CHAPTER FIFTEEN TREW
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
TREW
Dinner had been an exercise in restraint.
I’d stood against the wall of the dining room while Isi played her role of the gracious princess, entertaining her suitors with soft smiles and polite conversation.
Lord Alfred had dominated the conversation with his endless droning about his hunting hounds.
Lord Finley had spent more time admiring his reflection in the polished silverware than contributing anything of substance.
Other than a brief mention of horseflesh, Lord Crestin had studied Isi like a puzzle, even probing her occasionally with questions about her “delicate fears” of court unrest.
Every time one of them touched her hand or she laughed at their tedious jokes, my jaw clenched and I dreamed up new ways to make them disappear.
The meal stretched on for what felt like hours.
Course after course of rich food I barely saw, wine flowing freely, servants moving between the tables in a subtle way that made them blend into the background.
The king presided over it all from the head of the table, his satisfaction evident in every glance he directed at his daughter and her suitors.
He thought he was winning. He thought Isi was willing to be sold off to whichever lord proved most useful to his plans.
When the final course had been cleared and the king rose to retire to the parlor with the other men, Crestin stood, offering Isi his arm with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.
“Your Highness,” he said, sending a snide look the other lords’ way. “The evening is mild and the moon is full. Would you do me the honor of taking a turn about the gardens?”
My hand tightened on my sword hilt.
Isi’s gaze flicked to me before she placed her hand on his offered arm. “That sounds lovely, my lord.”
The king nodded his approval. “Blain…” He shot a stern look my way, “will accompany you.”
“Of course, Your Majesty.” I bowed, the faithful bodyguard accepting his orders.
We left the dining hall and made our way through the castle’s corridors.
The rear doors opened onto moonlit grounds, and cool night air washed over us as we stepped outside. The gardens spread around us in carefully manicured splendor. Rose bushes pruned to perfection, gravel paths winding between marble statues, and fountains burbling.
Beautiful. Serene. Utterly controlled. Just like everything else in Caldrith.
Isi tugged her shawl closer.
Crestin guided her down the main path, away from the castle lights and into the garden’s deeper shadows. I followed three paces behind, my body coiled tight with tension that had nothing to do with protocol and everything to do with the man currently touching my woman.
The moon hung full and bright overhead, painting everything in shades of silver.
I cataloged every shadow that could hide a person with a blade.
Some of the roses near the back of the garden were overgrown, their thorny branches creating natural choke points.
Perfect for ambushes. The statues along the pathway cast pools of darkness deep enough to conceal someone crouching.
The gravel crunched under our feet loudly enough to mask softer sounds.
Footsteps. Breathing. The whisper of steel leaving a sheath.
I wasn’t admiring the garden. I was mapping a battlefield.
A rustle echoed from the bushes to our left. Pherin darted toward it, her tiny form vanishing into the foliage. I shifted closer, my hand on the hilt of my blade, a gesture Isi would recognize as readiness, though I saw no threats.
Pherin flew back out and soared over Isi and Crestin.
Crestin spoke of his family estates, his voice carrying a particular blend of arrogance and self-satisfaction that made my teeth ache.
“Our shore properties are quite extensive, Your Highness. Twelve thousand cleks of gorgeous waterfront, with views that will take your breath away. Inland, my stables house the finest horseflesh in the realm. Blooded stock, you understand. I’ve won three regional competitions in the past five years alone. ”
He stroked her arm.
I clenched my hand around the hilt of my sword, eager to pull it and gut him.
My magic stirred in the air, a gathering storm held back by sheer will alone. The mounted torches nearest me flared brighter, their flames stretching toward the sky before I wrenched my power back under control.
Every muscle in my body screamed to close the distance between us, to break every finger currently touching Isi’s sleeve. He wasn’t guiding her along the path like a gentleman. He was steering her like property, like one of his prized mares being led to auction.
The comparison made bile rise in my throat.
Isi made a soft sound of polite interest, the princess responding to a boring suitor’s stories. But I knew her well enough now to hear the thread of steel beneath the sweetness.
Pherin moved through the trees, scouting where I couldn’t see. I felt her presence through my connection to Isi, a faint thrum of awareness that said the tiny bird was hunting, watching, waiting for any threat to emerge from the manicured darkness. Gavelle watched from a tree limb ahead.
“Of course,” Crestin said, “proper breeding is essential. One must be careful about bloodlines and ensure the stock remains pure and strong. It’s the same principle whether you’re discussing horses or…” He paused. “Well, any valuable asset.”
I was going to kill him before we left Caldrith.
Isi’s fingers brushed against the pendant at her throat. She turned to Crestin with wide, innocent eyes, and I watched a master strategist go to work.
“My lord, you’re so knowledgeable about the realm’s affairs.
” Her voice carried the right note of anxiety, with an undercurrent of admiration that made my skin crawl even though I knew it was an act.
“My father speaks of reinforcing the southern border. All this talk of rebels is frightening for a woman to hear. Do you believe His Majesty has the situation well in hand?”
Brilliant. She’d wrapped intelligence gathering in the guise of a worried, dependent woman seeking reassurance from a strong man.
Crestin puffed up but he hesitated, scowling down at her. “Frightening, you say? Tell me more about what troubles you specifically, Your Highness. Is it the rebels' cleverness that worries you most, or something else?”
“I don’t know much about battle, but they’re…rebels. I assume they’re clever. Able to meet our forces with strength.”
He smirked. “I assure you, His Majesty’s response will be both swift and overwhelming. The mobilization to the southern border is already underway.” He paused again, probing. “But surely a princess like you has nothing to fear. Unless there are other concerns on your mind?”
“You don’t believe I should be afraid?” She swayed as if she was about to swoon.
Crestin appeared ready to catch her if she did, his arm going around her waist from behind. “Let me help you to a bench.”
“No, I can’t bear to sit while I worry about this. It frets me so.”
“Never fear.” He patted her arm. “Your father has three full battalions, with supply trains that will stretch for cleks. I’ve heard they’ll leave within the next two weeks, marching for the border.
Those Syllavarian rebels won’t know what hit them.
In a short time, the threat will be crushed, and you’ll be safely wed to a man who can protect you from such unpleasantness. ”
Despite my rage about his belief Syllavar could be so easily defeated, pride surged through me.
She’d just extracted intelligence about Caldrith’s attack, the scale of the force being deployed, and the timeline, all while playing the helpless princess worried about scary rebels.
She wasn’t just my lover. She was my queen in everything but name, more dangerous than any blade in the darkness, and absolutely intoxicating to watch in action. Her clever questions, full of steel, made my chest ache with pride. Fates, I loved her.
They walked on, and Isi touched her throat again, showing a hint of distress. “It’s just… I’ve been full of worry since my sister died. As a man of the world, Lord Crestin, have you heard any court rumors? I grasp for any hope for my court’s future.”
Crestin’s face hardened. “Rumors? I don’t want to worry you with such things.”
“Please tell me. I’ll rest easier tonight with knowledge, rather than clinging to fear.”
“There are rumors of magic.”
She faked a gasp, clutching her clasped hands over her heart. “Not magic.”
“It’s rampant, as you must know. Why else are you holding so many Days of Mercy?”
“Perhaps it’s not that horrible. I’ve heard magic can—”
He scowled. “Such afflictions are often a sign of weakness, Your Highness. Strong northern blood like mine doesn’t suffer from such a thing. We’ve long since eradicated magical bloodlines, as you will eventually do here yourself. Only the weak are susceptible to the taint.”
The path led to a stone bridge arcing over a pond. Moonlight painted the scene in white and silver.
Lord Crestin stopped in the center of the bridge, turning Isi to face the pond. “A moment, Your Highness. The view from here is exquisite.”
His hand on her arm tightened, the grip shifting to restraint. His genial mask fell away, revealing cold resolve beneath, while his other hand disappeared inside his coat.
“Isi—” I started forward.
He pulled out a knife, moonlight running down the length of its thin blade.
“A flawed jewel,” he said, his voice flat. “Your line is tainted. Your court must be purified.”
The blade lifting, he lunged.
I was already moving, my sword drawn, calling her name. But I was too slow, the distance between us too far.
Pherin shrieked and launched from the trees. The air around her shimmered and her tiny form began to warp and expand. She landed with a heavy thud on the bridge and grew monstrous, her firecat’s ears laid flat and her fangs bared.
Isi dropped into the low, balanced stance I’d seen many times. The one I’d faced when we sparred in Syllavar’s training hall.
Lord Crestin drove the knife down toward her throat.
Isi met his wrist with the edge of her hand, a redirecting parry that would’ve made Thorne proud.
At the same time, power erupted from her. The shockwave of magic rippled through the air and vibrated my bones.
The magic amplified her block.
His wrist shattered with an audible crack.
Instead of only his arm being deflected, his body was thrown back in an uncontrolled spin. He cried out. His feet tangled, his body twisted, and he fell hard against the stone railing.
The sound of his impact echoed thick and wet.
The lord flopped over, onto his back on the bridge, his own blade buried to the hilt in his chest.
His stunned gaze fixed on Isi. Blood spread across his tunic in a dark, growing stain.
His lips moved. “Monster…”
He convulsed once and went still.
Pherin shifted quickly back into a slightly-too-large and thoroughly ruffled minxpip. Wisps of smoke dissipated around her. She fluffed her feathers and glared at the lord with the outraged dignity of a creature who knew she could’ve burned him to a crisp with one blast.
Isi stood frozen, staring at the dead man, her hand still raised in a defensive position, trembling with the aftershock of the power she’d released. The metallic tang of blood filled the air.
I sheathed my sword and stepped over Crestin’s body without looking down.
My bodyguard persona fell away. I wasn’t her hired help. I was her partner. Her lover. The man who would burn this entire realm before I let anyone hurt her.
I grabbed her arm, pulling her away from the body, positioning myself between her and him.
“Isi. Look at me.” My voice came out hard. “Are you hurt?”
She shook her head, her eyes still wide. “It was so fast. I just reacted.”
I took her face in both hands, forcing her to meet my gaze, to focus on me instead of Lord Crestin cooling on the stone. “Listen to me. He attacked you. I’m your witness. You defended yourself.”
The words were as much for her as for the story we were about to create. She needed to believe it, to internalize the truth of it before the guards arrived and the questions began.
Self-defense. Nothing more. Nothing less.
She nodded, some of the horror fading from her face.
I released her and turned, dropping into a crouch beside Crestin’s body.
The blade’s edge carried a faint, oily sheen that had nothing to do with his wound.
“Bloodbane,” I growled.
The same poison Maddox had used. The conspiracy wasn’t just real, it was right here, wielding blades meant to kill princesses.
Isi’s gaze met mine and the spark of fear there made me want to howl. She knew how close she’d come to dying.
I stood and moved to her side, never turning my back on the darkness surrounding the bridge. Every shadow could hide another assassin. Every rustle of leaves could signal an attack.
I took her trembling hand in mine and squeezed. “We’ll talk about the magic later. Right now, we survive this.”
Her fingers tightened on mine.
I looked into her eyes. “Now, they’ll come to us.”
Understanding flickered across her face.
I released her hand and planted my feet, a king in disguise standing guard over his queen. I drew in a deep, ragged breath that filled my lungs with cool night air and the copper tang of blood.
Then I let loose a roar that shattered the garden’s silence. “Guards. To the princess! Assassin on the bridge!”
My voice carried across the grounds with all the authority of someone who expected immediate obedience.
This was war. Open and declared.
We stood together near Lord Crestin’s body.
Isi’s hand slipped from mine as people rushed our way.