26. Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Five
Isoria
“You don’t look much better than a revenant,” Lily teased from across the breakfast room, clearly trying to make light of Archer’s disheveled appearance.
“Thank you, that’s what I love to hear all ladies tell me,” Archer murmured.
His smirk lacked its usual forceful charm, a clear indication he was comfortable among his friends and willing to let down his mask a little.
He sat slumped at the head of the breakfast table, forcing down bites of egg and fried meats that a couple of servants had wheeled in from his personal kitchen.
I’d been woken by the sounds of them stirring in the kitchen, turning to find that the light creeping through my bedroom curtains revealed it was around noon.
Though exhausted from the little sleep I’d had, I was eager to be awake during the daylight, to finally soak in the sunshine instead of skulking about like some nocturnal creature. When Orchid knocked, I was already at the vanity, brushing out my hair.
“Lily and Owen requested to join you and Archer for a late breakfast this afternoon, so the prince called me to help you prepare,” she’d explained.
“He said you three will be training together afterward. I have a practical outfit, but it’s still lovely.
” She offered me a timid smile, one I’d happily returned.
My hair plaited in a crown, I was clothed in a gold tunic fitted with a leather bodice and leggings as soft as clouds.
Orchid’s efforts made me feel royal while also making me prepared for whatever training I was to endure today.
The pastries I’d made the night before had been placed on the table with everything else the servants had prepared, so I relished the fruit of my labor last night, enjoying the way the sweetness and tartness of the berries contrasted as they exploded across my tongue.
The dusting of sugar I’d added to each gave a pleasant crunch and countered some of the sourness.
Mama would have loved them. Bren would have tried to steal extra. The stab of grief made the food stick in my throat, and I had to gulp down some water to help.
Archer cast me a sidelong glance, his own piercing gaze shadowed by dark circles. He looked hungover and exhausted, and every emotion emanating from him was full of misery, guilt, and distrust. I was half-surprised he could sense my own homesickness at all.
“What do we need to practice today?” Owen asked, cutting off the small talk to jump into business.
“Everything,” Archer said drolly. “Isoria is abominable at her stance, her footwork, the way she wields a blade. Anyone within a mile radius can tell exactly what her next move will be.”
I bristled. “I’m a healer; that’s my primary focus—”
“If you die, I die. You must learn to defend yourself,” Archer interrupted, his tone turning softer.
Lily took it as a romantic proclamation, pressing a hand to her heart. “Sweet, but we don’t need anyone else adding to the number of revenants in Emberglade. We’ll help you, Isa. Don’t worry.”
“I can’t move another muscle,” Lily said dramatically, holding the back of her hand to her forehead as she stretched out across the training floor.
Late evening sunlight painted the room in shades of rich orange and red, and I sat cross-legged before the nearest window, soaking it all in. My body was coated in drying sweat, making me long for a bath, but my muscles ached so much I wasn’t ready to budge yet.
Owen, seated a few feet away, let his mouth twitch in a semblance of a grin as he used his water magic to summon some from the pitcher across the room and refill his glass.
It swirled, serpentine-like, before splashing in a waterfall into his upheld glass, which he lifted in a mock cheer and downed in a few gulps.
“Showoff,” Lily groaned from her spot.
With another twitch of his lips, Owen summoned some more, but when three-fourths of it had poured into her glass, the stream changed direction, spilling over her face. She sat up with a spluttering gasp and a glare fired in his direction.
“Maybe next time we can train with our magic,” Owen said with mock calmness as Lily wiped her face on the front of her tunic.
Archer had been putting the practice swords and daggers back into their positions hung along the wall opposite the windows, where they gleamed in shades of fire-orange and bloodred.
I looked over my shoulder in time to see him pause, the slightest bit of tension coiling through his back.
“I don’t think we need to worry about that,” he said, his voice deceptively breezy.
“Isoria’s magic isn’t useful in combat anyway.
What she really needs is to practice defending herself like we did today. ”
“But we could teach her how to protect herself against our magic,” Lily suggested.
“Maybe, but our biggest threat is from the revenants, and our magic isn’t anything like theirs,” Archer muttered.
I cast Lily an encouraging glance. “I think it would still be useful. How does your magic work? Owen’s seems obvious enough—he needs a source of water nearby—but yours…I saw you command light that made the revenants’ shadow magic disappear. Is it gifted from Solea?”
Lily smiled proudly. “No, it’s from Umbryon.
The light is rare and exhausting—it’s not often I manage to use it, and usually only when one or two weaker revenants are the only ones attacking with their shadows.
Otherwise, I can’t conjure enough light.
My main power is in crafting…well, holes or portals, I guess.
Mostly, I wield the power of stars when they implode and create a void in space.
I can summon one of those voids, essentially sending my enemies…
elsewhere. To Mortius’ blazing underworld, I hope. ”
“That’s terrifying.”
Her smirk widened into a smile. “I’m the general’s daughter, so I suppose it’s fitting that I am. Even I don’t know everything about how star magic works, but from what I’ve studied, that’s essentially what I do.”
“It’s a rare magical ability,” Owen interjected, and I thought I caught a hint of awe in his tone.
“Useful against the revenants.” Archer stepped away from the wall, walking over to nudge Lily playfully in the side with the toe of his boot. She stuck her tongue out at him like an annoyed sibling. “But now, unfortunately, Isa and I have been summoned to dinner with my father again.”
Lily grimaced. “Tell him you’re hungover.”
“You know he doesn’t care.”
Owen’s expression was sober. “Good luck.”
“You act as if he’s going to have me killed,” Archer drawled.
“We heard what happened last night. My father’s soldiers talk, you know. You sent that phoenix shifter you hunted down to the dungeons and gave her son to be cared for by the servants.” Lily arched a brow at him.
My stomach curdled, my eyes flying to Archer’s face.
His expression remained stony. So that’s where he’d been when he returned to his quarters late last night and found me in the kitchen.
While I’d been trying to find a way to gain my freedom back and then soothing myself with baking, he’d been out hunting my kind.
Archer crossed his arms. “He’s just a child. It wasn’t like I was going to send him to the dungeons with her.”
My nausea was growing. I tried to sip my own glass of water and turn my face back toward the window so no one read my expression. How would I ever be able to hide my horror?
“Your father won’t see it that way,” Owen said. “He’ll see a potential phoenix shifter who needs to be tested and exterminated if he’s dangerous. And he’ll want to know why his mother isn’t dead yet.”
There was a long pause, the quiet heavy enough I could hear my heart thudding.
“I’ll take care of it,” the prince said, his tone firm.
I wanted to vomit, but I sat perfectly still, cradling my glass of water in my hands and staring out at the sun setting over the castle grounds.
Palm fronds swayed gently in the breeze, a blessed relief that kissed my face through the open windows.
I inhaled the scent of jasmine that wafted on the breeze and closed my eyes, trying not to imagine what Archer’s taking care of it would look like with a child involved.
As Lily and Owen took their leave, I murmured my goodbyes and stood. Once they were safely out of earshot, I turned on him. My voice broke.
Archer’s expression was unreadable. “I may be monstrous, Feathers, but I don’t kill children.”
There was fire in my veins. I wanted to scream at the injustice of it all. That he and his father were the ones in power, and not my people, the healers who wanted to do good in this land. “But you’ll leave him motherless,” I protested. “And you know how that feels.”
The prince glanced away, his green eyes hard as glass and still shadowed from lack of sleep and imbibing too much alcohol. “Get ready to meet with my father.”
“Send word to him that I’m indisposed. I can’t pretend to be in love with you tonight.” Bile crept up my throat.
Archer strode across the room in a few easy steps, backing me against the wall.
Framed by his arms, I felt a spike of fear.
He can’t hurt you. But it was a solid reminder that he wanted to.
“You can and you will. This is survival, Feathers. For both of us. That gleam of hate in your eyes right now? Perfect. It’s passion. That’s all he needs to see.”
He backed up, exhaling with relief.
“Passion isn’t love.”
Archer was already walking to the door, his shoulders tense. His hands were balled into fists at his sides. “My father wouldn’t know love if it punched him in the face.”