CHAPTER 27 - Windcleaver
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"You're spoiling that thing. I swear it's gotten fat," Virella muttered, brushing nonexistent dust from the folds of her pink gown.
Despite her complaints about the color, she made it look regal. With gold embroidery catching the morning light as we entered the dining hall.
"I think it's earned a little spoiling. It's hunted most our meat," I said, scratching behind Vyvy's lopsided ears.
The dining hall was already crowded. Rows of long, uneven tables stretched beneath tarnished brass chandeliers, their ivy garlands beginning to brown at the edges. Ladies in pink clustered near the far end, their laughter echoing.
Heads turned as we entered.
Whispers followed.
"Oh, do toss a coin if you plan to stare so much," Virella snapped.
"Of course, the first thing you Daisies do is beg for gold," one of the women with long yellow hair retorted, sipping her tea as though a foul stench had appeared.
"Of course," I agreed as Virella and I took our seats. "We'll need to summon a tailor again for our next rank. Not all of us get to stay in pink for the rest of our lives."
The yellow-haired lady who I recognized from my first life sent a sharp glare. Lady Panella Duskwood. She had been executed for infidelity when she was caught with a servant in her bed.
Lady Panella recovered quickly, her gaze flicking to Vyvy.
"And what is that? Have you brought rats from Daisy?"
Some of the more ignorant ladies giggled while others remained frozen as stone, their eyes wide as they stared at the vylnir.
"Careful," I said softly, tilting my head. Vyvy stretched with a yawn, claws and dozens of teeth gleaming eerily. "It bites."
Lady Panella's eyes narrowed.
"Perhaps this little rat grows hungry and mistakes you for a wheel of cheese," Virella added with a smirk.
The laughter in the room shifted, breaking unevenly. A few ladies smothered their smiles too late, and Lady Panella's expression curdled.
"Beasts belong in the menagerie," she sneered.
Virella didn't miss a beat.
"Then perhaps you'd feel more at home there."
This time, the laughter in the hall was full and unrestrained. Lady Panella stood so quickly her chair scraped against the stone floor. Her eyes blazed as she fled from the hall with two other women trailing after her.
I let out a breath as the noise settled.
"You could learn to hold back," I smiled at Virella. "These women aren't our enemies."
"No, you're right," she said, dishing breakfast onto her plate. "Though they are my entertainment."
I shook my head.
After the dead birds that were left in our beds, I couldn't exactly blame her.
With the main perpetrator of Peony dealt with, the two of us continued our breakfast in peace and excused ourselves without any jibes from the other ladies. I headed toward my room to leave Vyvy to nap, but as I passed one of the chambers, my steps slowed.
The wreckage inside was untouched — splintered wood and shredded fabric draped about.
And there, perched on the jagged edge of the broken window, sat Lady Sireen.
Her bare feet dangled over the ledge, toes brushing empty air as the wind tangled through her white-tipped hair. She hummed softly, the sound hollow and eerie.
I stepped inside carefully.
"Virella and I are heading to the Seneschal's office for our promotional allowances," I said, breaking the uneasy silence.
She leaned back, tilting her head upside down until her wide eyes found mine.
"How lovely."
I hesitated, my gaze flicking to the ruins around us.
"You could come along. We'll be requesting new furniture."
Her lips curved faintly.
"That's kind of you, but I'll be gone soon."
The words settling like frost on my skin.
"Where are you going?" I asked.
Sireen straightened, her gaze drifting back to the view beyond the window. She swayed slightly, as though the breeze might carry her off if it tried hard enough.
"My cousin should be arriving in two weeks," she said, her tone light. "And I doubt she'll want another rider in the harem."
"Rider?" I echoed.
"Mm."
She turned then, her smile hauntingly peaceful.
"Princess Griveen won't come empty handed," she said. "She brings with her Thornmont's solution to Driftwoode's ships. After all, the sea could never hope to touch the sky."
My pulse quickened.
I had been so focused on stopping the vylnir and sea snake in this war that I had not considered another obstacle to thwart my plans.
No doubt, this meant trouble.
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The Seneschal greeted me differently this time. Gone was the distracted old man with ink-smudged fingers and frayed patience. Instead, he set his quill aside and presented his full attention.
"How are the repairs at Clover Castle?" I asked.
"Excellent, Princess!" His enthusiasm bordered on nervous relief. "The windows replaced, the leaks sealed, furniture restored, candles and oil restocked. And I've hired a cook and proper staff. The castle's upkeep should be light this season now that these matters are settled."
"And the bedding? Curtains?"
"New as well, Princess. You should visit sometime. It's quite transformed."
I nodded, brushing a fleck of dust from my pink sleeve.
"Let us have coats made for the ladies there. Winter in Thornmont will be unforgiving."
"Ah, it'll be your first winter here, right?" he asked, eyes brightening.
"Yes," I murmured. "Drakfjord has mountains, too. The snow smothers everything if you let it."
"Very true, Princess. I'll see to the coats."
I let my gaze wander. Shelves strained under the weight of tomes and scrolls, their spines cracked and fraying.
"How much will the upkeep cost moving forward?" I asked.
"With ongoing maintenance? A thousand gold a season, give or take," he said.
"Good. Send half my salary to cover it."
He wrote that down, nodding proudly.
"I'll keep the other thousand this time," I added before pulling a sealed letter from my sleeve. "And I need this sent to Count Boaris."
The Seneschal's eyes flicked to the wax seal, his mouth pressing thin.
"Letters are permitted only for Dahlia rank and above, Princess."
Dahlia was above Lavender.
"Then file it under my title as Beast Warden instead of concubine," I said.
He bowed his head slightly.
"Of course."
I left the office satisfied.
Virella and Sireen were waiting outside, the latter oblivious to the pointed looks she drew as she gazed skyward.
"Why are we looking after the ghost?" Virella asked as she stalked toward me.
I chuckled.
"Sireen isn't bad. And we might need her for another issue." My voice dropped as I scanned the courtyard. "Thornmont might gain an unexpected advantage soon..."
Virella's brows knitted.
"That doesn't sound good."
"It isn't."
Since we were already at Dornhold's main castle, I suggested visiting Clover Castle while we were nearby. Virella agreed, and Sireen followed without question.
The improvements were obvious before we even crossed the threshold. Four guards now flanked the entrance, their armor polished and their posture stiff.
Inside, the transformation was startling. The wild ivy had been stripped away, the dust swept clean, and the torches replaced — burning steady and bright. Even the scent of rot and mildew had been chased out, replaced with faint traces of floral oil and wood polish.
I headed for the dining hall. A sleek oak table dominated the center, gleaming in the light filtering through narrow windows. Most of the Clovers were gathered around it, their laughter breaking off the moment we stepped inside.
They surged toward us like waves drawn to the shore.
"Princess!"
"We were hoping you'd visit!"
"Thank you for the repairs!"
"And the staff!"
"We even have fresh bread now!"
Their praise fell like a downpour, drowning me before I could catch my breath. I stiffened, unused to the warmth in their voices, the shine in their eyes.
But it felt wrong.
The only life I could truly remember was a constant battle of barbed whispers and sharpened smiles. That was the way of the harem after all.
And yet... These women looked at me as though I was their sovereign.
What would happen to them if Sylvos fell?
The answer curdled in my stomach.
Thornmont's defeat wouldn't end with a crown in the dirt. It would end with fires and bodies, and the women standing before me wouldn't live to see the smoke clear.
Their smiles lingered, but mine never came.
War was such a terrible thing.
Perhaps if I was a better person, I could've found a different answer to all this.
Alas, there was only one thing I sought in this life.
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The weeks slipped by quicker than I'd thought.
The new concubine's arrival loomed, but I spent most of my days below the castle. The forest gave me space to practice my High Elvish without interruption.
"I think I've gotten quite used to it," I said, flicking dried plums toward a group of talon-toed foxes.
Raincatcher leaned against a boulder behind me, glinting in the sunlight breaking through the forest clearing. Vyvy, in its small form, lounged beside the dagger, glaring as if my generosity toward the foxes were a personal offense.
"Your memory's sharp, I'll give you that," Ryn said. "And you've stopped mangling the pronunciation. You should be proud. No mortal has ever learned High Elvish. It's..." He hesitated. "Unheard of."
I turned toward the blade's reflection, smiling.
"Well, Claude has her strength and Skye has her beauty. But I have my wits. Of course, it's occasionally accompanied by a reckless mouth, but that only adds to my charm. You should count yourself lucky to have such a promising student."
Ryn scoffed as he strolled around the clearing.
"It's all about the teacher."
I laughed and sat down on the boulder beside Vyvy.
"Why has no human learned Elvish before?" I asked, tossing another plum. "It's difficult, true, but surely someone..."
Ryn's steps halted, his pointed ears twitching slightly. When he turned, his eyes were a shy blue.
"No elf would teach a mortal our tongue."
"Why not?"
His grayish lips pressed into a line before he answered.
"In the time of elves... Mortals were enslaved. Unlike us, your kind does not possess your own magic and were seen as vermin. Some lords kept mortal females as pets. Others had your males fight to the death."
Goosebumps prickled my arms.
I'd heard old tales — the kind meant to scare children into obedience. But they'd mostly been bedtime stories, too old for written history.
How had humans risen to power if such creatures ruled these lands?
I suppose it didn't matter anymore.
"So," I said, smirking. "A handsome elven king such as yourself not only took a human as a lover, but a slave as well? I imagine that earned a few laughs."
Ryn's glare was sharp enough to cut.
"In my day," he said coldly, "mortals like you lost their tongues."
I stuck mine out at him just to make a point.
"Too bad you got killed by one."
"Ha..."
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By midday, I returned to the castle, leaving Vyvy curled on my bed. News of Count Boaris' arrival reached me just as I climbed the steps and I hurried to meet with him.
The gardens were bright with sunlight, though the chill of autumn still clung to the air. Count Boaris greeted me with a wide smile and a deeper bow than was strictly necessary. Behind him, guards watched us like statues.
"Good afternoon, Princess! It is such a pleasure to finally meet you again! How many months has it been since your welcoming banquet? Around four?"
"It feels like only yesterday. I trust your journey was uneventful, Count?" I said, lowering myself into a chair at the shaded table. Trays of refreshments gleamed between us.
"Quite uneventful, yes," he replied, taking his seat after me. "But most fruitful."
"Have you found what I asked for?"
His beady eyes gleamed.
"Your request was... unusual, Princess. I was almost certain it would be impossible, but your tip proved accurate."
At his signal, a servant stepped forward and placed a chest on the table.
I sipped my tea, masking the sudden tightness in my chest as he opened the lid.
There it was.
The silver dagger gleamed even in the shade, its polished blade slightly curved and its hilt carved with intricate patterns much like Raincatcher. A storm-forged gem, cold and dark, pulsed faintly in the pommel.
I ran my fingers over the hilt, feeling the familiar grooves worn into the design. It looked exactly as I remembered — as though no time had passed since I last held my friend.
"It has a name, did you know?" Boaris said excitedly. "Windcleaver."
My grip tightened as I lifted the blade.
Welcome back, old friend.
The count beamed, mistaking my satisfaction for gratitude.
"As promised, Princess, it is yours. I'll take only five hundred gold — far less than its true worth."
"You're too generous, Count," I said with a measured smile.
"Only to those who deserve it," he replied.
Only to those you're betting to become empress, I thought to myself.
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As was tradition with the arrival of a new concubine, a welcoming banquet was summoned, draped in decadence from top to bottom.
Unlike at my own unveiling, tonight I chose a fabric that wouldn't attract attention. My gown, ashen pink, nearly gray, hung in soft folds with the usual design of Drakfjord fashion and a light skirt that was easy to move in.
Or run.
Concubines, nobles, and knights spilled into the hall, their laughter echoing amongst the grandeur.
The mirrored ceiling caught shards of candlelight, scattering it like broken glass.
Chandeliers hung heavy with ivy, and thick pillars coiled with throned vines loomed overhead.
At the far end was the blackthorn table where Sylvos and I had once dined.
Tonight, however, I sat closer to the center with the other Peony ladies. Virella and Sireen flanked me as we sat with our backs to the wall, getting a clear view of the event.
"Finally, we get some good food," Virella murmured.
"I do hope for cake," Sireen added blissfully.
I traced the edge of Windcleaver, its blade glinting like moonlight on water. I searched its surface for a reflection, but there was none. Ryn, it seemed, was a unique occurrence tethered to Raincatcher alone.
The room stirred. Whispers rippled through the tables. My gaze snapped upward, and my stomach coiled tight.
Sylvos strode past in armor spun from shadows. His steely tunic gleamed, and his long black cape billowed behind him. The silver crown atop his head looked sharp enough to bleed anyone who dared come close. And as he passed Peony's table, his steps slowed.
For a moment, he didn't look.
Then he did.
His gaze found mine, a smirk slicing across his lips, before he strode on and sunk into his chair at the far end of the hall.
Two weeks had passed without sight of him, and while I'd heard murmurs of war preparations, his absence felt like the calm before a storm.
To be honest, I was quite surprised not to have seen him recently.
After he saw me dance in my first life, he sought me out plenty. But this time, it felt as though he avoided me.
And I had no idea what he was thinking.
"Introducing Princess Griveen Vinterbane of Vrostvale," a bellowing voice shattered my thoughts.
The great doors creaked open.
The air turned brittle.
"Well, isn't she bold," Virella scoffed beside me.
The new bride stepped into the hall like a storm descending. Her hazel-brown hair mirrored her skin, rich and warm, but bled white at the ends, cascading past her hips. Her dress was darker than midnight, long-sleeved and lined with black fur.
A statement.
And by the looks of that smile, it seemed she was more than confident in her choice.
The whispers erupted at once — speculations about her arrogance, her ambition, and whether she would claim the empty seat at Nightshade.
I couldn't breathe.
The dress, the smile — it was all too familiar. A mirror of my first life. The memory cleaved through me as she arrived at Sylvos' table, her head high.
And Sylvos barely looked at her.
How cruel...
Even as dinner was served, the food might as well have been ash. My eyes refused to leave her as she leaned toward Sylvos, words falling from her lips like petals only to be met with cold steel.
I had been the same.
"Raine, you must eat," Virella said, nudging at me. "The cooks here are much better than those at the lower ranked castles."
I nodded briefly, staring at the food before us, glistening in the candlelight. Some of the dishes seemed foreign — delicate pastries with intricate frosting and strange breads I had not seen before.
"You look pale," Sireen said, eyeing me. "You can have some of this snowberry bread. It's very sweet and my absolute favorite." She nudged her small pale bread my way. "As a child this was all I ate."
"Thank you," I murmured, accepting her offer.
I cut into the crust and took a small bite, but the sweetness barely registered against the bitter unease curling in my stomach.
I watched the blackthorn table as I ate. Nobles and concubines approached the new bride, bowing low and murmuring praise. She smiled, dazzling and practiced, her voice floating like silk.
"Raine, you don't look well," Virella said, her gaze sharp.
"I just feel a little faint," I admitted, though the truth tasted worse than the food I forced down.
I didn't just feel faint — I felt sick.
What was wrong with me?
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