Chapter 27
Durvla
Rays of sunlight stream through my window and onto my work as I stitch together the back and front panels of the black lace bodice.
I leave one side unstitched just in case adjustments need to be made.
Losing sleep last night after the Carys-Callum dream at least allowed me to make a lot of progress on the dress.
I can’t stop yawning, though. I need a cup of tea before meeting up with the princess, so I don’t fall asleep in the middle of breakfast. Rising from the bed, I make my way to the closet and throw on a floral dress with an ivory base and long, slightly puffed sleeves.
I slip on my ankle boots, apply some oils gifted to me by Ellynne to my hair, and head out.
As I turn down another corridor, Kilkenny rounds the corner toward me. I stop and nearly head back to my room, but it’s too late. Why do I keep running into this man? It’s entirely too early for this. I pinch the cuff of my sleeve, tugging it down as he draws nearer.
With utmost politeness, I say, “Good morning, Major Kilkenny.” Please, keep walking.
He doesn’t. “Out of bed so soon, Garrick?”
“I’m just getting a cup of tea before it’s time to meet with Princess Carys.”
He folds his arms over his chest, the muscles practically straining against the fabric of his maroon uniform. I avert my gaze, trying to ignore the curiosity of what lies beneath his livery. Gods, this castle is really starting to get to me.
“You shouldn’t spend so much time with Ellynne. She’s a bad influence,” Kilkenny says.
I frown at him. “She’s been nothing but kind …” I step to the side, but he mirrors me. Annoyance flares in my chest. “I should get going.”
He doesn’t budge. “Meet me at the stables at twilight.” His gaze is intense.
My eyes widen and I try not to laugh at the pure ridiculousness of his statement. Here he is, telling me that Ellynne is a bad influence and, in the same breath, asking me to meet him in the dark.
“It’s pertinent that you also learn to ride at night.”
That explanation … is not quite adding up. I hold back a sigh. “I’ll be there. Is this also Princess Carys’s request?”
“Twilight. Don’t forget.” Then he steps around me and marches off like the soldier he is, leaving me to continue my quest for tea.
Looking at Princess Carys proves to be more difficult than I’d expected. At least Callum isn’t with her, otherwise I’m not entirely sure how I would handle it. The images from last night’s dream are so vivid that each time I meet Princess Carys’s gaze, I want to cringe.
“What is wrong with you today?” she demands.
I wish I knew. “Just tired,” I tell her.
“And my fingers are a bit sore.” It isn’t a lie.
She holds the bodice in place against her body while I pin the unsewn side.
It fits perfectly, the dark fibers making the foliage motif of the lace appear more abstract.
I glance up at her and there’s evident uncertainty on her face.
“I know it’s hard to envision, but …” I consider my next words carefully.
“There will be a sheer material underneath since the stitch is so open.”
She doesn’t respond.
“I’ll start on the sleeves later today—same lace motif. Then the lower portion of the dress will be made from purple silk.”
Her lips purse with focus as she tries to imagine it.
“It’s all coming together. I hope that puts you a little more at ease?”
Her eyes snap to mine, and I recoil slightly.
But it’s not anger I find in her expression.
It’s something softer that I can’t quite put my finger on.
“I appreciate it,” she says. “I barged in here like a beast and you laid out a plan for me with the grace of a … queen.” She chuckles and I find myself smiling.
“I know what it’s like to be weary of the unknown,” I tell her. “It’s terrifying. I’m sure royal blood doesn’t make you immune to fear.”
She scoffs. “I wish it did.”
I keep the bodice pinned on the side and step around her to remove the pins from the back. As soon as I slide the material off, she spins to face me. “Come to the Feast.”
I blink to keep from gawking at her. Surely, I’ve misunderstood. “Me?”
“There’s nobody else here.” She makes a point of looking around dramatically. “Lowri, Ellynne, and Callum will be there as well. Tiernan will be my guard for the night—his choice. There are many guests invited; it will be truly something.”
Speaking of fear of the unknown … “That all sounds very intriguing, Princess, but—”
“Don’t make me order you to attend.” There’s a coldness in her stare.
I swallow. “After the Feast, am I still allowed to return to my home in Cluain Baile? If you’re happy with your dress, that is.”
Something shifts in her expression for a brief moment and her shoulders sag, but she says, “Correct. Make the dress of my dreams, come to the Feast, and you may go home. Do we have an accord?”
I smile and nod. “We have an accord.” As I lay the bodice out on the bed again, I keep my focus on her. Something in her golden gaze is distant, haunted. “Are you alright, Princess?”
This snaps her out of things. Her long lashes flutter. “Durvla … can I trust you?”
“Yes.” Why does she ask?
“You do seem like the trustworthy type.” She smiles, but there’s a sadness to it. I wait for her to say more, but she just turns and heads toward the door. If she says anything before stepping out into the corridor, I have no idea. Just as I have no idea what’s really on her mind.
As the sun begins to set, I place my work aside and stand from the bed.
My legs are stiff, as are my wrists and my incredibly sore fingers.
I don’t remember when I last had a sip of water or used the commode.
I take care of my immediate needs and guzzle down a goblet of water before making my way to the stables.
Kilkenny is there with both horses saddled and bridled.
“You’re late,” he says.
I bite my lower lip to keep from telling him that he didn’t give me an actual time.
Instead, I pointedly look to the horizon, to the glow of the slumbering sun, the sliver of the crescent moon high in the dark blue sky.
Kilkenny taps me impatiently on the shoulder and gestures to Mirren before mounting Ghendor.
Centering myself with a deep breath, I make my customary, graceless climb onto Mirren’s back. I’ve become better at mounting the mare, but gracefulness has never been a strong suit for me.
Kilkenny doesn’t say anything, nudging Ghendor into a canter with his inner thighs.
“A man of many words,” I mumble under my breath as I follow.
Kilkenny glances over his shoulder at me and I go stiff, making Mirren veer off slightly. Did he hear that? I gently pat Mirren’s neck. “Sorry, girl.”
Tonight’s path is different from the one we usually take, and it’s getting darker. I won’t be able to read Kilkenny’s lips very well.
Great.
He keeps a fast pace and doesn’t look back much, so I simply follow along on Mirren.
We end up in what may have once been an open meadow, except there are trimmed hedges creating a zig-zagged pathway of some sort. Kilkenny suddenly brings Ghendor to a halt and swings off the horse, landing adeptly and barely pausing before walking toward me.
Show-off.
I halt Mirren and painstakingly climb down. The ground moves beneath me, so I hold on to her saddle until I regain some semblance of balance.
Kilkenny assesses me before he says, “Right this way.” He jerks his head toward the hedges and sets off into them.
The pathway is so dark, I can hardly make out my own feet against the grass.
Some parts in the terrain crunch beneath my boots, reminiscent of fallen leaves in autumn.
It’s odd, but I don’t stop to figure it out.
I remain close to Kilkenny, my heart racing.
What if something jumps out at us? A snake?
A … rebel? The princess said there are occasional rebel attacks.
I’m tempted to grab his hand so he can’t leave me behind.
Kilkenny stops suddenly, his hand flying to the hilt of his sword, and my heart wrings in my chest. I draw in a breath when he relaxes. He glances at me and points down one pathway. It leads to a large clearing—the very center of the maze.
There are a few unlit lanterns on posts bordering the circular clearing, and some sort of small structure at the center.
Kilkenny pulls something from his pocket, making his way over to one of the lantern posts.
A small ember sparks. He lights each of the lanterns, until the space is illuminated.
It’s obvious now that the structure at the center is a small stone fountain.
Kilkenny approaches me. Can I scream loud enough for someone to hear if he attacks? My heart is hammering.
Kilkenny holds out his hands, palms up. “Relax, Garrick. I didn’t whisk you away to kill you.”
To my embarrassment, a sigh of relief whooshes out of me.
He brushes a few dark strands of hair back from his forehead, a brief smirk on his face. It sharpens his cheekbones and makes his eyes dance in a way that’s … not unpleasant?
“I’ve brought you here to teach you how to defend yourself. You might as well leave Paramount with a few new skills, especially given that you’ll be traveling back home and there are plenty of dangerous people out there.”
I stare at him, trying to make sense of his words. Does this mean I’ll be returning to Cluain Baile without an escort? Can I truly trust this Mainlander?
“The quicker you cooperate, the quicker you can get back to your boring dressmaking.”
“It’s not boring to me.”
I swear he rolls his eyes. “Let’s see what those dressmaker hands can do.” He gets into a fighting stance. “Hit me.”
“Excuse me?”
“Hit. Me.” He makes a fist and waves it around.
“I’m not going to hit you. I don’t want to hit anyone.”
He reaches out and grasps my left hand, balling it into a fist.
He’s noticed that I’m left-handed? That’s … observant.
“Make sure that your thumb is never tucked into your hand like this.” He folds his thumb in, hiding it in his own palm. “If you strike like this, you’ll break your thumb.”
There have been a lot of confusing moments since the night I was taken from my home, but this one is rising higher on the list. I’m convinced this man is unhinged. “I cannot afford to hurt my hand. I have a very important dress to make.”
His expression is flat. “Well, aren’t we high and mighty?”
My jaw slackens.
“Hit me.”
I shake my head firmly.
“I’m sure you have a lot of frustrations to get out.
I represent a lot of what this place is.
I keep taking you away from the work that you must do to secure your freedom.
I answer to the princess, who is forcing your hand, and to the very people who sanctioned your arrest. In fact, I have once personally enforced the banishment of Undesirables.
” He pauses, eyes narrowed on me. “What good are Undesirables for any—”
A chill rushes through me before I see red and swing. Kilkenny’s on the ground before I even register what’s happened. My chest heaves and my pulse roars in my ears, hair rising on the back of my neck. My hands tingle. Too much dressmaking, probably. Too little sleep. Too much frustration.
Kilkenny jumps to his feet and stares down at me so intensely that I fear he’ll hit me.
“I-I’m sorry,” I stutter, taking a step back. “I didn’t even feel … I didn’t realize …” I splay my fingers before my face and stare at them, perplexed. Kilkenny reaches out and takes my left hand in his.
“Did that hurt?” he asks, gently turning my hand over.
My heart is still racing as I yank my hand from him. “No.”
“What did you feel?”
I felt anger! What does he expect? I don’t bother to respond; I only stare at him, my fists clenched as though I’m physically holding on to the last strand of control.
He couldn’t have meant those things. Could he?
Most likely he was just goading me on, trying to provoke the very reaction I gave him. I’m ashamed I took the bait.
Kilkenny rubs his cheek and then scratches the back of his neck.
The awkward moment stretches on and on with Kilkenny staring at me like I’m a puzzle to be solved.
Then at last he exhales, and his stance relaxes.
“I didn’t mean what I said about Undesirables.
I did enforce it because I had to, but that was in the past.”
My forehead creases and I shift slightly on my feet.
“Change of plans. Tonight, we’ll do some meditation; everyone needs to center themselves sometimes. Especially when you work in this place.” He waves vaguely in the direction of the castle. “Tomorrow, more self-defense.”