Chapter 6
The next day wasn’t better. Nor was the day after that.
On the fourth night, Corinne had been woken to guard the prince’s door while the castle guard sought Orana.
He’d evidently drunk himself into a stupor again and was in need of a tonic that couldn’t wait until morning.
Both she and Aryel were excessively moody that next morning from poor sleep, and it was entirely his fault.
“Follow me at a greater distance today, would you?” he snapped at her as they crossed the breezeway.
Corinne halted and let him walk several steps before continuing, her blood boiling. As always, he let the door nearly slam in her face after crossing the threshold. She shoved her way through it.
“You know, it would be much easier to protect you if you didn’t try to take me out with a door every time you use one,” she bit out.
Aryel whipped around. “If a door can take you out, Sunshine, you’re not a very good Sword of Helaera, now, are you?”
Corinne clamped her teeth together to prevent herself from saying something that would get her thrown out of the castle, but her glare said plenty.
It didn’t help that she’d skipped breakfast to try and sleep a little longer.
Aryel held her gaze for several heartbeats and then sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose between two fingers.
“Once we arrive at the throne room, I’ll be in there for the next four goddess-damned hours if you’d like a reprieve,” he said, turning away from her and beginning to walk again.
Some of the fire within her cooled. A break from him would be welcome, and she was itching to get some training in—she hadn’t had a moment to actually use her sword since it had been given to her.
The throne room was on the third floor of the castle in the north wing, its doors nearly as large as those at the castle entrance.
Two guards opened them for Aryel, and Corinne hung back, glancing quickly around the room.
Two silver thrones stood at the far end of a blue-carpeted aisle, lined on either side by six guards.
That must be why Corinne wasn’t needed here.
Footsteps approached from behind her, and she turned just in time to face a woman and man who couldn’t be anyone other than Queen Erina and King Theo.
The queen’s dark brown hair was intricately braided, and a silver crown sat delicately atop her head.
Her deep blue gown was cut low, revealing her own celestial tattoos on her chest. The king, a tall, robust man with a full beard and crystalline-blue eyes set into a pale face, was dressed more simply in a blue tunic with silver embroidery, and a matching silver crown lay on his brow.
Queen Erina was Aryel’s mother through and through, with the same shade of brown eyes and the same cool undertone to their fair skin.
Her eyes widened, and Corinne remembered herself and sank quickly into a kneel, bowing her head.
“Are you Corinne Anastos?” the queen asked, and Corinne looked at her. “Stand, child, please.”
Corinne did, trying to ignore her sweaty palms. “I am, Your Majesty.”
The queen came forward and held out both hands. Was Corinne even allowed to touch her? She couldn’t very well deny a queen, so she placed her hands in Queen Erina’s. She was close enough now that the tiny silver stars and sapphires in her crown were distinguishable.
“I don’t know Lightguard customs,” she said, squeezing Corinne’s fingers. “But I’m grateful you’re here. Should we pray, perhaps?”
Corinne hoped to Helaera her surprise was not painted plainly on her face.
“I’d be honored, Your Majesty,” she said, her voice sincere even if her sentiment was not.
The queen bowed her head, and Corinne followed suit, trying not to think about the eyes of the guards that were surely glued to them.
“Goddess Helaera, Mother of us all,” Corinne said, fighting to keep her voice from trembling. “Guide my hand in service to the Crown, your faithful servants, and let us not fall prey to Arytalis and her wicked shadow wielders. Let the Light guide us.”
She opened her eyes, and the queen did the same, squeezing her hands before dropping them.
“Well, that was something, wasn’t it?” Queen Erina said, gazing at Corinne with something between amusement and fascination. “How charming.”
The queen stepped past her, and the king merely gave her a curt nod before joining their son in the throne room.
He’d stopped halfway down the aisle to watch the exchange.
Corinne caught Prince Aryel’s eye just as the doors closed, and the disdain on his face reignited her need to go hit something.
It wasn’t her fault the queen had asked her to pray in such an unexpected, abrupt manner.
Training would definitely do Corinne some good.
Breakfast first, though, her stomach loudly reminded her as she stalked off.
After braving the awkwardness of the dining hall for a late breakfast—where she ate at a table off to the side, avoiding the other servants and castle guards—Corinne found her way to the training grounds.
She breathed in the midmorning air as she stepped onto the path leading to the various sparring circles.
Each had a different terrain—grass, stone, dirt, or sand—and an attendant who could set up dummies or targets.
The ring with grass terrain was occupied by two guards training with spears, and beyond the combat rings, several guards trained at an archery range.
Prince Aryel was supposed to be here for archery lessons that afternoon, once his meeting with his parents had finished.
Corinne approached the attendant at the ring with dirt terrain, and the young man dipped his head in a quick bow.
“Hello,” Corinne said, crossing her hands over the pommel of her sword. “Could you set up all targets and four dummies?”
“Sure thing, miss,” he said, and hurried to do so.
This circle, like the others, was surrounded by a waist-high wooden fence, and the four targets were locked into place on hinged poles, evenly spaced apart.
The entire ring was large enough to accommodate three, maybe four fighters in combat, but Corinne would be glad for the space. She needed to expend the energy.
Once everything was in place, the four dummies spaced out within the ring, Corinne entered and drew the sword at her hip.
For a moment, she admired the gold pommel and crossguard, the wickedly sharp, sleek steel that had the Lightguard’s Creed etched into it.
These swords were only wielded by Lightguards, their impeccable craftsmanship a centuries-old secret of their blacksmiths.
The balance was perfect, the black handle so comfortable beneath her fingers it was like an extension of her body.
She breathed in, then out, and summoned her light.
Her arms lit up with those ancient, sacred sun markings, golden and bright even in the light of day.
She sent an orb of light blasting toward the target on her right before dashing forward to deal a fatal slash to the nearest dummy’s torso.
Fatal, that is, if it were alive. She kept moving, taking out two more targets with her magic before somersaulting forward to cut out another dummy’s legs from beneath it.
Goddess, this sword was exquisite. She found herself grinning as she kept going, twisting behind one “dead” dummy to fling her magic at another, and finally she took out the last target.
With a flourish, she drove her sword through the heart of the final dummy and yanked it back out, her chest heaving.
Speaking to strangers and handling a petulant prince were not her strengths, but fighting?
The rush of magic funneling through her veins, coupled with the racing of her heart?
Corinne finally felt at ease. She’d hardly broken a sweat, so she brandished her sword and prepared to ask the attendant to reset the targets and dummies.
She repeated her exercise twice more, executing different strikes and pushing herself to move faster without sacrificing accuracy. She was grinning again when she drove her sword into a fallen dummy’s chest, letting it bear her weight as she caught her breath.
“Goddess, that was impressive.”
Corinne’s head snapped up. A guard was standing at the edge of the ring, their forearms propped on the fence as they smiled at her.
They had the same russet skin tone as Councilor Toro and silky black hair braided from the top of their head down their back.
Their leather armor was typical of the other guards she’d seen around.
“Uh, thank you,” Corinne said, standing and sheathing her sword.
“I’m Danai,” they said, their face open and friendly.
“Corinne,” she said.
She wasn’t sure if it was expected that she move closer to Danai, and she didn’t want to be rude by walking to the circle’s exit, so she remained awkwardly in place.
“You’re Prince Aryel’s new guard, yeah?”
Corinne nodded once.
“I’ve seen you around the past few days,” Danai said. “Do you want to get lunch? I was just heading to the dining hall.”
Corinne wasn’t really hungry yet, but she had no other plans until she had to retrieve Aryel from the throne room. And something about this guard’s sunny demeanor reminded her of Vera. Her heart ached.
“All right,” she said, and Danai smiled brightly.
Corinne headed for the sparring circle’s exit and thanked the attendant before joining them.