4
Meront expressed his displeasure before I’d even sat down for dinner. “You’ve lost your damned mind, Ayla.”
My brows jumped as my rear met the bench. “Good evening to you, too.”
“What were you thinking?” Leaning over the stone plates of chicken and potato, he seethed low, “The wolf prince could have easily seized that opportunity to wound you without consequence.” Easing back, he shook his head. “Or worse.”
“You’d prefer he wound a male of thirteen years?”
“Fourteen years,” Darcen tossed in.
I rolled my eyes and pulled my plate close. My afternoon had been spent hiding in the east wing, where people rarely ventured, with a book I had no interest in reading. I was starving. But I’d barely cut into my roasted chicken when Meront pulled my plate away.
I glared.
He glowered.
“Meront,” Celestine sighed. “She missed lunch. Give it back.”
“And why did you miss lunch, Ayla?” Meront taunted. “Was it because you knew you’d made a mistake and didn’t wish for anyone to tell you as much?”
I tugged at my plate.
He didn’t relinquish his hold. So I carefully let go. He was far stronger than me, and I didn’t want to lose any food to the table.
Hungry and in no mood for such protective nonsense when he hadn’t cared to show any protectiveness for Oaken, I snapped, “You’re the one who made a mistake, Prince.” My eyes swept to Darcen. “And you.”
Darcen ceased chewing. “Me?”
But I looked back at Meront when he said, “It’s called training for a reason. You don’t intervene unless someone is seriously injured. You would know that if you cared to train with us, Princess.”
He was right. I’d known as much this morning.
That didn’t mean he wasn’t also wrong. “He’s young, Meront. A twig the Valadorn prince would have happily broken.”
Quiet descended.
Meront released my gaze and my plate as the aforementioned prince prowled down the stairs into the prayer hall.
Rather than gape like everyone else, I pulled my dinner close and stabbed at the chicken breast.
A crisp amber clouded as the prince passed by our table. “Princess.” His accented voice wrapped around the singular word like a beast circling its prey.
Meront growled. Darcen punched his arm in warning.
The bite of chicken lodged in my throat kept me from responding. But I wouldn’t have because I was a coward, and I was too hungry to care. So I ate.
Jaw clenched, Meront watched me.
Though I didn’t dare look, I knew Prince Voran did too. Those eerie eyes seared into my back. It was akin to standing too close to a hearth, the warmth gradually becoming unbearable.
But I refused to flee until I’d eaten.
Meront didn’t say another word. At least, not to me. He gave the occasional grunted response to Darcen when the Coraldeen prince spoke about tomorrow’s hunt.
On our way upstairs, Celestine hooked her arm through mine. “Prince Voran left the courtyard right after you did.” Before I could ask why that mattered, she told me. “Now Meront and Darcen are convinced he made an appearance simply to rattle us.”
Well, rattled we were.
“He didn’t wish to train,” I said.
It made sense. Except for meals, the Valadorn prince scarcely graced us with his chilling presence.
We veered right atop the stairs. At the door to my room, I said, “They all just stood there, Celestine. Yes, I am a bit mortified. I know I shouldn’t have intervened, but…” I shook my head. “Given the prince’s reputation, it didn’t feel right to take such a risk with someone so young.”
“It wasn’t right.” She squeezed my hand. “But males seldom care about right and wrong until it suits them.”
My room was the size of my dressing chamber at home.
But I liked having a window beside my single bed. Watching the sun and moon rise over the ancient grounds, and how each turned the stained crimson glass a soft pink, soothed the disquiet within me.
Tonight, I found no such comfort.
A storm had thrashed the isle before sunset. Though it had since rumbled south, clouds still blocked the stars and muted the half-moon’s shine, rendering this tiny part of the world too dark to sleep within.
We weren’t supposed to leave our rooms after curfew unless there was an emergency.
I’d yet to be caught doing so. But surely, the priestesses understood that we sometimes had needs we could not ignore all night. At least twice a week, I struggled to sleep and inevitably had to sneak downstairs to the privy.
Of course, that was when the enemy prince found me—alone and tying my evening robes after leaving the washroom. Reaching the stairs, I sensed someone and stopped. I knew without looking that it was him. I knew because my skin prickled and my stomach filled with rocks.
His caustic voice slithered quietly down the stairs. “I thought wards were not allowed to play after dark.”
My fear became bewilderment, and I blinked up at him.
Voran Valadorn leaned against the banister atop the stairs, arms crossed and still cloaked shoulder to toe in black. Those blue eyes that had been so dark now shone brighter than any moon or stars. So bright, I remembered what he was.
A direwolf.
My cheeks caught fire when I finally realized what he’d meant and what he saw. Waves of my near-black hair had escaped my bed-ruined braid to spill over my chest, and my fingers still fumbled with the sash of my robes.
He thought I’d met with someone.
Close to trembling, I looked down at myself. “I, uh…” Words failed me, and I laughed nervously.
“Yes?” he prompted, the word hissing in the quiet.
“Had to pee,” I said in a rush that sounded like, hadda bee.
His rough chuckle drew my eyes from my curled toes. They met his once more, and I reached for the stone railing while attempting to guess how long it would take me to run in the opposite direction and hide.
Then he pushed off the banister and descended the stairs. “And it has been said that Cloverleafs are skilled liars.”
He was goading me.
I shouldn’t have taken the bait. I should have walked away. Yet I couldn’t move, nor keep my mouth from opening. “I’m not lying.” Fear strangled my voice—reduced it to a rasp as he stopped beneath the stairs. “You don’t know anything about my family.”
“Oh?” His scent ignited my instinct to flee. But his voice, even more sinister from being lowered, kept me wholly still. “First rule of warfare.” He took a step closer, as if sharing a secret. “Know your enemy.”
I surrendered to the urge and ran up the stairs.
“Fleeing again, Princess?” he called, uncaring of his volume.
I didn’t respond. I didn’t even breathe until I was safely tucked within my room and leaning against the locked door.