Chapter 22 #2
I snatch the towel, rising from the bath, and wrap it tightly around myself.
Peonica steps closer, her gaze steady as she picks up the white silk from the basin. She runs her fingers along the fabric with reverence, then looks up at me. “I just wanted you to see it before it’s gone,” she says quietly, her fingers brushing the silk before placing it in front of me.
The words settle deep, curling into the quiet corners of my mind as my gaze locks on the mirror. Side by side, Peonica and I couldn’t look more different.
She’s smaller, paler, her features sharp and angular. I’m softer, fuller in frame and face, the lines of my body shaped by years spent trying to fit an ideal carved by people who only ever valued polish over presence.
My reflection meets me with a hollow stare. The thin red thread woven into my white strands stands out like a wound. It is a visible mark of everything I’ve lost, but also a reminder that I’m not theirs anymore.
Not the Church’s. Not the court’s. Not Ryker’s. I belong to no one but the power now rooted in me.
I pick up the garment. “You know what,” I say, “I’ll wear it.”
Not for Ryker. Not for his praise, or the version of me he once wanted. Not for what might have been. I lift the garment and meet Peonica’s steady gaze in the mirror.
“I’ll wear it for me.”
The moment we sit down to eat, the interrogation begins. My friends coaxing out every detail from the moment Kaelzar whisked me away from the Trial to the moment we walked into my rooms.
I tell them everything, my voice occasionally muffled as I devour the food the servants bring in.
As I speak, I start to notice that Eva’s questions are curious, focused on what happened, while Peonica’s lean into whys.
Her mistrust of Kaelzar is unmistakable.
More than once, I catch her gaze flicking to the thin ring on my finger.
By the third time, I drop my hand beneath the table, pretending to reach for my napkin, but really just hiding it from view.
Eventually, even Eva loses patience with Peonica’s relentless questioning, especially after the younger girl asks why Calista would send her most powerful Shadeblood into the Trial instead of forcing him to sire the child she’s been waiting for.
After all, by the Trial’s own rules, if I had won, Kaelzar would have been bound to me for decades, maybe centuries, delaying any chance Calista had of resurrecting her husband’s power.
“Clearly, he wasn’t willing,” Eva says with a sharp exhale.
“You might not have much experience with proud, stubborn men, Peonica, but trust me, some of them would sooner cut off a limb than do what a woman asks. I can’t blame him, of course.
What she asked was vile. But Calista saw an opening.
Instead of waiting for a child who might never be born, she found another use for her most powerful Shadeblood.
She sent him here to win her victory instead. ”
Peonica listens, lips pressed tight. The logic of Eva’s words wars visibly with her own distrust that runs deeper than I’d realized. Finally, she leans back and folds her arms, which Eva takes as reluctant surrender.
“Now,” Eva turns to me. “Let’s focus on something more urgent.
If Mael really drugged you, we have to convince Ryker of the truth.
He’s the one we should be worrying about right now.
With potential brides swarming him, it won’t be long before the consul will evoke the Royal Continuance Decree which will force Ryker to marry within days. And then you’ll lose Ryker forever.”
My stomach twists, knowing that it is him who’s already lost me. “Isn’t The Royal Continuance Decree only applicable during war time?” I say.
The rule is so archaic that only the oldest noble houses, those closest to the throne, still force their children to study it.
It was enacted after the Skyburn War, when the last king fell fighting beside the gods against the wild dragons.
His death left no heir, and the kingdom tore itself apart, his siblings waging a civil war that nearly destroyed Calcatra.
The decree was forged in the ashes of that war to prevent such chaos from ever happening again.
It gave the Consul the authority to bind a reigning king to a bride of their choosing during times of war.
The couple would then be given a sanctioned elixir, meant to all but guarantee conception of a male heir.
Once the queen’s pregnancy was confirmed, she ruled as regent in the king’s absence until the child came of age.
“With what happened to Sheryndale,” Eva says, “consul Black is convinced war with Lothagrom is inevitable. And since it’s customary for the king to lead the army…” She trails off, her meaning clear.
Peonica scoffs. “What does this consul Black know? Sheryndale is a tiny kingdom on the other side of the continent.”
I frown. “What happened to it?”
Eva’s expression darkens. “Sheryndale was a tiny kingdom on the other side of the continent,” Eva replies with a shake of her head.
“As of yesterday, the kingdom is no more. Lothagrom’s army overran its capital in a single day.
” She meets my gaze. “A week ago Archer told me in his letter from the border that consul Black isn’t just worried about war, he’s preparing for it.
If Lothagrom keeps expanding, Calcatra will be forced to act before we’re their next conquest. And that means Ryker needs more than soldiers. ”
I bite my cheek, knowing where she’s going.
“He needs heirs,” Eva says. “With no Archpriest to fill the Borrowglass with godsmagic, our army is exposed. The Trials of the Bonded have always been the most vulnerable time in Calcatra’s history, it’s the only period when anyone has dared to attack us.
How could a king lead the army with no heirs to the throne? ”
No one says it aloud, but we’re all thinking it—the next in line for the throne is Mael. Could that be why he wanted me gone? Because he knew that if Ryker fell in the war, the crown would fall to him?
I shake the thought off. That would be too sinister, even for Mael.
For all his spite, I can’t imagine him wishing death on his own brother because death is the only path to the throne for him.
And besides, Eva’s right. Even without me, the Consul could force Ryker into marriage.
My absence would make no difference at all.
After a brief pause, Eva continues, “Do you think it’s a coincidence that Lothagrom’s empire is suddenly on the move again after nearly a decade of stagnation? They know we lost our Archpriest. So to sum it up,” she continues dryly, “our kingdom needs a queen. Urgently.”
Then Eva lets out a short, bitter laugh, eyeing me as if I am still that queen.
My cheeks flush with heat at her insinuation. The idea of having children isn’t why I dreamed of marrying Ryker most of my life. Our union was supposed to mean something bigger—a chance to heal Calcatra’s fractured past, to usher it in a new era of fairness and unity.
Peonica frowns. “I missed this news,” she mutters. “I guess the consul Black does know some things.”
Eva grins. “You wouldn’t have missed that if you hadn’t been sneaking off with the stable boy every chance you got.”
The room goes deathly still.
“It’s innocent, Ray,” she adds quickly, biting her lip, realizing a second too late she’s said the wrong thing.
My stomach tightens. “Sneaking out?”
Peonica’s fingers tighten around her goblet. “It’s not what you think.”
“And what am I supposed to think?” I reply sternly, shooting to my feet, everything we were just discussing forgotten as fury surges through me like wildfire. My chest heaves as I storm toward Peonica and grab her by the shoulders.
“Look at my Crimson Tether,” I growl, lowering my head just enough for her to see the two red locks amidst my white waves.
“It ruined my life. It killed my mother. It killed yours. And while I wish nothing more than to whip my mother’s killer for what he’s done to her, it isn’t him who's the real evil. It’s the man who brought the curse upon her. ”
I tremble with fury. “If you do something wrong, I wouldn’t be able to protect you,” I spit, my voice breaking.
“Not until I’ve won. And if I lose…” My words falter, the weight of my own admission dragging my shoulders down.
“If I fail, so many will suffer. In this realm and the next. But I need to know that the people I love won’t pay the price for my failure. ”
Peonica yanks herself free, breath coming fast. “Not every man is your father and not every love story is a trap.”
My pulse stutters at her harsh reply and I’m suddenly at a loss of words.
Eva clears her throat, breaking the silence. “Well,” she murmurs, “this is a lot before breakfast.” Then she puts her hand on my shoulder. “Ray, don’t be so harsh,” she says quietly. “Peonica’s smarter than that. You know she wouldn’t—”
I turn on Eva, my voice hard like steel. “I’m not worried about her making a stupid decision. The decision can be made for her.”
I turn back to Peonica, lowering my voice to a dangerous whisper. “Why would you risk it? Why would you tempt fate by sneaking around with some boy who could force himself on you the moment no one’s looking?”
Peonica flinches, but she doesn’t back down. Instead, she squares her shoulders, something unreadable flashing in her honey-brown eyes.
“Levi isn’t like that,” she snaps.
The name tugs at something half-forgotten. But my rage is too blinding, too loud. “How many women have said the same thing about the boy they liked?” My voice is unsteady, my hands curling into fists. “Maybe even my mother—”
Peonica lets out a short, bitter laugh, and the sound sends a shiver through me. “No one forced themselves on your mother,” she says.
The words she spits out are not a defense. They’re a statement. A conviction.
Their meaning lands wrong, and I blink at her, my thoughts grinding to a halt. “How would you know that?”
Peonica hesitates. Just for a second. “Because everyone knows,” her voice steady, but her posture has gone rigid, her eyes flicking away from mine.
My pulse spikes. “And why,” I say slowly, the ground beneath me shifting, “would everyone know that?”
Peonica exhales sharply, as if she wishes she could take it all back, but she doesn’t. “Because she told them,” she says quieter now. “She told everyone.”
My lungs stop working. “She—” The word chokes in my throat, coming out hoarse.
Peonica presses forward, as if she has to get it all out now, as if saying it faster will make it hurt less.
“She encouraged all of the cursed women not to be ashamed of their choices, like she wasn’t ashamed of hers,” she says, voice frayed and bitter.
“She called him the love of her life. She said she had no regrets, none, about following her heart and leaving her husband.”
Leaving you. She doesn’t say that last part but the unsaid words hang in the room nevertheless.
The world stops turning. The weight of her words settles over us like ash after a fire.
Eva moves first, her hand barely brushing my arm. “That was unnecessarily cruel,” she whispers to Peonica.
The younger girl doesn’t speak. Her lips part, but no words come. For the first time, she looks unsure.
My breath is unsteady. I swipe at my eyes and wave Peonica off before she can speak.
“Don’t.” My voice scrapes out rough, barely holding. I clear my throat once. Twice. I’m about to do it a third time because something thick and thorny is caught there, bitter enough to make my eyes sting when a knock splits through the silence.
Peonica exhales sharply, as if she was about to say something. I don’t let her.
I turn on my heel and yank the door open, revealing a trembling messenger. Kaelzar looms over him with a glare that could curdle milk.
“His Majesty,” the messenger stammers, “requests your presence.”
I hesitate, emotions warring within me. A dozen thoughts flit through my mind—postponing, changing, drying my hair—but all would mean facing my friends. Facing Peonica’s apologies and Eva’s insistence on talking things through.
I’m not ready for that. Straightening my shoulders, I step into the hall as I am, in a simple black dress, my damp hair hanging loose.
“Lead the way,” I say, closing the door firmly behind me.