Chapter 44 #2
There it was—the reason he’d stoop so low as to marry a “half-breed.” She had no doubt she would’ve figured it out on her own eventually.
The Prince either believed she already despised humans, or that he could convince her of it in time.
But humans were as much her people as the Lycanians, Elvani, and Centarians.
She loved them all. She was willing to die for them all. So she would live for them too.
That was the Prince’s mistake. That would be his downfall.
“I’ll do it,” Anya started. A wicked smile curled the Prince’s lips. “On two conditions.”
“Go on.”
She held up a claw. “One. My ship and crew leave Aquillan waters with the stones, unharmed.”
“Of course.” He nodded once. “I am a man of my word.”
“Two.” She held up another claw. “I want one last night with my mate. If I don’t return to the ship with him, he'll be suspicious. He’ll refuse to leave. And trust me when I say you don’t want him on your heels.”
It wasn’t a lie, not that she cared about deceiving the Prince. This was the only way to ensure Roderick stayed with the Lupus Star.
After pondering for a moment and rubbing his brown beard, the Prince finally answered, “This is agreeable. I understand there is a dragon in your company. You will fly back here after the Centarian falls asleep. Your crew will remain asleep until morning. My kelpie will haul your ship to the Gates of Hav.”
“Then we have a deal,” Anya said resolutely, despite the pit in her stomach. She tried to sidestep the Prince, to start the end of her time with Roderick, when he stuck a hand in her path.
“Not quite. I need assurance that you won’t try to steal yourself away.” He lowered his arm, then started rolling up his sleeve. “Have you ever heard of a gesh?”
Geshes were rare magic—to Valerians, at least. Binding promises with terms that held tricks and double-meanings, and painful consequences should one try to break it. Even the most powerful mages could not interfere.
“Yes.”
“I will craft one in accordance with our deal.”
White magic swirled around the prince’s wrist as he took a step back. It crawled up his arm, past his shoulder, then swirled around his throat as he spoke, his voice echoing on its own.
“By shaking my hand, you, Anya Delemond, Princess of Valeria, swear to be married to me tomorrow before the sun has fully risen in the sky. I, Rune Erun Amund, Prince of Aquillas, swear that your ship will make safe passage to Valeria with six chests full of mana stones that will only open once it has passed the Gates of Hav, and departed Aquillas forever. You will not speak of this gesh to anyone. If you break this gesh, the breath will leave your lungs, and only I can restore it.”
The magic twisted back down the Prince’s arm, surrounding his hand with an electric glow.
Anya drew back for a moment as the magic crackled between them, ready to bind her, to steal her life, her heart, and everything she held dear. The wolf in her chest howled in protest, no, no, no, no, no! Your mate, your love—
Anya silenced it with her own voice.
I’m doing this because I love him.
She seized the Prince’s hand with conviction.
His palms were cold and calloused. As their fingers twined, the magic spread up her arm, sparked and burned, then twisted around her neck, constricting her slowly.
Fear gripped her as the breath fled her lungs, forcing her to her knees. Tears pressed the backs of her eyes.
Was it all a trick? Some hidden meaning in the gesh she had missed?
“It’ll be over in a minute,” the Prince said calmly. Anya coughed and clutched her throat. The magic festered beneath her skin, hot and sharp like a blade fresh from the forge.
“You need a taste of what will happen if you cross me. When you’re back on your feet, feel free to look around. This is your castle now too, after all. In the meantime, I’ll have the stones delivered to your ship.”
The door thudded behind him. Anya gasped as air rushed back into her lungs.
After a minute to recover, she stood and stumbled to the desk where Marguerite’s letters were spread out.
She quickly shuffled through them, trying to figure out exactly what the Prince knew, and how long he’d been intercepting them.
They read like diary entries, each letter containing months of Marg’s life.
Dearest Father,
Mother’s treatments are going well…
Dearest Father,
Princess Anya and I conducted a mediation together…
There were several letters detailing unpleasant interactions with Cyrus, from snide remarks during Marg’s one-on-one meetings with him, to his toe-stepping, to his apparent disdain for Marg.
Dearest Father,
I thought I saw Count Scorer skulking around my estate last month, but I cannot know for sure…
Dearest Father,
Today, Count Scorer followed me to my estate after the spring Council session.
When I confronted him, he said the most ridiculous thing.
He claimed he wanted to make sure I got home safe.
If it happens again, I think I will have to call the knights.
I would tell Princess Anya, but she is leaving for Aquillas soon, and I do not want her to worry.
I suppose I should have written about that first. There is a mana stone shortage.
I knew somewhat of it, but not its extent.
I feel terribly guilty for using so many stones on Mother, even though they came from you.
I have given what I can to the orphanage Princess Anya is visiting on her way to Aquillas.
I tried to be a part of the expedition, but Their Majesties did not allow it.
It is for the best, anyway. Mother could not bear to be alone for so long…
And then she found the newest letter, dated only two weeks ago.
Dearest Father,
My hand trembles as I write this.
Count Scorer kissed me.
I haven’t the foggiest idea how it got to that point. One minute, we were reviewing Princess Anya’s agenda for the week, and the next, his lips were on mine. I was so surprised, my ink bottle tipped and stained the table.
I thought he despised me, well and truly. So I asked him as much. He asked me the same.
How wrong we were.
I’ve learned much about why he is the way he is.
He feels indebted to Their Majesties for taking him in.
He is desperate to help them as much as he can.
For years he thought Princess Anya would abdicate.
She always spoke of being a dame, a sailor, even a star in the sky, and so he prepared himself to shoulder the role of Crown Prince as best he could.
But the day has not come. In his folly, he thought he could ‘encourage’ her out of the palace by behaving like a brute.
So I told him. I told him of Princess Anya’s fear of him becoming Crown Prince. Oh father, how the barriers we build are so easily blown down! I cannot wait for the Princess to return. When she realizes Cyrus’s earnest intent, it will be a weight off her shoulders.
Hot tears hit the parchment as Anya read the final line.
I can’t wait to see the incredible things she’ll do.