Chapter 62
Mora
The last piece of chocolate melted on Mora’s tongue, a bittersweet explosion of euphoria. A pleased moan slipped free from her lips, the sound indecent—unfit of someone born to wear a crown—but she couldn’t find it in herself to care. Even when Castellan snorted at her side.
“To think, I assumed you’d offer me a piece,” he chuckled, his pace slowing as they neared the camp.
Mora glanced at him sidelong. “I don’t share.”
“Noted.” Amusement glittered in his gray eyes. “I’ll get double next time.”
“You should,” Mora replied, sucking the leftover chocolate from her fingers. “Though, I’ll have you know, I will take it all, and I still won’t share.”
He laughed and Mora giggled with him. A lightness swelling in her chest. An ease she hadn’t felt in a long time. For a moment, she’d forgotten about Eris and the dread of facing him again after the night prior.
“I’m sure we can make it work,” Castellan offered.
Mora hadn’t missed the unspoken part. When we’re married.
Do you hate me, Gods? Is that why you insist on this path?
It was difficult, forcing her sigh down when it tried so hard to claw its way up her throat.
It could have been worse—Castellan would make for a good husband, and a fine king, but that didn’t mean Mora looked forward to their wedding day.
She swallowed against her discomfort, staring ahead at the kaleidoscope of colors peppered between the trees—they neared the tents, the babble of Halflings curling through the air.
“Is Didi the lover you mentioned at the bonfire?” Mora asked casually, wondering if he’d judge her if she turned the small leather pouch inside out and licked it clean of chocolate crumbs.
She should have taken her time savoring every piece, but it had been so long since she’d enjoyed anything decadent—Mora practically inhaled them.
Castellan stopped abruptly. “What gave you that idea?”
Mora slowed, frowning at the leather sack, deciding she should maintain some semblance of propriety. “You mumbled her name in your sleep and I assumed.”
“I didn’t realize I did that.” He cleared his throat. “Didi’s my sister.”
“Oh.” Mora could feel the heat rising on her face. Knew her skin darkened under Castellan’s watchful stare. How mistaken she’d been. “Apologies,” she mumbled, “that was foolish of me.”
“You didn’t know.” He smiled softly. “I should have mentioned her name sooner, while I was awake.”
Crumpling the small bag, Mora shoved it in her cloak, a garment she’d stolen from Castellan’s things that morning.
Splashes of mud and bits of birch bark clung to the fabric, but, if Castellan noticed, he hadn’t said a word, unconcerned by another ruined piece of clothing.
She supposed he’d get plenty more once they took the throne.
It was barely below freezing, a cool wind kissing her cheeks, chilly enough to coax goosebumps to rise on her flesh, if not for the cloak’s soft, warm material.
Typically, she wore Eris’s things, but...
it didn’t feel right, surrounding herself in his wintry scent after their failed night together.
Perhaps someday, when she was ready for more than perfect dreams, she’d try again.
Though, it would be cruel to expect Eris to wait.
“Do you think we can do it?” Mora asked, peeking up at Castellan through her lashes.
“You’re going to have to be more specific, Princess.”
“Save Berwick. For your sister, for the Halflings...” For me.
Mora needed something to go right. Something good to cling to.
If they could do this together, if Mora could right her family’s wrongs and create a Berwick where everyone was safe and free, it would be easier to walk with her demons.
Easier to foster the embers of hope in her heart.
Castellan trailed his fingers over the pommel of his sword, the silver encrusted scabbard the one piece of his King’s Guard uniform he wore daily.
His hand lingered there, eyes fixed on the tents, a storm brewing in his stare.
“For Didi, I’ll do whatever it takes. Trust in that.
” His tone was almost sad. As if he too struggled to believe, despite the hope he’d stubbornly clung to all these long years.
Mora nodded shallowly, following him into their camp, unable to ignore how everyone beamed in his presence before casting wary glances her way.
Their future king approaching with a demon by his side.
Dother would be proud—she’d indeed become the monstrous queen, ending more lives than she could count since Castellan had found her.
Were her sins absolved if it was all in the name of a better future? Were his?
“We all become monsters,” Mora whispered under her breath.
“What are you mumbling, Vicious Thing?”
Mora flinched at the sound of Eris’s voice, heat blossoming beneath her skin. Squeezing her eyes shut, she inhaled deeply, counting to five before she turned to face him.
“Hello, Eris,” she said, her voice higher than she would have liked. Gods, she sounded like a young lady speaking to an eligible lord for the first time. If only things were that simple.
He breathed a quiet laugh. “Hi, stranger.” Eris moved to brush a curl away from her face, but she pulled back, shaking her head.
His hand dropped to his side, a frown pulling on those handsome lips, his dark eyes lingering on her for a moment before he turned to his friend.
“Did you bring me anything from Esper, Cas?”
Castellan cocked his head to the side. “Were you expecting gifts?”
Mirth glittered in Eris’s sharp stare. “Why wouldn’t I?”
“I’m not your lover, Eris. I don’t spend my time searching for trinkets to give to you.”
“A mistake on your part.” Eris pressed his hand to his chest, walking backward to maintain eye contact with Castellan.
How he managed to avoid the tents and trees, Mora had no idea.
“I’m an excellent lover. One night with me and you’d be showering me with presents.
” His attention drifted to Mora long enough that she blushed, the shadow of a grin on his face.
Things had ended poorly, but it seemed the end hadn’t ruined Eris’s time with her.
And Mora knew he wasn’t lying—anyone would be lucky to enjoy a night with him.
“You have the humility and virtue of a devout knight,” Mora scoffed, her voice low in an attempt to sound unimpressed. Her lips, however, refused to behave, tipping up ever-so-slightly. Eris didn’t miss it, his own smirk growing wider.
He bowed his head, hand still hovering over his heart. “You keep me humble, Princess.”
The savory scent of herbs curled in the air, wafting over from the camp’s center, and Mora’s mouth watered. A rumble in her stomach despite the chocolate she’d inhaled on the road. “Who’s cooking?”
Eris pursed his lips. “I believe it’s Hafira and Nile today.
If you want a bowl of beef stew, I’d head over now.
” He grimaced, nose scrunching. “Last time I waited, all I got was half a bowl of broth with tiny bits of potato. I almost miss when there were only five of us and I had control over the kitchen.”
“Five doesn’t make an army.” Castellan gestured toward his tent. “It might be dregs for you again today, I’m afraid. I’d like a word.”
Nodding, Eris straightened his posture, merriment dying on his face and replaced by a serious expression. He moved to Castellan’s side, and Mora followed.
“Go enjoy the stew, Mora.” Castellan tipped his head toward the fire. “We’ll talk more tonight.”
“Are you certain?” She glanced at Eris, who shrugged and mouthed, go eat.
“I’m certain.” The gallant knight placed his hand on Eris’s shoulder, guiding him away. Neither of them looking back as they disappeared inside behind the faded, pine green material serving as both a home for the future rulers and an office for the future king.
Mora stood stock still, watching the tent’s walls flutter under a gentle breeze, wondering if Castellan knew about her night with Eris. He’d encouraged it before, but...
Had something changed? Was that why he wanted a word? Or were they making plans for the throne together, without asking for their chosen queen’s input?
With a glance over her shoulder, Mora watched people lining up for a meal, piles of bowls ready by the fire.
Hafira stirred the pot with a ladle, her brown lips rising into the most radiant smile, Nile’s bright green eyes gleaming with love while he watched her.
Mora had barely spoken with them since she’d saved them in Syldith, though they were always kind.
Never once looking at her like she was some kind of beast.
It was tempting, the lure of a hearty meal... and the opportunity for polite conversation—if she could manage such a thing—but Mora couldn’t convince herself to walk toward the fire.
Turning away, she slipped between tents, fingers tracing Eris’s blue canvas wall.
Were his sheets still mussed? Her scent still marking his pillows?
Mora winced and shoved her hand in her pocket, dreading the day she’d need to face what happened and speak with him about their future...
or lack thereof. She moved quicker, mud slicking her boots when she ducked behind the trees, crouching beside a plump pine and straining her ears.
Castellan loosed a long breath. “I haven’t heard word from Didi in weeks. Last we spoke, she told me she’d rest near Galdon’s Crossing before heading toward Esper, but she’s retrieved none of my letters.”
“Your sister’s never had this much freedom, maybe she went somewhere else on a whim?” Eris’s voice gentled. “It’s okay, Cas. You know she’s in good hands. We’ll find her.”
He sighed. “I would have preferred she remain in Moldenna until I’ve secured the crown, but she forced my hand.
” Shadows moved, Castellan’s bag slipping from his shoulder to thump on the floor.
“This is the last letter I received,” he said, paper rustling while he rifled through his bag.
He pulled the note free and handed it to Eris.
“I’d reprimanded her for being too rash, reminding her of what father may think.
The freedom she could lose... She wasn’t pleased.
” Another frustrated breath. “She could be ignoring me, but I have a horrible feeling in my gut.”
Eris was quiet for a moment, reading over the note. “You struck a nerve, that much is certain. I once made my little sister so angry she ignored me for the better half of a month; I know it’s tough. But she still called you her beloved here. There’s hope.”
Castellan scoffed but said nothing.
“Can you send a scout to search for her?” Eris asked.
“I’d like to send you.”
Eris hesitated. “...Cas.”
“You’re the only one I trust.” Castellan clapped a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “The only one who knows everything. Please.”
“Don’t you need me here?”
“So long as you meet me in Moldenna, I’ll manage,” the gallant knight said, pulling away.
“Of course I’ll meet you in Moldenna, but...” Eris bowed his head, staring at his boots. “What about Mora?”
“What about her?” Was there an edge to Castellan’s voice? Or had Mora imagined it?
A branch flicked the back of Mora’s head. “Halfling, princess, and spy? What can’t you do?” Imani whispered, crouching behind her.
Mora nearly jumped out of her skin, her feet slipping in the mud. “What are you doing here?” she hissed under her breath, whirling to face the Naturalist.
Imani crossed her arms, her biceps flexing, stretching her deep purple tunic. She hadn’t bothered with her cloak, the garment sullied in their earlier fight, somehow unbothered by the bite of cold in the air. “I could ask you the same,” she said, with a look daring Mora to push things.
Mora closed her eyes, smoke pressing against her chest, flirting with her indignation. Gods grant her patience. “None of your business,” she seethed, sparing a final glance at the tent she shared with Castellan before pulling away, making certain she knocked Imani’s shoulder as she passed.
Fuck her.