Chapter 20
TWENTY
Eirabella
After a week of successful and increasingly improving training sessions with Rylan, where I only feel like kicking him in the shin an average of twice a day, he deigns to give me an afternoon off from combat training for “good behaviour and only committing a minimal amount of insubordination against the crown.” It’s not until later that I find out the true reason why—the queen and princesses have invited me to a tea luncheon for the females of the court. No amount of begging, bargaining, promising, or threats of violence convinces him to get me out of it, and while Brienne is helping me dress, the amount of my blaspheming against the crown is anything but minimal.
“Your language is not befitting the dress I made you, Eira,” Brienne scolds as she laces up the bodice, pulling so tightly I can barely breathe. I suspect it is in part punishment for threatening to go to the luncheon in my training outfit. Before I leave, though, I give her a hug to thank her for the dress, as well as her friendship.
As I step into the garden, it’s immediately clear that this place has been touched by magic. Despite the fact that it’s the middle of winter, the ground beneath my feet is soft and free of snow, as if the season’s chill has been banished entirely from this small oasis. The air is warm, wrapping around me like a gentle embrace, a stark contrast to the biting cold that lingers just beyond the garden’s edges.
The pathway is lined with lush greenery, vibrant and full of life, each plant and flower carefully chosen to create a breathtaking display. Delicate snowdrops and crocuses peek out from the borders, their pale petals glowing in the soft light. Above, the trees are adorned with garlands of ivy and clusters of winter roses, their deep red blossoms adding bursts of colour to the serene landscape. The centrepiece of the garden is a grand gazebo, draped with more ivy and winter roses, with delicate sheer curtains billowing gently in the warm air.
Alina, ever the gracious princess, immediately takes me under her literal wing, tucking my arm with hers, guiding me with gentle smiles, genuine questions, and whispered introductions of the other guests. I appreciate Alina’s kindness, but it doesn’t stop me from feeling like I don’t quite belong.
As we walk alongside a group of court ladies, the conversation naturally drifts to Rylan, the ever-elusive but oh-so-eligible Crown Prince.
“Rylan and I have known each other since we were children,” Julietta says, a proud smile on her lips. “We share a special bond. I dare say, no one knows him better than I do.”
Selene, never one to be outdone, smirks. “Ah, but Lady Julietta, there’s more to a match than history, isn’t there? Not only am I of noble birth, but soon I will be the Aquilith. What better match for the crown prince and Celestaris than someone who can stand beside him in strength and status?”
One of the other ladies, attempting to lighten the mood, jokes, “What if Eirabella wins the trials? Then what, Selene?”
Selene’s laughter rings out, sharp and dismissive as she turns to me to make sure I can hear what she’s saying. “Eirabella? I shall enjoy watching her try.”
“That makes two of us, Selene. It will be quite the show. I hear the king has considered selling tickets,” I say lightly, gaining some giggles from Alina and the other ladies.
As the other women continue to chatter about all manner of superficial things, I can’t help but feel a pang of longing for the simplicity of my village, where people spoke plainly and didn’t hide their true intentions behind layers of silk and lace.
The queen, who had remained mostly silent during the walk, choosing instead to lean on Princess Elara’s arm and just listen, now sits under the gazebo quietly sipping her tea. Her presence is serene, though there’s a weariness about her that I can’t help but notice. Alina, ever the thoughtful one, gently pulls me toward her mother.
“Mother, you must hear some of Eirabella’s stories of her village,” Alina says, her voice warm.
The queen’s eyes sparkle with curiosity as she looks at me. “Oh, do tell, dear. I do so love hearing about life beyond these walls.”
Encouraged by the queen’s gentle interest, I begin to share stories of my life in the village. I speak of the small joys and simple pleasures, of the friends I left behind, as well as the village characters like BonBon. The queen listens intently, her expression softening with each tale.
“Your village sounds like a place full of life and love,” the queen says, her voice tinged with nostalgia as she stares over at the chapel the king built for her at the far end of the gardens, something she can often be found doing. “I can understand why you’d miss it.”
I nod, a small smile on my lips. “It was home, in every sense of the word.”
The queen sips her tea, a wistful look in her eyes. “I know what it’s like to feel out of place… to feel disconnected. And since my illness, I haven’t had the use of my magic for some time now. It’s as if a part of me is missing. I’m glad you have your magic back, dear.”
My heart aches for the queen, my empathy deepening. Such a kind, gentle, warm woman. I can’t help feeling as though her presence in this realm is wasted on a throne. “Is there anything that can be done?”
The queen shakes her head gently, her smile sad but accepting. “If there were, we would have found it. The king and I have spent countless hours searching for a cure, poring over ancient texts and forgotten lore, remedies and prophecies. Some of our best memories are of those quiet nights in His Majesty’s library, just the two of us, learning together, searching for answers. Sometimes, I think the journey has been far more important than the destination.”
I feel a connection with the queen in that moment, a shared understanding of loss and the longing for something just out of reach. Before I can respond, one of the other ladies leans in with a curious expression.
“Eirabella,” Lady Mirabel begins, a kind smile on her face, “tell us, what was it like growing up in a village? It must be quite different from life here at the castle.”
I hesitate for a moment but then decide to just be myself. “Oh, it was certainly different. For one, the cows were much better company than some people I’ve met.”
The ladies around me chuckle, intrigued by my candour. I continue, warming to my audience. “There was this one time when Janus, my best friend, decided it would be a brilliant idea to challenge me to a race. Not on foot, mind you, but riding our neighbour’s goats.”
“Goats?” Lady Corinna echoes, eyes wide with amusement.
I nod, my grin widening. “Yes, goats. Ones we ‘borrowed’ without asking. Needless to say, the goats were not as enthusiastic about the race as we were. Mine refused to move an inch, and Janus’s decided it would be more fun to run in the opposite direction. We both ended up in a ditch of mud, with the goats looking on as if we were the ones acting ridiculous.”
The group erupts into laughter, the tension easing as my story draws them in. Even the usually reserved Keeper of Sentience, Thynara Voss, cracks a smile.
“You know,” Lady Mirabel says, leaning in conspiratorially, “I think I’d rather enjoy a day in the village. Your stories make it sound much more lively than the endless banquets and ceremonies here.”
“Then, just between you and me,” I say, lowering my voice in a mock whisper, “if you ever get tired of the castle, there’s always a place for you in our goat races. Maybe we could even find Janus to run ahead with a giant carrot to entice them to run.”
The women laugh again, genuinely this time, and I feel a warmth spreading through me, enjoying the brief sense of belonging.
Just as the laughter dies down, the doors leading to the garden swing open, and Rylan bounds down the steps with Mathis and a few other guards. His presence immediately commands attention, and the chatter among the women hushes. He’s wearing his training outfit, that training outfit, and even though I just saw him in it a few hours ago for our morning training session, my heart still skips a beat. I can’t help but notice how the other women unashamedly ogle him, their eyes following his every move with open-mouthed admiration. A tiny pang of jealousy flickers in my chest, but it’s quickly replaced by a quiet satisfaction; I get to see him like this every day. He moves with ease and confidence through the garden, as if he knows but couldn’t care less that all eyes are on him, and immediately makes his way to the queen.
“Mother,” he greets warmly, bending down to kiss her cheek. The queen’s face lights up with a genuine smile, the earlier sadness seemingly forgotten.
“Darling,” she says, her voice filled with affection, gently touching his face. “Are you and Captain Corvane here just to disrupt my peaceful tea with your antics?”
“Of course not, Mother. I would rather be caught dead than stand next to Mathis around all these lovely women. I wouldn’t want to be trampled in the stampede to get to him. I simply wanted to wish my mother a lovely afternoon,” he jokes, his smile so disarming I wonder if there is a single woman here not half in love with him. Other than me, of course. He’s just my mentor. Or so I keep having to remind myself.
But I do smile at the sweet, open way he is with his mother, the amount of love between them wrapping around me like a warm hug.
Rylan then turns his gaze, sweeping over the groups of women before settling on me. And for a second, I wonder if I’m imagining the way his eyes flare with heat. Whatever it is, it makes me grin at him, and he grins back. Seeing the direction of his attention, Julietta’s eyes narrow, and she pulls away from her little clique and approaches him with a confident smile.
“Hello, Rylan,” she begins, her tone sickly sweet and laced with familiarity. “We were just—”
But Rylan simply strides past barely acknowledging her as he approaches me. His eyes sparkle with mischief as he stops in front of me, leaning down slightly to meet my gaze.
“Ah, I was wondering where my wayward disciple had disappeared to. Just this morning, she was practically begging me to have a triple combat training session today, yet here she is, sipping tea and eating all the fig tarts and leaving none for me,” Rylan jokes, referencing one of the bargains I’d tried to make to get out of the luncheon. He stands back, hands on his hips as he takes in my outfit. When he looks back up to my eyes, there’s no doubt that he likes what he sees, and butterflies take flight in my stomach from the look in his eyes. “Eirabella, perhaps you could wear this entirely too fetching dress to training tomorrow. I’ll be sure to be similarly dressed, so that we’ll match,” he suggests, a playful glint in his eyes.
I blink, taken aback by his directness, especially in front of everyone. Julietta and Selene glare at me over Rylan’s shoulder. I feel my cheeks warm, but I manage to muster a lighthearted response. Tilting my head slightly as though I’m sizing him up, I say, “Of course, as you wish, Your Highness. And what colour dress will you be wearing?”
Rylan laughs, clearly amused by my comment. “I’m not telling you. Where’s the fun in that?” he replies before straightening up with a wink.
Ignoring the other women vying for even just a sliver of his attention, he bows to me and then to his mother before leaving, Mathis chuckling softly behind him. And judging by the look on the women’s faces once he’s gone, I may have made some friends today, but I definitely have no small amount of enemies.