Chapter 9 #2
“I think I’d be less terrified to face Helaera herself,” Danai said. “Although I suppose Prince Aryel isn’t much better. He hardly ever speaks to anyone who isn’t a noble.”
“He spoke to Nik several days ago,” Corinne said with a shrug, and Danai’s mouth popped open.
“I can’t believe him. Why wouldn’t he tell me the prince spoke to him?”
“Probably because he knows you’d interrogate him and try to find out all of Prince Aryel’s dirty secrets,” Iliana said.
“Well of course I would. I live for gossip.”
“And Nik respects the privacy of others.”
Danai sighed and crossed their arms. “He does. The noble bastard.”
Corinne took a deep breath—they’re just words, Corinne. Don’t be a child.
“Are you not a noble, Danai?” Corinne asked.
“My father is officially noble by merit and station,” Danai said. “So my family holds certain prestige and privileges, but we’re not included in the social gatherings of nobles by birth.”
“That feels unfair,” Corinne said carefully, gauging Danai’s reaction.
“Lucky, more like,” Danai said lightly. “I much prefer the company of guards or scholars to highborn nobles. And it’s nice to have no obligation to show up to their parties.”
“Agreed,” Iliana said.
“The queen also mentioned a re-vetting process for all employed within the castle, given the recent threats,” Corinne said, feigning indifference.
Danai and Iliana exchanged a look, and Iliana let out a long-suffering sigh.
“Well then, we can expect the barracks to be overturned by the time we get back,” she said. “And I’m sure they’ll interrogate us all again.”
“Again?” Corinne asked.
“We’re all thoroughly questioned prior to becoming guards,” Danai said. “It’s an intense process.”
“Do you think it’s possible a guard or servant could be a spy?” Corinne prompted.
“I suppose,” Danai said, frowning. “Goddess. I hope that’s not the case.”
“If a guard or servant is a spy, then they’re a fool,” Iliana said. “We stay busy and we’re paid well. Not much to complain about.”
“You underestimate us, Iliana,” Danai said solemnly. “We can always find something to complain about.”
Iliana laughed. “That we can. Like wasting good sparring time. Corinne, what are you comfortable with showing us today?”
Right. The reason she was here. Her mind settled again as she fell into the familiar pattern of preparing to train.
“Why don’t we start with a basic spar so I can get an idea of your fighting styles?”
The two guards agreed, Danai eager as ever. Corinne beckoned Danai into the ring first. Their weapon of choice was a longsword like Corinne’s.
Danai held their own against Corinne, but was not as quick.
Corinne was glad to find she didn’t need to hold back much with them, her skill pushing them to their limits, and Danai’s defensive maneuvers clean enough to give her a challenge.
Corinne executed a final twisting strike that ended with her sword at their throat, and Danai held up their hands in surrender, breathing hard, wisps of hair falling from their braid.
Clapping sounded from outside the ring, and both Iliana and Captain Ekhana waited there.
“Well done, Danai,” Ekhana said. “You did better than I thought you would.”
Corinne lowered her sword as Danai laughed. “Such confidence in me, Captain. I thought you were glad to finally have a son who enjoyed a fight.”
Captain Ekhana chuckled. “Keep practicing with her, Danai, and then I’ll be impressed.”
He walked off, and Corinne looked to Danai again, puzzled. “I thought Nik was his son?”
“He is, and he is a scholar through and through,” Danai said. “Nik and I have been together for four years now, and I’m Ekhana’s honorary…well, sometimes a son, sometimes a daughter. Depends on the day. Usually I am both.”
Corinne understood, then. There were a few monastery Acolytes who identified as such, blessed by Helaera. In another life, she and Danai may have known one another in that way.
“All right, my turn,” Iliana said, leaping over the fence and approaching Corinne and Danai.
She was several inches shorter than Corinne but no less muscular, and she whipped out a pair of thin, slightly curved swords like she’d been born holding them.
Corinne had already begun mentally adjusting her technique, and as Danai jogged to the edge of the circle, she sank into her starting stance.
Iliana was slower than Danai, but the brute strength behind her blows made Corinne’s arms vibrate as she caught them on her blade.
Corinne didn’t need to hold back with her, either, and even grinned as they fought.
An exhilarated laugh left her throat when Iliana nearly cut through her defenses, forcing her to employ a different strategy to overpower her.
Using the weight of one of Iliana’s blows against her, she darted out of the way and lunged, sending her to the ground, disarmed.
Corinne held out a hand for her, but Iliana lifted a finger, closing her eyes as she caught her breath.
“Nice work, Iliana!” Danai called. “You lasted longer than I did!”
It wasn’t right to be so prideful about her skill in fighting, but Corinne wanted to bask in this feeling, in the enthusiastic affirmation of who she was.
She spent the next two hours offering suggestions to Danai and Iliana, and asking them to break down their own techniques so she could learn from them too.
Danai had executed a defensive move she’d never seen before, and Iliana’s footwork was impeccable.
Even if one of them was somehow the spy, Corinne didn’t see the harm in learning how to fight them, in gaining their trust.
Though, she desperately hoped neither of them was trying to deceive her.
“By the way,” Danai said as the three of them headed inside, bound for the dining hall. “Your tattoos are beautiful. What village are they from?”
Corinne lifted a hand to one of them, her brow furrowing. “Cara Talle.”
“In the forests to the north?” Danai asked, eyes sparkling.
Corinne nodded. “My mother was from there.”
“What about your father?”
“Danai,” Iliana hissed. “Leave her alone.”
“Sorry! I’m just curious.”
Corinne was glad for Iliana’s admonishment, even if she didn’t necessarily blame Danai for their curiosity.
She would not, could not speak of her father.
The mystery of why he’d kept her from the Lightguards as a child had caused her more turmoil than she’d ever wanted to endure.
As if to remind her, the scar on her leg throbbed.
“Are things a little better this week?” Danai asked instead as they entered the dining hall. The smell of roasted potatoes made Corinne’s mouth water. “Easier to get around the castle and all?”
“Yes, actually,” Corinne said. She didn’t consider her episode last night to be “better,” but she’d at least found a routine here now.
After eating quickly, Corinne decided to clean up before retrieving Prince Aryel.
She’d sweated quite a bit during training, and her trousers had sustained a few encounters with the dirt of the sparring circle.
She ought to stick with the grassy terrain on days she might run into the king and queen.
Corinne showered and put on an identical sleeveless tunic, but this time with ochre trousers.
A folded pile of freshly laundered clothing had been left on her bed in her absence, all the garments she’d worn last week.
It was terribly strange to have such tasks done for her, but she hadn’t had the time here anyway.
She hastily put them away in a chest at the foot of her bed.
Halfway across the breezeway outside, Corinne ran into Orana.
“Prince Aryel sent me,” she said. “His meeting with his parents ended early, so he had a guard escort him to the music hall. You can find him there.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, I should have—”
“Calm yourself, Corinne,” Orana said with a kind smile. “You aren’t expected to know when the prince strays from his schedule if you aren’t with him.”
Corinne nodded. She was right; that would be absurd. She thanked Orana and set off for the music hall, which was up three flights of stairs but mercifully still in the south wing of the castle.
At the fifth floor landing, Corinne’s hurried steps faltered.
A light, sweet melody was drifting from an open door at the end of the short hallway, and a castle guard stood outside it without a flicker of emotion.
Corinne returned to her previous speed and quietly relieved the guard, who nodded once at her before departing.
At this angle, Corinne could only see part of the music hall, but the ceiling was high, and sunlight streamed in from what she assumed were equally tall windows.
The piano music cascaded into a deeper, richer timbre, the melody turning more mournful than sweet, but still breathtakingly beautiful.
When it rose again, building to a grand cadence, Corinne thought her heart might leap from her chest. Only after the song ended with three soft, repeated chords did she realize a rogue tear had escaped down her left cheek.
It had sounded like a lullaby and an aching plea all at once.
The music ceased altogether, and the sound of approaching footsteps made Corinne hastily wipe at her eyes. Aryel appeared in the doorway a moment later.
“Oh, it’s you,” he said, those brown eyes widening.
Corinne blinked rapidly as she cleared her throat, hoping he couldn’t tell she’d been crying. He stared at her for a moment, a bit of color creeping into his cheeks. Was he embarrassed that she’d heard him?
“I relieved the guard who’d come with you,” she said quickly.
He glanced down the hall, then back at her. “Yes, I see that,” he said. Another beat of silence. “I’m going to stay here for a bit longer.”
Corinne nodded once, and Aryel returned to the music hall, shutting the door this time.
She could still easily hear his playing, and wished she weren’t on duty so she could simply close her eyes and let the music wash over her.
Prince Aryel was still a spoiled prince with a foul attitude, but there was no denying his playing was lovely.
Orana had said he had lessons each week, but judging by the artistry in his musicianship, he’d been studying the instrument for many years now.
Not that Corinne was an expert in music, but she’d always appreciated it at the monastery. Studying music herself had never been an option, and her heart had been set on becoming a warrior since she was ten years old anyway.
Her mind wandered along with the music, losing track of time, and when it cut off after another softer piece, Corinne forced herself to refocus.
Aryel emerged moments later and set off down the hallway without a word.
It wasn’t until he turned a corner that she noticed the bruising on the back of his left arm.
“Is that from training?” she asked. Aryel stopped mid-stride, brow furrowing in confusion when he turned to her. “Your arm. I’m sorry, I could’ve healed that too—”
Corinne cut off at the look of panic in his eyes as he twisted his arm to look at the bruises. He quickly rolled his sleeve down.
“It’s fine,” he said.
“I could still heal it if you want—”
“I said it’s fine,” he snapped, and Corinne nearly flinched. “Don’t worry about it.”
Seething, Corinne traipsed after him as he stalked off. Helaera give me strength. If he didn’t want her help, she’d just stop offering it.