Chapter 9
The stew was delicious.
Ciana slurped down another spoonful, her appetite slamming into her like a hammer, before she remembered that she was a Lady and had better manners than that. She straightened, glancing around sheepishly as she dabbed the corners of her mouth.
The middle-aged woman, who’d introduced herself as Isa, chuckled softly. “It’s fine, my lady. This is no palace dinner; we’re all hungry. It’s just nice to see that my cooking is so enjoyable.”
Ciana smiled. “It truly is delicious, Isa. But no matter the setting, I was raised better than to gulp stew like that.”
Isa hummed, almost a laugh. “Speaking of,” the matriarch said, taking another bite of her meal, “what is it like, serving on the Queen’s Court? How did you meet her?”
The memory warmed Ciana’s chest more than the flavorful broth.
“We met on the day of the Choosing, just before the ceremony. She wore this incredible golden dress, something so different from what the rest of us wore, that I knew I had to be friends with her. Her confidence was radiating; I needed more of that in my life.”
Isa blinked with surprise. “You had just met, and she made you her first Lady? You must have made quite an impression yourself, Lady Ciana.”
“I suppose.” Ciana chuckled. “But I also don’t think I gave her much of a choice.”
They fell silent. More travelers were making their way to the open space, friendly chatter bubbling in the air.
People helped themselves to stew before sitting with their families, while others cycled through the bathing pools or refilled water skins from the deep well in the center of the clearing.
“I have another question for you, Lady Ciana.”
Ciana returned her attention to Isa. “I might have an answer.”
The woman watched her with a sharp, scrutinizing stare. “Where are you from? Before the outcome of the Choosing changed your path?”
Discomfort prickled beneath Ciana’s skin.
For a moment, she considered lying. Did this woman really need to know where she was from?
In her mind, everything that had happened in her life before the Choosing was irrelevant.
She’d been given a fresh start, a chance to build a life away from fear and pain.
She decided against the lie. Isa had generously cooked for their entire caravan and offered to share some of it with Ciana. The least she could do in return was offer the woman the truth.
“My family is from Kasia.”
Isa’s eyes widened, her head cocking to the side. “Kasia? What is your family name?”
The woman’s curiosity was becoming even more unsettling, but Ciana had committed to honesty. She toyed with her spoon nervously. “Visseau.” It was her father’s name and not one her mother had used in over a decade, but it was the only family name she acknowledged for herself.
Isa’s brows shot up to her hairline. “Oh, I knew you looked familiar!”
Ciana’s stomach bottomed out. What—
“I am from Kasia, as well. Is your mother Marion? She was a Visseau until she remarried Leon Blaise.” Isa pointed across the clearing. “I believe she and the other Blaise’s have set up camp just there!”
The wind whistled shrilly in Ciana’s ears.
No, no, no.
This was not happening.
They couldn’t have traveled here. Of all the people across Onita to join Priam’s caravan, they could not be among them. She had just barely freed herself of them by simply not returning home, despite the piles of letters that had accumulated at the palace.
To now find herself trapped here with them? No god could ever be so cruel.
“I don’t think we need to disturb them.” Ciana forced the words past her lips, but they were too weak, too soft.
Isa was carried away by her excitement. “Nonsense, my dear! They must be so proud and eager to see you. Their girl, a Lady of the Queen’s Court.” She waved at another woman, one who’d helped her prepare dinner. “Estelle! This is Marion’s girl—can you believe it? Get her attention, would you?”
Estelle’s eyes widened, lips parting with excitement. She turned and shouted across the crowd.
Ciana’s heart pounded in her ears, her hands beginning to shake, as the assembled people parted.
And there they were.
Her weak, vain mother, honey hair twisted atop her head. Her rich and portly husband, a possessive gleam in his muddy eyes.
But Ciana’s attention had locked on the third. A young man of medium height and build, his dark hair with a prematurely receding hairline, and a mouth that slowly twisted into a wicked, blood-curdling grin.
All the time she’d spent the past months erasing that smile from her memories was gone in a quick beat of her heart.
She’d fought so hard to forget the stench of his breath or the sticky feel of his sweat.
To dispel from her mind the many nights of clenching her eyes shut, only to be slapped and told to open them or else things would get so much worse.
How that would’ve been possible, she didn’t know. She’d never cared to find out.
“Ciana?” She couldn’t hear her mother, not over the distance or the ringing in her ears, but she saw her lips move. Saw Marion gather her skirts in her hands and stride quickly across the open space.
Saw that while her stepfather remained behind, his son did not.
“Ciana!” Marion was close enough that Ciana couldn’t ignore her voice anymore. “Ciana, is that really you?”
Ciana didn’t answer. She was frozen, a doe caught in a hunter’s snare.
“You didn’t tell me your daughter was a member of the Queen’s Court, Marion!” Isa thankfully stepped in, nodding to Ciana’s mother as she approached.
Marion halted, her stepson a few paces behind her. Surprise lit her pretty features, a face that always seemed untouched by the passage of time. “I didn’t—she’s what?”
Isa smiled, though a flash of uncertainty crossed her face. “Ciana here is one of Queen Mariah’s Ladies. Did you…did you not know?”
Ire flashed in Marion’s amber eyes—the same eyes she’d given Ciana.
“I haven’t heard from my daughter in months; not since the Choosing.
” She pinned those eyes on Ciana. “Imagine my surprise at seeing you here now, after ignoring all my letters. I knew we never should’ve allowed you to go to that silly little ceremony. ”
Ciana clenched her spoon, trying to hide her shaking hands. She knew her legs trembled, and the scorching touch of the gaze looming over her mother’s shoulder told her he noticed.
He always saw her fear. He thrived on it; he’d told her as much.
Isa shifted uncomfortably. “Oh—I am sorry. I did not realize—”
“It’s fine.” Marion tipped her chin higher with a sniff of superiority.
“I will bring this to the queen when we arrive at our destination. This silly little girl does not belong on her court or any other. You will come home, where you belong, Ciana.” Marion turned on her heel, striding back to their caravan.
But he still lingered, watching Ciana with those soulless eyes.
“What a treat it is to see you so unexpectedly, sister,” he murmured, so quiet and dark it was clear the words were just for her. “I wasn’t sure when you’d come back to us, but I always knew you would. I can’t wait to get reacquainted.”
A clamor answered his whispered promise. Ciana was trembling so bad she’d dropped her bowl, the last few drops of its contents splattering her boots. Her stepbrother smiled wider as he inched closer, drinking in her pain and fear.
A figure melted out of the shadows behind Ciana. Her stepbrother froze. His hungry expression faded as he lifted his gaze, eyes widening with a hint of something Ciana didn’t recognize.
Nervousness? Apprehension? Fear?
The clearing fell silent as Sebastian planted himself in front of Ciana, hand resting on the hilt of his sword. His hair was damp, as if he’d just stepped from the baths, his shirt only buttoned halfway up his chest, like he’d thrown it on in a rush.
Even without Mariah’s scarred Mark gleaming proudly on his chest in the firelight, his broad warrior frame and confident presence alone would set him apart as one of her Armature.
“Return to your family, boy,” Sebastian growled in a tone far darker than Ciana had ever heard from him. “She’s not yours to torment. Not anymore.”
Her stepbrother found himself then, his lip curling back from his teeth. “She’s been mine since the day she was dragged into my house, and she’ll be mine long after your queen grows bored of her.” With one final glance at Ciana, he turned on his heel, stalking away with sunken shoulders.
Sebastian watched him until he was all the way across the clearing before whirling and dropping to a knee. His hazel eyes were blown wide, concern and fear and something else writing across his face.
“Ciana. Are you okay?”
Her body still trembled. Words were impossible.
She shook her head, mute.
Isa watched open-mouthed. “I am so sorry, Ciana,” she said softly. “I had no idea—I thought you would enjoy seeing your family—”
“It’s fine,” Sebastian interrupted stiffly. He was still using that tone, that one Ciana didn’t recognize, but it somehow settled her fear. It was something she could wrap around, nestle against, at this moment when she felt so weak and small.
Isa nodded, glancing nervously around the clearing. It was still unnaturally quiet, too many eyes casting looks in their direction. “Perhaps you should escort her back to your tent. A moment of quiet will do her good.” She surveyed Sebastian. “Have you eaten?”
“I’ll be fine.”
Isa frowned before pushing to her feet. She rummaged in her cart, pulling out a lidded bowl. She scooped a generous portion into it, secured the lid, and handed it to Sebastian.
“You can’t care for her if you don’t care for yourself. And I am sorry. Truly.”
He held Isa’s gaze and nodded. Ciana wrapped her hands around herself as his eyes slid back to her.
“Ciana,” he said softly, “can you walk?”
She had to. She couldn’t be carried out of here; how embarrassing would that be?
He could not be allowed to win. It was a promise she’d made to herself the day she’d left Kasia. No one would ever wield that sort of power over her again.
No matter that he’d just proven he still did.
With a deep inhale, Ciana pushed to her feet. Sebastian rose with her, eyes never leaving her.
It took everything she had left, but Ciana lifted her chin and strode from the clearing, Sebastian guarding her back.
She held herself together the entire walk. How, she would never know.
Relief slammed into Ciana as their tiny tent came into view.
She staggered the last few steps, her limbs trembling despite the lingering desert heat.
She was no more than three paces from the entry flap when her legs gave out.
She folded down and over herself, Sebastian’s strong and steady arm catching her before her knees met the sandy earth.
“It’s okay. I’ve got you.” He placed his container of stew on the ground and wrapped around her, tucking her close.
Only then did Ciana let herself fall apart.
Her empty, muffled sobs wracked through her frame, all those terrible memories dragging to the surface and washing over her. Her nails bit into the skin of Sebastian’s forearm but he didn’t so much as flinch. He only remained motionless, breaths steady and sure, clutching the back of her head.
A faraway part of her marveled at how she felt so safe with him at that moment. The memories clawing through her were foul—all unwanted touches and vile breaths. Yet she only wanted to bury deeper into him, to hide away from the terrors of the world within the comfort of his embrace.
“Let’s get inside,” Sebastian murmured into her hair.
She nodded against his chest, her sobs fading slightly. She felt drained, but there was still so much welling inside her.
As she pulled back, she became aware of a breeze swirling around them—the breeze buffeted the branches overhead and whipped the canvas of their tent.
But the winds didn’t touch her skin. They’d formed a cyclone around her, a funnel of wind that mirrored the terror and trauma in her soul.
As quickly as she noticed them, the winds died, the rustle of the trees falling abruptly silent. Something in her chest ached, whirling and winding, but stayed contained. Hidden beneath the hollows of her ribs and the pounding beats of her heart.
Sebastian turned to her, a question in his eyes. She retreated before he could ask it. Whatever it was, whatever it all meant, it wasn’t something she was prepared to face tonight.
Maybe it was something she would never be able to face.
She turned to the tent, taking small shaky steps until she reached the canvas flap. Sebastian picked up his stew container and pulled the flap back to allow her to slip inside.
Ciana didn’t hesitate as she collapsed onto her pallet, curling herself atop the padded surface. There was rustling behind her and then the feeling of a body close to hers.
“Ciana?” That same question still in Sebastian’s voice. It was laced with restrained awe and again something else she couldn’t quite place. “That… What happened out there. Was that—”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” she said meekly. Her voice was so quiet and subdued she hardly recognized herself.
It was absurd, how one small encounter could reset so much within her.
Sebastian was silent for a long moment. The heaviness of his stare prickled her skin.
“I really think—”
“Sebastian,” she interrupted him again. When would he let it rest? There was only one thing she wanted right then, and it wasn’t discussing that.
“Please,” Ciana whispered. “Please, just…just hold me.”
A stillness filled the air. Sebastian released a heavy sigh. There was more rustling, a bump as another pallet met hers. A thin blanket was draped over her body; she was enveloped by warmth and safety and the scent of soap and parchment. A lamp was blown out, plunging the tent into darkness.
Slowly, her pounding heart settled. The trembling in her limbs ceased. Sleep crawled nearer, seconds away from claiming her.
“You are so strong, Ciana. I’m sorry that so many people have tried to steal your brightness. I promise, no one will ever hurt you again.”
An honorable oath.
Unconsciousness swept over her.
It would be nice if it were one he could actually keep.