Chapter 16 #2
All the people she cared about were with her.
She hadn’t left anything behind. They were what she cared about …
and yet, for a horrible moment, she couldn’t shake the sensation that she had forgotten something.
Like stepping out of the house and feeling a breeze, knowing her coat was still locked up in her wardrobe.
She suddenly felt naked, caught unawares.
Things had been moving so fast, and she had been coping mostly with humour and denial, but the truth was … she had left behind an entire, uncomplicated, pain-free life, and she had walked into a very complicated and very much pain-filled one instead.
Rion squeezed her hand, and Eiko forced the cake the rest of the way down her throat, shoving the horrible sensation of homesickness aside.
Oh well. She needed fuel for her second sight, and the cakes were bloody delicious.
She bit into another, the little butter cake’s glassy crust crackling under the pressure of her teeth to reveal an impossibly soft interior, the caramelised sugar melting on her tongue along with the buttery crumb. A spiced cake was next, the glaze making her fingers sticky.
Rion squeezed her hand. “What is happening right now?” She was staring at Eiko in utter confusion as Eiko chased the spiced cake with two massive gulps of tea—enough to almost drain the entire cup.
“Need the fuel,” Eiko muttered, as the attendant delicately covered his mouth. “This isn’t poisoned, is it?” she asked the attendant, as she finished the cup of tea and clumsily clattered it back onto the saucer—deliberately not looking at where she was aiming, to keep her blindness convincing.
“Light protect me,” the attendant groaned, rubbing his mouth. “No, you have not been poisoned.”
“Well, in that case.” Eiko reached for the teapot—was that solid gold?—but the attendant almost hissed at her, brushing her hands away.
“Sit back—” he snapped, before clearing his throat and adopting a polite tone. “Please, allow me, Miss Eiko.”
She eyed him nervously as she felt around for another cake.
The man was one small slight away from losing all his cool.
She finished the cake, drank another cup of tea, and then sat back calmly, copying Rion’s posture: hands folded demurely on a crumb-free lap, eyes downcast but definitely watching the door in her periphery.
“How are you not ill right now?” Rion asked beneath her breath.
“It burns calories,” Eiko whispered back, hoping her friend would understand what she was referring to. Rion glanced up, her amber-brown eyes flicking between Eiko’s, one elegant brow arching up.
“Don’t push it,” she pleaded quietly, before turning back to the door. “You already have dried blood on your elbow.” She left the rest of the sentence unspoken, but Eiko understood.
She didn’t particularly want to start bleeding from the eyes in front of the royal family—or even the attendant, for that matter.
People might question why. It wasn’t exactly normal.
King Grigori was preceded by a softly spoken attendant, who barely had time to announce his presence before he was striding bodily into the room, the golden threads that pieced together his navy-blue surcoat catching the glimmering light of the sun.
At his shoulders, the fabric broke into darker panels of deep slate brushed with charcoal, embroidered faintly with pale threads in the pattern of unfurling white roses, heraldic in style.
A matching rose motif was worked in silver at his collar, its bloom half-concealed by the curve of his mantle.
Corvan and Ceran followed their father into the room, their faces threaded with tight scowls, like they had spent the morning arguing with the king just as Prince Chasin had.
Unlike the king, they were dressed more plainly, in dark trousers, riding boots, and loose linen shirts.
I guess King Grigori did the rounds, Eiko joked to Hymn.
They look as pissed as Chasin, Hymn agreed. But Chasin isn’t being forced to marry.
Because he was smart enough to find a position in the castle that forbade it entirely, Eiko pointed out.
How long do you think King Grigori will allow him to remain Commander of the Godsguard? Hymn wondered. It’s a sacred position—usually, for life. They’re only replaced when the former commander dies.
Eiko was pulled from the internal conversation when Rion suddenly stood, shocking Eiko into quickly copying the movement. Rion curtseyed and greeted the three men. Eiko quickly copied her, mumbling along with her greeting.
“Where’s my bloody wife?” King Grigori suddenly spat, completely ignoring Eiko and Rion. “She was supposed to be—”
“Here,” a smooth, cool voice spoke from the doorway, Queen Noemi drifting into the room like a shadow, quietly clicking the door closed behind her.
She wore a long, high-collared gown of deep obsidian silk that seemed to swallow all the light in the room.
It was cut close to the body, regal and restrained.
Along the hem, climbing from toe to hip, trailed an embroidered lattice of white roses, stylised in angular, almost thornlike designs—each petal needle-sharp, each stem barbed in silver thread.
A real rose, pale and blooming, sat pinned at her throat, the only sign of softness.
Rion jumped up again. Eiko copied her again. They curtseyed and did their quiet greetings again. Queen Noemi surveyed them with a small, tight smile. “How precious. Sit, girls.” She waved at the couch and moved to sit opposite them. “How would you like to be princesses?”
Yikes. No time to waste.
Eiko froze, wondering if this was a trap.
“We wouldn’t even dare to dream of such a thing, Your Grace,” Rion answered softly, her eyes on her own lap.
Eiko chose silence, also staring at her lap, until she felt the burning of the queen’s stare threatening to singe the edges of her uniform.
“Wouldn’t dare to,” she quickly mumbled in agreement with Rion. “Your Grace.”
Rion’s shoulders moved slightly, like she might have just quickly swallowed down a laugh. It was a very bad habit of theirs—absurdly laughing through their fear.
“You are lovely, of course,” Queen Noemi continued. Eiko knew exactly who she was talking to, and it definitely wasn’t her. “But you …”
Okay, now she’s talking to me.
“You will need quite a lot of polishing,” the queen sighed out, like the task ahead was already taxing her. “You will both need training in the ways of the court. How to dress. How to speak. How to please your future husbands.” Spew. “And how to manage staff.”
I could use some staff.
What for? Hymn asked.
I dunno. Stuff.
Are you okay? You sound unperturbed, but your insides are all wound up in tight knots.
I am very far from okay. I don’t know what to do right now. Can I refuse? Should I beg?
“Don’t even think of refusing,” King Grigori inserted, stalking over to the window to survey something more worth his attention.
He was using that booming, jovial tone again, but there was a warning there too.
He was pretending to make a joke, to point out that nobody would dare refuse, while subtly warning them to conform.
“We are humbled, Your Grace.” Rion bent her head even lower. Eiko quickly bent her head lower too. “And would not dare refuse. I only wonder what we’ve done to deserve such an honour, as I hardly feel like a suitable candidate.”
Damn, she was good.
The king made a sort of humming sound, like he was very pleased with Rion’s poise and delicacy. Eiko wanted to growl at him to keep his grubby royal hands off her best friend.
“The women of the Godsguard have made the ultimate sacrifice for the people of Lyra.” It was the queen who answered, her tone light and soothing.
“To keep us safe from the Quiet and those who inhabit it.” Eiko wondered if the queen had a monster of her own.
Her hands were covered in thin, black silk gloves.
Noemi continued, “This is our way of honouring that sacrifice. The princes of Goldmoor have finished their campaigns with the Kingsguard, as is customary, and are now ready to marry. Instead of picking from the eligible highborn ladies of the court, we have decided that it would be far more honourable to give them wives from the sacred Godsguard. Warrior women, strong in their own right. Women who will do more for this city than simply sit, and simper, and plan parties.”
Eiko blinked at her lap in shock. What the hell did Queen Noemi have against ladies who simpered and party-planned?
Simpering wasn’t easy. Eiko couldn’t simper to save her life, and she certainly didn’t know how to plan a party.
A full day of brutal Eclipse training was actually a more comfortable concept than planning a royal party.
Rion squeezed her knee, as though telling her not to get stuck on the party-planning stuff, but she was already there, already spiralling, already wondering what Queen Noemi did, if it wasn’t sitting around simpering and party-planning.
I think you’re missing the point. Hymn sounded amused. This is a cover story. King Grigori has already made it clear why he wants you to breed with one of his sons.
Right. Got a little lost there.
Rion was quiet. She was thinking. Turning over the situation, the queen’s explanation, the king’s warning, the silent presence of the other princes, who had shifted into the corner of the room to quietly converse with each other, standing still enough and far enough from the light streaming through the windows that Eiko couldn’t even make out their faces when she briefly looked up.
Rion was too quiet.
She couldn’t find a way out of this.
“If we are being chosen for our position on the Godsguard,” Eiko ventured quietly, “does this mean we will be expected to continue training in the barracks, while … training for court?”