Chapter 37
Durvla
Roasted potatoes, mutton, and hearty gravy are piled onto my plate, courtesy of Ellynne.
As much as I want to dig right in, it’s already impossible to keep track of the chatter around the table without having to look down to attend to my plate.
My head swivels left and right, trying to take in as much as I can, trying to respond appropriately as needed.
Ellynne introduces me to Vaughn, and he introduces me to someone else.
Lips move rapidly, laughter ensues, and I find myself utterly lost in an overwhelming sea of conversations that simply wash over my head like turbulent waves.
My shoulders are tight, my stomach knotted up as I fear missing words that should be obvious—as I fear being outed on the night right before my freedom.
As the night draws on, the Feast attendees move back and forth between partaking in the foods and gracing the dance floor. Ellynne is whisked off to the dance floor by Vaughn at one point, while I sip from the same glass of wine I’ve had since escaping Iywan’s scrutiny.
I’m dangerously close to dozing off, my chin in my palm, my elbow against the table, when something touches my shoulder. My head snaps to the side, my vision wavering. I blink over my shoulder at whoever is hovering behind me and meet captivating onyx eyes.
“Apologies for scaring you, Miss Garrick,” Kilkenny says formally. He doesn’t so much as crack a smile, but he holds his hand out to me, palm up. “May I have this dance?”
The discomfort that has been sitting in my chest all night starts to unfurl. Briefly. My brows knit together. At Carys’s table, a different knight stands behind her. “Weren’t you …” I slowly pull my focus back to Kilkenny.
He nods, his hand still extended to me. “Yes, I was,” he says. “And now I’m here. Am I going to have to stand here all night with my hand out?”
“No. Sorry.” His warm hand wraps around mine and he pulls me to my feet.
He doesn’t move right away, waiting until I steady myself.
He’s in a light blue suit with gold trimming along the cuffs, hem, and button panels of his long jacket.
The shirt underneath is crisp white, matching the stockings beneath his knee-length trousers, which do absolutely nothing to hide his powerful calves.
I’m about to tease him about wearing stockings, but as my gaze trails back up to his face, his own lazily sweeps over me, absorbing every detail of my dress and hair.
My face heats from the approval written all over his countenance.
For a moment, his chill demeanor is gone, and his lips part as though he intends to say something, to compliment me perhaps, but then he turns forward and starts, gently tugging me along.
The moment dissipates
“Wait!” I call out.
He stops. “What’s the matter?”
“I can’t dance. Newborn foal legs, remember? To make matters worse, I’m wearing these.” I lift a foot out from under the dress, displaying the ridiculous heels Ellynne forced me into.
There’s the tiniest hint of amusement in his eyes and a ghost of a smile on his lips. “Be that as it may, Princess Carys ordered a dance.”
My heart drops into my stomach and, before I can filter my actions, I tug my hand out of Kilkenny’s.
He has the audacity to look confused. “Is there a problem?”
“Yes.” I turn to march away, but Kilkenny lays a hand on my shoulder again. I shrug it off only for him to gently catch my wrist. There’s an inexplicable emotion heavy on my chest. “I’m going back to my seat.”
“You’re being melodramatic, Garrick. Find your center, for Rhianu’s sake. There are people looking.”
Sure enough, I’ve drawn some attention. My face heats.
Kilkenny releases my wrist and extends his hand, a peace offering. As much as I want to just walk away from the man who’s dancing with me simply because he’s been ordered to, I have to make a good impression.
Why do I care about his intentions anyway?
“Found your center?” he asks.
“Yes.” My teeth are clenched in what I know is not nearly a convincing enough smile. I take his hand and follow him onto the dance floor.
He places a hand on my waist, and I stiffen. I’m still standing there firmly when Kilkenny takes my left hand and places it on his shoulder. He pauses, focused on me. Then he huffs and takes my right hand. “Do you need me to move your legs as well, Garrick?”
“No, I don’t need you to move my legs, Killjoy.”
He smirks. “Perhaps take some of that attitude and put it into actually dancing.”
“I told you I don’t know how to dance.”
“Not a problem. I’ve got you.” There is so much certainty in his eyes that I almost believe him.
He starts to move, and I follow along, the epitome of awkward gracelessness.
I go left when he goes right, I sway when I should stand still.
Kilkenny’s face is pulled tight, but his gaze shimmers with amusement.
When I trip over my own feet and crash against him, the inconsistent rhythm of restrained laughter vibrates through his body.
He steadies me and says, “You weren’t exaggerating.” But there is nothing insulting in his expression. His smile is even … friendly. For once. It stifles the offense that was quickly rising up.
“Told you,” I say, offering him a smile that is strangely foreign on my face.
We start to move again, the triple rhythm of the upbeat waltz pulsating beneath my feet, and again I stumble into Kilkenny. He holds me against him, and something hard presses into my hip, making me go absolutely still as blood rushes to my face.
“Tell me that’s a dagger,” I say. A small crease forms between his brows. Confusion plays over his features for a moment before color blooms across his cheeks.
Tiernan Kilkenny is actually blushing.
“It is a dagger,” he says. I lean back as he lifts the lapel of his suit jacket, revealing a hilt peeking out.
“Oh.” Lugda, take me.
“Don’t flatter yourself, Garrick,” he says.
I narrow my eyes at him.
We resume dancing, and I start to get the hang of it, even if I’m relying on his guidance for every step. The song ends, and a slower waltz begins. I step out of Kilkenny’s hold.
“There, that should make Carys happy. I’ll head back to my seat.” I smile tightly and turn to leave the dance floor, but Kilkenny catches my wrist and pulls me back toward him. Quickly, he places both my arms over his shoulders and leans in, effectively capturing me as his hands rest on my waist.
“One more dance?” There’s a silent plea on his face that I can’t resist. I nod, giving in. He leans in close, his lips brushing against my ear as he says, “You’re braver than you give yourself credit for. Keep that fighting spirit, always.”
His voice is a soothing baritone, like warm honey, enveloping me in a cocoon of safety and familiarity.
“Whatever happens, keep being brave. Don’t break,” he adds with an intensity I’ve never heard before.
Heard … Wait a minute …
I blink once. Twice. Thrice. I try to step back, bewildered, but his hands tighten on my waist. I heard him.
I.
Heard.
Him.
As if he’s inside my mind. He still has me trapped, propelling my heartrate even faster. I shove my arms down between our bodies, slackening his grip, then duck out from his grasp. Just as he taught me.
I hoist up the hem of my dress and dash toward the lower ballroom entrance.
My feet scream at me from the level of torture I’ve put them through tonight.
I don’t stop running, even as I draw odd stares from those in my vicinity, until I’m in the mercifully empty corridor.
Panic surges through me. I have to get away from this Feast, from this castle, from the man or whatever he is who spoke to me in my head.
He’s a Mage … who can read thoughts. Like from the fairytales. Can it be true?
Does Carys know?
Of course she doesn’t know! If she knew, he wouldn’t be her guard. He wouldn’t even be working in this palace. A hand clamps around my forearm, and I turn, my left fist flying toward Kilkenny’s face. I hit his open palm instead and seethe over the smile that plays on his lips.
“Good one,” he says. “If you’d actually meant to hit me, you would’ve.”
“Get away from me!” I take a giant step backward, moving further down the empty corridor.
He holds up his hands. “Center, Garrick. Find your damn center or you’ll blow both of our covers.”
“What are you talking about?” I’m walking backward rapidly but Kilkenny follows.
“I can’t explain, but I need you to listen to me.”
“Get. Away. From. Me.”
“Garrick.”
I’m still walking backward, holding my hands up to keep him at bay.
My family, my entire village, for so long we’ve been blamed for using magic.
We’ve been persecuted for owning fairytale books because of the ridiculous fear that Paramount has against magic users—who have been considered extinct for years now.
Yet, here is an actual Mage, straight out of the fairytales, right under their noses.
“I’m not a monster,” Kilkenny signs. “I’m no different than you. Haven’t you wondered about your dreams? Like my dream that you happened to walk right into?”
My blood freezes in my veins. His dream?
“Those aren’t ordinary dreams.”
I stare at his hands as I continue slowly backing away, so focused on them that I trip over my own feet. My arms windmill wildly as the ceiling comes into view. I’m falling backward, and then Kilkenny has his arms around my waist, setting me upright again. I squirm to get free of his grip.
“Stop fighting me, Garrick,” he says into my mind.
I shudder. “Stop that!” My hands move sharply.
“Then stop fighting me!” he motions, just as sharp.
His words are so casual that I want to send my fist flying at his face again. I clench my hands at my side.
“Give me just one minute.” He starts urgently searching his pockets and pulls something from one of them at last. He takes my hand, places the small item in my palm, and closes my fingers over it.
I search Kilkenny’s face, but he’s as stoic as ever. “Put it on.”
I open my hand to a leather band with …
My gaze snaps up to Kilkenny’s. “How did you—?”
“I have my ways,” he says. “Now put it on. I know I haven’t earned your trust, but I need you to trust me on this. I’ll explain everything later.”
I stare at my bracelet, at the gift bestowed upon me by my mother so long ago, the gift that was confiscated from me when I arrived in this place.
The image of the bracelet blurs before the tears slip down my face.
My chest is tight as I start to put the bracelet on, and my hands are shaking so hard that the ends keep slipping from my fingers.
Kilkenny’s hand closes over mine and he takes the bracelet.
He secures it onto my wrist and takes a step back, giving me space.
A stillness comes over me, but it doesn’t bring me peace. It’s as though I’m being smothered, an invisible force pressing against my body.
“I know,” Kilkenny says. He glances around and then takes my hand. “Come,” he says, then he begins marching down the hallway.
I follow behind him numbly, having to focus on my breathing, trying to push away the strange, illogical despair that fills me.
I’m not sure where we’re going until we enter a familiar corridor, the vacant pathway to my door. I step into the room and stand there, gawking at my shaky hands. It’s like my energy has been sapped and I have the urge to crawl into bed and sleep for a few days.
“I feel …” I blink up at Kilkenny.
“I know.” Sympathy softens his otherwise sharp features.
He lifts a hand to my face, his thumb stroking over my cheek, wiping away a tear that I didn’t even know was there.
“Your bracelet is a dampener.” He lifts my hand so that it’s eye level.
“Within it, there’s an element imbued with a rune that prevents elemental wielding.
Or it can stop the wearer’s powers from manifesting if they haven’t before. ”
Elemental wielding? I yank my hand from his grasp. “You’ve lost your mind. There’s no such thing as elemental wielding.” I know my voice is breathy.
My mind is racing. Dampener. Powers. Magic.
Laughter escapes me and I clap my hands over my mouth.
Bursts of giggles continue to erupt through my fingers.
My hands are useless at quelling the outburst, so I let them fall, the laughter spiraling even more out of control.
As Kilkenny opens his mouth to say something, the floor beneath us quakes.
My laughter is cut off.
Pictures fall from the walls, crashing onto the floor, and I’m launched into Kilkenny’s arms. He staggers into the door and presses his back against it, his arms around me protectively as the shelf of wool and fabric shakes and throws materials onto the floor.
“What’s happening?” I yell.
At last, the tremors beneath us stop, and Kilkenny releases me from his arms. “Explosions,” he signs.
“I have to get out there, but don’t leave this chamber.
Lock your door.” He stares intently into my eyes before my gaze falls to his lips.
“Please do not be stubborn about this, Garrick. For your own good.”
I nod hastily, my heart racing, my ears starting to ring.
Kilkenny turns to open the door, but I grab his hand. He spins back to me, confusion breaking through the urgency on his face.
“Be careful,” I tell him.
He nods and runs off, shutting the door behind him. I lock the door just as everything shakes again, though not as aggressively as before. I hope Carys, Ellynne, and Lowri have gotten to safety.
I hope that Tiernan stays safe.