Chapter 24
Corinne slept so deeply that night she had neither dreams nor nightmares, at least as far as she could recall when she awoke in the morning.
In a panic, she bolted out of bed—it was already past dawn, and she only had a few minutes to complete her weekly ritual.
She wrenched her door open and retrieved the pot of hot water on a tray at her feet.
A kind servant must have left it there. Had she slept through their knocking?
The tea was even worse than usual, barely warm and poorly steeped, but she choked down as much as she could and said her prayers.
What was the tea’s purpose anyway? She could tell stories of the goddesses, recite words of wisdom from Helaera’s teachings, and recall dozens of songs, but the origins of the tea were murky at best. She’d simply had a cup of it every week since her first day at the monastery. I’ll have to ask Vera to remind me.
Corinne’s stomach dropped. Vera wouldn’t want to speak to her, and certainly wouldn’t want to know if Corinne had forgotten one of the basic tenets of their most essential ritual.
Perhaps Corinne had truly never deserved the high praise and approval of the Lightguards. What kind of servant of Helaera was she, to fail so miserably, so quickly, on her first assignment, and to forget such core pieces of her own culture?
The Lightguards agreed to your idea, she reminded herself, and some of her anxiety dissipated. That was a step in the right direction.
Tucking her grief over Vera away for later, Corinne showered and dressed quickly, headed for breakfast with her friends.
Aryel had requested his overnight guard remain for an extra hour to allow Corinne to sleep a bit more, and she hadn’t had the heart to tell him she’d be up before dawn for her ritual anyway.
Her body had other plans, though, it seemed, and she’d gotten at least a bit of extra rest.
Nik was the only one in the dining hall when she arrived, greeting her warmly as he put down his book.
“Morning, Corinne,” Nik said, and Corinne thanked the servant who placed a plate in front of her, unaware how ravenous she was until the bacon and freshly baked bread were just below her nose. “I hope you slept well.”
Corinne began to nod as she chewed her food, and nearly choked when Danai slid onto the bench beside her with a thump.
“Corinne and Prince Aryel are friends now,” Danai announced quietly, and Iliana plopped onto the bench beside Nik with a sigh.
“Sorry, Corinne, I tried to rein them in before we got here,” she said.
“Oh, please, you were just as intrigued as I was.”
“Sorry to interrupt, but might we get Corinne’s input on the matter?” Nik asked, pointing his fork in her direction.
They all turned to her expectantly. Goddess, please let her not blush in front of them.
“We’ve become…friendlier,” she said slowly.
“You called him by his nickname,” Danai accused. “And my father told me last night that the three of you planned routes and logistics for that food transport for hours after I handed you that message.”
Corinne took another bite of bacon, a bit of heat creeping up her neck. After another moment of painful silence, she exhaled.
“Fine, yes, I’ve learned more about him,” Corinne said. “And we could be considered friends. But I am still his guard first and foremost.”
“So what’s he like?” Danai asked, nudging Corinne’s ribs gently. “Is he really the party man we’ve heard whispers about?”
“Danai,” Nik groaned.
“Indulge me this once, I beg you,” Danai said to Nik, clasping their hands together. “All I’ve gotten is crumbs from this other councilor’s son he f—uh, slept with once.”
Corinne’s entire face heated. It was none of her business who Aryel had slept with, but something unpleasant pinned itself behind her sternum. She kicked herself internally.
What reason did she have to be jealous, especially over some tryst that had occurred before they’d even met? They were barely friends, after all. She was his guard.
“Perhaps he was,” she said, distracting herself from such ridiculous emotions. “Perhaps he still is, but I…I can’t say I entirely blame him for it.”
Even Iliana leaned in with interest now. “Why is that?”
Corinne looked at their eager expressions and frowned. She’d said too much.
“I—”
The appearance of a servant at the end of their table saved her, capturing their attention. The woman bowed briefly and addressed Corinne.
“The queen has summoned you to her study, Lady Corinne,” she said, her voice high and melodic.
All her friends’ eyes immediately returned to her as dread settled within.
“Thank you,” Corinne said, barely managing a smile.
“Why does the queen want a private audience with you?” Danai asked quietly.
To berate her, to chastise her for staying with Aryel yesterday, to throw her in the dungeons for daring to stand up to the king.
Instead of voicing every horrible scenario that entered her mind, she said, “I don’t know.”
“Then why the hells do you look like you’re going to be sick?” Iliana asked. “What’s going on, Corinne?”
She shouldn’t—couldn’t—tell them about King Theo’s treatment of Aryel. That was not her pain to share.
“I…can’t say,” she admitted. “But I may have…subtly…defied the king yesterday. To his face.”
The silence that met her was loud. Corinne fidgeted on the bench, knowing she needed to leave soon and terrified to go.
“It was in the name of protecting the prince,” she said quickly, her voice a near whisper.
Danai draped an arm over Corinne’s shoulders. “You,” Danai said, looking her right in the eye, “are the bravest fucker I’ve ever met.”
Corinne snorted a laugh, and when Nik reprimanded them, Danai said, “What? It made her less nervous! I’m helping.”
It had, admittedly, helped, and Corinne patted Danai’s shoulder gratefully as she stood and bid them farewell. They offered her wishes of luck as she headed off to meet her fate.
Queen Erina’s study was up a level from the throne room, and Corinne hoped she hadn’t kept her waiting too long. She braced herself. Stay the course. Be the Light. She was here to protect Aryel. That was her sworn duty to the Lightguards and to Helaera.
She knocked, and a soft “Enter” sounded in reply.
“Ah, Corinne,” Queen Erina said, not standing from her large light wood desk as Corinne stepped inside.
The walls were all dark blue and covered in artworks of moons and stars. She tried not to think about how they resembled some of Aryel’s tattoos.
“Please sit.”
Corinne took a seat in one of two chairs across from the queen, trying her best to maintain her posture as she sank into the deep cushion of the golden fabric. Gold curtains hung by the large window behind the queen as well.
“I thought a lot about what you said yesterday,” she said, folding her hands on her desk.
Corinne ignored the rapid increase of her heart rate. Stay the course. Be the Light.
“I do think it’s quite necessary for you to be present to protect Aryel whenever possible. With that in mind, at his birthday celebration, I expect you to keep close watch over him throughout the festivities.”
Corinne stared at the queen’s placid expression for several moments before realizing exactly what she’d said. “Of course, Your Majesty.”
“Good,” Queen Erina said, offering Corinne a tight smile. “And we can’t have you dressed in your normal attire. Would you prefer formal trousers and a shirt or a gown? The tailor can do either.”
Corinne had never worn anything formal besides armor. The closest the Lightguards got to formal attire was the robes the Priestesses or Acolytes wore, but that wasn’t garb Corinne was permitted to wear.
“I—a gown, I suppose,” she said, still stunned.
“Excellent. She’ll need a few days to make the gown, but Goddess knows she’s busy all day today with mine. You’ll report to her first thing in the morning so she can take your measurements.”
“Your Majesty, I have not—”
“Oh, but of course, you’ve never worn such things before,” the queen said, her eyebrows shooting up. “I can assure you our dressmaker is incredibly skilled; she will make certain the garment is created with ease of movement in mind. Nothing too extravagant.”
“I…thank you, Your Majesty,” Corinne said.
The queen merely smiled again. “That’s all, dear,” she said. “I know you must return to my son soon.”
Corinne stood and bowed, hardly daring to believe her luck as she headed for the exit.
“Corinne?”
She turned, and the queen was standing now, her face flickering with pain for a moment before she mastered it again.
“Thank you,” she said. “For protecting my son when I have failed to do so.”
Corinne didn’t expect the anger to burn in her chest again, but it smoldered for a moment before she forced herself to smile softly. “It’s my duty and honor to protect him, Your Majesty.”
Corinne sketched another bow before leaving the room, her heart hammering behind her ribcage.