CHAPTER 21 - Holding Back
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The other concubines choose to keep their distance from us, whispering behind their sleeves whenever we passed by. But I didn't mind their avoidance.
I preferred it.
When I was in Clover, I had been naive in thinking friendship could become a weapon for me to use. But I learned the hard way that such a weapon could just as easily be turned against me.
And I wasn't sure I could stomach losing anyone else.
Sighing, I finished my breakfast in silence.
As always, the dining hall was empty whenever we ate.
My gaze drifting to the embroidered handkerchief Virella kept close at hand.
A white unicorn among wildflowers, delicate threadwork slightly burnt at the corners.
Though we were both expected to wear blue now, our gowns had remained a somber navy since the day we arrived.
"Why do you look so dreary?" she asked, her voice pulling me from my thoughts. "The day has barely begun."
I gave her a brittle smile and tore off the last of my bread, offering it to the vylnir sprawled across the table. Though small, his feline form was still unsettling, his gleaming teeth tearing into the bread with far too much zeal.
"The better question is why you're so cheerful," I murmured. "Looking forward to springing snares today? I hope you're prepared to chase off the wolves."
She sighed, lobbing a bruised tomato at the vylnir. It vanished down its throat in one wet gulp.
"Tempting," she said, "but no. Some soldiers are returning with the emperor today. My brother is among them. It'll be good to see his pathetic face again."
My brows rose.
I'd nearly forgotten Virella had a brother.
"He's a knight, isn't he?" I asked.
She nodded.
"Yes. In exchange for renouncing Pineholt and swearing fealty to Thornmont, he was granted the honor of a Briarbound Knight while I entered the harem. Though, he's mostly entrusted with overseeing important transportation."
"Transportation?" I asked. "Like for what?"
She shrugged, taking a sip of her tea.
"Military supplies and such."
I nodded, suddenly wondering if this information was something I could make use of. Was there a way I could sneak letters to my sisters? Before I could ask more, a servant slipped into the hall, calling our names.
"Lady Virella, Princess Raine. A message awaits you both."
A message?
I rose and Virella followed close behind. The vylnir leapt effortlessly onto my arm, coiling itself around my shoulders as we made our way.
At the castle's threshold stood a narrow boy with mousy hair and a splatter of freckles. I'd seen the youth plenty in my first life from all the messages he delivered to concubines.
"Finnel," I greeted. "What brings you to us?"
His brown eyes widened at the sound of his name, then flicked to the creature perched at my throat before returning to my face.
"Ah, I... I have letters, Milady," he stammered, bowing clumsily. "For both of you."
"She's not a lady, she's a princess," Virella corrected the boy.
"Oh!" He blushed and bowed again, offering the letters. "Apologies, Your Highness."
"It's fine," I smiled, taking the envelope and examining the wax seal. It was a sigil of the seneschal's office — twisted thorns encircling a pen and scroll.
"Of course," I muttered, turning the letter over in my hand. "We should have received these weeks ago — on the day of our promotion."
"My apologies," Finnel said, shifting where he stood. "The administrative offices have been... overwhelmed. Most payments are behind. Some haven't been made at all."
"That's alright," I replied. "Thank you."
His eyes rounded again before he bowed quickly and fled like a rabbit. His reaction was expected. I couldn't imagine how many concubines had tried to bribe the boy for information.
I turned to Virella, nodding for her to follow.
"Come. Let's meet with the seneschal."
"What could the seneschal possibly want with us?" Virella asked as we stepped onto the arched bridge that connected Daisy Castle to the rest of the fortress. A waterfall rushed nearby, swallowing our footsteps.
"We're owed some gold," I said. "A small allowance granted to those that earn a promotion. Just enough to buy new gowns and jewels for our station. Though, it wasn't supposed to be so delayed. I won't be surprised if this was intentional."
"How small is small?" she asked, a frown tugging at her thin lips.
I chuckled.
"The amount increases according to rank."
"Wonderful," Virella muttered.
As we entered the office sector of the fortress, a pair of guards stiffened at the sight of the vylnir draped across my shoulders. Their gazes stayed pinned on it, but neither dared speak. They still hadn't decided whether the creature was a pet, a weapon, or a curse.
I wasn't all that sure either.
Outside the seneschal's office, a line of concubines curved along the stone corridor, each clutching letters or coin pouches, waiting their turn to make requests. Silks rustled as they turned to watch us approach.
Some made no effort to lower their voices.
"Oh gods, it suddenly smells like wet dog here," one sneered.
"Hush. The Beast Warden is approaching," another replied.
"Which one is the beast?"
The women burst into giggles.
Virella smiled sweetly, a glint in her green eyes.
"Careful," she said, her tone deceptively light. "We wouldn't want another accident, would we? There was so much blood last time someone got too close to the creature... I hear the emperor couldn't stomach what was left of her face."
The corridor fell silent. One woman blanched. Another quietly turned and left. No one else dared to speak.
I pressed my lips together to hide a grin. Surprisingly, there hadn't actually been any accidents — yet. But letting people worry didn't hurt either.
"I'd love to see Vyvy claw at those smug Nightshades," Virella cooed, reaching toward the beast.
The vylnir hissed.
"Vyvy?" I echoed, amused.
"Mhm. I think it suits it perfectly," she said, poking at its tail as it tried to paw her hand away.
I shook my head, still smiling. It was a miracle the two of them hadn't drawn blood from each other yet.
As time dragged on, more concubines slipped from the line, unwilling to loiter beneath our gaze. Eventually, we found ourselves at the front.
A servant emerged from the office, eyeing the creature warily before addressing Virella.
"You may enter."
She cracked her neck and stepped inside.
I eased down onto the waiting bench. Raincatcher lay across my lap, its silver blade faintly gleaming. Though Ryn knew to stay quiet in public, it didn't stop the elf from snooping around in the dagger's reflection.
I sighed and leaned back.
By some miracle, I hadn't seen Sylvos in over a month. He was thankfully much too occupied with the aftermath of the recent rebellion — overseeing punishments, repairing the razed towns, and reminding the people of his laws.
Good.
The further away he was, the better.
If all went well, he might even forget about me entirely. It would certainly make my tasks ahead much easier.
"Princess Raine," a servant called stiffly. "You may enter now."
I turned just as Virella emerged, her brows drawn and her mouth tight.
"That stingy old toad," she hissed. "He's barely given me enough to buy a single gown. Who does he think I am? A merchant's daughter sewing scraps together?"
I laughed under my breath.
"Don't waste your fury. We won't be in blue long. Save your coin for black."
A wicked smile tugged at her lips.
"Good point," she said. "Well, if you don't mind, I'll try to find my brother. He should've returned by now."
"Go on. I'll meet you back at the castle."
She turned and disappeared further into the office sector, her navy gown swaying as she walked. I lingered a breath longer, then stepped inside the seneschal's domain.
Inside, the seneschal hunched over his desk with his beard draped over the table. His ink-stained fingers worked tirelessly as his quill never seemed to stop. The air reeked of mildew and cold ink, mingling with the stale rot that clung to shelves stuffed with old scrolls.
"You've been granted one thousand one hundred gold coins," he said in deadpan, eyes never leaving the page. "You may summon a tailor, jeweler, cobbler, or perfumer to Daisy Castle. Or allocate the funds as you see fit."
I cocked my head back.
"One thousand?" I asked. "Surely I misheard?"
The seneschal's quill paused before it resumed its scratching.
"One hundred coins for your promotion to Daisy," he said. "And one thousand for your seasonal salary... as Beast Warden."
My breath caught.
One thousand gold coins for such a title? It was enough to purchase a manor, raise a company of mercenaries, or even fund a modest fleet.
He looked up at last, his pale eyes dull but alert.
"Are there any requests you wish to make?"
I hesitated.
What I truly needed was a way to send letters to Drakfjord and Pyree. But such a request would be tantamount to treason. I'd need to find another way to communicate with my sisters.
"Send the promotion gold to Daisy Castle with a tailor," I said at last. I'd need a suitable gown for the Harvest Festival. "As for the Beast Warden salary," I added, "invest all of it into the repairs at Clover Castle."
The seneschal's pen faltered mid-stroke.
"You mean Daisy Castle?" he asked, frowning slightly.
"Daisy needs patching, yes," I said, exhaling slowly.
"But Clover is crumbling. The windows are repaired, but the women there still live in rubble and don't have the means to feed themselves properly.
I wish for my salary to fund a full restoration of the place.
Servants, cooks, repairs, all of it. I expect it ready before winter. "
He blinked behind his thin spectacles. Then, silently, he bent to record the order on paper.
"V-very well, Princess," he murmured. "I shall see it done."
"Thank you, Senechal."
I left the seneschal's office without ceremony, my steps echoing down the busy courtyard. Too tired to deal with any unnecessary issues, I quickened my pace, determined to reach Daisy Castle before any run-ins.
Thorned vines twisted around pillars and arches, while thick ivy crawled up the walls. I turned a corner—
And stopped cold.
A woman clad in gold silk with a long black braid stood ahead, her form framed by a small entourage of handmaidens. Her gown shimmered like molten amber, brightening her tawny skin.
Bronwyn.
She turned, catching sight of me like a hawk. Her dark eyes narrowed, and the blood drained from her face. Without further delay, she began marching toward me with long strides, her handmaidens struggling to keep up.
I stood rooted, contemplating how to handle the matter. No doubt she was bitter after her demotion to Orchid, though I'd thought the punishment far too kind.
Would I get in trouble if the vylnir scratched her up a bit?
Just before she was to reach me, a figure suddenly stepped between us.
"Princess Raine," a servant bowed before me. "You are summoned to the war chamber. At once."
I blinked a few times.
The war chamber?
Bronwyn halted a few paces away, close enough for me to see the sharp set of her jaw. She must have heard my summons. Her lips parted, as if to protest, but the words caught behind her teeth.
Deciding the war chamber seemed more appealing than Bronwyn, I turned to the servant.
"Lead the way."
We walked in silence. Through narrow halls and under thorn-framed arches, the fortress wound around us like a maze of stone and shadow.
"Why am I being summoned?" I asked at last. "Concubines aren't permitted in matters of war."
"As Beast Warden," he said carefully, "your presence is... demanded."
I sighed.
Of course.
A thousand gold was beginning to feel like a pittance.
At last, the war chamber came into view — a domed monolith of stone and tinted glass, cloaked in a waterfall cascading over the roof. Ivy crept around the structure, as if to obscure any prying eyes from seeing past the windows.
"This is where I leave you, Princess." The servant bowed and vanished.
I approached the chamber cautiously, but two guards stepped forward at once, spears crossed to block me.
"Concubines are forbidden here," one barked, his voice cold and clipped.
I raised an unimpressed brow, my fingers brushing the vylnir's shifting fur.
He'd speak more carefully if my gown bore a different color.
"I was summoned," I replied coolly.
"Please return to your castle," the guard insisted.
My hand flexed, the vylnir stirring as if sensing my annoyance.
"At least tell me your name," I sighed. "So I know who to credit in the apology I'll be forced to write for disobeying an imperial summons."
"That won't be necessary," a deep voice interrupted.
The guards stiffened immediately, their heads bowing low. I turned, already knowing who waited behind me.
Sylvos stood with an arrogant smirk, the soft shimmer of the waterfall nearby casting a silver gleam over his pale features. A retinue of advisors and knights flanked him, but it was his black eyes, gleaming with amusement, that rooted me in place.
"What is the meaning of this summoning?" I asked with a glare.
He extended an arm, his smirk deepening.
I ignored the gesture, turning on my heel as I headed toward the war chamber. His chuckle followed me like a shadow.
"My newest bride has spoken of her interest in war," Sylvos said as he fell in step beside me. "And as Beast Warden, your insight could prove... invaluable."
The chamber was bathed in a surreal, shifting light.
Green and black stained-glass windows ringed the walls, their hues splintering into eerie patterns as water trickled outside.
Ivy hung from wrought-iron chandeliers, and in the center of the room stood a blackthorn table, its surface carved with the jagged outline of the Fayndor continent.
"Leave us," Sylvos commanded.
His advisors hesitated but bowed and filed out, the heavy doors groaning shut behind them.
I strolled along the massive table, tracing my fingers over mountains and coastlines.
My gaze lingered on the small etching that marked my island, isolated on Fayndor's eastern edge.
West from Drakfjord lay Thornmont and South lay Pyree.
My kingdom felt so insignificant against the vastness of the map.
As if it could be squashed beneath my thumb.
When I turned, Sylvos stood watching, a predator cloaked in regal finery. He didn't speak, simply waiting as if I had summoned him.
"What do you want?" I asked, my voice colder than I should've been allowed.
His smirk faltered.
"I had hoped for a warmer greeting after such a long time," he said. "Even though I gave you such a favorable trial after the hunt, you're still so cold toward me."
I scoffed at that.
"My friend, one of your many concubines, was killed. And all that was warranted was a single demotion. A slap on the wrist. Hardly justice."
"What would you have me do?" he asked with an edge that warned against pushing too far. "There was no proof. Should I execute Lady Bronwyn based solely on your word? What sort of ruler do you think that would make me?"
Perhaps if I wasn't executed just so, I would've been forgiving.
"I wouldn't put it past you," I muttered under my breath.
Sylvos' gaze darkened.
Without warning, he closed the space between us in two strides, and instinct drove me back until the war table pressed against my spine.
The vylnir on my shoulder hissed, a low, bone-deep sound that thrummed with menace. Its shadowy fur bristled as it leapt onto the table, readying itself in case it needed to shift.
Sylvos paused.
"You treat me so cruelly, Princess," he said softly. "Even after everything I've done for you... Do you not see? I manipulated the trial in your favor, risked my court's ire, and yet you still look at me as if I'm the villain."
"Why do you show me your favor at all?" I shot back, unable to stop myself against my better judgement.
Talia's swift end was a reminder of how little life meant in this court.
"You're a tyrant with no shortage of women willing to grovel at your feet," I continued. "Why not treat me like the rest? Why bother trying to win me over?"
Stop trying to sway me. Stop trying to make me forget.
The last thing I need is to owe you anything before I kill you.
His expression darkened at my words, the flicker of amusement in his black eyes hardening into something colder, crueler.
"You wish for me to act the tyrant, then?" he asked.
"Is that not what you are?" I countered.
Whatever fa?ade of charm he'd woven at the start of our meeting here, shattered. His face turned stony.
Good.
Better to see the monster clearly than to be lured by false warmth.
"If I were truly a tyrant," he said, "I would take what I want without care for consequence."
I scoffed, folding my arms.
"Is that not exactly what you're doing? Fayndor doesn't belong to you, but you've claimed it as if conquest were your birthright."
"Oh, Princess," he said, a dark smile curling his lips. "You mistake ambition for indulgence. You think this is me taking freely? No. I'm holding back."
I laughed.
"Holding back? You? Pineholt, Meadowwyn and Flynmoore lie in ruins at your feet, and Driftwoode already braces for your grasp. Yet you stand here and claim restraint? When have you ever—"
I didn't finish.
His hands shot out, seizing me in his embrace as his lips crashed into mine.
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