13 Incense
Incense
They slipped through the noble gate and into the barracks, hurrying down the dark corridor to the courtyard. She wondered if he meant to walk her all the way to her room.
She hoped not. The last memories of Jon still lingered, and she needed time alone to sit with them, or at least pass out and be free of them for a while.
She would deal with all of this tomorrow, when her head stopped spinning.
Footsteps echoed across the courtyard. Lord Jurah stood under an archway, arms crossed over his broad chest. “With me. Now.”
Vaelira swallowed down the anxious energy rising in her throat. She turned to say goodbye, but Elijah strode past her, following Jurah towards his office.
Inside, a fire crackled in the grate. Jurah sank behind his worn desk and gestured for them to sit.
Before she took a step, Elijah crossed to the window and drew the curtains.
“She broke curfew at my request,” he said.
“She entered the Noble Quarter because I asked her to. If punishment is coming, direct it at me.”
Vaelira hadn’t expected him to speak for her, and she hadn’t asked him to. It wasn’t like he’d forced her to go, and she fully intended on taking the blame.
Jurah’s gaze flicked to her and back to Elijah. “I can’t exactly punish the Crown Prince, can I?”
“No.” Elijah grinned. “But you also can’t punish her. Or the guard on duty. Both were following my orders.”
“Guard Peris was the one who informed me,” Jurah said mildly. “I have no intention of reprimanding him.”
“I shouldn’t have bothered paying him,” Elijah muttered.
“Did you tell him not to report it?”
“It was implied.”
“Then he followed your command and his duty. Seems to me like he earned the coin.”
“Semantics.”
Vaelira shifted, pressing her fingers to her temple. Her head throbbed. Her mouth was dry. She needed water, her bed, and silence. She sat down heavily, wincing as a pulse went through her temple.
Jurah leaned forward, eyes narrowing. “What have you done to the poor girl?”
“I’m fine,” Vaelira said tightly. “I’ll take whatever punishment you think is fair.”
She felt Elijah standing behind her. His presence warmed her like a cloak, but it didn’t comfort her. It made her chest feel heavier, somehow. She wished he would leave and let her handle this alone.
Jurah studied her for a moment and turned to Elijah. “I won’t discipline her for following orders. But I don’t like it. We have rules for a reason.”
“The Noble Quarter is safe,” Elijah said, his tone harder.
“For now.”
“Do you think me incapable of protecting her?”
Jurah leaned back with a sigh. “Tell me the truth. Are you involving her in another one of your schemes?”
“What if I am?”
“She is a recruit under my command. I deserve to know what I’m risking. Especially since I know how these things can get out of hand.”
That pulled Vaelira out of the fog. “What got out of hand?” she asked, turning to Elijah. He didn’t meet her eye.
“It was years ago,” Elijah said, dismissively. “An illegal dog fighting gang in New Town. We took care of it.”
That didn’t sound like a scheme.
“We were ordered not to interfere,” Jurah said.
Elijah stiffened for a heartbeat. “I need her. My father isn’t taking this threat seriously. He never does and you know that. Even if he did, with his current condition I’m not convinced he’d have the fortitude to do what needs to be done.” He sighed, sitting in the other chair. “You owe me.”
“You can’t involve a recruit in this,” Jurah said, tone sharpening. “She’s only been training a week.”
“It’s not your decision.”
Vaelira stood up, fire flaring behind her ribs. “It's not yours either.”
Both men turned to stare at her, as if suddenly remembering she existed.
“You may out rank me,” she said, voice rising, “but I’m not a pawn to be passed back and forth. I’d appreciate it if you stopped talking like I’m not sitting right here.”
There was a beat of silence. Maybe she had been too bold. The alcohol was muddling her senses. This was the Lord Commander of the Royal Guard, and the Crown Prince of Eastvale.
Gods save her.
“Actually,” Elijah said, “you’re standing.”
She shot him a look, her blood humming. Her skin flushed hotter, and her palms itched. Something warm bloomed against her hip and she looked down. A faint glow pulsed through the fabric of her pouch. Vaelira blinked and the glow was gone.
Jurah leaned forward, his voice suddenly quiet. “What was that?”
Elijah leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms behind his head with a yawn. “What’s what?”
Jurah’s frown deepened and he rubbed his eyes. “It’s late,” he muttered. “Elijah, you can’t keep taking her into the Noble Quarter. I have a whole barrack full of recruits. If they hear one of their own is being given special treatment, it will raise questions I can’t answer.”
“Fine,” Elijah said. “We’ll stick to town. That’s where the action is anyway.”
“I still don’t understand why you need her.”
“It’s not your place to understand.” Elijah replied. “Only to know that I do.”
Jurah’s lips tightened, but he didn’t argue. He turned to Vaelira. “This stays quiet. If the King finds out I’m involved, I’ll be removed. Maybe worse. Then you’ll be answering to someone far less forgiving.”
Vaelira nodded. It’s not like she had anyone to tell.
“There’s one more thing,” Elijah said.
Vaelira sat back down slowly. Her head swam. Her limbs were heavy, and she wasn’t sure how much more she could take.
Elijah’s voice was low. ‘You’re being watched.”
The room stilled.
Vaelira’s pulse skipped. “By who?”
“I think multiple people. But they all report to the same person.”
Jurah’s expression grew serious. “The Queen.”
Elijah nodded. “Someone is reporting on your progress in training. She’s given you a month to prove your worth or you’ll be removed.”
A cold sweat broke out on the back of her neck. “Why does she care?” she asked, wiping her palms on her trousers.
“The Crown is under intense scrutiny from certain members of Court. The King has missed too many council meetings, I am rarely at court. They are analysing our every move. And now, for the first time in decades, an outsider has been brought into the barracks. Anything that suggests you were brought here for reasons other than your combat skills is attention we can’t afford.
” He gave her a knowing look. “Neither can you.”
Vaelira leaned against the desk and let her head fall into her hand. It was too much. Nausea twisted in her gut, and she swallowed it back.
Jurah placed a hand on her shoulder. “That’s enough for tonight,” he said. “You have nothing scheduled tomorrow. Take the day to reset.”
Vaelira nodded, not trusting herself to speak. Her heart pounded against her ribs. Queen Mairese was watching her. Demons were being summoned inside the city, maybe at that very moment and the Royal Librarian might have answers, not only about her power, but about Jon too.
She stood and stumbled sideways. Strong arms caught her. She tried to draw a breath but gagged, her hand flying to her mouth. Elijah reached for her again, but she held out a hand to stop him.
Swallowing hard, she breathed through her nose then turned and left.
The next morning, Vaelira made her way to the washroom and grabbed one of the few remaining pitchers on the counter. She tipped the water into the basin before dunking her hands and splashing her face. It was freezing. It must be later than she had thought.
She dried her face and turned quickly from the mirror, not wanting to catch her reflection. Whatever state she was in could wait until there was something solid in her stomach.
By the time she reached the refectory, lunch was already being served.
Her head throbbed with every step, but at least the nausea had passed.
She stared down at her plate. Of all the revelations last night, knowing she was being watched was the most unsettling.
She resisted the urge to look around the room.
Were they watching her now, reporting back to Queen Mairese on her lack of appetite?
She was about to stab a piece of meat when a tray slammed onto the table in front of her. Vaelira jumped, her fork clattering onto the plate.
“Gods, Ressa,” Fang said, mouth already filled with food. “You scared the life out of her.”
Ressa stood on the opposite side of the table, head cocked. “Just checking she’s still alive.”
Vaelira raised a hand halfway. “Still alive,” she said, her voice rougher than expected. Next time Willem brought out a bottle of whiskey, she’d decline.
Ressa and Fang sat across from her.
“I came by your room last night,” Ressa said, biting into a bread roll. “No answer.”
Vaelira cleared her throat. “I’m a deep sleeper. Sorry about that.”
“She knocked pretty loud,” Fang said. “Woke me up and I’m, like, four doors down.”
Vaelira shifted in her seat. “What did you want?” she asked, trying not to sound defensive.
Ressa shrugged. “I was bored. Had a bottle I swiped from my father. Thought we might do some girl bonding.”
“Hey, I would’ve been up for a drink,” Fang said incredulously.
“And girl bonding?”
Fang smirked and raised an eyebrow. “Always.”
Ressa rolled her eyes and turned back to Vaelira. “Anyway, looks like you had plenty to drink last night. I could’ve sworn I saw you slip in long past curfew.”
“Must’ve been in the washroom.” Vaelira lied.
Ressa’s eyes narrowed. “If you say so.”
Fang pushed his empty plate aside and leaned on the table. It groaned under his weight. “We’re headed into town after lunch. Want to join?”
Vaelira looked at them both. Fang seemed to genuinely want her to go, but Ressa was eyeing her cautiously. If she had seen Vaelira slip in, she’d know it wasn’t from the direction of the washrooms.
“Will there be another round of questioning?” Vaelira asked.
Ressa laughed. “Just shopping. Maybe a drink if your stomach can take it.”
Vaelira winced. “No to the drink.”
“And the shopping?”
What she wanted was to crawl back in bed and stay there, but a memory surfaced.