CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Sometime before midnight, when small brawls had broken out across the tourney in the commoner’s sections, and sudden arrests were made for those pledging their loyalty to House Bathiner, instead of House Lafir, I was whisked from the pavilion, back to the castle, before being brought straight to my room where I was prepared for bed.
I was asleep instantly, Abigail barely blowing out the candles before my eyes shut. The effort of maintaining my shapeshift had been a constant drain on my power and energy. And when the day ended, I didn’t even have enough energy left to dream.
A brisk knock on my door forced me out of bed. I could have stayed there for hours, recouping my energy. It wasn’t just the shapeshift, but the constant awareness of my every word and my every move, whether or not one small mistake would give me away or confirm what Jaron already suspected.
That I was a fake. That I was Azete.
“Your Highness, Princess Olivay,” Abigail called out.
The door opened, and she stepped inside, followed by another servant carrying my breakfast tray. I noted the presence of several guards outside my door, each one covered in steel armor and cloaks pinned with the sigil of House Lafir.
Abigail shot out several orders to the servant concerning my breakfast before closing the door behind her. The guards remained still and stoic, but several sets of eyes passed over my room, gazing at me with intense scrutiny.
My throat went dry. “Something wrong?” I asked. There had not been such a presence at my door last night.
“No, nothing’s amiss, Your Highness,” Abigail said. “The events of today begin quite early. Several melees are scheduled just after breakfast. It was decided it would be easier for you to prepare to attend the games if your meal was to be served in your room.”
I frowned. She was lying. I could feel it. “And the guards waiting outside my room?” I asked. They weren’t here for my protection. I could feel that, too.
Already my heart thundered too loudly, and I began to contemplate my escape. They already knew what I was, so there was no point avoiding further exposure.
But as soon as I had the thought, my wrist burned.
“The guards are for the prince,” Abigail said. “They’re his.”
My stomach turned. “And he sent them to me?”
Abigail blinked, her expression one of confusion. “They always arrive before him.”
Not when he frequents taverns.
“He’s coming to see me?” I asked.
“Of course, Your Highness,” Abigail said. She spoke like this was natural, but I knew it wasn’t. We might have been betrothed, and we might have kissed, but I knew royalty in Eley were not exactly open to the bride and groom visiting each other’s rooms before the wedding.
“Here.” She opened my wardrobe and pulled out a blue satin dressing gown, helping me slide my arms inside.
There was a thud outside my door, like someone had stomped their foot. And then a loud male voice called out, “His Highness, Crown Prince Jaron Emmerson Rowan Brendathan.”
A herald.
I stared at Abigail, who only looked wide-eyed back at me.
Where the hell was the Hermit? If he was here, I’d know what to do.
Or maybe how to react to this sudden visit.
But I supposed it was up to me to answer the door, based on Abigail’s silence.
I just hoped that the real Olivay was still learning castle protocol, too.
And would have acted as confused as I was.
“Enter,” I called back.
Slowly, the knob turned, and Brennan poked his head inside. “Princess,” he said, smiling shyly when our eyes met.
Abigail curtseyed low. “Your Highness.” Then she scurried into the bathroom and turned on the faucet to prepare my morning bath.
“My Prince,” I said, stiffly.
“How—” He coughed, clearly nervous in my presence, and pushed his fingers through his curls, a light brown in the sunlight streaming in through my windows. “How did you sleep?”
“Quite well,” I said. Mentally, I reached out to him, trying to feel his emotions, to connect to his mind. I needed a clue as to what this was, what he was feeling, what he wanted. But just like before we kissed, he was giving me nothing. No emotions at all.
“Good,” he said.
“And how did you sleep?”
“Well.” He smiled. He was already dressed in his armor, the steel plates gleaming with a fresh shine, and a new blue cloak flowed from his shoulders. The same sword he’d carried at the tavern was sheathed at his hip. “I’m sorry to bother you so early in the morning.”
I shook my head. “Seems inevitable, since we are to be married.”
He burst into laughter, one hand flying to his chest. “Ouch. You wound me, Princess.” He spun on his heels, reaching for the doorknob. “Shall I go?”
“Oh no,” I started, “No! Stay. I didn’t mean—”
He waved me off and stepped back toward me. “I know exactly what you meant.”
For once we wed, our mornings would be shared.
Our bodies would be tangled and naked in the sunlight, revealing the remnants of what passed between us in the night.
His eyes met mine, bright and green, his jaw muscles working.
It was on his mind, too. For a second, the Azete stirred, detecting that hint of want—of need—as his thoughts intensified to feelings.
He swallowed roughly, yet a small smile still tugged on his lips. “I promise, I shall try my best not to annoy you in the mornings to come. Not too early anyway.”
I cocked my head to the side, blinking slowly, a small burst of magic lengthening and darkening my lashes. “I will hold you to that.”
“Will you now?” he asked, his voice suddenly low and husky. Quickly, he shook his head, like he hadn’t meant to flirt with me.
My stomach tightened. “My Prince, I would hold you to any promise you make me.” My voice rasped. The Azete.
“Shall I make more for you then?” he asked.
“Make them all.”
He held my gaze, thoughts of the morning after our wedding flashing through his mind with greater intensity.
His need for me was growing, and his want matched my own.
He might have been hesitant the day before, his mind elsewhere, but the kiss had changed him, it had connected us with surprising intensity.
So had every moment that transpired between us since.
It was slow, but he was coming around to me in this body, turning his attention to me in this form.
And I just needed to draw him in a little more–
He will die.
I took a step back, breaking our connection as my stomach turned. What the hell was I doing? Trying to seduce him? Feed from him? When Jaron suspected me? When I’d already taken too much?
Taking a deep breath, I tried to recenter myself. “Perhaps we shall put talk of promises on hold until our wedding.”
Brennan coughed before offering me a tight smile, his jaw muscles clenching. “A wise course of action.”
Bells rang outside, signaling a new hour. The tourney would be starting soon.
I searched his eyes. “Why have you come to see me? Will I not see you at the tourney today?”
“You will,” Brennan said. “I’ll be right out there, fighting to defend your honor.
But, I’ve uh …” He frowned and stepped closer to me, so close the spice and musk of his perfume reached my nostrils.
The Azete uncoiled in my belly, ready to strike.
“I’ve been counseled not to share this with you.
But you are to be my wife. I feel that I must.”
I nodded slowly, a sinking feeling in my gut. He knew. The castle knew. I’d failed.
“There have been some reports of late in Eskalon of a growing threat,” he said.
“A threat?” I asked, my voice too high.
“You know we face chimera here. They rarely cross the borders into our territory, but there was an attack outside the city a few nights ago.”
My pulse. I know. I was there. So were you. But did Olivay know? Would he admit such a thing to her? To where he was, or who he was with? Was that what this was? His confession? Or …
“Was anyone hurt?” I asked quickly, the question genuine. I’d needed to know for days and had no one I could ask to confirm.
“Yes,” Brennan said, and sighed. “Many were. A tavern in Batron, a small town at the edge of the city, was the site of the attack. Between the attack and the subsequent fire that raged, it was destroyed. Many were injured, but they are healing. No one died. Our hunters are tracking all related activity.”
“No one died?” I asked, tears burning the backs of my eyes.
“No,” Brennan said softly. “Thank the Gods.”
My breath was shaky. I hadn’t realized just how much fear I’d been holding onto since that night—how horrible it was to not know.
Finlay, Thomas, and Cecelia were safe and in the castle.
But I’d had many acquaintances, cooks, maids, and patrons whose fates had remained a mystery.
And others who I did not know but would still not wish harm upon.
Even Brennan himself had been injured—had nearly died.
And only then could I feel full relief for it all.
Brennan watched me carefully, his eyes filling with concern. “Olivay,” he said, and gestured to my hand. “May I?”
“Um.” I tried to speak, but I was on the verge of tears. One more word and I would cry. So I nodded.
He threaded our fingers together and held my gaze. “Everyone’s okay,” he said. “I promise you.”
I stiffened, suddenly so afraid I’d start to feed again from our touch. But he was offering nothing.
“I did not expect—” He stopped himself, shaking his head and looking away.
“Did not expect what?” I asked.
He exhaled a nervous breath, turning back to face me. “Don’t think ill of me. But I did not expect your heart to be … as caring as yours is.”
My throat went dry. “I … I do not show it so easily to those I do not yet know,” I said, hoping it was a believable answer for Olivay.
His thumb rubbed against my skin, and I knew I needed to end this before his emotions rose, before the Azete could feed from him.
“Is this news of the chimera what you came to tell me?” I asked.
It worked. The hint of the connection forming between us broke.