Chapter 8
The bitter ceremonial tea of the Lightguards did not taste any better in Vytanos than it did at the monastery, and in fact, it was far worse since Corinne had to steep it herself.
Orana had been kind enough to send a servant up with hot water and a teapot that morning, so Corinne was at least spared the awkwardness of venturing down to the kitchens for a request she knew they’d find odd.
It was the dawn of her second week at the castle, and she wasn’t sure if things had improved or if she’d simply resigned herself to misery for the rest of her life, but she didn’t feel quite so hopeless.
Having the occasional meal with Danai, Nik, and Iliana certainly helped, and she looked forward to training with them this week on the day Aryel had that weekly council with his parents and the nobles of Vytanos.
Wincing at the aftertaste of the lukewarm tea, Corinne finished her ritual.
“I will stay the course. I will be the Light. May Arytalis never find me. May Helaera guide me.”
She blew out the two white candles she’d set up on her nightstand, which she’d dragged beneath one of her windows as a makeshift altar.
A bit of sadness touched her heart; she missed the feeling of connection when participating in the weekly collective ritual, the sound of the Lightguards singing as one.
Her room’s walls were thick enough…it should be safe to sing freely in here.
Corinne took a breath and closed her eyes.
Goddess of all light and life,
Lend your ear to all our strife;
Let us move both bold and brave,
To bring peace to the world
We will carry what you teach,
And our hearts will not be breached—
By our faith we’ll bring your Light,
And guard the realms from falling night.
She’d always felt closest to Helaera when she sang, though she’d never admitted it aloud. Lightguards were supposed to find connection through magic and direct action on the Goddess’s behalf. Prayer and song were important, but being Helaera’s Sword was the epitome of devotion.
A knock startled her, and she stood too quickly, bumping her thigh on the corner of the nightstand.
Her vision went white with pain—the wood had connected with an old scar, and deep shame and anguish flooded her at the reminder of its presence on her flesh.
She breathed through it as a second knock sounded, corralling her thoughts before her mind unleashed a torrent of panic.
The face that greeted her in the doorway washed those thoughts away.
“Corinne!” Vera flung her arms around Corinne and squeezed her tightly, and Corinne let out a shocked laugh.
“Vera, what are you doing here?” she asked, leaning back to look at her friend. She had to make sure Vera was truly here, and she wasn’t merely dreaming.
“They sent me to check in with you,” Vera said, stepping past Corinne and plopping down on her bed. “Wow, Corinne. This place is incredible.”
Corinne sighed. “It’s not bad.”
Vera pursed her lips. “I would be ecstatic if I were you.”
Cold crept into Corinne’s chest. She heard what Vera didn’t say. How could you be so ungrateful?
“I’m trying, Vera,” Corinne said, sitting on the bed beside her. “I really am.”
Vera’s face softened. “I know, Cori.” Corinne held back a grimace. “Listen…I have news from others at the Boundary.”
Corinne forgot her personal troubles at the urgency in Vera’s voice.
Vera looked at her door. “We can’t be overheard here, right?”
Corinne shook her head. “No, the walls are thick, so the guard outside shouldn’t be able to hear, and the only other person nearby is the prince. He’ll be fast asleep at this hour.” He’d be fast asleep until at least midmorning, and it was only an hour past dawn.
Vera nodded. “We suspect there’s a spy in the castle,” she said. “Not a Nightrender, because we would have sensed that at the Boundary, but someone who works for them.”
Corinne’s blood ran cold. “Am I meant to uncover their identity?”
“No,” Vera said firmly. “But Mother Creita wanted me to tell you and ask you to report the prince’s movements and anything else you might notice to me on a biweekly basis. With you on the inside and the rest of us keeping watch from the outside, we should be able to keep him safe.”
“Can you not station additional Lightguards within the castle?” Corinne asked, a bit of hope sparking in her heart. “Does someone need to guard the king and queen too?”
Vera shook her head. “It would call far too much attention to him, and to us.” Vera stood and walked over to one of Corinne’s windows, gazing out at the city below. “The last thing we need is to push them into accelerating their plan before we can uncover it.”
Corinne didn’t like it, but she understood. She’d just have to be extra vigilant. Goddess, she was so self-absorbed she might have missed something suspicious this past week. And though more Lightguards wouldn’t be joining her here, at least she’d see Vera every two weeks.
“I’m sorry I can’t stay longer,” Vera said, turning back to Corinne. “But I have to go by the monastery before I return to my post at the Boundary.”
“I understand.” Corinne stood and wrapped Vera in another embrace.
“Have you made any friends here, Corinne?”
Danai’s smiling face appeared in her mind, and Corinne gave a soft shrug. “Some acquaintances, I suppose.”
Vera nodded solemnly. “Good, you don’t want to become too close with those who aren’t virtuous. But I don’t want you to be alone all the time either.”
After a final embrace, Vera took her leave, and Corinne went to look out the window herself.
Shame overtook her fully now. She’d been gone from the monastery for a week, and she’d already let her steadfastness and commitment flounder.
What kind of devotee to Helaera was she?
She should be ecstatic at her accommodations, at the honor of her post, and she should hold Danai, Nik, and Iliana at arm’s length.
Icy fear shot through her center. What if one of them was the spy? They’d all seemed friendly and kind, but she didn’t truly know any of them.
Corinne watched the city come alive as the sun continued to rise, steeling her mind and heart. She’d keep a wary eye on her three new acquaintances. She would recommit herself to her task and do it well, and Prince Aryel could despise her all he wanted.
He had archery training again later that day.
Though he was a decent shot, a bow was near useless against a close-quarters attacker.
Perhaps it would be wise for him to learn basic self-defense if there really was a spy in the castle.
She fastened her sword belt around her waist and adjusted her tunic in the mirror, resolving to mention it to him later.
Corinne forced her face into stony apathy as she approached the dining hall for breakfast, but Danai, Nik, and Iliana were not inside.
Even if she knew it was best to keep some distance from them, it was a small relief that she wouldn’t have to be cold to them this morning.
Training would be fine—it was far easier to avoid talking and contain emotions when the task was physical and formulaic.
She ate her breakfast quickly and hurried back upstairs to relieve the guard on duty outside Aryel’s rooms. Orana would arrive soon to wake him with a tonic again, surely.
But Aryel’s door opened before Orana appeared, and the prince stepped into the alcove, fully dressed and, by the scent of pine and mint as he walked past, freshly bathed.
“Morning,” he said, voice low, and Corinne blinked.
“Morning, Your Highness,” she said.
As they made their way to the library, Corinne braced herself. Perhaps this meant he was good-humored enough that he’d be amenable to her suggestion.
“Your Highness,” she said just before he reached for the library door.
He paused, raising an eyebrow.
Corinne hesitated for a moment before taking several steps closer to him. “I know you have some skill with a bow, but I wondered if you’d consider training in hand-to-hand combat.”
His brow lifted higher. “And why would I do that?”
Corinne’s resolve faltered, but she pressed on. This is your duty. “With a cryptic threat to your life, I’d assume an attack would be stealth-based, which means close quarters. It would be prudent for you to at least have a basic knowledge of self-defense.”
Those brown eyes scrutinized her in a way that made her feel painfully perceived.
“And who would teach me such things?”
Corinne mustered every ounce of confidence she had. “I would.”
Aryel stared at her for another long moment, then smirked. “All right, Sunshine. This afternoon, instead of my archery practice, you can show me how to duck a punch.”
Corinne nearly sagged with relief. She fought a self-satisfied smile as she nodded, and the prince stepped into the library. She ran through what she’d start with later as she waited in the hallway.
“Oh, hi, Corinne.”
She hadn’t heard Nik approach, but he stopped right in front of her, a pile of books in his arms.
“Hi, Nik,” she said stiffly.
“Is Prince Aryel in the library?”
“He is.”
“Ah. Probably speaking with Danai’s father, then.”
The resemblance between Danai and Councilor Toro suddenly clicked. “Danai is Councilor Toro’s child?”
Nik nodded. “Lovely man. Danai’s mother, Selana, is lovely too, they have us over for dinner once a week. Her cooking is divine. I’m sure they’d be delighted if you joined us sometime.”
“Oh,” Corinne said. “I…I wouldn’t want to intrude—”
Nik laughed. “There is no intruding in the Mykotas family. Just consider it an open invitation.”
Corinne smiled despite herself. “All right.” For the first time, she glanced at the pile of books in his hands. Her eyes widened. “Is that The Songbird and the Raven?”
Nik’s eyes lit up. “It is! One of my favorites.”
“Mine too,” Corinne said. “How did you interpret the ending?”
An hour later, Corinne and Nik were still talking and laughing, his stack of books placed on a nearby table with an ornate vase. The door opening startled them both, and Prince Aryel appeared.