me began to heal.
I’d spent so many years doing the mothering, I hadn’t realized how much I missed being taken care of until Sabha’s kitchen gave me permission to rest.
I filled the quiet over the next few days until Nisien was to return as best I could with reading in the library. I visited Sabha in the kitchens daily to make my tinctures and pour some of my frustration into kneading bread.
But now, as I scrawled a letter to my family, I felt strangely detached from my own words. Everything was different. I ate three meals a day and took flower-scented baths, but I didn’t get to chuckle at my baby brother’s ridiculous jokes or hear Mama humming as she stirred the stew pot.
Yet a greater part of me didn’t feel like I belonged to my old life either. How could I go from shouting at the most powerful mage in the world and dining with three princes back to cringing away from the attention of the castle guards at Caervorn?
My life, I, was changing so fast that it felt like writing was the only thing that tied the person I had been to the person I was becoming.
***
I woke up on the eleventh day of waiting for Nisien to return to the scent of honeyed bread and salty butter. Catrin was placing a tray at the foot of my bed when I stirred.
“My lady,” she said, smoothing her apron with one hand. I already didn’t like the worry she was projecting. “Prince Nisien returned during the night.”
The castle’s atmosphere had been thick with unspoken tension for the past few days while we all worried over his delay. A knot formed in my belly, replacing the hunger the smell of the bread had brought roaring to life.
I sat up straighter, blinking at the sunlight now streaming through the curtains. “What? Why so late?”
I stood to walk to the breakfast table. Before Catrin even answered, my blood turned to ice at the feeling radiating from her. Too many things could go wrong on the roads between here and the border. The blood drained from my face.
Catrin hesitated, her silence answer enough. “His guard was attacked. A raiding party came over the border. Nisien pushed the group through the night to bring one of our men back for healing.”
“Is the soldier alive? Nisien?” I didn’t mean for my voice to break, but it did. My fingers tightened on the table’s edge because it was the only thing keeping me from falling apart. Raids had always been a grim part of life across the isles and the continent. Everyone feared them, even city folk.
“Both alive. Prince Nisien’s angry and hiding it poorly,” she said gently, pouring tea into a cup.
“You’ve seen Prince Nisien fight. He’s no pushover.
He’s more skilled than most give him credit for, and not just with a blade.
” Her voice softened further. “His magic isn’t Emrys’s, but the Euros line is famous for a reason.
” She said it like she was trying to comfort me.
Of course I knew that. But I’d come to think of Nisien’s strength as the disarming warmth that made everyone around him feel at ease. His charm made people forget he could be incredibly dangerous—even me, it seemed.
“I’m only telling you this, my lady,” Catrin added, “so you’ll know.
Prince Nisien will be recovering in his rooms today.
But Prince Emrys…” She trailed off then gave a tiny shake of her head.
“He’s in a temper. Not one you should be near.
” As she plopped down into the other chair opposite me at the small breakfasting table, Catrin said, “I’m glad you’re here, Lady Isca.
I fear your skills in diplomacy may be needed now more than ever. ”
My eyes widened at that. “Why exactly?”
“It’s rumored they were Gelida’s official troops, disguised as a simple raiding party. And,” she gulped, “a monarch hasn’t been attacked on Darreth soil since…ever, that I know of.”
Two things that were certain to set Emrys off.
Still, with seemingly insufficient evidence of Gelida being directly involved in the attack, there could be time before Darreth, and potentially their ally, Larethia, were drawn into war. I had to use that time wisely.
Peace was possible for this kingdom, for these princes. It was within reach. Yet with the leaders of Darreth locked in their rooms for the day, there was little I could do. I hated how powerless that made me feel.
“Catrin, we’re heading back to the fields. I’m going to try to make something special for Nisien and that soldier.”
She groaned. “We could just go to the city!”
“Do you want to deal with people asking us about the royal caravan being attacked all day?”
Her eyes grew wide with horror. “I’d rather break my back bending over than deal with questions about war.”
War. That was the last thing I wanted.
My goal was to craft something distinct this time, not just a salve for injuries or a perk against exhaustion.
I wanted to distill the feeling of hearthfire and honeyed bread, the kind of comfort that wrapped around your shoulders like a hug without needing to ask for it.
After what they’d been through, I wanted them to drink it and remember what it felt like to be safe and loved unconditionally.
I’d only named two recipients aloud, but there was a third I had in mind who could use it just as much, if not more. He wouldn’t ask, but I would give it anyway.
We gathered herbs for relaxation: chamomile, lemon balm, and lavender.
But I also gathered threads of memory, thoughts of baking and quiet laughter in kitchens that smelled of rosemary and love with my magic.
After a bit of simmering with honey, I’d imbue it with the feeling I’d received so freely from Sabha and Catrin, from my mother, sisters, father, and brothers—they’d get it all.
I dropped the tinctures off with the princes’ stewards, and Catrin took the third to a servant in the infirmary. It wasn’t until deep evening, long after the sun had disappeared behind the hills, that Catrin returned with something clutched in her hand.
“A letter, my lady,” she said. “From Prince Nisien’s steward.”
I took it, trembling fingers cracking the seal. A flutter stirred in my chest as I read. It was gratitude and two summons, the kind of parchment that could change the shape of a life.
The first summons was to attend a noble dinner.
Nisien’s hand promised that it would be an “intimate affair” with only a few of their most loyal bannermen.
For Nisien and Emrys, attending such a dinner probably meant little.
But to me, that meant hours of withstanding heavy scrutiny, knowing exactly how they felt about me, while pretending to be something I wasn’t.
The second summons was to attend open court the day after the dinner.
I was so grateful I’d been honest with Catrin about my background because I didn’t know what an audience with the princes entailed until she explained it to me.
Anyone from the kingdom could show up to the great hall and wait in line to have the princes hear their complaints.
Nisien and Emrys would arbitrate disagreements and generally get a sense of what was going on in their kingdom from all ranks of society.
Gods, I hoped they didn’t expect me to sit with them on the dais again. But I feared it would happen because every time they were both there, Nisien immediately invited me to join them.
In open court, every word would be recorded. I’d always wanted a voice that mattered, but I wasn’t ready.
But maybe… Maybe I was becoming the kind of woman who still spoke anyway.