CHAPTER 19
THE A’KORI PALACE
Present Day
I’m surprised when the light of dawn breaks the horizon, and I wake with no sign of my demon.
Awri arrives early, dark circles beneath her eyes, much like the ones darkening Kishek’s of late.
Despite her appearance she is her normal exuberant self, bouncing on the balls of her feet with a grin as she makes her announcement.
“The chef requested a boar for the party. It’s tradition for the king to hunt and supply an animal for the feast. As he is not here, I thought you might like to join me for the privilege.”
She watches me light up, her smile growing to match the one of pure delight firmly fixed upon my face.
It’s been too long since I’ve held a weapon, too long since I’ve had a chance to exercise my skills.
And it feels like a lazy stretch after a deep battle worn sleep when I run to my closet and pull on my leathers.
Slipping on the darkest of my grey dresses, dark enough to blend with the shadows below the forest canopy, I tie the silk panels below my hip where the fabric will not interfere with the movement of my legs.
Awri’s eyes flick down to my leathers the moment I round the corner from the washroom into my chambers, my dark cloak billowing out behind me.
“Where did you get those?” she asks curiously.
“The general gave them to me,” I say, walking to the head of my bed, discreetly pulling the letter opener from my pillow and sheathing it in the leg of my pants before walking to the vanity.
“I’m fairly certain I’ve never known a member of the opposite sex to find the female form so distasteful,” I tease.
She tips her head thoughtfully. “I’ve always known Xeyvian to appreciate the beauty of the fairer sex.”
“He appears to have found his limit to that appreciation in me,” I laugh.
She looks me over from head to toe raising a brow. “I highly doubt that.”
I shrug. She will never know what it’s like to be anything less than what she is—feyn.
Eternally young and painfully beautiful.
Every pair of eyes privileged enough to take in the grace of her form no doubt desired or envied her.
I can’t begrudge her lack of experience with the sharp stab of rejection, nor would I ever want that for her.
I braid my hair from the crown of my brow, over my ears, and into a thick length that falls heavily down my back, before following Awri into the eerie stillness of the palace in the early morning.
Guards, weary from standing watch through the night, straighten their backs when we come into view as she leads me down a series of unfamiliar corridors.
Archways leading to countless marbled halls pass in a hazy blur, until the golden veins beneath our feet lead us through a wide set of doors.
The thick slab of stone spills out onto the eastern grounds of the palace in the form of an ornate grand staircase, abutting the untamed lawns.
I glimpse the stables before we descend.
The sight quickly lost to me below the wild hedge that lines the winding path beneath our feet.
A familiar sound sends a jittering jolt of anticipation through my body and my hands begin to sweat.
I already know what I will find when we round the last of the tall shrubs bordering the stable.
Riesh takes a jab at the general’s side and the male sidesteps the blow with graceful ease.
They’ve been at it for quite some time. Sweat slicks the well-defined muscles ribbing their abdomens and wrapping their arms. Both males are the epitome of the feyn of old and much like I imagined them on the fields of war.
For the first time, my eyes view the banded oaths of the fea, clinging to their sides and arms. Most are a simple line of black, following the line of their ribs from their spine.
A batch of crimson bands wrap the general’s forearm, Riesh’s forearm bearing two in the same shade, and I find myself wondering what each of them means.
Throughout my life the bargains of the feyn piqued my curiosity, though what little I know about them is hardly useful.
A small patch of fine sand clings to Riesh, just above his shoulder. He’s already been taken to the ground. A clear mark in favor of the general. This time, it is the general who decides to strike, throwing his weight into a low kick. I cringe just as I see Riesh come to terms with his mistake.
His eyes fall to the ground, tracking the sweep of the general’s leg.
The general seizes the moment, striking high with a fist before the male can bring his eyes back to the threat before him.
The blow lands with a solid thump, and Riesh staggers back.
He pulled the punch, but not enough to keep a small drop of blood from forming on the feyn’s freshly split lip.
Riesh throws his hands up in the air in a clear concession of defeat.
“Is there a reason you felt you had to make my brother bleed this morning?” Awri asks dryly.
With the back of his wrist, the general wipes the sweat from his brow and runs his fingers through his thick mane of black. Ignoring her question, he nods in my direction, pointing to a pair of leather boots outside the ring and says, “Those are for you.”
Awri raises her brows at the male, clearly shocked. She doesn’t say a word but disappears into the stables. I’m sure I’ve misunderstood him, but when he sees me eyeing them hesitantly, he picks them up and hands them to me. I thank him, and he grunts a reply.
Kicking off my slippers, I lace the boots snugly around my calves, trying not to let on just how much I love the feeling of the leather and the familiar security it brings.
Riesh elbows the general, looking over my new outfit with a wide grin, he whispers, “She really does look like she could take you on now.”
I wish he would stop ribbing his friend about the black eye. He’s been a little too impressed with the fact that I’d given it to his friend. The mark has all but faded and I’d prefer if the memory of that evening faded along with it.
“She caught me off guard. It could happen to anyone,” the general says.
I obviously fail to keep a straight face when I bristle at the male’s arrogance and Riesh taps the general on the shoulder. Pointing in my direction, he says, “That’s the same look she gave you last time you said that. I really think she might like to take another stab at it and prove you wrong.”
I shake my head, smoothing the lines of irritation from my face before the general has a chance to see for himself exactly what his friend is talking about.
“I’m sure he’s right.” The words burn like acid on my tongue. “I just caught him off guard.”
I do want to prove him wrong, but there is strength in appearing weaker than your opponent and as long as he continues to underestimate me, I have the upper hand if I need it.
I’m hoping to be long gone before he realizes I’ve killed his king, but I would be a fool not to prepare for every possible outcome.
“Please tell me the moment you change your mind and decide to humble my friend,” Riesh says with a jesting smile. “I’ll never forgive you if I miss it, and I have no doubt that moment will come.”
The general scoffs, pulling his tunic over his head and picks up the bow and quiver leaning against the wooden fence of the arena. Riesh follows suit and in their dark leathers and black tunics they look very much the deadly, sinister feyn of La’tari children’s stories.
Awri saunters out of the stables, donning leather pants of her own and the same knotted panels of dark silk below her hip. Her brother eyes her curiously.
“If she can wear them, so can I,” she says, determination written clearly upon her face.
“She doesn’t have any other appropriate attire,” the general retorts.
I lean toward my friend and whisper, “What did I tell you? He would bundle me up in a bed sheet and call it adequate attire if it meant he didn’t have to look at my bare flesh.”
I’m sure the general overhears me when his head snaps up in my direction and his brow pinches. He doesn’t argue, as if I need the scalding confirmation of his distaste.
“Let’s go, before we lose the advantage of the morning,” Riesh says as he walks toward the edge of the woodlands abutting the estate.
I follow after, removing myself from the ever-present glower of the general. Awri steps in beside me, handing me a bow, a full quiver, and a small satchel. The bow she’d received for her birthday is already strapped to her back.
The woods are thick with foliage and dense undergrowth. What light pierces the canopy falls like shards of broken sunlight to the mossy forest floor. An unspoken silence falls over our party, the only sounds, the birds calling out into the morning and the faint rustling of leaves underfoot.
We walk for hours. The sole sign of life, the rabbit trails disappearing into dark holes at the base of the ancient trees towering overhead.
Midday we stop at an old encampment with charred remnants of a fire that died long ago.
The general drops his bow and quiver then slings the satchel from his shoulder letting it fall to the ground with a thud when he says, “We’ll break for lunch then head east for another hour before rounding south toward the palace. ”
Awri and Riesh follow suit, sitting on half rotten logs, pulled around the fire many years ago.
While I doubt there is a need, I can’t help the urge to check the perimeter before allowing myself to relax in an exposed and unfamiliar area.
I walk a small circle around the camp, making a show of looking at the early blooming spring flowers and other flora foreign to my homeland.
The general keeps a curious eye on me. The light patter of rain raises my eyes to the canopy above and thunder cracks in the distance.
“Pack it in,” he says as he rewraps the dried meats he brought for his lunch, “There is a small hut directly south where we will wait out the storm.”