Chapter 25
Durvla
The harp and lute play in harmony, a drum keeping them in time.
The Feast attendees dance with the music—the women in stunning dresses swishing with each movement, the men so sharp in their formal attire.
Princess Carys sways in rhythm with one of many masked strangers, a smile painted on her face, her eyes the epitome of boredom.
It’s nearly comical.
The music changes to a more upbeat tempo, and dance partners are exchanged.
For a moment, Carys is swept up into the arms of a tall and handsome stranger, only to end up in the arms of another.
By the end of the song, she’s back with the first stranger, his blue eyes peering at her through a black and silver mask.
Stepping back, he bows to her. “It’s been my honor, Your Highness,” he says in an oh-so-familiar voice.
The princess smiles without facade. “Don’t go,” she says as he turns to walk away.
He halts, confused.
“Remove your mask.”
The stranger doesn’t hesitate. With a small smile and a nod, he removes his mask.
The princess gazes up at him, and everything within her clenches with eager anticipation. “Callum.” Her voice is breathy and laden with surprise.
“Have you chosen your suitor yet?” he asks.
“Oh, yes …” Her eyes gleam. “It’s you, Callum.
It’s always been you.” She launches herself into his arms and he holds her up as their lips meet in a turbulent dance of their own.
Callum sets the princess down, but only to scoop her into his arms again, supporting her beneath her knees and her back.
He rushes out of the ballroom like their lives depend on it.
Princess Carys doesn’t touch the floor until they’re in an empty corridor. Callum grasps the neckline of her dress, tearing it with a loud rip and revealing the princess’s lack of undergarments beneath.
“I must have you,” says Callum, his voice teeming with urgency and lust—
I lurch upright in bed with every desire to run and hide my burning face.
Images flash in my mind. Sweaty bodies writhing together, ragged breaths and—oh gods.
Even their voices. Loud and clear as if I had the ability to hear.
I often hear in dreams fueled by memories—of my parents, birds, babbling brooks. But this …
I shudder and roll out of bed, ignoring the throbbing in my head and the dizziness that immediately sets in as I rush over to the tankard on my desk.
As the lukewarm water slides down my throat, wind whips around my ankles, billowing my nightdress.
I march to the window to close it against the draft but … it’s closed?
I’m losing my mind.
The images flash through my mind again. “Out! Out! Out!” I slap my palm against my forehead with each hurried utterance.
I need to get out of this castle; I need to go back to Cluain Baile.
I need to finish this dress and wow the princess lest I continue to dissolve into insanity.
Swiping my hand over my face, I huff out a breath.
I shake my limbs to dispel the tension in my muscles, trying to think of anything other than Princess Carys and Callum having noisy, wild …
Sunlagh, blind me. It was absolutely not my place to have that dream.
I need to go for a walk.
I grab my dressing gown and toss it over my shoulders.
No one should be wandering the corridors at this hour, right?
As I step out of my room, I find myself nearly face to face with Kilkenny.
I must scream loudly because his hand immediately flies to cover my mouth.
My heart hammers wildly in my chest and I push away the impulse to bite his hand.
“What are you doing out here?” he asks as he lowers his hand.
“I was on my way to—”
Ellynne appears, rounding the corner into this corridor.
She reels back, a hand clutching her chest, as she mumbles what looks like enough profane words to make a sailor blush.
“You scared me!” She’s in a frilly nightdress without a dressing gown, her generous curves defined beneath the thin material.
Kilkenny averts his gaze, and I wish I could do the same.
For Rhianu’s sake. First the dream about the princess, now this awkward encounter with a far-too-scantily clad woman.
I stare at Ellynne’s lips, squinting in the dim light as a grin creeps onto her face. “What are you two doing out?”
Both Kilkenny and I exchange bewildered looks and the smirk on Ellynne’s lips shoves my mind right back into the dream. My cheeks heat up again. I’ve never wished so hard that I didn’t have to look at someone’s face to know what they’re saying.
“What are you doing out at this hour?” Kilkenny asks Ellynne.
“I’m …” Ellynne glances behind her as though being pursued, then back to us. “I’m on my way to the kitchen for a midnight snack.”
Kilkenny stares at her, then something like realization contorts his features. He utters something with disdain that I don’t quite make out, then turns to face me. I expect him to say something meaningful. Yet what comes out of his mouth is something about rest. Then he stalks off.
I scowl at his back. Ellynne laughs, pointing between Kilkenny’s retreating back and me. “Are you two …”
My eyes flare wide. “Oh, gods no.”
Ellynne smirks. “He’s a tad sullen, admittedly, but handsome, don’t you think?”
That one is hard to deny. Walk. I need to walk.
Ellynne lays a gentle hand on my shoulder and the dim lighting muddles her words. “… a drink. Come.” She starts to walk, heading in the opposite direction of where Kilkenny went. Turning back to me she gestures with her hand. “Come on. A bit of … help … sleep.”
My heart lurches; I hate this dim lighting. Even worse, Ellynne links her arm with mine and sets off for toward the kitchen. Being so close makes it even harder for me to catch the movements of her lips when she’s talking while facing forward.
She rambles on about something as we make our way to the dining hall, and by the time we step into the unoccupied chamber, I’m almost certain it’s glaringly obvious that I haven’t heard a word.
Is this where my time here ends? Where I get sent to the brig to await my death sentence?
But Ellynne only beams at me and relinquishes my arm, holding her hand out to the door that leads to the kitchen.
I suppose she didn’t notice after all. Thank the gods.
On one side of the kitchen is an arch of white bricks—the maw of a large wood-burning oven. Tall wooden tables line either side of the room, and the walls are adorned with a plethora of copper pots and pans hanging on hooks.
In this late hour there’s no aroma of freshly cooked food, the oven is unlit, but the room is well-illuminated with oil lamps hanging from the ceiling and on the walls.
The kitchen is empty save for a woman, her honey blond braid resting between her shoulder blades.
She turns to face us as we enter the kitchen, her round eyes growing even wider.
Ellynne says something to her and Eefa grins and utters something about “scrummy leftovers.” She chuckles and digs into the large pockets of her apron, producing two apples.
“I snagged the last four … baked with honey … sweet on their own.” She steps forward and holds a bright red apple that is clearly not baked with honey …
Over the years, I’ve learned that reading lips is rarely perfect and not always reliable, but context clues and body language can speak louder.
It’s incredible how many things I’ve caught that were lost on me before I started losing my hearing—the tiniest tic of the jaw, the briefest wince, the subtle clenching of a fist, and even the way someone stands in the presence of different people.
I’ve been in Eefa’s vicinity a few times for meals, and I’ve seen how Carys’s posture always changes in her presence—as if she’s overcompensating to appear rigid.
Around Carys, Eefa is beyond comfortable, daring even, and with a permanent smirk on her lips as though she’s keeping an inside joke to herself.
“How goes the dressmaking?” she asks, as if we’re old friends.
Unease takes hold of my stomach, and I swallow as I slide my finger awkwardly over my bare wrist. Between the dream, running into Kilkenny, and Ellynne’s questions about feelings I don’t have for him, I’d almost completely forgotten about my sole purpose here in Paramount.
I forgot that I don’t belong here. That the very reason for my existence is in Cluain Baile. I need to keep that in mind.
Eefa shifts her attention to Ellynne, asking her something about me.
“Still adjusting to castle life,” Ellynne says with a smile.
Eefa grins. “Well, some lemon cake may help. There’s only one slice left though. I’ll leave the pair of you to fight over that.” Then to Ellynne, she asks, “Is Princess Carys awake?”
“Yes, but I wouldn’t go to her now if I were you.”
“Oh …” Eefa says, but there is no disappointment on her face. Only intrigue.
Clearly, I’ve missed something.
“Good night, ladies. Enjoy the apples and the lemon cake.” She fishes another apple from her pocket, tosses it into the air and catches it before taking a massive bite. She walks off, hips swaying.
Ellynne lets Eefa walk away, then turns back to me, her forehead creased. “I should head back but help yourself to the last slice of lemon cake.”
“Alright,” I say, trying to hide my confusion. I want to ask her why she’s suddenly in such a rush to leave, but I don’t bother. “Thank you.”
“Sweet dreams, Durvla,” she says before rushing off.
Sunlagh, spare me. No more dreams, please.