Chapter 17
The small banquet hall where Prince Aryel and the other children of nobles gathered doubled as a lounge, almost half of the room a mass of plush couches and chairs.
The fireplace that stood at the center of them all had been lit for the evening.
It was just like their previous gathering, but not in the woods, and with far less alcohol.
Aryel sat by his friends Petros and Elys, two young women sat on the couch adjacent to theirs, and the rest of them were scattered throughout the rest of the room, either retrieving food and drink from a generous spread at the large table or milling about.
On the farthest couch from Aryel, Lana sat next to another man Corinne hadn’t seen before.
He was sandy-haired and extremely tall, garbed in a light blue shirt that showed the hulking muscles of his shoulders and chest.
Corinne stood watch by one of the windows, facing Aryel, who glanced her way several times over the course of an hour. She was the picture of the enduring guard, of the humble, silent servant to the Goddess she ought to be.
The man sitting by Lana stood, swaying a bit. He looked about as drunk as Aryel had the first night she’d met him. Corinne hoped he was retiring—the last thing she wanted to do was call for a servant to clean up some drunken fool’s vomit.
But the tall, muscular man did not head for the door. He sauntered right up to Corinne, a lopsided smile plastered on his chiseled, tanned face.
“You know, I wondered why Lana kept complaining about Aryel’s celibate pious guard,” he said, his speech slurred. Corinne froze as he got closer, and the smell of liquor hit her nose. “Makes sense now. You’re awfully pretty for a Sword of Helaera.”
Corinne couldn’t move; she could only stare at the man in mild panic.
“Why don’t you relax a little, eh?” he said. “Haven’t you been tempted to indulge in the luxuries of the real world?”
Corinne’s heart clenched. She had been tempted, and now she was scarred and shunned by her oldest friend. She needed to get away from this man, but she couldn’t leave her post.
“Leave her alone, Janus.”
Aryel’s voice cut across the space between where he sat and where Corinne stood. He was reclined, a drink in his hand, feet propped on a short table between his couch and the other. The man, Janus, turned to the prince, and those nearby quieted, watching.
“What? I’m just trying to help her out,” Janus said, bracing an arm on the wall behind Corinne. He was far too close. “She just needs permission to relax, get off her high horse.”
Aryel hardly looked up from his drink as he said, “Or perhaps the concept of honor is so foreign to you it’s impossible to imagine someone else may have a modicum of self-control.”
Janus snorted, all humor vacating his face, and he pushed off the wall, mumbling to himself as he returned to his couch. Once everyone had resumed talking, Aryel caught Corinne’s gaze, an apology in his eyes.
Her heart cracked. She looked away from him, tears forming in her eyes before she could stop them. No, not now.
“I think I’ve had enough for tonight,” Aryel said suddenly. Corinne chanced a glance at him. He patted Elys on the back as he stood, placing his drink on the table. “I’ll see you all tomorrow, I’m sure.”
He headed quickly for the exit, and Corinne hurried after him. Keep it together. Keep it together. Just a few more steps…
The moment she cleared the door, tears began streaming down her cheeks.
Goddess, she couldn’t guard Aryel if she couldn’t see, but she’d lost control entirely.
Aryel stopped a few strides down the corridor, beckoning her through a doorway.
They stepped into a room lit only by tiny candles on an altar at the front.
Corinne hastily wiped at her face and realized they were in the sanctuary, surrounded by rows of chairs, stained glass windows depicting Helaera, and a vaulted ceiling with intricate stone carvings.
“I’m sorry about Janus,” Aryel said, leaning on the back of a chair. “He’s always been an ass.” He studied her for another moment. “Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?”
Corinne shook her head, making to take a step away from him, but he caught her arm, his fingers pressing into her scar through the thin fabric of her shirt.
His eyes widened as he looked down. Before Corinne could pull away, he pushed her sleeve up, his hand brushing the damaged flesh.
The handprint-shaped burn was stark even in the dim light of the sanctuary lanterns.
“Corinne,” he said slowly. Corinne. Not Sunshine. “Who did this to you?”
Corinne pulled her arm away, cradling it to her chest. “I did it to myself.”
“You burned yourself?”
“No, I—” She shook her head, rubbing at her eyes again. “Why do you care? Why did you defend me back there when all I’ve done is resent you since I arrived, and then all but ignored you these past two weeks?”
Aryel stared at her.
“Because you saved my life,” he said after a beat. “And I know something happened to you at that monastery.”
It wasn’t any of his business what the Lightguards did with their own. She’d deserved the punishment for her carelessness.
“They burned me,” she said anyway, her voice small. The truth poured out of her like a dam breaking, and the sheer horror on his face pulled at a thread within her, a thread she both feared and hoped would unravel something gnarled in her soul.
“You saved my life that night, Corinne,” he said. There it was—her name again. “You didn’t deserve that. Goddess, if I’d known they would do that to you…I’m so sorry.”
“It was a fair punishment for my negligence,” she said, closing her eyes. They flew back open at the sudden presence of Aryel’s hands on her face.
“No, it wasn’t.” His voice was low, dangerous almost, but still gentle, and his eyes burned with an intensity she hadn’t seen before. “What they did to you was wrong. It was needlessly cruel, and I can’t think of anyone less deserving of such treatment.”
Corinne could only blink at him through her tears. He brushed them away from her cheeks with his thumbs, and for a moment, his gaze shifted downward to her mouth. Corinne nearly stopped breathing. Surely he wasn’t thinking about—
“I’m sorry.” He released her, the whisper of his hands lingering on her cheeks. “I’ve been wanting to tell you that for two weeks, but you wouldn’t let me say anything unless it was about training or council meetings or my schedule.”
“Sorry for what?” she asked.
“For being a fucking ass to you since you got here,” he said. “Sorry— swearing. I’ve been trying to limit that, by the way, not sure if you noticed.”
A choked laugh burst from her lips. “We haven’t been speaking enough for me to notice a difference.”
“And whose fault is that?”
Corinne exhaled slowly, the tears finally subsiding. “I have tried to…be better. To ensure I am serving Helaera and being Her Sword and Her Light.”
“Well,” Aryel said, “I can say with full confidence that the barbaric thing they did to you had nothing to do with Helaera’s Light.”
Corinne wasn’t sure if she wanted that to be true or not. It was a comfort for someone to tell her that her pain was a tragedy rather than a revelry of the Goddess, but was that the truth, or just what she wanted to hear in her weakness?
“Now that you’re speaking to me again, why don’t we start over, hm?” he said, holding out his hand to her. “I’m Aryel.”
Corinne stared at him, at his outstretched hand, and hope flickered in her chest. This kindness, his concern for her, felt genuine, and if she knew anything to be true, she knew Helaera honored such acts.
She placed her hand in Aryel’s. “Corinne.”
“You can also call me Ari,” he said, squeezing her hand before dropping it and stepping into the corridor again, this time beside her instead of in front. “That’s reserved for friends only, though, so no more icing me out, yeah?”
Corinne huffed, allowing that warmth she’d fought to spread within her. It almost felt the way her magic did, and surely something like that couldn’t be entirely bad or unholy.
“All right.”