Chapter 23 #2
The man came forward and kneeled. His voice was clear and enunciated, but the foreign accent was apparent. “I am Asli, Your Majesty, of the Doonle bloodline. This is my sister, Sahra.”
“Seekers,” Taran clarified. “Please do not be alarmed; there may be three Banewights in your court, but I had just sailed from Aduran when I heard news of the betrothal. I thought it best not to separate from my apprentices after only recently conscripting them.”
Queen Adelaide turned to the other Doonle. “I’ve never met a female Banewight. I suppose it is not unheard of, but it is rare.”
“The Lady shines her light upon you, Your Majesty,” Sahra Doonle replied. She had a sad variety of beauty to her, like she’d never known laughter.
A necklace of the sun caught the light as she spoke. I spared the briefest glance at Florence; her knuckles whitened around her goblet, though her expression remained composed.
“And you are Lady Alana,” Sahra continued, turning to me. “Even in our capital of Badis Eldar, we heard of the silent woman who won the prince’s heart.”
I tried my best not to look at Taran. My palms sweated against the armrest of the seat. I’d done nothing to earn this, to be here. I was a fraud.
Nicolas leaned forward and spoke very carefully.
“An interesting addition to our court, wouldn’t you agree?
” he said, and something in his tone made me feel more like a show pony than his fiancée.
“She’s taken a vow to speak to no man other than her prospective husband.
Her silence ensures our secrets remain safe, while her common birth appeases those who claim we’ve grown too distant from our subjects.
Sometimes the best alliances come from unexpected quarters.
Besides, the crown demands more than pedigree from its consorts. ”
I winced at his detachment, but I knew he was acting intentionally flippant.
Beside me, Queen Adelaide gave him a strange look, but she didn’t interject.
I thanked the gods for that small mercy, hoping no one would say anything else to draw Taran’s attention to me.
The queen gestured toward their seats at the right side of the room, and the trio sat.
I found Quinn watching me at the door. Just as soon as I noticed him, he turned his head. “And now I present Duke Augustine of Demagret.”
Nicolas flinched. The wood of his armrest creaked beneath his grip, and I swore I heard a change in his breathing, though he didn’t appear any less tranquil than he’d been moments before.
The Duke of Demagret entered the dining hall with the easy confidence of a man who had charmed his way through life.
His dark hair, touched with distinguished silver at the temples, was swept back from a face that bore the golden kiss of the Hadrian sun.
His features were sharp and aristocratic, but most attractive of all were his deep-set eyes, dark like aged wine and crinkled at the corners.
Despite what must have been at least five decades of life, there remained something vital about him, a magnetism that explained the whispers that followed his announcement.
“Duke Augustine,” said the queen, an unmistakable delight in her voice. “The cold of Gallae will never suit you, old friend.”
“Nor you, my queen; would that I could convince you to visit sunny Demagret,” the duke replied coolly, his Hadrian accent dotted with trilling r’s and flirtatious rhythm.
“Then you would require even stronger convincing to get me to leave.” Queen Adelaide seemed oddly amused by his antics.
Her eyes twinkled as he produced a strange plant from behind him, spiny and oddly reminiscent of a fabled dragon’s egg.
As he set it before the queen, she took it into her hands to marvel.
“I recall you had a particular fancy for my island’s fruit at your wedding.
There is plenty more where that came from, and now that there is to be a wedding, I have cause to request a few more shipments.
” He turned to wink at me, then sauntered down the line to the prince.
“Prince Nicolas! My, how you’ve grown! What a difference seven years makes.
And you are the spitting image of your father, though you have your mother’s eyes! ”
Nicolas seemed distant, as if he could see right through the foreign man. I touched his hand, snapping him out of it.
“Hello, Duke Augustine,” he replied quietly. “Seven years, and you look just as I remember.”
“A decade hardly matters after a certain point,” the duke agreed. “But! I should not keep the court from their meal any longer.”
He bowed and found a chair on the left end, and at last, lunch was brought out.
Just as he’d said, an assortment of unusual fruit accompanied the rest of the meal—long, yellow fingers all conjoined at the knuckle; gilded orange creatures with strange green crowns, spiky and uncomfortable to the touch.
The queen’s dragon fruit opened up to reveal a milky white flesh dotted with black seeds.
I prodded at the strange foods. From how quiet Nicolas remained at my side, I might have thought he was the cursed one.
He barely ate by the time the plates were cleared, and he didn’t stick around to chat.
I watched him leave, noticing the rigid posture of his shoulders and the briskness of his step.
I wanted to go after him, but forced myself to remain seated for an appropriate interval to avoid making a scene.
When I reached my chambers, I wasn’t entirely surprised to find him within. He chewed his nails and watched the window as if he expected someone to appear in the courtyard.
I dismissed my ladies-in-waiting and approached the prince, placing a hand on his back. “Nicolas…?”
He turned slowly, bringing his hand down from his mouth. His relief was tangible. “Alana.”
“You’re petrified.” I touched his cheek. He was impossibly cold, as if he’d gone outside and planted himself in the snow. “If it’s about the Banewights, I think you did a good job of handling them, though we should discuss a strategy—”
“It’s not about the bloody Banewights,” he snapped. Regret painted his features just as quickly, and he took hold of my hands. “I’m sorry, my love. Will you walk with me?”
I nodded, though it was hard to ignore the way he’d raised his voice.
We left the room, ascending to the top floor and then heading for the observatory towers.
A brisk chill blew down the spiraling stairs, and by the time we reached the top, it was all I could do not to curl up and share the prince’s body heat beneath his cloak.
He went ahead of me, standing at the edge and looking over the palace grounds. I slowly approached him once more to take his side.
Then, with little warning, he sprang onto me, enveloping me in his warmth. His hold was too firm, but I couldn’t protest him with such terror in his eyes. This was no act of lust; he needed comfort, and I obliged him, my hands rising to touch the space between his shoulders.
I held him a while before speaking, giving him time to breathe me in. “It’s all right. Whatever it is, I’m right here.”
Nicolas’ grip tightened as if he was fighting himself. When it began to falter, his whole body shuddered in self-protest. Finally he spoke, his voice muffled against the furs on my shoulder.
“I’m about to tell you something only three people in this world know: my mother, Quinn, and myself.” He pulled back just enough to look at me. “Promise me you’ll never betray me, Alana.”
I searched his eyes. It was a hell of a gamble for him to make, to place his trust in a woman he’d abducted and made a murderer of. But he could trust me; I’d told him before, we were in this together. His enemies were mine, as were his burdens. “You have my word.”
His words fought him every step of the way.
“Augustine of Demagret is a Hadrian who resisted the merging of Antier. He fought for their independence, but couldn’t gather enough support and ultimately accomplished nothing on that front.
The last time I saw him, I was fourteen.
He’d stayed for a lengthy visit after my father’s passing, but left for home with suspicious urgency. It was just before my…”
His voice cracked. He tried to move away, but I held him fast.
“You’re safe with me.”
I could feel his breath seize. “Before I killed my uncle, Alphonse. Percy’s father.”
Something raw and terrified manifested in his expression as I took a step back, but I kept a hand on him, waiting for explanation.
“My uncle resented the merger. It contributed to his lost claim to the throne, but you would never know the extent of his hatred for my parents, for me,” Nicolas said, his voice catching.
He swallowed. “He was a doting uncle.. The man brought me gifts, spent time teaching me all there was to know about statecraft. I learned the stories of our family’s history from him.
My parents and I were never close, especially not at that age.
Such is the reality of being a prince: your parents may create you, but it falls upon others to do your rearing.
I loved my uncle more than my own father. ”
Sensing the weight of what was to come, I drew circles on his back with my fingers, offering a physical tether between us. He shuddered in response.
“One day, he suggested a trip to Hadria. It had been a while since my last visit, and he said it was time I learned more about the kingdom’s other half.
My mother was hesitant, but Alphonse insisted it would strengthen me as a future king, and be a welcome reprieve from mourning the loss of my father.
” His fists clenched, propped up on one of the observatory’s columns.
“We traveled with a small retinue; a handful of guards, servants. We passed the time with songs and stories. He talked about his wife, long dead by then, and his struggles with raising Percy. He made it out as though I was his real son, and Percy was only a bitter disappointment.”
I imagined a younger Percy, raised by a father who hated him, his mother departed from the world. No wonder he’d loathed the prince.
Nicolas paled. “Three days into our journey, he sent the guards ahead to secure lodgings. We took a detour on-foot, walking through the woods near Kartova. My uncle said there was an old battlefield there, where our ancestors had fought alongside Hadrian allies many centuries ago. He led me deep into the forest, talking all the while about duty and sacrifice. He said that sometimes, we must make terrible choices for the good of the realm.” His voice hollowed. “Then I saw the rope in his hands.”
I met his eyes. “Nicolas…”
He continued as though he hadn’t heard me.
“He told me the merger was a mistake, that Gallae was losing its soul to foreign influence.
How my death would spark a war between the nations that would tear them apart, allowing true Gallaeans to rise and reclaim what belonged to them.
He would return grieving, claiming Hadrian nationalists had killed his beloved nephew despite his best efforts to rescue me.
“I ran. He was older, stronger, but I was fast. He caught me by a ravine, nowhere left to go. There was a struggle, and he…” Nicolas touched his ribs unconsciously. “He had a knife. I thought I was going to die, but there was a rock, and when he lunged for me again, I…”
Nicolas looked as though he was reliving the moment, horror woven into every fiber of his being.
“He held me when my father died, but I killed him. I bashed his skull in with the stone and watched him bleed into the forest floor. The guards found me a few days later, half-dead from exposure and grief.”
His eyes were bright with unshed tears. I cupped his face in my hands. My heart broke for him, for the boy who’d been forced to kill the man he loved most.
Nicolas blinked the memory away, his voice steadying. “Now Duke Augustine comes, and I must know if he was aware of my uncle’s plans, if he participated in the conspiracy to have me killed…and if there is still a lingering movement for secession. I need you.”
“You have me,” I promised. Another request to do something damnable, but I felt no guilt this time. “I’ll uncover the truth.”
Nicolas made a desperate sound and pulled me in once more, this time crushing his mouth to mine.
His hands framed my face, fingers tangling into my hair as if he needed to feel every part of me to know that I was real.
The kiss was graceless and frantic, our breaths ragged as our teeth caught and our tongues collided.
He swayed with me, neither of us particularly balanced, and dropped a hand to hold me by the waist. I tasted salt, perhaps tears, as a tremor ran its course from his body to mine.
When he broke for air, his forehead pressed to mine.
“Oh, Alana,” he breathed against my lips. “You must be careful. The Banewights—”
“Yes,” I replied. “Your instinct to act disinterested in me around Taran was correct. He killed the witch who cursed me. If he discovers that I am the cursed child—”
“Belay that. If he or his seekers catch so much as a whiff of magic…” His eyes darkened. “Alana, he could have you killed. Burned alive. No, we should find another way. Something that doesn’t risk your life. This is madness.”
I gripped his sleeve. “I’ll be subtle.”
Nicolas rubbed his own arm, still visibly uncertain. “I can’t lose you.”
“You won’t.” I smiled. “I won’t use magic. I’ll find another way.”
He softened with relief. “And regarding the act? I tried to come across as though I was not madly in love with you,” he finished, shyly meeting my eyes. “I did not wish to rouse any suspicion, so I played the part of a prince reluctantly marrying a commoner. But you must know I adore you.”
I had known it, of course, but it was the first time he’d so frankly put it to words. My face flushed as I tried to master the way his confession rippled through me. “All right, charmer. Can we go somewhere warm now?”
Embarrassed, Nicolas obliged my request. He led me back down the stairs, the difference in temperature astounding.
I felt my fingers prickling from the sudden change, an itch spreading throughout my extremities.
I craved the warmth of my blankets, but as Nicolas tried to return me to my chambers, we both stilled at the sight of the queen at my chamber door.
Dierdre cleared her throat from across the hall. Queen Adelaide turned and crossed her arms, her expression unreadable as ever as she looked between her son and me.