Chapter 5
Corinne’s sleep was fitful, and when she woke, it felt as though her chest were caving in. In a single day, she’d become a Lightguard, left her home of fifteen years, and decided within five minutes of meeting the prince that she hated him.
Perhaps you are the irreverent brat.
Her stomach sank to her toes. Panic burned through her insides in waves she tried to subdue, but the thoughts wouldn’t cease, the voice insistent.
You want to stray from your path, you want to give in to the darkness. You’ll end up just like your father, and Helaera will spurn you.
Corinne squeezed her eyes shut and curled in on herself. No, she didn’t want any of that. Stay the course. Be the Light. She repeated it four times, then again five more.
A brisk knock at her door startled her out of her spiraling panic.
The tightness in her chest didn’t entirely fade, but she managed to stumble out of bed and answer the door.
Before her stood a woman with olive-brown skin and light green eyes.
Her dark hair was braided into a bun at the top of her head.
She was almost at eye-level with Corinne, but not nearly as muscular.
“Good morning,” she said, her voice gentle and friendly. “I’m Orana, head matron of servants. Did you need, eh, a few minutes to freshen up?”
Her eyes darted down Corinne’s scantily clad form and then back up, and Corinne’s face warmed.
“Yes, one moment,” she stammered out, and closed the door again.
Clothes. She needed fresh clothes, and probably needed to wash her face. The simple act of cleaning up and dressing herself was enough to make her earlier panic subside entirely, and she sighed in relief. It had been a while since she’d had an episode like that.
After fastening her sword belt over her white and gold tunic, Corinne checked her reflection in the mirror and grimaced.
Deep circles shadowed beneath her hazel eyes, and her curls were a mess.
She turned on the tap of the sink in her washroom and did her best to re-tame them.
Her tunic was secured, her sword in her belt, boots laced tight. She was as ready as she’d ever be.
Orana was waiting patiently outside, humming to herself when Corinne opened the door.
She offered a soft smile. “No armor today?” she asked.
Corinne shook her head. “The armor is mostly for special occasions,” Corinne told her. “My magic is usually protection enough.”
“Fascinating,” Orana said, tilting her head to the side. “Well, shall we go?”
Corinne glanced at the double doors just down the alcove, where a castle guard stood watch. “Am I not supposed to guard the prince?”
“Oh, yes, dear, but he won’t be up for hours, and I need to show you where things are around here so you can properly navigate the castle. And I imagine you’ll be wanting a bit of breakfast, yes?”
Now that the knot had dissipated from her stomach, Corinne was quite hungry. The rolls and apple Vera had brought on their journey yesterday had hardly been a true meal. Corinne gave Orana a tentative nod, and the matron smiled brightly at her.
“Follow me, then.”
Corinne had never seen such opulence and luxury in her life.
Orana and everyone else in the castle were used to it all, going about their morning as if they weren’t walking through hallways covered in intricate carvings and past some of the most beautiful art in Ashera.
Corinne tried her best to memorize how to get everywhere, but some places in the castle were practically a labyrinth.
“Now, most days, Prince Aryel’s schedule will have you in those four main locations, but twice a week he has archery training and once a week he has pianoforte lessons.”
Imagining that drunken fool of a man she’d met last night doing anything that required coordination was a challenge.
Orana led Corinne through the western wing, and Corinne nearly stumbled when the view from the window caught her eye.
Gardens spanned the entire western perimeter of the castle, perfectly kept flower beds of tulips and daffodils smattering the ground in a sea of color.
Willow trees and well-kept hedges lined the outside edges, and stepping stones wound through the greenery and flowers to meet at the center, where a large stone fountain bubbled in three tiers.
Pergolas stood at each of the four corners, covered in wisteria and other climbing vines.
“Are you a gardener?” Orana asked wryly, eyebrows raised.
Corinne hadn’t realized she’d stopped entirely to stare out of a tall window.
“No.” Corinne shook her head and cleared her throat. “I just love flowers and trees. Well, most nature, really.”
“Well, you’re welcome to visit the gardens whenever you’re off duty,” Orana said. “They are especially lovely in spring and summer.”
Corinne nodded, and Orana continued on. They returned to the southern wing and the breezeway faster than she’d expected, and dread settled within her. She’d have to face Prince Aryel again soon.
Orana knocked gently on the prince’s door before entering, beckoning Corinne.
She wasn’t sure why she’d expected anything less ornate in the prince’s chambers, but even the antechamber to his bedroom was larger than Corinne’s entire room at the monastery.
A deep blue upholstered couch stood beneath a long mirror mounted on the wall, and beside it was a large flower arrangement with an assortment of the same bright pink tulips and yellow and white daffodils that she’d seen in the gardens.
Orana strode directly into Aryel’s bedchamber, and Corinne remained behind, unsure if she was meant to follow. She truly didn’t want to follow, but Orana called for her anyway. Corinne took a deep breath and stepped inside.
A large dining table stood to the immediate right, and beyond it lay another couch and two chairs by a large fireplace.
Two massive windows let in the midmorning light on either side of a balcony designed just like the breezeway outside.
On the far left of the room was a bed even larger than Corinne’s, covered in plush pillows and blankets that matched the dark blue couches.
Orana was hefting the prince out of that bed despite his protests.
“All right, I’m up, I’m up, Orana!” he groused, clutching his head as he sat up and swung his legs over the side of the mattress.
Corinne’s face heated at the sight of his naked torso, his abdomen defined and his upper arms, chest, and shoulders covered in those detailed tattoos.
Moons and stars connected by delicate lines spanned his chest and shoulders, ending at interconnected crescent moons that formed a spiral around the defined muscles of his upper arms.
Corinne had tattoos herself—the Sun of Helaera on her upper back, which she and all Lightguards received during their final year of training, and geometric designs around her upper arms. Those weren’t typical of a Lightguard, but she remembered her mother having them, and it was a way to carry her with her since she couldn’t wear the ring.
“Oh good, you’re here,” Prince Aryel groaned, catching sight of Corinne. Any mild appreciation she may have had for his appearance vanished. “And so begins my personal hell.”
“Your Highness, don’t be rude,” Orana said, tossing a dark blue shirt at him. “She is here to protect you.”
“Right,” Aryel muttered. He stood, then grimaced. “Fuck, my head hurts.”
Corinne winced before she could stop herself, but neither he nor Orana seemed to notice. She’d have to get used to hearing such colorful language—people outside the monastery clearly didn’t mind sprinkling those words into their everyday speech.
“There’s a remedy already waiting for you in the library,” Orana called from his washroom. A moment later, a tap began to run from within. Orana appeared in the doorway. “I assume you have enough wits about you to bathe yourself?”
“Goddess, yes, Orana,” he said. “I’m hungover, not gravely injured.”
“Then get to it.” Orana stepped out of the way as he passed. “You’ll be late for everything today.”
Corinne stood awkwardly in the doorway to the antechamber, watching as Orana tidied up a few things in Aryel’s room. It was surprisingly clean, given the state he’d been in last night.
To his credit, he bathed quickly and emerged from the washroom fully clothed in the deep blue shirt Orana had tossed at him and a fresh pair of black trousers tucked into boots.
His dark brown hair had a bit of wave to it, the longer strands on the top falling into his face when he leaned over.
His facial hair was neat, too, well-kept and as dark as the hair on his head.
“Shall we go, then?” he asked, looking at Orana instead of Corinne.
“I won’t be going anywhere,” Orana said. “But Corinne will accompany you starting today.”
Almost reluctantly, Aryel turned his gaze to Corinne. He huffed. “Fine.”
Corinne stood aside to let Aryel through, and from there, she followed him at a respectable distance.
His walking speed wasn’t terribly slow, she was glad to discover; he was a few inches taller than her, and his natural stride didn’t make her own gait awkward.
She tried to make note of the corridors they walked through and the turns they took to reach the library, but eventually she gave up and just followed the prince.
He pushed through the doors with a great shove and quickly headed for a table at the far end of the stacks, where a glass filled with some green, sludgy liquid waited. He ignored the stack of books on the table, downed the drink, and winced as he set the empty glass back on the table.
“All right,” he said, putting his hands on his hips and looking around at the other empty tables. “That’s enough of this place for today.”
Corinne stopped short as he turned on his heel and headed back in her direction, toward the library exit.
“Aren’t you supposed to study here for an hour?” Corinne asked, following him once more.
“Perhaps,” Aryel said without turning around. “But I don’t want to. So, I’m not.”