XVII | THE WOUNDED SOLDIER
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"They're a tough crowd," said Oriel from beside her, pushing their chair in. They clicked the cape draped over her chair—one Celvene hadn't noticed, evidently—across their shoulders.
She blinked. She'd been so caught up in... well, everything, but mostly trying to impress the council, that she'd missed details right in front of her face. She just had to hope she hadn't missed anything else.
Her hope was quickly crushed when Oriel slid a dagger into their belt.
She balked. "When did you have that?"
"Have what?" they asked nonchalantly, adjusting their gloves as they turned to the door.
"A dagger. I thought you weren't a fighter."
They shrugged slightly. "Where did you ever get that idea?"
Celvene bit her lip and followed Oriel out of the room, shouldering the thin animal pelt she'd snatched from the castle over her small frame. She supposed she didn't know where she'd gotten that idea.
She pulled up the mask Oriel advised she wear, and the scholar led her out of the tavern.
After Abbiu's comment, the council had seemed all too eager to leave—whether that was because of the shoddy food, the mediocre company, or something else entirely, Celvene didn't know, and she didn't want to know.
She'd already made a fool of herself enough, and that was without alcohol.
At the very least, someone who wasn't Oriel had shown interest in her. Ulynica was a curious ally.
"Are you heading out to the castle?" Oriel asked as they held the front door of the tavern open for her.
She tightened the cloth mask she'd brought against her face and breathed out, breath hot against the fabric. The night was cold, she realized, as she stepped outside. Colder than it should've been. "No. I... need to clear my head. Get some fresh air."
Even though Celvene turned her back to Oriel, she felt the pause in their words and the crease in their brows. "Are you certain that's a good idea? The windows at the palace serve that purpose without the risk of getting shanked."
"Not particularly," she said, "but I need to stretch my legs, too. If you see the other servants, could you tell them they can take my meal tonight?"
She knew it was a request that would go unanswered. Oriel's section of the castle was in the opposite direction of any of the staff areas.
Silence hung in the cold air around them before the clicks of Oriel's heels retreating from her told her they'd gone back to the palace.
Or somewhere else, at least. That felt like the first time anyone had listened to an "order"—more like a feeble request—since before the ceremony.
Honestly, probably before joining Painted Sky, too.
She let out a sigh and tucked her chestnut hair behind her ears before fixing her mask and walking towards a darker part of the city.
She knew it could've been a bad idea, but so did other people; maybe she'd finally get some peace and quiet if she went somewhere other people were too scared to go. Or maybe she'd just get herself killed.
Walking into an alleyway, she rested the back of her head against the wooden wall of the building behind her. Flowerboxes lined the windows, and Celvene placed her elbow against the concrete, her eyes adjusting to the dark.
That was when she saw it.
A figure, motionless, clad in silver armor from head to toe. Celvene's head snapped to the side, and she blinked, wondering if she was imagining things. No, she wasn't. There was a person in the alleyway. An unconscious person. A dead person?
She knelt down next to them, breathing shuddering. She didn't want to touch a dead person. But the faint rise and fall of their chest told Celvene they weren't dead—just close, maybe.
What happened to you?
As she placed a hand on the person's skin to check them for injuries, as something had to be the cause of their state, a pale blue sheen rippled across their body.
Its shimmer dulled, and what Celvene was left looking at was something she couldn't have imagined.
Something she suspected she didn't want to imagine.
Mel.
Celvene's knees buckled, forcing her to the ground, and she scrambled back, as if that would help her escape.
Her hands desperately searched for something—anything—to ground herself, but all that met her trembling fingers was the cool, uneven stone road.
Her back pressed up against the wooden house behind her, and as Celvene's chest rose and fell in quick pants, Melantha stirred.
Just slightly. Just enough for it to be noticeable.
She glanced around, tempering the urge to crawl out of the alleyway and look for a guard.
Should she call for help? A Noriyan soldier lay unconscious right in front of her.
Whatever oath she was supposed to take as queen, she knew it would mean she had to swear loyalty against Melantha.
They'd be enemies. More so than they were now.
Energy bit at Celvene's heels, urging her to drag herself out, leave Melantha for the wolves, and find someone to put her to justice. After all, Melantha and her friends had subjected Celvene's kingdom to unimaginable horrors for years.
And it was what she was supposed to do. As queen.
But as a girl...
She swallowed hard. Her eyes lingered on Melantha's golden hair, as entrancing as ever, spilling over her shoulders in gentle waves.
Her pale cheek pressed against the ground, rosy lips slightly parted, long eyelashes nearly brushing the cobblestone.
Even under the moonlight, Celvene could make out every freckle dotting Melantha's face.
She sighed. I need to check her for injuries. After that...
I don't know what I'll do.
Celvene readjusted her posture and slid closer to Melantha. For them to be so close after so long, and Melantha didn't want to try to kill her... it felt... odd. But nice, she supposed.
She got to work unbuttoning Melantha's cuffs, then moved further up with slow movements. Her fingers still quivered. When she breathed out, it shook. Her hands moved up closer, towards Melantha's shoulders.
Focus, Celvene.
Her hand nearly strayed to Melantha's face, to brush away the hair that shielded her. But Celvene quelled the odd urge.
Then Melantha's eyes snapped open. Celvene had almost no time to react before Melantha reared up, wincing.
"They..." She gasped for air, unfocused eyes staring into nothing. "They left me."
Celvene knew it was probably a stupid idea to ask, but she couldn't stop herself before she said, "Who?"
Melantha's features steeled in a second. Maybe Celvene should've stayed quiet.
Like she'd pulled herself together and absorbed her surroundings in a matter of seconds, Melantha pulled her knees up to her chest and angled her head away from Celvene. "You're here."
Celvene's eyebrows furrowed. "I am."
"Why'd it have to be you?"
Celvene scoffed. "If any other citizen had found you, they would have slit your throat. I would consider yourself lucky it's just me."
The corners of Melantha's lips quirked upward. "I suppose."
"Although, with my sword skills, I'm not sure I would've been able to kill you while you were unconscious anyways," she forced out.
Part of her wanted to lighten the mood. Part of her wanted things to go back to how they were before, years before anything bad had happened to them.
And the rest of her still wanted to call for a guard.
Melantha let out a breathy laugh. But then her features froze, and a moment later, they grew serious. Celvene's hands curled around her knees.
"Wait," Melantha breathed, then shoved Celvene away before scrambling to her feet. It was like the realization of the situation actually dawned on her. "You called the guards, didn't you? You called someone. You're stalling for time. You're trying to get me killed."
"What?" Celvene balked. "No! I didn't call anyone!"
"N-No," Melantha said. "No, no, no. That can't happen. Not now."
The way she spoke, it almost sounded... scripted. Not in the sense that she'd practiced it, but that she'd been told something so many times that she had no other choice in how she reacted.
"I swear, Mel—" Celvene flinched and drew in a sharp breath, hoping Melantha didn't notice. "Melantha, I didn't call anyone. I barely had time to recollect my thoughts after I accidentally severed your spell. Where... where are your friends? Did you come alone?"
"I'm not going to answer that, Celvene!" Melantha snarled, unsheathing her sword. The screech of steel in the night pricked at Celvene's ears. "Are you trying to size us up? Know how many guards to call?"
Us. So she isn't alone, Celvene noted. And the ball is soon...
"No," she said as steadily as she could. "I only wanted to help you, Melantha. I don't want to hurt you. If I did, we wouldn't be speaking right now, because I would've driven a dagger through your heart when I first saw you."
Melantha's breathing shook, and she took a step backward, running her hands through her curls as her sword clattered to the ground. "Oh, gods."
Before Celvene could respond, Melantha scooped her sword up and took off into the darkness. Her footsteps quickly faded into silence. Celvene was left alone. The blackness of the alleyway hugged her from all angles.
Celvene watched Melantha go in stunned silence, the moon hanging over her.
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