Chapter 28
TWENTY-EIGHT
Eirabella
I wake up groggy, my tongue firmly attached to the roof of my mouth. How much wine did I drink yesterday? I remember nothing much of my conversation with Rylan, and somehow I managed to make it back to my room, having missed all of my afternoon training sessions and dinner.
A knock on the door joins in with the incessant banging in my head. I groan, rolling over. “Please, for Morath’s sake, stop knocking and just come in,” I mutter, voice muffled by the pillow.
The door creaks open, and I hear a familiar voice, full of mock disapproval.
“Oh, Eirabella, don’t tell me that without me, you’ve turned into a lazy troll.”
I open one eye and instantly regret it. “Brienne?!”
There she stands, arms crossed and eyebrows raised, her face alight with amusement. I barely give her a second to breathe before I’m out of bed and throwing myself at her. I wrap my arms around her so tightly, she lets out a startled squeak.
“I can’t believe you’re here!” I squeeze her harder, like if I let go, she might disappear.
Brienne laughs, patting my back like I’m a child. “Yes, well, you can thank a certain royal for that.”
I pull back, blinking. “What do you mean?”
She makes her way over to the tub, starting to fill it with water with her magic, the steam rising in the cool air. “Last night, Prince Rylan came to see me. He officially asked for me to work in his quarters, with you.”
I frown, confused. “He did?”
Brienne flashes me a knowing smile, one eyebrow arched. “Maybe he’s not as heartless as you think.” Before I can respond, Brienne interrupts my thoughts. “Come on now, it won’t do for you to show up late on my first day back.” She winks at me. “You wouldn’t want to give Prince Brooding another reason to lecture you.”
I shake my head, unable to hold back a grin. Then, without warning, I scoop Brienne up in another hug, lifting her off the ground to the sound of her squeals.
I arrive at the training grounds with a wide grin on my face, the cool morning air delicious against my skin. I don’t know what I’m going to say to him. Is a simple thank you enough? He stands in the middle of the field waiting, arms folded across that huge strong chest, watching me walk toward him. His posture seems tenser than usual, his gaze sharp and distant. Our eyes meet, and for a moment, neither of us moves. Then, before I can stop myself, I close the distance between us and wrap my arms around him in a hug. It’s impulsive, but I can’t help it .
“Thank you,” I whisper against his chest.
“For what?” he says after a pause, his voice lower, guarded.
“For giving me my friend back.”
I feel him stiffen. For a heartbeat, he doesn’t move, and I think I’ve overstepped. But then, his arms come around me, slow and careful, as if he’s not sure he should be doing this. He holds me tightly, longer than I expected, but I’m not going to be the one to let go first. The heat of his body warms me through the thin fabric of my shirt. There’s a slight tension in his muscles, and I wonder if it’s from an injury. Word had spread that he and his guards were attacked last night while patrolling the city.
When I pull back, his face is softer, his usual guarded expression gone for just a moment. His cheeks are a little flushed, and he clears his throat, looking away as if to compose himself.
“It’s nothing,” he mutters, voice rough. But it wasn’t nothing. I know that, and so does he. I smile at him, and as I’m about to let go, he leans in, his breath warm against my ear. His voice drops, a low whisper that sends a shiver down my spine. “I’d do anything for you, Eirabella.”
The way he says my name, the way his voice wraps around it like it’s something sacred… my heart stumbles. I freeze, the world narrowing to just the sound of his breathing and the warmth of his body so close to mine.
I step back, but my eyes stay locked on his. His gaze lingers on my face, a storm of unspoken thoughts swirling in their depths. It feels like the air between us has thickened, and I can't help but notice how he clung to me just now. Had something happened last night during the attack? Something that compels him to need comfort? I’ve come to realise that after skirmishes, he tends to withdraw, as if he needs to take some time to process what happened. What he did. But something feels different about this morning; it’s as if he’s building walls again, and I don’t know why.
I swallow hard, trying to remember how to speak, how to act normal. “Did I say something silly yesterday? I should’ve warned you that I cannot take my wine.”
He blinks, and then clears his throat, the guarded mask sliding expertly back into place. “You… don’t remember anything?”
“Well, I remember some of it. We talked. You told me about… your scar. And somehow you got me to talk about fucking Samfer. But… I don’t remember much after that.” I make an apologetic face. “I didn’t do something silly like perform a naked dance to the gods, did I?”
He pauses, then shakes his head. “Er, no. No. Nothing silly.”
I let out an exhale in relief. “Okay, good. And… you didn’t say anything of importance that I should have written down, did you?”
He just shakes his head again.
“Good. Anyway, the fact I’m here at my training session on time is a miracle. I should warn you, you are not going to be happy with my progress today,” I manage, holding my still-recovering head.
Rylan doesn’t move at first, just stands there, watching me with that same unreadable intensity. Then he says, “I’m not staying. I only came to tell you that you should join Master Gavrik and Doran this morning. I’m too busy to train you. Go through the manoeuvres we practised yesterday. Don’t forget to hold your focus; your mind tends to wander. Don’t think a headache is going to get you out of training.” His tone is clipped, colder than before. Then, without so much as another word, he stalks off the training field, almost angrily, leaving me standing there, confused and hollow.
Moonlight spills through the Aetherhold windows as Doran and I creep down the hall, half-stifling our laughter with cupped hands. Every step feels like a risk, but the thrill of the night’s mission—raiding the kitchens for ice cream—keeps me moving.
“I swear you’re going to be the reason I get kicked out of Aetherhold one day,” Doran whispers, barely holding back his grin.
I snort, trying to keep my own face straight. “It wouldn’t be any fun for you here without me anyway..”
He rolls his eyes. “Only because you get all the special treatment and I like how much it annoys Selene.”
I guffaw at that and he covers my mouth, making me laugh even louder. It takes us a minute to calm down and then I peek around the corner, waving him forward like we’re on some grand heist. “Now, let’s go. I happen to know exactly where they keep the good stuff.”
The kitchen is dark and quiet, with a faint glow from the embers in the hearth. We slip inside, and Doran heads straight for the icebox with way too much confidence for a first-timer. I raise an eyebrow. “Oh, so you know where the ice cream’s kept! You’ve done this before, haven’t you? And you didn't invite me?”
He chuckles, pulling open the icebox and digging out two spoons like a practised professional. “I don’t know what you’re implying… but yes.” He hands me a spoon, then pauses, looking thoughtful as he leans against the counter. “And hey, guess what? Got a letter from Penalynn today.”
“Does she know you’re an expert ice cream thief?” I tease, nudging him with my elbow. “And when are you finally going to make an honest woman of her?”
His smile softens, and he looks down at his spoon like it’s suddenly become the most interesting thing in the world. “I will,” he says, quieter, more serious. “There’s just… something I have to do first.” He clears his throat, looking back at me with that familiar mischievous spark. “Anyway, she’s been accepted as a healer’s apprentice. She’ll be coming to Narathia in a few months on a study trip. I can’t wait to introduce you to her.”
I lean against the counter, smirking. “Sounds like someone’s got plans,” I say, though it’s hard to ignore the warmth in my chest. Doran, my sweet, silly friend, actually planning a future.
We settle back, spooning mouthfuls of ice cream straight from the tub as we sit on the kitchen floor, our backs resting against the cabinets. The soft glow of the kitchen and the quiet make it feel like our own little world, safe and tucked away from the rest of Aetherhold.
“So,” Doran says, glancing over at me between spoonfuls. “Anyone you miss from home?”
The question catches me off guard, and my smile falters. “Yes,” I say after a moment, looking down at my spoon. “But… it’s better I don’t think about them. Being here makes it easier to pretend they’re far away.”
Doran nods, his gaze warm with understanding. He clinks his spoon against mine, a soft gesture that feels like a promise. “One day, when all this is over, we’ll go visit Brewer Falls and Larilea. Deal?”
A real smile tugs at my lips, and I nod. “Deal.”
Before I can say more, a clattering sound echoes from the hallway. We freeze, eyes wide, and scramble behind a stack of crates, breathing in hushed, panicked gasps. Footsteps approach, quiet but unmistakable, accompanied by a soft hum. I peer around the edge of the crate and stifle a laugh when I see who it is.
“Alina,” Doran whispers with a smirk. “Probably here for a snack, too.” He gives me a nudge. “Shall we?”
I cover my mouth to hold back a snicker and nod. Together, we count to three, then jump out, yelling, “Boo!”
Alina yelps, her eyes widening as she clutches her chest, then glares at us, trying to hide a smile. “You two are unbelievable,” she hisses, rolling her eyes. “You’re lucky I didn’t drop the biscuits.”
Doran sweeps into a mock bow, all graceful exaggeration. “We’d never dream of disturbing your late-night snack plans, Alina. We’re just here for a bit of ice cream… which, of course, you didn’t see.”
“But now that I know there are biscuits as well,” I grin.
She shakes her head but lowers herself to the floor beside us, holding out her hand until Doran passes her a spoon. We sit there, passing the tub between us and eating and telling ghost stories, like this is something we’ve done a hundred times before.
It strikes me, suddenly, how much has changed as I glance at Alina, who’s laughing at one of Doran’s ridiculous stories. I’m here, in the royal castle, sitting on the kitchen floor sharing stolen ice cream with a princess and a friend like Doran. It’s a life I never could have imagined.
Now, if only I could figure out a certain moody, broody prince, and just what role he’s supposed to be playing in my new life.