Chapter Eighteen
In the following days, I find that the threat of being captured by the Dragon King is a rather effective motivator for me to take this queen business seriously.
I’m decidedly less apt at royal training than training to be a Scholar, but I’ve been a good student all my life.
I listen intently to the knowledge Sinetar imparts, but the physical challenges are, well, a challenge.
I’ve always been more of a student than an athlete, though Pax always made me go for runs with him, so I’m fairly fast and have good stamina on the track Sinetar shows me.
Kimbra takes notes for me and whispers small bits of helpful advice. She’s all soft smiles and polite words. Yadira, on the other hand, is blunt and even disdainful once she realizes I won’t have her executed for her impertinence.
In truth, I sort of like it. At least she’s genuine.
Nevertheless, I’m not trusting enough to let down my guard around either of them, which makes court a lonely place for me.
We usually train in my wing of the palace, but today, Sinetar leads my entourage and me into a cavernous room that reminds me of the library back at DLSA… If the library was a huge empty dome without books, that is.
“This is Palace Central,” Master Sinetar says. “Everything in the palace connects up here.”
“It’s also the ballroom,” Kimbra says, eyes sparkling with longing.
“Will I need to learn to dance?” I ask. “Is that part of the queen’s job description?”
I ask the question with a polite smile, but in my head, I’m asking if I really need to prettify the process of being bred by eight dragon shifters.
Obviously I can’t say that, so I just hold my grin.
Before Sinetar can answer, a door to my left swings wide and fog billows into the ballroom.
A chilly wind blows my hair aside before the breeze abruptly redirects—likely Sinetar’s doing.
The fog remains, settling around my ankles.
There’s a light tinkling sound, and then a girl steps into the room.
Her bodice is entirely blue gems, matching her bright blue eyes and dramatic eye shadow.
She’s about my age, thin, and tall. Her gown is a golden color just a few shades darker than her wheat-blonde hair.
She’s beautiful and regal, with round cheeks, a button nose, and plump lips.
Six guards step through the door and form a line behind her.
“Sister,” she greets me, her smile a fragile thing. She folds her hands over her waist. “I’ve been aching to meet you, but you’ve been so busy with your duties as heir.”
My mind immediately screams, “You are not my sister!”
I have a sister, and she’s crass and reckless and human.
I should have stayed home with her. I should have stayed in our little village and had a couple more happy months with my family before the dragons forced me to court.
But that’s not fair to this girl. She didn’t ask to be the sword hanging over my head.
Not only that, but she already had a taste of my worst nightmare—being a captive in an enemy kingdom.
I owe her a chance.
I nod, only to have Kimbra hiss in my ear, “Don’t bow to her. She curtsies to you.”
“Princess Shynia,” I say, remembering the name that Sinetar told me a few days ago. “I’ve been hoping to meet you also.”
“The pleasure is all mine, your highness.” Princess Shynia curtsies low to the floor as her guards give deep bows.
When she stands again, her light blue eyes are fixed on me.
She’s ice kingdom, I remember, and I wonder if that’s what makes her seem so unreal, like a living, breathing doll.
“Please forgive me,” she says, “But I overheard you asking if you needed to learn to dance, and I thought that you must be sharing a joke.”
She sounds friendly enough, but there is no ignoring the passive-aggressive undertone to her question. I glance back at my ladies who wear pleasant expressions that look just a little too neutral.
“Nope,” I say. “No jokes here.”
“Well, of course you’ll need to know how to dance,” she says before raising a hand to her mouth and tittering into her palm, dimples sinking into her plump cheeks. “How else will you entertain your suitors?”
“Shouldn’t my suitors be entertaining me?”
“I think you’ll find, Princess Shynia, that our future queen has a wicked sense of humor,” Sinetar says, his body stiffening into a straight, formal pose like that of my guards.
“The effect of being raised by humans, I suppose.” Even though the girl gives me a wide smile, I’m pretty sure she’s openly insulting me, albeit slyly.
She gazes down at the floor, as if bashful.
Her blonde hair is swept into an elegant, intricate knot on top of her head.
“You’ll be very busy with suitors. Just like dear mama. I hear you’ve already met her?”
“Briefly.”
“It must be so strange for you. I mean, to me she is simply mother—my dear mother whose love I enjoyed since I was a hatchling. To you she’s a stranger. You don’t even know her. You don’t know anything of the court.”
She’s clearly implying that she knows everything about being queen, while I know nothing. She’s not wrong. I glance from one of my guards to the next, then my ladies. But they’re all stone-faced and offer no help.
“I hear that was to protect me,” I say at last. My chest has been heating with annoyance, but as soon as I say these words, the anger dies, replaced by shame.
I shouldn’t sink to this girl’s level. As much as I could deny the undercurrent to my words, when I say that the queen protected me, I am pointing out that she did not protect her.
The Sun King found Shynia and kept her hostage.
Who knows the terror of living through that.
If Shynia is insulted though, she hides it well with her dimples and cold eyes.
“I’m actually here to call on mama.” With a haughty tilt of her chin, she settles her skirts and grins.
“She likes to keep me close as I’m next in line for the throne.
You know. In case anything were to happen to you—say you fell down a well or were trampled by a carriage while out there amongst humans being protected.
So I’m already well versed in the ways of the queen. Just in case.”
I know a veiled threat when I hear one, and as overwhelmed as I might be, I’m not going to run away or let her intimidate me.
Before I can say anything back, though, Pax’s hand presses reassuringly against my lower back as he steps closer to me.
“I’m Vynessa’s lifelong guard,” he says.
“When the queen’s powers began to wane, I trained to join her royal guard here at court. I would die to protect her.”
Fuck.
I want to step in front of Pax to shield him from my sister’s gaze. As perfectly polite as Shynia is being, she has some serious “die, bitch,” vibes going, and I don’t want her or her guards’ attention anywhere near Pax.
“How adorable you are,” Shynia says with a disdainful look at my friend and protector.
“But I suggest you continue your training for another hundred years or so before you attempt to protect a queen. I have six full-time, pureblood, combat-trained adult guards in my employ. I doubt very much a newly trained, teenage halfling provided any protection at all to the heir. She was merely invisible—and very lucky.”
Pain and anger crosses Pax’s expression, and one of my ladies hisses in a breath at the insult as well.
For my part, I want to claw the bitch. Fury burns through my veins.
Pax might be low born in their eyes, but we love each other, and when it comes to protecting someone, that has to count for at least as much as being born with a type of blood in your veins that you had no control over.
I can’t imagine Shynia’s highly trained guards are loyal to her out of love. Actually, I can’t imagine anyone loving this literal ice princess.
“Pax is my guardian,” I say. “For life. I’m not going to replace him now that I’m at the palace. If anything, I’ll keep him even closer. I’m not sure what authority I have over you, sister, but you’re not going to insult Pax in front of me again.”
She gives a smirk and lets her eyes fall to where his hand is still resting protectively on my back.
“Whatever you say, Vynessa. Keep your lowborn consort with you if it makes you happy. The queen has had many over the centuries. They pass the time. Just make sure he doesn’t get too excited and spike you—if he does, you’ll end up with one less lover and a wasted egg. ”
I have no idea what she’s talking about, but I notice that she doesn’t use my title but addresses me as an equal…
Or less. I also notice the warmth in my cheeks at her words, which irritates me beyond measure.
Pax must notice too because he quickly drops his hand and steps back into place, his face frozen in an expressionless mask.
“Who I do and don’t spike with is none of your business.” I have no idea what I’m saying, but it sounds badass, so I grin a little maniacally at her.
“I’m going to assume that you’re joking because who spikes you is everyone’s business.
” I know that her facade of politeness is fraying when she openly rolls her eyes.
A blonde strand of hair comes loose from her updo, and she pushes it back with an almost violent force.
“You take this very lightly, which is surprising after you spent your entire life in hiding from the Sun King,” she snaps.
“He crushed many of our siblings. You were lucky. The queen’s errand boy snuck out a few of her eggs during the attack on the palace centuries ago.
If he hadn’t, neither of us would be here. ”
“Then I guess we were both lucky,” I say. “And I wasn’t hiding. I was hidden. I didn’t even know I came from an egg.”
She scoffs. “Good thing that errand boy guarded your egg for five hundred years until you were ready to hatch, moving it all around the world—or so the story goes.”