Chapter 19
CHAPTER NINETEEN
ASHLYN
Ihad to maintain my composure.
Whatever just happened in there—it was nothing.
Warmth spread down my spine again, pulling at something deep inside me.
“Your Highness?” Soren looked at me. “Are you certain you are well enough to continue?”
Fyn took a single step closer. His eyes studied mine.
“That is kind of you, but I am entirely fine.” The sensation swelled again through me. “I would truly like to see your home.” It stopped before I continued. “And then perhaps I can rest afterwards.”
“I’m sure it’s not that different from what you’re used to.” Soren’s lip pulled up at the corner as he spoke.
He was right. So much of it seemed to mirror Bailoc. The opulent decor, the stonework pillars that lined the hall. There was more light that shone here than in Bailoc, but the windows were grander and allowed for it.
Metalwork swirled between the arches overhead. “There isn’t as much metal to be found in my home.” It was such a silly thing to say, but as I looked into his midnight eyes, my words grew duller.
Murmurs rose from a group of ladies who passed. Each one had a different color hair that I had never seen before—deep violets, reds, and pinks.
I stared at the beauty each color possessed.
“I imagine that is quite different for you too,” he said.
“It is. And I find it quite extraordinary.” When I looked back at him, he was smiling at me.
He held his arm out to me. I slipped my hand around it as if I had done it a thousand times before.
“Lord Fyn, I would like a moment alone with the princess. We will send for you when you are needed again,” he said.
“I can keep my distance, but she is to remain chaperoned.” The glimmer had all but vanished from Fyn’s eyes.
“Do you wish it?” Soren’s tone sharpened. “For him to follow you like this?”
“I do,” I said, looking back at Fyn. “The fae have taken such wonderful care of me while I was in Nythrel.”
“You may stay, Lord Chancellor,” Soren said. “It is a relief to hear you’ve been well looked after, Princess Ashlyn. Your brother feared that may not be the case when we last spoke.”
A lump lodged in my throat when he mentioned Agan. Hopefully little else had been said.
Billowing drapes clung to the edges of the windows. Strained sunlight poured down the navy velvet rug. Soren guided me around the corner that led to a stone staircase. “The ballroom is at the top. Tonight you will see it well adorned to celebrate our meeting.”
“It sounds like it will be a grand event.” My hand slipped from his arm to catch the train of my gown as it tugged on each step.
Soren pushed back a dark strand of hair that fell over his eyes. “You are very beautiful, Princess Ashlyn.” He said it like he had expected someone much worse.
Fyn cleared his throat. It echoed from where he remained on the steps.
“I am pleased you accepted my invitation,” Soren said. “I will admit I was surprised you did.”
I had expected more pleasantries—more anything, but his eyes just held mine while he awaited my response. “I’ve never been one to shy away from an adventure.”
“Your brother said as much.”
“And what else did he say?” I swallowed hard.
“That you are fierier than you look.” Soren gestured for us to step back down the stairs.
“And yet you still invited me?” I scoffed on the inside, thinking about all the things Agan could have said—suddenly worried about what he did say.
Agan wanted this alliance. He always had, but telling a suitor I was fiery didn’t seem like him at all.
“I had told him how dull I find many of the women in our court.” Soren laughed. “A promise of something different seemed enticing.”
We paused as we stood across from each other.
“You don’t need to perform pleasantries for me.” Soren’s voice grew softer. “I am not the sort of prince who cares for them.”
“What sort of prince are you, then?” I was desperate to hear he would be who I wanted as I forced my eyes to remain with him, even when Fyn coughed in the distance.
His eyes widened as he lifted my hand to his lips. “One who is deeply curious about the princess in front of me.”
“Time shall reveal all my flaws.” He may not be able to look past them. I was certain no one ever could.
“I’m serious about this arrangement, Princess Ashlyn. I wouldn’t have invited you here if I wasn’t.” As he spoke, the sensation flooded me again.
It prodded at me.
“As am I.” Warmth pulled at my spine. “I fear I’m more tired than I originally thought. Maybe it would be best if I go lay down.”
Suddenly, I was too exhausted to do much else.
“Of course. I look forward to seeing you again tonight.” He bowed his head. “Do you require my help finding your chambers?”
“No, I remember the way.” I spoke it with certainty I didn’t have. Suddenly, the same warmth struck me harder.
I stood there watching him until he disappeared around the corner.
“Please tell me you know how to get back to our corridor.” I turned to Fyn the moment I knew Soren had gone.
“Why did you just tell him you did?” Amusement gleamed in his eyes.
“I was overwhelmed.”
“I see… so you thought you’d just pretend you knew the way in a castle you’d just arrived in. That’s most—”
“Lower your voice,” I scolded him.
A guard from down the hall watched us both.
“I need to go rest. You can help me find my way back,” I said.
Fyn’s jaw locked. “Something’s wrong, isn’t it?”
“The only thing that’s wrong is how close you’re standing to me right now.” The feeling flooded me again. It was impossible to ignore.
“You’re wincing. And there’s this look in your eyes… like you’re—”
“Annoyed?” I snapped.
He pulled back from me. “Would it kill you to be honest with me?”
I pushed past him walking down the only hall that seemed vaguely familiar. As I came to where several intersected, I realized they were all similar.
“Since there’s nothing wrong with you and I’m so annoying, I’m just going to let you figure this one out for yourself.” Fyn slid his hands onto his hips. “This can only get more entertaining.”
I walked past him to the nearest guard.
“Excuse me, I’m afraid I’ve forgotten the way back to the guest wing and my escort struggles to remember things well. Can you assist me, please?” I tugged at the golden chain that inched too close to my throat when I was overwhelmed by heat again.
Fyn cast an icy glare at me. “She is mistaken. I remember which way we came from.”
The guard nodded without saying another word as Fyn extended his arm to me.
He tugged me forward down a side corridor I had already stepped past. “You could just tell me what’s wrong with you… it would be far easier.”
“It is extremely rude that you’re telling me that I look like something is wrong with me.”
“As long as I’ve known you, you don’t stare like that. So we can keep playing this game—or you could just tell me.”
“I do like games.” I blinked back the water from my eyes. And when I was certain no one could hear, I turned to him. “I may be ill.”
“Ill or consumed something you shouldn’t have?” Fyn swallowed hard.
As far as I knew, they could feel one and the same. “How would I know the difference?”
“That’s most reassuring,” he said. “If something is wrong with you—”
“If I just rest...” There was absolutely nothing wrong with me other than the fact that I had just journeyed across Lythira into Estlen, had way too much fae wine and… drank starlight.
There could be something wrong with me.
Calm washed over me.
I was too calm.
“I’m going to go lie down.” I pushed open the door and sank to the floor on the other side. I pulled the edge of my gown away from the door in case he came in after me.
But he wouldn’t—he couldn’t.
Whatever version of us once existed would suffocate within these palace walls.
It didn’t matter. It was a sacrifice I had to give to live this human life.
Hot and sharp, something prodded my throat until my tears poured.
Maybe it mattered more than I wanted to admit.
The sensation stopped—too abrupt—too unnatural.
Whatever it was, it seemed to be responding to something.
It came on in the throne room, the halls, and even now. It came about when others spoke—when I spoke, but why?
I said it didn’t matter. I said he was standing too close to me. What did that have to do with anything?
“I’m the princess of Bailoc. I want a human life,” I whispered.
Nothing happened.
“I hate my blonde hair.”
Nothing still.
“I don’t care about Fyn. He can go back to Nythrel.” The feeling returned. It burrowed deep inside of me, threatening me.
“Perhaps I care too much.” The moment I said it the feeling vanished.
I collapsed my head into my hands.
Whatever it was—it wasn’t good.