Chapter 13
This day cannot be over fast enough.
Keeping my eyes shut, I take a deep breath as, once again, the ground quivers beneath me. Another tremor follows this, chased by a snarl, a roar, and then the crowd’s elated cheers. It seems Soren has won another bout.
That’s wonderful, I tell myself. I’m safe. He’s safe. All is well.
Yet my nerves feel as threadbare and frayed as an old rag.
My fingers curl into fists on my knees. Drawing a body of water this large takes immense concentration and mental acuity. Trying to do so with an endless dragon brawl waging outside is a challenge I was unprepared for.
Wake, I call with a gentle prod of my mind.
Water does not speak necessarily, but a body this size acquires something akin to a personality. This one reminds me of a certain king in the mornings.
Sleeping is the sense I receive back yet again, along with a sensation like a mountain rolling over. I sigh.
“Are you in need of anything, Your Highness?” Fuller asks.
This is another distraction. All the servants and assistants I was able to politely send away earlier, but my newly-conscripted guards remain, two of them outside the tent and one hovering near me at all times.
“No,” I say, careful to temper my tone. This arrangement isn’t his fault. “But I thank you.”
I enjoy relative quiet for approximately three minutes before the ground begins rumbling again. I let out an audible groan.
“Are you sure you would not like some refreshment?”
Refreshment seems to be a dragon’s answer to all ailments, and I have already been refreshed with everything from almond cookies to a full tray of the pomegranate sorbets I enjoyed with the king in the palace kitchen.
“No, thank you,” I reply.
In truth, it’s the taste of Soren’s lips I keep thinking of, not cookies and sorbets, and this is my third and perhaps greatest distraction.
“I want…things I cannot yet have, he had said. And I am not fond of waiting. Last night it seemed safer to keep my distance.”
I roll my lips together. Would he want the same tonight? To keep his distance?
Is that what I want?
Of course it is, I chide myself. We aren’t yet wed, and besides, I’m meant to be drawing water, not fantasizing about his mouth on mine. Or his fingers roving through my hair…
“Are you all right, Your Highness?”
My eyes fly open to find Boyd in place of Fuller. They switched posts without me even noticing, though I shouldn’t be too surprised. I quickly learned the youngest guard moves with the greatest quiet, almost as if he’s gliding across the sand.
“I’m fine,” I say, sweeping the current collection of grit from my thighs in a fluster.
“Would you like some—”
I drop my face in my hands. “No refreshments. Please.”
Boyd looks unaffected when I lift my head, but I wince at my own rudeness.
“Forgive me again, Boyd, please. I’m tired.” A glance toward the entrance shows me a sky creeping toward sunset. “It’s been a long day.”
“I’ll see you tonight then, Princess.”
I find myself worrying my lip even more.
“There is no need for you to apologize, Your Highness,” Boyd says.
I rub at my temple, damp from hours’ worth of sweating.
“You don’t need to say that simply because of my position.
” When he doesn’t respond, I add, “And you don’t need to stay here if you don’t wish.
You’re welcome to join your comrades.” At least they can keep each other company.
This is likely the least exciting assignment they’ve ever had.
“There is nothing better than guarding our queen,” Boyd answers.
“I am not queen yet.”
“You are our queen now, Your Highness.”
I almost remark that his statement is contradictory but don’t bother.
Instead, I let out a long, weary sigh. “I hope you know I’ll do everything I can to reinstate you to your original position, you and your comrades.
Just give me a little time.” Standing about a tent all day can’t be what Tirenth’s most elite guards hoped for.
The three of them are likely feeling as trapped as I am.
With this, I shut my eyes and begin seeking my lethargic friend below.
“You dishonor us.”
I blink up at Boyd. “Pardon?”
He’s staring straight ahead, a soldier at perfect attention. “To say you would send us away, that you would return us to our previous positions—” His chest heaves on a ragged breath. “You would dishonor us beyond recovery. Your Highness.”
His eyes stutter my way, as if fearing he’s overstepped his bounds. “Please don’t dismiss us,” he whispers.
Then he faces forward and falls silent.
I gaze up at him in utter bewilderment. “I did not mean…” My words dwindle away as I try to piece all this together.
I never meant to insult him or his comrades; I meant to help, to restore.
This whole swearing-themselves-to-me business seemed a begrudging assignment at best and an unfortunate accident at worst. I assumed my forced departure humiliated them, that my actions subjected them to ridicule amongst their fellow guards, unintentionally so, yes, but done all the same.
I meant to right that as well as I could.
Except I seem only to be deepening my wrong.
I rub at my face. I feel like a bumbling mess right now, not a future queen. Minister Abely leaps to mind, and uncharacteristic anger for the one who left me so utterly clueless in a foreign land sears through me.
No, that’s over and done with. I wish Tilly were here. She may be younger than me, but she’s kind and far better informed. I’m sure she can help me navigate this.
Before I can think of what to say to Boyd, I hear a shift in the crowd’s murmuring, a stirring over some new point of interest. Boyd notices, too, and strides outside, returning moments later with a pinched look.
“What is it?” I ask.
“It seems one of the Ilanthren princesses has just arrived here, Your Highness.”
I puzzle over his apprehension. A princess’s arrival doesn’t seem terribly concerning. A royal wedding is happening soon; Ilanthren nobility would be invited and expected to attend.
Though I suppose finding the king in the midst of mangling his opponent doesn’t make the best first impression.
“Do you happen to know which one?” My sisters and I were forced to memorize the nobility from all the wealthiest nations. There are three Ilanthren princesses, as well as two princes.
“Princess Rosa Noviko,” Boyd says.
Interesting. Princess Rosa is the youngest of all the siblings, though she’s still two years older than me. I would have thought the heir would have been sent on Soren’s account, though perhaps he means to come later.
I should go greet her. This is at least one part of royal life I understand, and besides, she’s likely taken aback by the scene she rode into.
I rise to dust myself off and grimace at what I see. Hiln dressed me in a loose linen shirt and pants when I returned to draw, and though they’re embellished with lovely embroidery, they’re also rumpled beyond all saving.
Should I change into a gown? Calling Hiln here will take time. I glare down at the sand between my sandaled toes. What would my sisters do?
Selena would say poo on gowns (for which my mother would scold her).
The others I hear say that, given the circumstances, promptness would be more appreciated than courtly attire.
Only Celeste squeals that she wouldn’t be caught dead in trousers, and if she were dead, someone best change her into a gown before she’s seen, unless we want her to come back and haunt us all.
“I’m going to greet the princess,” I say, and quickly wiping my face, I exit the tent, knowing I’ll be followed.
The sun is sinking low, and even so, outside is far brighter than I anticipate. I squint as I walk and eventually realize I’m heading toward Soren rather than wherever the princess is. I laugh at myself.
“Might one of you direct me to Princess Rosa?”
“Of course, Your Highness,” Yarl says and steps in the lead.
He continues in the same direction. Perhaps she’s watching from the rim as I did earlier?
But no, he’s aiming for the area where Soren fought. What is the princess doing in the arena?
At the end of the tents, I pause. Even at this distance and with his back facing me, I mark Soren, his white hair and dark horns unmistakable. Coming toward him is what appears to be a herd of attendants with two women striding ahead of them. One of them is Tilly.
As Soren turns to greet them, the other launches herself into his arms.
Shock stills me in place. I watch as she embraces him, as she draws back to flash him a brilliant smile even as she continues clinging to his sides.
This can’t be Princess Rosa. This must be someone else, a cousin, or some distant relation. No unwed princess of a major power like Ilanthren would act so—
She lays a hand on his bare chest.
My eyes instinctively dart away at the impropriety. To touch him while he’s so scantily clothed, here, in front of everyone. Grown woman or not, my mother would drag me from sight out of shame.
My feet start toward them of their own accord. She’s no longer touching him, but she remains close, throwing her head back and laughing at something he says. All my thoughts of mistresses come roaring back.
No, no. Nothing about the way Soren kissed me spoke of someone else. And yet, maybe he kisses every woman like that. Maybe I’m too naive to know better.
Maybe he’s kissed her like that.
I give myself a shake. This is mad. Yes, she embraced him like a—well, in an indecent manner, but that doesn’t mean he has feelings for her, or her for him. She’s probably an old family friend.
As if responding to an invisible tug, Soren’s head ticks my way. His eyes take me in like a man being offered a drink after a day’s work in the wilderness, and I take heart from his notice.
Until I take a good look at Princess Rosa.
There can be no doubt of who she is. Like many Ilanthrens, she has red hair and ivory skin. But I’m doing her an injustice.
Her hair is like rubies, and her skin is flawless.
She’s dressed in her homeland’s style, with an off-shoulder dress held up by frills and fortitude, and somehow she seems to be bearing it all without a trace of sweat.
And here I am before them now, sticky, disheveled, and almost certain I have sand in my undergarments.
“Oh, Soren,” she says, draping her hand over his arm as she looks me up and down. “She’s lovely.”
I will myself not to look at that hand.
Soren doesn’t. He blinks down at it as if puzzled over how it came to be there.
Tilly suddenly springs toward me, blocking my view. “Serah! I was so worried about you.”
I force myself to swallow and work up a smile. “Why ever so?”
Her mouth drops open. “Because Soren told us not to leave, and then you were gone, and the next thing I hear, you have three guards sworn to you.”
“Oh, so she’s feisty as well.” Princess Rosa says, her mouth puckering in an effort not to smirk. “I’m sure you like that.” This she directs at Soren.
“Yes,” he says without taking his eyes off me. “I like everything about her.”
Stepping away from her, he comes to stand in front of me, bringing with him a scent of hot earth and fire, two things I did not know could smell so strangely enticing.
“Good evening, Serah,” he murmurs, lowering his face near mine.
My cheeks instantly begin their infernal burning. “Good evening, Soren.”
His eyes sharpen with pleasure, and gripping my hand in his, he turns to face the princess. “Princess Rosa, allow me to introduce my betrothed, Princess Serah Celandina of Vasna.”
“My new sister,” Tilly blurts with pride.
Princess Rosa pastes on a smile. “I’m honored, Princess Serah. When I heard of your engagement, I knew I simply had to meet you.”
I incline my head in acknowledgement. “We’re honored you’ve come so far to celebrate our union.”
“Oh,” she titters, “it’s no trouble. I’ve been coming here since I was a girl. Didn’t you tell her, Soren?”
Since she was a girl?
Soren yawns into his fist. “No.”
Tilly bounces over to loop her arm in the princess’s. “Rosa comes every other winter, and now that I’m sixteen, I’ve started visiting Ilanthren. We’re ambassadors!”
The two exchange smiles, though only one strikes me as genuine.
“I apologize that we weren’t able to greet you at the palace,” I say.
Princess Rosa waves this off. “I’ve seen my fair share of dragons. There’s no need to fuss over me.”
Says the woman with half a dozen attendants.
“Are you ready to retire, Princess Serah?” Soren asks.
Under normal circumstances, I’d feel the need to soften such brusqueness.
But not today.
“I am, thank you.” To Princess Rosa, I say, “It was a pleasure to meet you. I’ll be sure to inquire after your accommodations and ensure they’re comfortable.”
She glances behind me. “It appears half the palace is already here.”
“It’s only temporary.”
She claps her hands together. “I know! Tilly, we should camp out, too. Let’s you and I share a tent.”
The throng of attendants stares in open-mouthed horror.
“I’m afraid that isn’t an option,” Soren says, his voice flat. “My servants are already stretched thin, and you aren’t accustomed to our summer heat.”
“Oh, but—”
“Tilly will ensure your comfort. Princess Serah needs to rest.”
With a nod in her direction, he turns us around and begins walking us back toward the tents.
“I missed you today,” he says, and then, as if he can’t contain himself, “Did you enjoy the sorbets I sent?”
I answer him, though I can’t be sure what I say. My mind is spinning, and the space behind my eyes is burning. He goes on speaking, and I ask about his fights and his opponents while waging a silent battle within.
By the time we reach the tent, the air is already cooling. The lanterns inside are lit, and Soren unfastens the ties holding the front flap, leaving us alone within.
“Would you like me to call for a bath to be brought?” he asks, turning to face me. Whatever he sees makes his brows knit together with concern. “Princess?”
One look at that concern and I burst into tears.