Chapter 48
Anya Delemond
The Elf’s hold on the Prince dissipated, and he fell to the ground with a thump that would have made Anya grin if she could in this form.
“Sister,” the Prince said. He shifted back in a flash of white light, brushing the wrinkles out of his clothes in faux nonchalance. “I am glad to see you have returned safely. I trust father’s treatment went well?”
Sister? Father? Anya thought, looking at Roderick, who was frozen mid-reach toward the fray. These two looked nothing alike.
“No change, like always,” the Elf said, striding toward the dais.
“Though it seems you wasted no time making changes here in my absence.” She appraised the room with unamused, golden eyes.
Despite her firm demeanor, the room seemed to warm with her presence.
One by one, she released the guards, who bowed in turn and quietly retook their stations in the arcade.
“I was blessed to find a bride in your absence,” the Prince explained. “What you saw was merely—”
The Elf held up a hand, bidding silence.
“Spare me. Sir Bayard told me you coerced her somehow—and that she is from Valeria. You know the Accords, brother. Contact with foreign kingdoms is my strict jurisdiction as Regent. These may be your lands, but their arrival affects us all. I am afraid your insubordination will have to be addressed with the Council.”
His lands.
The small slice of Aquillas they’d trekked was the Prince’s sovereign lands!
Anya struggled against the magical hold, but it only made her brain rattle in her head.
The Prince balked at the accusation. “Sir Bayard is a liar and a traitor to Aquillas! He sired a child with a Valerian, and has been feeding our secrets to them ever since. I was merely trying to gather more evidence before bringing it to your attention.”
“I will be the judge of that. But first…” With a flick of her wrist, Roderick and Anya fell from the magical hold.
“Our guests will be treated as such.” Despite the Regent continuing to speak to the Prince, and being in the presence of royalty, Anya’s only thought was Roderick, and it seemed he felt the same.
She shifted and threw herself into his embrace, holding his face as she pressed a desperate kiss to his bloody lips.
“You came for me,” she said softly, unable to hold back tears.
“Even after everything I did…” She cupped his cheek, memorizing every detail of his face like it was the last time she’d see him.
Like she’d fallen too hard into the vision she’d used to escape from the binding ceremony, and soon she’d wake up in the Prince’s bed with bars all around her for the rest of her life.
But all those fears melted away as Roderick gently swiped his thumb under her eye, brushing away a tear.
“Everything you did? Oh, Anya. Everything you did was for Valeria. You were willing to be someone you weren’t for the rest of your life, all out of love for your kingdom.
But you don’t have to anymore. You never have to be anything but yourself with me.
You are the one beast I cannot tame, nor do I want to.
I want you, Anya. Exactly as you are. In the palace, on the ship, barefoot in the woods, clawed hands in mine, starshine eyes mapping the heavens.
We’ll eat every meal at midnight if that’s what makes you smile, and I’ll fetch you a piece of the moon for dessert.
I just need you by my side. I don’t care where.
So please”—he exhaled a shivering breath—“please don’t run from me again. ”
She kissed him again, softly this time, taking the time to taste him, blood and all. It was sweet, almost as sweet as the words she could finally, finally say without an ounce of hesitation.
“I’m going to run. I’m going to run while we spar till our hearts give out and our lungs burn. I’m going to run to you when I wake, and find you on the bow of the ship. And when you wake up at night and find me missing, you’ll only have to run to the stern to find me gazing up at the stars.”
“Anya, what—what are you saying?”
She brushed her head under his chin and whispered, “Sail with me, Roderick. Today. Tomorrow. Forever. Everywhere and anywhere. In a schooner, in a sailboat, in a holey, rickety old canoe. As long as I’m with you.”
Roderick stammered in disbelief. “B-but Count Scorer—”
“Is not my concern anymore. Marg has him wrapped around her finger.”
“I’m beginning to understand how that happens,” he said softly, pressing her hand to his chest. “But I think this is more than that.”
“Yes. Oh yes, I can feel you…” She rubbed her cheek on his, causing a little shiver to roll down her spine. “You’re in my chest, my lungs, oh, Roderick…if you feel it too, does this mean…?”
“Yes. I’m afraid you’re stuck with me now, Delemond. In this life and the next.”
“Ahem.”
Anya swiped the blood from her face and looked up, finding the Regent eyeing them with an amused expression.
Right. First things first: clean up this diplomatic mess.
“I believe we have much to discuss, Princess Anya.”
That was an understatement. But she was ready. The Prince, it seemed, had received a thorough tongue-lashing. He leveled an unsettling glare at Anya before disappearing through a door beyond the dais. Something told her it wouldn’t be the last of the trouble he caused for Valeria.
But if that day ever came, she—and her pack—would be ready.
As she turned away, she finally noticed Sir Bayard at the Regent’s heels, every bit the stoic guard—save for a slight smile on his face when his eyes met hers.
“Thank you,” she mouthed. He tipped his head in acknowledgment.
“Come.” The Regent beckoned them with a graceful hand. “We will meet in my study.”
“And our retainers?” Anya asked, gesturing to Blackbird and Sir Oshfeldt, who were still frozen in place.
The Regent cast a glance at the two Elvani. “If they can keep their magic to themselves, they may join us. In fact, I may have an interesting proposal for them.”
Anya, Roderick, Blackbird and Sir Oshfeldt sat on plush velvet couches in the Regent’s study, so unlike the Prince’s. It was welcoming and warm, with personable touches on every surface: painted portraits, flower arrangements, whirring and moving knickknacks that Anya found most fascinating.
The Regent spoke as a servant poured them each a cup of fragrant tea.
“I think formal introductions are in order. I am Agnes Lorraine Amund, Regent of Aquillas. I welcome you to Aquillas on behalf of the Crown and Council. I regret that my father, King Gaius Amund, is not able to greet you himself in his current condition.”
Anya had heard the Regent mention some kind of treatment but resolved not to pry. While the Regent did not seem the overly-wary type, it could seem like one ruler trying to find out more about the weaknesses of another.
Anya tipped her head. “I am Princess Anya Delemond of Valeria.” She gestured to each of them in turn.
“And this is my mate and Prince consort, Lord Roderick Bryson, lady-in-waiting, Blackbird Rowan, and Lord Bryson’s Vice Commander, Sir Octavio Oshfeldt.
It is a pleasure to meet you, and to see Aquillas with our own eyes. You have a beautiful kingdom.”
“I assure you, what you have seen is only the beginning. Which is why I am sad to say you may not continue on.” The Regent set down her tea with a solemn expression.
Roderick stiffened beside Anya. Blackbird and Sir Oshfeldt’s eyes went wide.
“We…can’t?” Roderick said cautiously. Anya could tell he was already preparing to fight again. To Roderick, the Regent’s words must have sounded like a threat. But she knew exactly where this was going from the moment a council was mentioned.
Resting a hand on his to calm his nerves, Anya looked at the Regent with a confidence she felt all the way to her marrow.
“I understand. Exploration is not our intent here, as delightful as it sounds.” She described the illness plaguing the Balcott children, Valeria’s reliance on mana stones, the limits of Elvani magic, the rarity of healing mages, and everything in between.
Valeria had no secrets. Not anymore—and neither did she.
The Regent listened with enraptured interest, only stopping her to ask the occasional question. When Anya told her of her deal with the Prince, the Regent’s jaw tensed as she massaged her brow.
“I should have never left. I should have sent an aid in my place,” she muttered.
“I am sure His Majesty preferred having you accompany him,” Blackbird offered. The Regent laughed almost bitterly.
“He does not know the difference, I’m afraid.” She sighed. “He has been in long-sleep for ten years.”
“Ten years?” Sir Oshfeldt blurted, then instantly regretted it, covering his mouth. “Apologies.”
“No need.” The Regent waved him off. “I should explain. See, I would be more than pleased to let you explore, if you so desired, but it is simply not up to me. While I am the Regent, it was not my father that appointed me. It was the Solar and Lunar Council. They decide whether or not to continue my appointment on the Winter Solstice each year. Though recently, the margin has been getting slimmer with each passing year. I believe my brother is slowly convincing them to cast their vote for him.”