Chapter 37
Emrys
I don’t know what I’d thought would happen after she’d gasped under my touch in my room, but seeing Isca’s playful tête-à-tête with Nisien in the days following was not something I’d imagined.
They didn’t kiss again, and I didn’t see him touch her, yet every glance between them felt like a dagger plunged between my ribs.
I was too afraid, too wretchedly jealous, to look too closely, so I kept my distance and pretended not to care.
I should’ve been happy for him, and for her, too.
But I’ve always been the villain and I thought we had…
something growing between us. When I saw the two of them leave the great hall after lunch one day to walk in the garden, I relegated myself to the stables, moving horse manure with magic to save the stable hands the work.
If my mind and mood was going to turn to shit, I could bloody well muck it.
I was tempted to leave again, to find another raiding party to drown myself in blood and screams, but Isca’s plan to study the raiders’ tactics was sound. Attacking them now would only wreck her entire strategy.
So I turned to something I could control. I called for an earth mage who did engineering work, someone from the Guild in Carmarth to avoid bringing in anyone too closely acquainted with Assembly leadership in Caervorn.
Nisien peered over my shoulder and chuckled when he saw the letter confirming the engineer’s arrival. “Didn’t know you’d started playing steward, brother. All for a bit of settling?”
“Yet again, I’m cleaning up one of your oversights, brother.” Perhaps it was the ice in my voice that kept him from arguing. Or, perhaps, he’d finally realized I was right, that he’d been ignoring a few pressing problems in favor of keeping our court happy.
It didn’t help that I wanted to punch him every time I saw his perfectly handsome face, every time I remembered them dancing at the festival when I wished it had been me in his place.
It wasn’t his fault; he was just playing into what the Assembly wanted for our kingdom.
It was mostly that I couldn’t stand the idea that he’d enjoyed it so much. Or worse, that she might’ve too.
The bastard had everything I wanted and didn’t even seem to notice.
I needed something real. Something I could fix.
And stones didn’t bleed when I failed. Which was how I found myself standing at the bottom of the western glacis, trying to squint against the rays of sunlight peeking out between the clouds.
The mage engineer was looking at me like I was mad—I was—but at least he was trying not to show it.
“There’s nothing here worth panicking over, my Lord Prince,” the engineer said, brushing the intermittent rain off his boots. “Some seasonal erosion. Normal for a stronghold so near to the coastal storms.”
I crossed my arms. This was one of those situations I had to decide whether I wanted to make the man piss his britches or not. I decided to hold my tongue, because his was wagging enough for both of us.
He shrugged. “She’ll stand another hundred years yet.”
I growled, “She was built to stand a thousand.”
He wisely didn’t respond to that.
I stared up at the section Isca had pointed out. The ground was beginning to slump, and the soft mud gave way under my feet when I explored it briefly. The water’s passage was clearly visible, even to my untrained eye, as deep channels etched into the earth at the bottom of the slope.
Although I’d been back home for a year now, I’d overlooked what she’d noticed on her very first stroll. Unprompted, she’d gone out of her way to look into a problem she’d seen on my ancestral lands—to no benefit to herself. It shamed me how blind I’d been to a problem I’d likely caused.
I liked that she cared about my home, that she persisted in pushing me to open up, even when I met her with silence and fear masked as fury.
At dinner last night, she’d suggested a minor adjustment to our new soldiers’ training protocol—something small, saving thousands of gold coins over time—and I’d nodded, pretending it was nothing.
But it gutted me that she’d done more good here in weeks than I had in a year.
That doubled my certainty that I needed to avoid her for her own good. I couldn’t risk tainting her with my darkness.
But the cursed gods were toying with me on that rainy day. Before she even spoke, I could sense her aura and hear her light footsteps on the gravel path leading to my meeting with the engineer.
She came walking along the hill with Catrin beside her, cheeks pink from the wind, strands of her wavy hair turning to curls in the humidity as they escaped her braids. My resolve, so carefully fortified, collapsed at the sight of her smiling face.
Catrin carried a basket. Isca had her arms tucked close to her sides and a folded piece of leather clutched in one hand. It seemed they were headed to a picnic, likely in the nearby copse. The weather seemed unsuitable, but I wouldn’t ask.
Isca’s green eyes found mine and held. The distance between us wasn’t more than a few paces, yet it felt more treacherous than a battlefield. I looked away first, of course, being the runner that I am.
“My Lord Prince,” she greeted, voice polite, neutral.
The engineer glanced between us then back to the earth, clearly hoping for any excuse to be done.
“Nisien told me you brought in a structural mage,” Isca said, stepping on sure feet to the edge of the slope upward. She moved with the same surety that she seemed to do everything—taking careful steps even as her skirts grew heavy from the wet grass.
“It seemed prudent,” I answered, careful to sound cool, distant. “After what you pointed out.”
The engineer cleared his throat. “As I was saying, Lady Mage, there’s nothing to worry about. The soil’s a bit loose, but—”
“It’s more than loose,” she cut in. “You can see where the original drainage path has been obliterated by outwash. And there.” She pointed. “Look at the foundation. See the tilting and the crack there? If you don’t address it, that wing will be lost in our lifetime.”
The man blinked at her. “You’re…not Assembly-trained, are you?”
“She doesn’t need to be to see what you have missed,” I spat. My magic flared, and my voice came out harder than I’d intended. I clenched my fists so hard that my nails broke the skin—only pain could distract the curse long enough for me to wrestle it under control.
I was already unraveling, and she’d only just arrived.
“Yes.” The engineer’s face went pale at the threat inherent in my tone. “I… I will perform another test.”
The engineer wandered off toward his assistant, leaning on his staff and muttering to himself.
Isca turned toward me then, brows slightly drawn, wind tugging at strands of her hair. “You didn’t have to bring someone in. Just because of what I said.”
“I didn’t do it just because of what you said.” Even my banter was weak.
Catrin suddenly took Isca’s arm, pulling her into a quick, quiet conversation a few feet away. It looked serious. The stiffness of Isca’s nod made me wonder if I should offer my help.
“I’ll be all right,” was the last thing I heard from Isca before Catrin waved.
Catching my eye, Catrin smiled brilliantly before she covertly winked at me. Then she practically jogged away down the path, basket and leather clutched under her arms as she headed toward the nearest castle entrance.
“Is everything okay?” I asked, stepping closer.
“Everything’s fine.” Isca gave a careless wave with one hand. “She just needed to handle something indoors.”
I’d known Catrin since we were both children. That wink told me this was a setup. Still, I couldn’t leave Isca to return to the castle alone.
“The engineer can manage without my help,” I suggested carefully, “Why don’t we go back to the hall for…your delayed lunch?”
I could speak with Isca without embarrassing myself again—I hoped.
With a nod, she kept her distance, arms crossed, eyes trained on what was ahead.
I could feel her thinking. And I was thinking too, but nothing useful.
I couldn’t stop replaying the moment with the engineer: the surety in her voice, the calm fire in her eyes.
Her natural grace and ease in the situation made her seem more at home running a household than I ever could be.
“I have a confession.” She broke the silence, swallowing like what she was about to say was difficult for her. “Catrin and I weren’t just out here for a picnic.”
“Okay…”
“I noticed something on the architecture plans,” she said. “There’s nothing fortifying the foundation where the erosion is. The engineers must’ve had a reason. I wanted to see for myself what that might be. Care to…come look with me?”
She turned her face up to mine, eyes shining with curiosity. She was so bright, in so many ways. I should’ve declined. But the thought of her wandering without a guard near that unstable, crumbling area made my stomach churn with anxiety; I could almost feel the ground giving way beneath her feet.
And despite everything, I wanted to walk beside her.
“I’ll come,” I said.
She smiled, easing a knot of anxiety in my chest.
We cut across the slope, her feet cautious on the loose stones. She nearly stumbled once, but I caught her arm just before she hit the ground. When she straightened and brushed herself off instead of falling into me, I realized how disappointed I was with the loss of contact.
I chided myself. It was an absolutely ridiculous thought to have. She wasn’t a delicate flower; she could handle herself.
The castle loomed beside us, a hulking white-gray shadow, and below, the grass sloped toward the sea beyond. The wind carried the sharp tang of sea salt up here, mixing with the damp, earthy scent of the soil, promising more rain.
But every time I got close to her, the only thing I smelled was flowers.