CHAPTER 23 - He Is My Enemy
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"Apologies," I muttered, lowering Raincatcher. "Cσ?? ?α??. H? ι? α ??ι???," I told the vylnir.
It growled low in its throat, clearly displeased, but obeyed, slinking back toward me.
Cavriel scrambled to his feet, brushing dirt from his armor and retrieving his spear with a scowl.
"I come to warn you, and I get drooled on by that mutt," he snapped at his sister.
"Deserved," Virella said with a yawn.
"I'm serious, Ella," Cavriel said, his voice dropping into a grim tone. "Don't raise your rank. Stay where you are. If you move higher—"
"I've changed my mind," she interrupted, feigning thoughtfulness. "I think I'd look excellent in black."
As the two of them bickered, a realization settled over me. Something here didn't seem quite right... I crossed my arms and raised my chin.
"A Briarbound Knight so concerned about his sister catching the emperor's attention?" I asked. "That's... curious."
They both stilled.
Cavriel's glare darkened, and before I could fully process it, his spear went flying. I barely had the sense to move my head before the wind cut past my cheek. My heart lurched as I turned and stared at the quivering weapon embedded halfway through the boulder behind me.
How did he pierce the stone?
The knight unsheathed his sword, but Virella caught his arm before he could attack.
"You fish-witted fool! Stop swinging your weapons like a madman!" she scolded, shoving him back. "Must you always act before you think!?"
Cavriel turned to his sister and as the two hurled insults at each other, something clicked within me.
Not just anyone could lunge a spear like that... I'd only seen it once in my first life.
During the siege of Cape Saltmourne... Driftwoode's capital.
This, paired with their sun-kissed skin and curly hair...
"Virella," I said slowly, "you're not from Pineholt, are you?"
The siblings stopped their argument and turned to me again. Virella's eyes widened, while Cavriel shrugged off her grip and pointed his blade at me.
"Ella, forgive me but I must silence this girl before she figures it out."
"Figure what out?" I chuckled. "That you're both Driftwoode spies?"
Both of their faces drained of color.
Cavriel lunged toward me, his sword aimed to cut me down where I stood. But the vylnir was quicker, stepping in front of me as its teeth grew longer.
"Cav, stop!" Virella barked, throwing herself in front of him. "You're going to get us all killed, you simpleton!"
He froze, chest heaving, but his eyes still burned with suspicion.
"We'll be executed for treason," he hissed, his gaze flicking between the vylnir and me as though he considered who to kill first.
This whole situation... I couldn't believe the odds of it all.
"Trust me," I laughed, brushing my hair from my eyes. "If heads are to roll, mine will fall first."
Cavriel and Virella stared at me, brows furrowed.
"What?" they said in unison.
I had no idea if this was a good idea... But I couldn't miss such an opportunity either.
I drew a slow breath and hardened my resolve.
"Drakfjord does not agree to Thornmont's ways either," I began, choosing my words carefully.
Since revealing my death would make me sound out of my mind, I took a different approach.
"The emperor's ambition may currently be fixed on the Fayndor continent, but once his hunger grows, he'll turn his gaze to our shores. I entered this harem as more than a spy. I intend to be the very spark that sets Sylvos' empire ablaze. He is my enemy as much as he is yours."
For a breath, the air held still.
Then Virella exhaled sharply, eyes flicking to her brother. Her stance eased, though the edge never fully left her posture.
"Well," she said, tone dry, "since we're all peeling back our skin... Yes. My brother and I are spies."
"Ella, don't—"
"Oh, clam it, you urchin," she snapped, swatting his arm without looking.
Cavriel winced but held his tongue.
"Driftwoode is split," she continued, turning her full attention to me.
"Our king wears the tide crown, but he does not rule.
He's little more than a salt-soaked puppet.
The true power belongs to our uncle. After Flynmoore fell, he saw what Thornmont was becoming.
He sent us to Pineholt to hide among distant kin. "
My brows lifted.
That... I hadn't known. Not even in my first life had I caught a whiff of this.
"When the emperor turned his eye toward Pineholt," she said, "we pretended to betray our own blood to enter his court as trusted members. My brother took the Briarbound oath, while I joined the harem."
Cavriel's scowl deepened as he crossed his arms over his broad chest.
"Ella, you're revealing too much," he growled. "I still don't trust this little girl." His eyes cut to me, cold and assessing. "She's the emperor's Beast Warden. She'll unleash that creature upon Driftwoode as soon as her sovereign commands."
My brow arched, mouth curling.
"Huh? Who are you calling a little girl?"
His green eyes swept over me, slow and disdainful.
"Apologies," he said. "Stupid little girl."
Before I could respond, Virella's hand cracked against the back of his skull with a sharp thwack. His head jerked forward with a grunt.
"She's got more wit than you, Cav," she snapped. "And Vyvy's far safer in her hands than in the claws of some Thornish loyalist."
Their bickering went on, but as I watched them fight much like I used to with my sisters, a sense of relief washed over me.
Maybe it was because of all the time I spent with Virella, but I felt like I could truly trust these two.
Even if Cavriel was... less than pleasant.
"As I was saying," Virella cut in, brushing imaginary dust from her navy skirt. "Our mission is to gather intelligence. Though someone insists on doing everything himself."
"You'd get yourself killed," Cavriel grunted. "Which is exactly why you need to keep your head down and not climb the ranks. The less attention on you, the better."
Thwack.
Another slap landed on his skull.
"Don't tell me what to do, you damned carp."
He glared but said nothing.
Virella let out a tired sigh.
"If you had even a sliver of sense left from when we shared a womb," she muttered, "you'd see the opportunity in front of us.
Having the Beast Warden on Driftwoode's side changes everything.
We can trust Vyvy won't turn on us. And more than that, we could even have it turn on Sylvos himself.
It very nearly killed him at the Royal Hunt. "
I nodded slowly.
"We'll need more than the vylnir to win," I said. "That's why I've quietly worked to forge an alliance with Pyree."
Cavriel snorted.
"Pyree? All those warlords can do is swing swords."
"So we give them a target," I said coolly. "Why would they wait to be conquered when they can strike while Thornmont lays siege to Driftwoode? A war on two fronts would catch the emperor unprepared — and Pyree's warlust might finally serve something greater than itself."
The knight's scowl faded into thought. He rubbed his jaw, calloused fingers grazing the golden stubble there.
"That would be an advantage," he admitted at last. "If you could tame those warlords as easily as you did that beast."
"I've offered one of my sisters in marriage," I said. "In secret of course. If Sylvos catches even a whisper of it, I'll lose more than my head. But the real problem is... I have no way to send or receive word from Drakfjord without drawing suspicion."
"Cav sends letters to Driftwoode all the time," Virella offered, glancing at her brother. "His duties as a Briarbound involve escorting weapons. He can slip away unnoticed during those travels."
Cavriel stiffened, jaw clenched.
"Must you spill every secret like a rum-filled sailor?" he snapped.
"Then would you rather explain to uncle why we let such an opportunity pass us by?" Virella shot back.
His lips thinned as he thought about it.
At least he didn't seem so apprehensive anymore.
Just one more push...
"If Driftwoode, Drakfjord, and Pyree join forces, Thornmont will fall," I said, stepping into the moment. "Not only would we have numbers enough to challenge Sylvos' armies, we'd have three cursed swords on our side. Briarvex wouldn't stand a chance."
Cavriel's gaze darkened as he looked toward the horizon, where the sun had begun to sink behind jagged peaks.
"Cascadea cannot be relied on," he said at last. "The tide sword's curse drains its wielder of will and want. Our king is little more than a shell. And entrusting the sword to another would merely yield the same result."
"Then all the more reason you need Drakfjord and Pyree," I countered. "The storm sword and flame sword are both powerful and their curses are good for war."
Cavriel's eyes narrowed at me, though he seemed less defensive.
"I heard the storm sword hasn't been wielded in decades," he said.
I nodded.
"Once my sister takes the throne, she'll wield my father's sword. I'm sure she'll ascend within three years. I can swear on my life that Fjulgor will join the war."
I knew this, because at the end of my first life, my father announced Claude's coronation.
Something shifted in the knight. After a breath, he gave a grunt and stepped forward, his steel-clad frame catching the last remnants of dying sunlight.
"We'll work together then," he said gruffly. "But only just. If anything happens to Ella..." His voice dipped into something colder, deeper. "I'll gut you like a fish."
"From where? The vylnir's stomach?" I scoffed.
He stepped past me and easily pulled the spear out of the rock. I watched him for a moment as he picked the dirt off his weapon.
"If I gave you a letter," I asked carefully, "could you deliver it?"
"I'm not your messenger pigeon," he grumbled.
"Just do what she asked," Virella said, smacking the back of his head once more.
Scowling, he rubbed the spot.
"Fine. But I'll read every word."
"Do what you must," I replied with a weary sigh. "I've been honest in all I said."
Cavriel grumbled, but with another warning from Virella, he agreed.
"I should return to my post," he muttered as the last remnants of sunlight bled from the sky. "If you want something sent, have it ready by tonight. I'll be leaving again and will only return for the Harvest Festival."
"I will. Thank you, Ser Cavriel," I said, stiff with formality.
He paused, his back to me, then turned just enough to meet my eyes.
"I still don't trust you, little girl."
"I'm hardly little," I said dryly.
He suddenly stepped closer, and I stilled as I had to crane my neck up to look at him. His shadow loomed over me, and he smirked as he seemingly got his point across. I couldn't deny he was certainly large as men went.
"I'll be watching you, girl."
With that, he turned and disappeared into the shadows, leaving us in silence. Virella sighed before she looped her arm through mine. Elbows linked, we walked back to Daisy Castle as though the both of us didn't just admit to treason that could send our heads flying.
Shifting into its smaller form again, the vylnir eagerly followed after us.
"Don't mind that fool. We shared the same womb, but I fear I took all the intelligence when we were born," Virella said regrettably. "Poor Cav was left with nothing but impulse and brute strength. He's lucky he shares my beauty, or he truly would have nothing going for him."
I giggled at that, then let go of a heavy breath.
"Virella... I'm glad to have found a common goal with you," I said sincerely. "I've felt rather... alone in my endeavor. Not entirely..." I eyed my dagger. "But still... It feels good gaining an ally."
"Oh, save the theatrics for the Harvest Festival," she waved me off. "We should start practice if we wish to gain a promotion."
"Agreed."
She retrieved her stringed instrument from her chamber before we returned to the courtyard with torches to light our way.
"I'll show you my vielle skills and watch you weep at the sight of true talent," she challenged, placing her instrument at the crook of her shoulder.
I laughed from deep in my belly as I returned her grin. Kicking off my heels, I settled into the starting stance of my dance with Raincatcher raised high above my head. My breath synched with the rhythm of the wind, the stone beneath my bare feet humming in anticipation.
"You'll lose all that confidence once you see what I can do," I smirked.
"Don't disappoint me now," she chuckled.
And our practice began.
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An hour passed in a blur of string and steel.
Sweat clung to my skin, and my muscles ached with that rare kind of exhaustion that felt.
.. earned. When the courtyard torches burned low and the rainclouds parted, Virella and I stumbled toward the bathing chamber while soaking wet, our laughter echoing down the empty halls.
The water steamed around us as we sank into the stone basin. Neither of us spoke much, too tired to waste breath, but the silence felt easy between us.
Afterward, we parted our ways.
I returned to my chamber with damp hair and lighter steps. Smiling, I shut the door behind me, leaned against the wood for a breath, and then collapsed onto my bed with a graceless thud. The vylnir, who had napped on my pillows, hissed at me for disturbing its sleep. But I could hardly care.
I thought back to Virella's face after she saw me dance and burst out laughing. I had never seen her mouth hung open like that before.
A voice drifted from beside me.
"You're in quite the mood," Ryn said.
I smiled, face half-buried in the pillows.
"I guess I am. It's strange... it feels good to have an ally. A real one."
"I'm real..." he replied in deadpan.
I chuckled.
"You're dead. Or... supposed to be."
"You're supposed to be dead too," Ryn pointed out.
It was meant to be a jab, but it drew another laugh from me.
"Perhaps that's what makes us such a bad pair," I teased. "Two dead fools roaming amongst the living. Maybe we're destined to stay dead."
The elf didn't reply.
I rolled onto my stomach and tilted my head toward the dagger on the nightstand. Raincatcher gleamed faintly in the moonlight. In its steel reflection, Ryn sat beside me on the bed — cross-legged and relaxed, his raven hair catching the faint candlelight.
"Did I ever have them as allies in any of my past lives?" I asked quietly. "Virella and her brother? Was there a time I discovered they were spies?"
Ryn tilted his head back as if answering me was redundant.
"You've never tamed the vylnir before," he said. "Not once. And as such, it had escaped from its prison in each life and devoured Clover Castle every time. The only lives in which Virella lived was when you died too soon for the creature to escape."
My heart sank like a stone thrown into deep water. I pressed my cheek into the sheets and stared at the creature curled up at my pillows. Vyvy snored softly, its shadowy fur rising and falling with each breath.
"Then maybe," I whispered, "the key to progression had always been to free it. And now that I have, I finally stand a chance."
As if in agreement, the vylnir stretched and yawned a mouthful of glistening fangs, then settled deeper into my pillows.
I reached out and brushed its large ear. It flicked once, but didn't stir.
"I really feel like this life is going to be different," I said quietly, hoping not to test fate.
Ryn's reflection didn't smile.
"It must be," he whispered.
The silence returned, cloaking the chamber in a hush. I pulled myself from the bed and lit the candle at my desk, the flame sputtering to life and casting shifting shadows along the stone walls. I unrolled a sheet of parchment, dipped the quill in ink, and paused.
So many things needed saying... Updates on the alliance, warnings, secrets.
But when I finally set quill to paper, those words didn't come.
Instead, I wrote: I'm sorry.
I began the letter with an apology to Skye — long and sincere.
I begged her forgiveness for the path I'd forced upon her, and promised that if she helped secure this alliance, she could divorce the boy when the war was done.
I told her, truthfully, that if she chose to refuse, I wouldn't blame her.
However difficult it would be, I'd find another way.
When that page was filled, I addressed Claude next. I wrote of my plans, of the preparations Thornmont was making, and asked for any news from Drakfjord.
By the time I signed my name, my fingers ached and the ink had bled into the parchment's edges like bruises.
I leaned back, the chair creaking beneath me as I exhaled.
Though before I could relax, Ryn's voice suddenly returned.
Low. And full of warning.
"Rainey," he said. "A cloaked mortal just entered your room."
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