CHAPTER 34 - The First Day of Winter
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She lingered by her chamber door, her storm-gray eyes fixed on me with that unnerving, piercing gaze. Searching, as though she might unearth something hidden beneath my skin. She always looked at me like that, as if there was more to me than the man beneath the crown.
No one else ever looked at me that way.
"I hope it won't become a recurring event," she said, slipping her hand away from mine.
The absence of her touch left my palm cold, but I straightened, crafting a smile.
"Sadly, I don't have the luxury of time for such indulgences. Without an empress, the weight of festivals and celebrations fall squarely on my shoulders. A tedious burden, but..." I tilted my head, letting my smile sharpen. "It's good for the economy, so I cannot simply cancel it."
"A whole month dedicated to a single birthday," she huffed. "It's... excessive."
I ran a hand over my face, groaning.
"Oh, don't remind me. I loathe it more than you could imagine."
Her lips curved, just barely, but the sight was rare enough to stop me in my tracks.
"Also," I added, stepping closer, "I couldn't help but notice you weren't in your chambers earlier. And when you returned, you were wearing a cloak. Most ladies would be asleep by that hour."
Her body stiffened.
"Where did you go tonight?" I asked, lowering my voice just enough to let the question weigh heavier.
"I was practicing my dance," she replied quickly. "For... your birthday. If you must know."
A slow grin spread across my lips.
"Oh? Are you so determined to earn a higher rank?"
"It would be nice," she said softly, though her tone carried no conviction.
Warnings prickled at the back of my mind, but I pushed them aside. The idea of her slipping away to practice somewhere secluded was charming enough to disarm my suspicions. And if she were a spy, wouldn't she be more careful? No spy would wear their disdain so plainly.
"In that case, I won't keep you any longer," I said, stepping back with a courteous nod. "Goodnight, Princess Raine. Sleep well."
"Goodnight, Your Majesty," she said before retreating behind her door.
I sighed, letting the faint trace of her scent cling to me — a sharp blend of leather and rain, underscored by something unexpectedly sweet.
Plums, perhaps?
Pulling my hood low over my face, I returned to Dornhold's main castle, moving like a shadow through the labyrinth of stone and ivy.
I kept to hidden paths only I knew, slipping through concealed doorways and hidden gardens.
Finally, a vine coiled around my arm, lifting me to the balcony of my chambers.
The moment I stepped past the dark emerald curtains, a figure stopped me.
"Where have you been in the dead of night?"
Chamberlain Feldor stood at the center of my room, arms crossed over his chest, his trembling hands betraying the bravado in his stance.
"Sneaking into my chambers unannounced..." I said, my tone cold as I unfastened my cloak. "I could have mistaken you for an assassin and cut you down."
His chin remained high, though his knees threatened to buckle.
"Cut me down if you must, Your Majesty, but this cannot continue. You were expected to spend the evening with Lady Olviah, and instead, you vanished into the night like a thief."
I strode to my desk, ignoring his trembling, and poured myself a goblet of blackberry wine.
"I had matters to attend to. Matters that cannot risk reaching the ears of spies. Send gifts to Lady Olviah in the morning as an apology."
Feldor hesitated, then approached, his disapproval written plainly across his face. I poured him a goblet before he could voice another complaint, thrusting it toward him.
"Drink," I ordered.
He opened his mouth to protest but thought better of it, draining the goblet in one go. Wiping his mustache with his sleeve, he straightened.
"I know my usefulness to you is limited, Your Majesty.
But all I wish is for the Thorne bloodline to endure.
Please, the empire would be at ease if you could seed a child before the war.
My heart won't last at this rate. I'll be dead before you return from your campaign if this continues.
Then another poor fool can manage your court. For now, the job falls onto me."
"Perhaps then I'll finally have some peace," I said with a smirk, sipping my wine.
He stiffened, his thinning hair stirring in the night breeze.
I sighed, his grim expression wearing on me.
"Don't look so dour, Chamberlain. I'll fulfill my duties. The rest is in the hands of the gods."
He huffed but turned toward the door.
"I will draft a new list of candidates tomorrow," he said before leaving.
Finally alone, I stripped off my clothes and moved to the silver basin, splashing cold water onto my face. My warped reflection stared back at me from the dark surface, but I couldn't wipe the smile that lingered on my lips.
I had been worried Raine would be too afraid to take flight on the griffon. Yet, as always, she surprised me. She even seemed to enjoy flying.
Covering my mouth, I tried to stifle that smile as I walked to my bed. Moonlight spilled across the room as I settled into the soft embrace of the fur blankets, her image refused to leave my mind.
And like most nights, she waited for me in my dreams.
But tonight, something was different.
We weren't sharing casual conversation in the gardens or exchanging quiet words over a meal. We were in my chambers. And her dagger was aimed at my heart.
The very same one I had gifted her.
Instinctively, I caught the blade just in time, its edge biting into my palm.
"Raine... why?" I whispered.
She didn't answer.
Instead, she drew a second dagger, this one flashing toward my throat. I reacted without thought, stopping her strike and twisting the blade in one swift motion.
It plunged into her chest.
Her eyes widened as blood dripped from her lips. The realization of what I'd done struck me like a physical blow. My chest tightened, my breath caught, and my eyes burned with unbidden tears.
"Why?" I choked out louder as her blood soaked into my hands.
Her head shook faintly, the light in her gaze fading with every second.
"I hate you," she whispered quietly. "I'll always hate you."
And then she went limp in my arms.
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Two weeks had passed since that dream — if it could even be called that.
Her voice still lingered in my mind, her dying words clawing at my chest. Fortunately, nothing like that happened again. But why had I dreamt it? Was it a subconscious fear?
Or perhaps a future I wished to ignore?
Was there a chance she could truly be after my life like Isolde had warned me so many nights?
Surely not...
Isolde had many virtues though her faults were plenty too. I knew my first bride was a jealous woman. Letting her words affect me would be foolish.
I had no time to dwell on shadows or phantoms. Today was the first day of winter, and with it came the cursed pageantry of my birthday celebrations.
Dornhold swelled with activity. Servants darted through halls, arms laden with garlands of black and green, their heads bowed to avoid my gaze. Advisors muttered among themselves, clutching scrolls of elaborate schedules and lists of nobles.
Outside, under the winter sun, frost clung stubbornly to the hedges and fountains, but the garden had been transformed into something extravagant enough to rival any royal feast.
Surrounding the tables, hundreds of silver-framed glass lanterns were strung from the newly erected pillars.
Beneath it, braziers blazed, their warmth coiling through the crisp air.
Black velvet draped every surface, threaded with green embroidery in the patterns of vines and thorns.
And crystal goblets caught the flicker of candlelight along with silver plates reflecting the opulence of the feast prepared for my court.
The nobles arrived first, their chatter a low hum as they took their places on the right side of the banquet. The concubines followed, each of them dressed to catch my attention. They lined up along the left side of the garden, ranked meticulously.
I arrived last, my footsteps echoing against the cobblestone.
My table, set at the head of the banquet, loomed above the garden on a raised dais. A canopy of black silk and woven vines curled above it, offering a shelter from the cold.
The murmurs died as I took my seat, the garden falling into a reverent hush. My black cape spilled over the gilded chair, its embroidered thorns glinting in the firelight. The scent of roasted meats, spiced berry wine, and sugared pastries filled the air, thick and indulgent.
Yet, my attention was elsewhere, scanning the faces before me.
Concubines leaned forward, their painted lips curving into smiles. Isolde, seated with the Nightshades, raised her goblet toward me, and I inclined my head. Despite her flaws, she had celebrated ten birthdays by my side and had supported me longer than most advisors.
"Your Majesty," one of the nobles began from my right, raising a toast with a string of compliments in my honor. His voice was loud and full of false cheer, the kind of display that grated on my nerves. It only prompted another noble to continue the charade, trying to earn more favor than the last.
I was too busy for their games. The looming war demanded my attention. Preparations for the campaign south consumed my days, and even today, my mind strayed to strategies, supply lines, and the weapon Raine's vylnir could become.
Raine.
I hadn't seen her today, though I knew she was here. She always seemed to blend into the edges of the room, just far enough to avoid notice. It was infuriating how often she lingered in my thoughts. Even now, as nobles clamored for my favor, my mind sought her out.
A servant approached, bowing low and placing a goblet of wine before me. I waved him away without a word, scanning the garden again.
The celebrations carried on around me with music and laughter. But it all felt hollow. These people celebrated my birth not out of loyalty or affection, but out of obligation and self-interest.
And yet, I sat there, as I always did, watching over them like a wolf among lambs.
The murmur of conversation and clinking glassware quieted as I stood, my goblet in hand. All eyes turned to me — concubines, nobles, and servants alike.
"I thank you all for your presence today," I began. "It is a rare thing to summon the full court, and rarer still to do so in celebration. In honor of this occasion, my twenty-sixth birthday, I have prepared something for each of my concubines."
At my signal, a procession of servants emerged, each carrying small, ebony chests bound with black iron hinges. One by one, they placed the chests before the concubines, starting with the highest ranks and working their way down the line.
The chests clicked open in unison, revealing dozens of storm-forged gems from Drakfjord, each one shimmering with an unnatural, eerie light that danced like captured lightning. Gasps rippled through the garden as the concubines leaned forward, their eyes gleaming with awe.
But my attention was fixed on Raine.
She sat near the middle, the soft pink of her gown marking her as one of the Peonies. Her expression, however, was far from the reverence shown by the others.
Her eyes darkened as they lingered on the chest before her, lips pressed into a line so tight it might have drawn blood.
A slow smile crept across my lips. Her reaction was as fun as I had anticipated.
"Do you not approve of my gift, Princess Raine?" I asked, my voice carrying over the low hum of conversation.
All eyes turned to her.
Her head snapped up, her gaze locking with mine, defiant yet wary. It was a dance we'd performed before, one that never ceased to amuse me. I watched as she carefully schooled her features, suppressing the fire I knew burned beneath her skin.
"It is a most generous gift, Your Majesty," she replied, her tone icy yet measured. "Though you must pardon me if my reaction seems... unimpressed. Gems such as these are so common to my people that they are hardly cause for excitement."
I laughed at her audacity.
"Apologies, Princess," I said with an unhurried smile. "I shall ensure that your compensation later is far less mundane."
Her eyes widened, her composure slipping for just a moment before she recovered.
She was exquisite like this — poised, sharp, and brimming with a barely contained storm.
"As you wish, Your Majesty," she said through a strained smile.
Satisfied, I turned my attention back to the court, still smiling as servants continued to serve more food.
Platters of roasted meats and glistening trays of honeyed pastries were carried to the tables.
Goblets overflowed with deep purple wine, and the lanterns strung throughout the garden began to glow brighter as dusk encroached, casting a golden haze over the gathering.
Now it was their turn to present offerings.
One by one, nobles rose from their seats, parading their gifts before me with the same polished flattery they had perfected over years of scheming. Golden statuettes, rare artifacts, and opulent trinkets were gifted, all meant to curry favor and secure their place within the empire.
I received each offering with the same detached interest, my face an impassive mask.
After the nobles had emptied their arsenals of opulent gifts, the concubines were next.
Isolde was the first to approach, her black gown gliding over the cobblestone like liquid shadow. She curtsied low, a vision of grace and poise.
"My love, I congratulate you on another year of gracing this empire," she said, her voice smooth as her silken red hair. "I bring you a gift from my homeland."
At her signal, two dozen servants entered, each carrying barrels of dark wood. The display was ostentatious, even by Isolde's standards.
"Red wine from Bludverdii," she continued. "Made in my mother's vineyards. As the celebrations shall last a month, rest assured, I have provided enough to sate the thirst of every guest, sparing no expense."
I allowed a faint smile to touch my lips.
"A thoughtful gift, Lady Isolde. It seems you have saved the crown a considerable sum of gold. For that, I thank you."
She dipped her head, a slight smirk playing at the corners of her mouth.
"It is a pleasure, My Love. I wish only to lighten your burdens."
With a final flourish, she withdrew.
Next came Cerys, quiet and composed as always. Her gown lacked the flair of Isolde's, and so did her words. Yet her offering was anything but modest.
"I present enough grain to sustain your armies for three years, Your Majesty," she said without embellishment.
A murmur of approval rippled through the crowd. Even the most jaded nobles glanced at one another, clearly impressed by the scale of her gift.
It was thanks to events such as these that the empire's tax had no cause to rise. Even in war. Nobles gladly sponsored their daughters with funds that would otherwise have come from my people.
After Cerys came Princess Griveen, her steps hesitant but determined. She curtsied, raising her chin as the breeze played with her white-tipped brown hair.
"Though I have already gifted you the griffons of my homeland," she began, her voice faltering, "I offer you something more personal. I present my skills, Your Majesty. I shall lead the griffons into battle if you will have me."
I sipped my wine, considering her with a measured gaze.
"The griffons are already under my command," I said, watching her stiffen at my words. "However," I continued, "I may find use for riders skilled in more... delicate tactics. Your offer is noted. Thank you, Princess Griveen."
She bowed deeply and hurried back to her seat.
The procession of gifts continued, each concubine presenting something to strengthen the empire.
Bronwyn pledged fifty thousand forged swords, another offered cattle and spices, and others contributed treasures from their families.
Those of lower ranks, unable to match the wealth of their peers, resorted to personal offerings — paintings, poetry, and musical performances.
Finally, the Peonies stepped forward, and I straightened in my seat as Raine appeared alongside two others. Lady Virella, adorned in golden jewelry, was unmistakable, as was Lady Sireen, whose resemblance to Princess Griveen marked her as kin.
Raine stood in the center, her eyes meeting mine with unwavering intensity. Her pink gown clung to her form like mist, its delicate fabric shifting with every step.
"I have no wealth to offer," Raine began. "But I hope to make you smile with a performance. This dance is a tradition of my homeland. And under special circumstances, by the hand of someone who has mastered the art, it can reveal a wonder."
"A wonder?" I asked, leaning back in my chair with feigned indifference. "I've seen your dance and its wonder at the Harvest Festival, Princess. Surely you don't expect the same trick to work twice."
She smirked.
"Then a wager, Your Majesty."
Whispers erupted among the nobles, but I raised a hand, silencing them.
"Do share," I said, leaning forward with a growing smile.
"If I can surprise you," she said, "you must promote all three of us. If I fail, you may demote me back to Clover."
Gasps rippled through the garden, followed by murmurs of disbelief.
I laughed at her audacity.
"A bold gamble, Princess. Very well. Begin your performance. I am most curious to see this... wonder of yours."
She smiled, and it was the kind of smile that promised chaos.
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