50. Carys
Carys
The conversation I overheard last night replays incessantly in my mind. Directly confronting Iywan about it is too risky, but I somehow need to get more clarity on his plans.
“Carys?” Ellynne’s face appears over my shoulder in the mirror.
“I’m alright,” I assure her. I stare at my reflection—at the pale pink off-the-shoulder dress with wide, flowy sleeves, a voluminous skirt, and a short train that trails behind me when I walk.
I normally wouldn’t dare to wear this dress, wary of Iywan’s disapproval about my bare shoulders and visible cleavage.
But today I don’t give a damn. Over the top, I don an ivory cape of velvet.
Ellynne places one of my favorite diadems atop my head—the simple gold piece with opals that glint with movement.
I draw in a shuddery breath and turn, my dress and cape swaying heavily against me. “How do I look?” I ask.
The sisters utter a multitude of praises.
Liars. The internal voice is accompanied by an odd pang in my chest.
I suck in a breath and nod to the ladies before heading for the door.
Ren bows to me as I exit my bedchamber. “Where to, Your Highness?” he asks.
Gods, I miss Tiernan. He wouldn’t have had to ask that question; my appearance would be enough to clue him in.
And the dress I’m wearing can barely hold a candle to the Feast dress Durvla made me.
I would’ve loved for her to make me more dresses—hells, I would’ve loved to get to know her better.
I wasted such precious time being … egotistical.
I straighten my posture and refocus on Ren.
“To the throne room,” I say with the most poise I can.
Together, we make our way through the corridors. I half expect him to lecture me about something the way Tiernan always did, but Ren is silent. It does nothing to pacify that infuriating pang in my chest that keeps reappearing.
The throne room is through the concourse, in the opposite direction of my mother’s bedchamber.
Outside of the room, a large crowd has gathered, a queue leading up to the archway.
A pair of Queen’s Guards, their black sashes standing out against their maroon livery, guard the archway where a large marble statue of the sun goddess, Agryna, stands.
“Look, it’s the princess,” someone calls out.
A flurry of bows and blessings make my heart hammer in my chest. I keep my focus on the statue of Agryna as I draw closer to the throne room entrance.
The marble figure wears a flowy dress, and a spherical shape with wavy metal details extending from it sits behind the figure’s head, representing the sun.
My hand flies to the necklace at my chest and I clutch the warm pendant. Agryna’s blessing … I nearly laugh. Wielding powers that murdered my brother … Thank you, Agryna for this bloody blessing.
“Your Highness,” Ren says beside me, and I startle.
I swear under my breath. “Just paying my respects to the goddess,” I say. I incline my head to the statue, all the while wishing that the gods still walked among us so I could have a word with this particular one. “Alright, let’s go.”
The guards step aside, and we waltz into the throne room where the domed ceiling is decorated with various sun paintings.
Two statues, one of the Mother, Rhianu, and the other of the Father, Lugda, stand on either side of the room.
Right now, I don’t feel like the gods are on my side, but I resist scowling at the statues and instead glower at the man who sits on the throne.
Get your scrawny arse off my mother’s throne, I want to say. I bite the inside of my cheek briefly to stop the words from flying out.
An older couple stands a few feet from the steps where the throne sits, their arms around each other.
They’re in the middle of a tragic story of sorts when our echoing footsteps cut off the man’s narration.
The couple turns to Ren and I, and, noticing my crown, they immediately genuflect.
I paint a subtle smile on my face and nod politely.
“Welcome to the Fortress on the Mount,” I say.
“Thank you, Your Highness.” They speak in tandem.
Behind them, Iywan’s dark hands grip the intricately carved arms of the throne before he pushes himself to stand.
He takes in my attire, from my diadem down to my shoes, his brows raised.
But he’s practiced at concealing his emotions, and with an air of arrogance, he bows to me.
“It is a pleasant surprise to have you here, Your Highness.”
“Thank you, Lord Iywan for attending to our fine citizens in my absence. I will take it from here.”
He bows again and gingerly makes his way down the red velvet-lined steps while I wait at the bottom.
There are but four steps up to the throne, but each is weightier than the last. Ren stands beside me as I take my seat.
My pulse quickens, and I press my feet against the floor, my hands gripping the arms of the throne that is far too large and menacing.
But Tiernan would be proud of me, as would Alys.
“As you were,” I say to the couple, and they begin telling me about the sickness that destroyed their families.
Their adult daughter contracted a fever and very swiftly developed a cough.
She began having fits and then lost the ability to breathe all together.
Their infant granddaughter followed shortly after, but no one else in the household contracted the disease.
In the remaining hours of Audience, I listen to various citizens recount more of the same.
Stories of the outbreak, of food shortages, and blight.
Tradesmen between the Grounds and Mainland report crops perishing inexplicably or simply refusing to grow.
Brooks are drying up, water levels sinking.
Animals are struggling to thrive. I’m horrified that I didn’t know the full extent of these issues.
What is the point of a Council if the issues that are actually plaguing our people are not being handled?
Just as how the issues of the Forayers’ overeagerness to apprehend Grounders unjustly have been swept beneath the rug.
The councilmen are insufferable, and the councilwomen hardly speak up—typical. Things cannot continue this way.
It’s time that I made some changes.
Time to take back the crown.
“More.” I inch my wine goblet toward Eefa, who stands on the opposite end of the dining table. Hours ago, I was ready to take on an entire army—now, for no purpose that I can pinpoint, I feel as empty as my wine glass. Red liquid flows from her bottle into my cup.
“You should take it easy,” Ellynne says from the chair beside me.
Eefa pouts. “Oh, but I find intoxicated Carys so titillating!”
I peer at her over the rim of the cup as I take a swig. Many scandalous promises shine in her eyes. I set the wine glass down. “Lord Iywan is aware of my … activities,” I drawl. “So, it ends now.” I intend to sound sure and firm, but my voice comes out deflated. It matches my sentiments.
Eefa exhales dramatically. “Oh, pity.”
Honestly, she doesn’t appear too bothered, but that’s Eefa. I have no doubt she has many other lovers. She leans over the back of the dining chair across from me, bracing her forearms on it. “I take it Lord Iywan is giving you a hard time about your choice in suitors?”
My gut twists. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
Ellynne reaches over and rubs my back gently; the gesture makes my eyes burn and my chest tighten. “I need to go,” I say to no one in particular.
I’m up before either Eefa or Ellynne can say anything, and Callum follows along as I practically jog out of the dining hall.
We make it to my bedchamber in record time, and as I’m about to walk in, Callum grasps my arm, but I yank it away. He regards me with such tranquility that the fight is snuffed out of me. “I’m concerned about you,” Callum says.
Laughter sputters out of me. “Of course you are. Who isn’t? Callum, I’m so tired. I—”
“Maybe we should step inside?”
I sigh softly, gesturing to the door. Together, we enter my bedchamber, and I’m hit with a surge of more longing than I know how to handle. Normally, Callum entering the inner sanctum of my bedchamber is simple, but now I can only stare up at him, my eyes prickling with tears.
“Car—”
My hands act on their own accord, shoving him against the door.
With fistfuls of his livery, I yank him down to my level and press my lips against his.
He resists, pulling his head back slightly.
I don’t know what comes over me, but I bite down.
It’s not driven by passion, but something else.
Something blistering and enraged and so very confused.
Callum pulls away with a sharp gasp, lifting a hand to his lower lip where blood blooms.
I step back, my hands over my mouth. “I didn’t mean— I just …” I turn to walk away but Callum grabs my hand, pulling me close.
“I did once say that I wasn’t opposed to biting, didn’t I?” he asks me, the corner of his lips quirking up.
I smirk at him. “Yes, but I’m sure you didn’t mean for me to bite you like some rabid hound.”
He lowers his forehead against mine, and it’s so tender that my heart aches to the point where I can’t breathe. He cares so much for me, and I … I’m just perplexed. It’s too much. I turn away from him. “Leave.”
He doesn’t move right away, but before I can shout at him, the door shuts behind me. I start to pace, fiddling with my amulet until a knock startles me.
“It’s me.”
Ellynne. I don’t respond, but that doesn’t stop her from barging in.
“Please talk to me,” she says quietly when the door shuts behind her.
A solitary tear rolls down my cheek, and I swat it away as I continue pacing.
“Carys.”
“Please, just go away.” I hate how small my voice sounds.
Ellynne nods, but the question remains on her face. “Alright. But I will be back later. You just need a hot bath and rest. Tomorrow is a new day. Nighttime brings out the worst in us, but with the dawn comes new perspectives.”
Abruptly, I stop pacing and reel on her. “Go. Away!”
She blinks quickly, but then she bobs a small curtsy and retreats.
The door closes behind her and I allow the tears to fall.
I cannot trust her. I cannot trust anyone.
I need to figure things out myself—there is no one else to help me clean up this mess.
Not my mother, not Alys, not Tiernan. Not Callum, Ellynne, Lowri, or Eefa. Certainly not Iywan or the councilors.
Audience was one small step, but it solves nothing. I need to expose Iywan to the Council. But with my history, will that only make it look as though I’ve finally lost my mind?
I fear I’ll have to risk it.