CHAPTER 38 #2
She waggles her eyebrows at me, and I turn toward my closet before she has a chance to see my cheeks flush. She follows close behind. When I reach for my leathers, she places herself in front of me and puts up a hand to stop me.
“What are you doing?” she asks, a confused dip in her brow, though she is obviously aware of my intentions.
I frown. “Sparring.”
“Not today,” she says flatly, “The general wants the grounds clear when the guests arrive.”
“Then we have plenty of time,” I say, making to reach around her. “The party doesn’t start until the sun goes down.”
Riah snorts. “And every noble with an invitation will be here by midday. I assumed it was the same in the La’tari courts.
Every feyn and mortal privileged enough to be invited will be eager for the opportunity to work themselves into the good graces of my liege.
” She bows dramatically with a wild flourish of her hands, and I can’t help but roll my eyes at the image she paints.
“We can spar until midday,” I argue, but she gives me a look that says nothing in this veil will tempt the female to join me in the ring this morning.
Her eyes fall back to my ring when I cross my arms over my chest and her face grows dark as she considers it.
“Did you know that the feynstone blade would take down Kezik when you threw it?” she asks, deadly serious.
“No,” I admit, eyeing the ring myself, suddenly very curious about the rare stone it holds.
“I didn’t think so. There really isn’t much on Terr that will so easily end the life of a feyn, much less one of the Vatruke.”
And the general of A’kori put that power in the hands of the enemy. My hands. My entire life I’d been taught how to end the life of a feyn. And despite the ease with which the shadow master dispatched them when I was young, nothing I’d ever been taught was as simple as a blade.
She grins, clearly amused when she says, “I admit, I am looking forward to seeing the faces of the nobles when they see that ring on your finger.”
“Why?”
“For a number of reasons.” She shrugs. “The rarest stone on Terr, taken straight from the king’s hoard, one that can easily end the life of a feyn, on the hand of a mortal.” She whistles at the implications. “The general certainly wants to make a statement to anyone that might find you…”
“Durah,” I supply, clearly annoyed.
She rolls her eyes. “Vulnerable, was the word I was looking for.”
My brow draws down thoughtfully when I ask, “Why would the king give him the ring, only so that he could give it to me?”
“You would have to ask the king that question. I’m not sure how it is in La’tari, but in A’kori, the king does what he wants,” she teases.
Maybe I will ask him. Maybe. There will be plenty to occupy my conversation with her sovereign and though I am truly curious about his motivations as they pertain to the ring, I know we will both be far too preoccupied with the topic of my life.
I glance at my leathers once more before puffing out my frustration. “If we aren’t sparring, what do you intend to do all day?”
I decidedly hate chess. How Riah ever thought this would distract me from our usual morning routine I cannot fathom.
“Again?” she asks gleefully, as she swipes my king off the board.
“No,” I say flatly, “Thank you.”
The sun finally crests the eastern sea and even I have to admit that the staggering number of patrols set upon the grounds seems excessive.
“He’s worried,” I say absently, surveying the uniformed soldiers sweeping the grounds.
“Tonight would be the night,” Riah says, confirming my unspoken fear, and I’m sure everyone else’s, “if the Vatruke want to make trouble.”
“I didn’t get the feeling it was trouble they were after,” I say.
Leaning back in her chair, she shrugs. “They gave up the element of surprise when they revealed themselves to us. No doubt they thought a single feyn escorting her lady would be an easy enough mark.”
“They must be incredibly powerful if they’re willing to risk that kind of mistake,” I say as I reset the board.
She nods, “They are,” then frowns as she considers. “The Vatruke have grown comfortable in their power, but they are not foolish. I do not think they will risk revealing themselves among the powerful allies attending this evening.”
What she says makes sense. But then I recall a single moment of their failed ambush that nags at my mind before the memory can fade.
“Why was Kezik looking for the barracks?” I wonder aloud.
It is something I should not have overlooked.
I chastise myself for being so wrapped up in the tangled web of my own life that I had not asked myself the question until now.
I can tell by the look on her face that she failed to ask herself the same.
There is a moment that her eyes drift off in thought, and when her eyes snap up to mine, it is a moment I wish to never relive.
The full weight of her own dread fills me as she pushes up from her seat, rushing into the hall without a word.
Before I know where my feet are taking me, I’m standing in the center of the general’s room watching the door latch shut behind her.
It is more than the look upon her face that prickles the hair on the back of my neck.
Whatever conclusion she’d drawn is concerning enough that she abandoned her post to report it.
I’m alone for the first time since the assassin broke into the general’s chambers.
I wait in the quiet stillness of my room, my fists bunching at my sides.
Clearly, it’s been too long since I’ve been alone.
I struggle to stop the fraying of my nerves as the minutes pass by.
With greater effort than I’d like to admit, I collect myself, deciding that the best use of my time is in fact not staring at the tall wooden doors, waiting for my companion to return.
I remind myself that it is not cowardice to be cautious as I gather my feynstone blades, keeping them nearby as I bathe.
I’m opening a tall window in the washroom, letting the steam out into the late morning air when the door of the main chamber clicks shut.
The hair raises on my arms. Well aware that it is unreasonable to be concerned, I snatch one of my blades and settle it behind my back.
Pinching the sharp tip between my fingers I round the door into the main room.
Better to catch an intruder off guard than allow myself to be cornered.
I tell myself that no one coming to end my life would use the door off the main hall. Still, my blood sings, caution. Arm tensed to throw the dagger, I puff out a relieved sigh at the sight of Riah.
Pausing in the entry, her eyebrow lifts as I drop the blade to my side. It’s a look I return. What does she expect?
“I’ll be sure to announce myself next time,” she teases.
“Not a bad idea,” I quip.
While I’m certainly curious about the thoughts that took her from the room, I don’t ask.
She might not tell me, and even if she were to, I’m sure her king would not look favorably on a human with knowledge of their secrets.
I likely already know too much, and the more he finds within my mind to displease him, the more certain my fate will be.
I head back to the washroom when Riah turns to answer a knock at the door.
I’m tying a robe at the waist, heading back toward my companion, when my eyes catch on the fresh bundle of dark glossy flowers sitting on the heavy stone slab under the mirror.
They are bundled with a pliant vine, and I recognize them at once by their smell.
A small breeze drifts in from the window, and I tilt my head to listen.
With all that happened, I nearly forgot about the flowers Tig offered to grow, the ones that will help keep my demon at bay.
While it is unlike the sisters to come, only to vanish before I’ve seen them, I don’t think too much of it.
With Riah close by, I can hardly blame them for remaining distant, even if I would like to see them again before I find myself locked in a cell.
I find Riah standing at the edge of the bed. She’s eyeing a large black box tied with shimmering lace, marked with the golden script of Adora’s dress shop. Beside it, a small envelope signed in the general’s hand.
“I see the general has you right where he wants you.” Riah chuckles as I walk to her side and reach for the letter.
“What do you mean?” I ask, cracking the blank seal.
“I’ve known enough well-bred ladies in my long life to confidently say that most would have reached for the box containing their gown before reading a letter from their male,” she explains.
My nose crinkles in disgust when I say, “Then I feel just as sorry for the ladies you’ve known as I do for the males who have attempted to entertain them.”
She laughs as I slide the note from within the folds of the envelope, plopping down on the edge of the bed with a heavy sigh as I summarize aloud, “He apologizes that he won’t make it back before the party and says that you will escort me there.”
It isn’t how I imagined my last moments with him but there is little to nothing I can do about it now.
I set the letter upon the bed despondently, eyeing the black box.
I tug at the lace, in a half-hearted attempt to unravel it when my eyes snag on a black velvet fold sitting on top.
Unclasping the center and folding back the thin fabric reveals a delicate necklace of black shimmering stone.
“I guess you’ve got him right where you want him too.” Riah smiles.
I don’t tell her that if that were the case he would be here now, beside me. I simply lay it back against the velvet and turn my attention to the gown.
Adora has outdone herself. And though the gown is a far cry from the memories I hold of the crone I met in the woods, it will certainly serve its purpose tonight.