Chapter 59
Chapter
Fifty-Nine
HAVEN
From a distance, Talin looked as if it had been carved from ice. The city glowed in the lingering rays of the setting sun. Every orange, purple, and pink in the sky reflected off its opalescent surface.
“It’s beautiful.”
Next to me, Flynn snorted, but his eyes lingered on the shimmering spires, and his mouth tightened slightly. The city’s beauty affected him, though he’d die before admitting it. He glanced away and muttered, “Looks cold.”
Of course it was cold. Talin perched atop a vast, craggy-toothed mountain range. The cold didn’t detract from its beauty.
As we rode closer, my stomach twisted with nerves. Somewhere in that glittering city was my mother—a woman I’d thought dead for years. I wished I had at least one memory of her. What could I say to her?
And what if Remy was wrong? What if his Hope Ford wasn’t mine? I desperately wanted her to be, but my wants didn’t count for much.
Behind me, Pierce and Teal had stopped whispering. When I glanced back, Pierce’s hand rested on his sword hilt. He scanned the approaching walls with his eyes like a man mapping enemy defenses. Teal’s eyes were equally wary, his lips flat. Even Flynn had lost his perpetual smirk.
Grayson rode stiff-backed, his jaw clenched so tightly I was surprised his teeth didn’t crack. They’d entered hostile territory under the protection of a prince they barely knew, trusting their lives to a bond not all of them wanted.
An hour later, we passed through its gates.
No turning back now—for any of us.
I gaped like … well, like a girl from Grimswood who’d been dropped into a fairy tale.
Snow blanketed rooftops in white, softening steep lines and sharp edges. I suspected the spires and towers would be even more impressive without their winter coats.
Cobblestone streets wound up and around steep hills, and golden lanterns hung from iron posts, lighting our way and revealing half-timbered buildings similar to those in Takir. Glittering icicles hung from their eaves.
The scent of spiced wine, pinewood smoke, and cold lingered in the air outside the taverns we passed, mixing with lilting tunes and the sound of laughter. I had an urge to dismount and lose myself among strangers. Forget my problems. Run away.
“Is that where we’re going?” I pointed toward a towering castle of white stone, its windows shining like gold in the darkness.
“It is.” Remy reached for my hand, giving my chilly fingers a quick squeeze.
I was grateful for his reassurance. I was a woman from Grimswood. Castles and princes and fairy-tale cities were outside my experience. “My mother is there?”
“If she’s not, she’ll come as soon as I send for her.”
We arrived ten minutes later, and Remy dismounted and strode toward a pair of enormous double doors.
I paused, catching my lower lip between my teeth. Something told me that once I entered the castle, there was no turning back.
Remy glanced over his shoulder and grinned at me. “Coming?”
There was nothing to turn back to. My only option was to move forward.
I stepped inside and froze, trying to make sense of what I was seeing.
The castle’s foyer was twice the size of Grandmother’s entire home.
Hearths the size of wagons crackled with roaring fires.
The ceiling rose so high it was lost in darkness.
A sweeping staircase led upward. Its banister was carved with intricate designs that writhed with shadow and flame.
Thick carpets in shades of crimson and indigo hushed our footsteps.
Remy waited patiently as I absorbed my surroundings, a slight smile playing at his lips as if he enjoyed watching me take it all in.
“Your Highness.” A portly man wearing Rymarian red bowed from his waist. “Welcome home.” His gaze took in the Legacians. If he found it odd that the prince had invited the enemy into his castle, he gave no sign.
The guards stood at attention, their faces carefully blank.
But I noticed how Pierce swept the foyer with his gaze, cataloging exits and defensive positions.
Teal’s hand rested near his weapon. Grayson’s expression was stony, giving nothing away.
Only Flynn showed a smidge of emotion. He tilted his head and whistled softly.
“Carter, this is Haven Ford.” Remy’s hand settled on the small of my back.
Carter’s eyes widened slightly. “Pleased to meet you, Miss Ford.”
“Likewise.”
“We’re tired and hungry,” Remy continued. “Please have refreshments sent to our rooms.”
“Of course, Your Highness.”
Remy claimed my elbow, leading me up the sweeping staircase.
Behind us, the guards climbed in silence. No jokes from Flynn, no muttered observations from Pierce. They moved like men walking into a trap, expecting a knife between the shoulder blades at any moment.
“Where’s Zane?” He’d entered the castle with us. I was sure of that. But he’d disappeared. I’d been busy gawking and missed him leaving.
“Zane is reporting to the queen, telling her about Banvil.”
I nodded as if I fully understood the implications. I didn’t. I would have asked, but climbing the endless staircase with tired legs claimed my complete attention.
Finally, we reached a landing, and I took a moment to rest.
“You’re tired. I should have carried you.”
“Not too tired to climb a few steps.” Not too tired to admire the tapestries covering the walls. Springtime gardens. Starlit dances. Unicorns. Not a single portrait of a disapproving man in sight.
“This is your suite.” Remy opened a set of doors inlaid with mother-of-pearl filigree onto a bedroom so large, so elegant, that I blinked in disbelief.
Pale moonlight filtered through arched windows, revealing a canopied bed fit for a princess. Enchanted vines blooming with tiny silver flowers wrapped around its posts. I reached out and brushed a flower with my fingertip. Its petals felt like satin.
“This can’t be for me. It’s much too grand.” Grandmother’s house had been comfortable, especially for Grimswood, but this was beyond anything I’d ever experienced.
“Haven?” Remy’s voice was gentle.
“This is far too elegant. Don’t you have a simple bedroom?”
“You deserve this and more.”
“I’ll get everything dirty.” I gestured at my travel-stained clothes.
“So take a bath.” He crossed the room, opening the door to a bathroom that made me gasp. It was bigger than my bedroom at Grandmother’s house. The tub was enormous. The fixtures were gold. And the fluffy white towels stacked on a gilt table looked as soft as clouds.
“Clean up. You’ll feel better.”
Grandmother had hired tutors to teach me court life, but this luxury overwhelmed me. Knowing how royalty lived was nothing compared to standing in a room where one tapestry cost more than most earned in a lifetime.
Remy turned and looked at the Legacians. “You can each pick a room. The entire floor is ours.”
Grayson’s jaw twitched at that.
“Are you sure you don’t have something simpler?” I asked. This was too much.
The look Remy gave me was almost tender. “I’m sure. Call if you need anything.” He pointed at a golden cord attached to a lever on the wall. “Enjoy your bath.” Then he ushered the surprisingly quiet Legacians into the hallway and closed the door behind them.
I drew a steadying breath. Grandmother’s tutors had prepared me for court life, but I’d never expected to actually use their lessons. The castle was overwhelming, and despite the six men fate had given me, I felt out of my depth—and alone.
I rolled my tired shoulders, shuffled into the bathroom, and stripped off my travel-stained clothes. I opened a crystal bottle and poured its contents into the quickly filling tub. The scent of flowers bloomed in the air, and bubbles floated above the water’s surface.
I slid into the hot water, and for a moment—just a moment—I let myself imagine I was safe. The warmth seeped into muscles knotted with tension. But even as I tried to relax, my ears strained for sounds beyond the bathroom door. Footsteps in the hallway. Voices that didn’t belong.
I squeezed floral-scented gelée onto a cloth, scrubbing away the road’s grime. This level of luxury felt wrong—too much, too easy.
How many times had I cheated death in the past few weeks? And now I was supposed to soak in a marble tub like nothing had changed?
I washed my hair with shampoo that smelled like hyacinths, but my mind wouldn’t quiet.
When the water cooled, I stood and wrapped myself in the softest towel I’d ever encountered.
It was only then that I realized I didn’t have clothes to put on. Much as I loved the leather leggings and blue tunic, they were filthy. I wanted something clean.
I took a moment to brush the tangles out of my hair, tightened the towel around my chest, and ventured into the bedroom, hoping there were clothes in the closet.
The fire in the hearth had dimmed to embers, casting long shadows, and I crossed to the balcony doors. Outside, snow whispered against the glass. The world seemed hushed, waiting, and a trickle of dread slid down my spine.
Without thinking, I summoned the rose-handled dagger. “Who’s here?”
Silence stretched until it was as thin as a spider’s thread.
I kept my shoulders loose, ready, and breathed in the unfamiliar scent of cold steel and vinegar. A stranger lurked in the darkness.
“Enough.” I adjusted my grip on the dagger.
A figure emerged from the shadows. Tall. Bulky. A man. Clothed in black. A mask hid his face. And twin blades glinted in his gloved hands.
His left blade sliced through the air toward my throat—a silver blur.
But I was ready. I raised the dagger, and steel met steel.
He was strong,
I barely had the strength to parry his first blow.
The assassin lunged low, and I leaped back, my bare feet finding the edge of the hearth. I kicked the iron poker into the air, catching it in my hand and parrying a second strike.
Sparks danced like fireflies where his blade met the poker.
“Who sent you?”
The assassin didn’t answer. Instead, he swung again, his blade screeching against the stone mantel when I ducked.