CHAPTER 53 - Rumors
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After we were both spent, I watched her sleep, her body curled against the furs. I didn't sleep at all. Just stroked her hair and drank in the sight of her. Everything had felt perfect at that moment. Like I'd set the world right.
But bliss doesn't last long on a battlefield.
As soon as I stepped out of my tent the next morning to deal with the traitor, the camp had been flipped upside down.
Cavriel Gildmere had escaped.
I took the news quietly. Nodded. And ordered a hunting party to be sent out.
Meanwhile, rumors about a second traitor ran rampant. And though almost no one dared say the name in front of me, I could hear it in the way they quieted whenever I passed... And the glances they sent at my tent.
Only one man had dared to say it aloud. And that man was now rotting in chains.
I cursed under my breath as I walked through the camp, stepping around soldiers packing supplies and hitching wagons.
I didn't want to lock Bastian up. The man had fought beside me for years.
But if he kept accusing Raine... If he kept planting these ideas in my soldiers' heads.
.. I'd have no choice but to make an example of him.
Raine didn't need this. Not now.
Fortunately, Bastian's arrest seemed to put an end to the rumors. At least on the surface. Soldiers knew better than to push their luck when my patience was hanging by a thread.
Sighing, I mounted Wraith. The unicorn shook her silver mane and huffed as if sensing my mood. With a gentle nudge, I rode her toward the front lines. When we passed by my carriage, my eyes darted toward the window.
Through the sheer curtains, I caught a glimpse of Raine lying on the bed. She lay cuddled with the vylnir, still asleep. The sight softened something inside me. She looked so small.. So fragile in that moment... And yet I knew the strength she carried too.
Suddenly, I thought of last night again. The way she clung to me... The way she moaned in pleasure... My grip on Wraith's reins tightened as desire stirred unbidden, and I forced myself to exhale slowly, clearing my head.
Though I certainly enjoyed last night, it was best I waited a while before indulging myself again.
She needed rest.
Drawing myself back to the present, I raised my voice and gave the order to move out.
The army stirred to life like a great snake, banners snapping in the wind as the columns began their march.
From my current vantage, I had a view of the river lands ahead.
And though it certainly wasn't possible to see Driftwoode's capital any time soon, in my mind, I could see Cape Saltmourne waiting.
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Do not worry, my friend, I thought. I'll indulge you soon enough.
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Though the summer heat bore down on us as we marched, the rivers offered reprieve just as I had anticipated. It was all going perfectly. Days bled into nights, nights into days, and still we pressed on... City after city falling beneath our banners.
They were weak, hardly worth the steel we carried. And fortunately, none of them demanded Briarvex's magic. I needed to save its power for the king of Driftwoode. Though he was a husk of a man, I never took chances with these things.
During the day, I rode hard, driving the army forward. And during the night, when there were no cities to take or war councils to attend, I was in the quiet of my tent, where Raine waited.
But there was something different about her.
At first, I had thought it was only the exhaustion of travel, or perhaps the whispers that had followed her since that traitor's escape. She still laughed, still teased me after a few cups of wine, and still asked me to hold her. But beneath it all... there was something hollow.
There were moments when she went quiet... Moments where all she did was stare at her dagger as if waiting for something. I'd have to call her name more than once before she noticed me. She'd brush it off with a laugh and a joke, but I knew better.
Something was bothering her...
Three months had passed since we crossed into Driftwoode. And with the first breath of autumn, we finally stood at the edge of victory. The wind carried the scent of salt as the leaves burned red and gold above our heads. When we crested the last hill, the city revealed itself.
Cape Saltmourne.
Its pale walls gleamed beneath the waning sun, stretching across the cape as if carved directly from the cliff face. The city almost sank into the sea, its harbors twisting out like fingers into the waves.
My lips curled into a smile at the sight, and Briarvex hummed faintly on my back.
Half a year of marching, and at last, the capital of Driftwoode was within my grasp.
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We made camp on the hill overlooking the city. Even without my full army, a hundred thousand men filled the land like a dark tide, tents rising one after another, smoke from cooking fires curling into the evening sky.
Once the camp settled, I made for the prison wagon immediately. After three months of traveling like this, Ser Bastian was as haggard as I imagined. He sat slumped against the bars, his once-proud form reduced to a ragged shadow. His long black hair was tangled, his beard thick and unkempt.
Yet despite his condition, his black eyes still burned with that same relentless defiance.
I stepped closer.
"I hope you've learned your lesson, Captain. I'm willing to set you free. I could use you in the siege to come. All I ask is that you vouch for Raine and put an end to these rumors."
For a moment, he was silent.
Then his lips twisted into a grin. A harsh, rasping laugh broke from his throat.
"You think I'll take back the truth?" he croaked, his voice hoarse from disuse. He looked up at me through the tangle of his hair, his eyes shining like obsidian steel.
"One can have rumors without truth," I said.
"And one can have eyes without sight," he replied, chuckling dryly. "No, Your Majesty. I stand by every word. The princess is a traitorous snake. I can only hope you realize that before it's too late."
I stared at him for a long time, fighting the urge to cut him down where he sat. But in the end, I left him without bloodshed.
Let him rot a little longer.
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That night, I didn't go to Raine.
Instead, I sat alone in my carriage with a bottle of blackberry wine, a map of Driftwoode before me. I replayed the siege plans in my head, trying to find a flaw. But there was none.
Just as I poured myself another goblet, a knock rapped against the carriage door.
"Come in," I called, my voice slightly rougher.
The door creaked open, and to my surprise, Isolde stepped in. She carried a stack of papers clutched to her chest like they were precious jewels.
I frowned.
"What do you want, my lady?"
She strode forward and set the stack down before me with a triumphant air.
"I've done it," she said. "I've gathered all the evidence. Admittedly, with some help... But it's all here."
My brows furrowed.
"What evidence?"
She spread the papers out across the table with almost ceremonial care.
"Look here," she said, tapping one sheet. "The first traitor, Cavriel Gildmere — his sister is a Dahlia concubine. Virella Gildmere. And she just so happens to be Raine's closest friend."
I stared at the paper, my jaw tightening.
I was already aware of this.
After Cavriel Gildmere escaped, I soon received a message from Dornhold that Virella Gildmere had run away.
"So what?" I asked, my voice cold. "It could be a coincidence."
Isolde's expression soured. She flipped to another page with an impatient huff.
"Then look here. The vylnir escaped right after Raine moved into Clover. Then at the royal hunt, it obeyed her. Can't you see? She entered Clover with the sole purpose of taming the creature!"
I shook my head, tired of the topic.
"It's coincidence," I said firmly.
"One incident, maybe," Isolde said. "But two? Three? A dozen?"
She began slamming down paper after paper, each one detailing another oddity surrounding Raine. Each slap of paper echoed in my skull until I couldn't take it anymore.
"Enough!" I roared, my hands slamming onto the table.
Isolde froze mid-motion.
I stood to my full height, the wine and rage burning in my veins.
"Are you the one spreading these rumors about her?"
She licked her red lips nervously, her hands trembling.
"I... I merely asked around—"
"If you ever speak ill of her again, I'll have you executed," I warned.
Her breath hitched.
For a moment, she only stared. I watched as the tears slowly welled in her eyes, but I remained unmoving, my heart like ice.
She gulped, forcing back a sob, then wiped her tears with the back of her hand.
"Then do it," she said. "So history can finally repeat itself completely. Thornmont rulers are cursed to fall for traitorous princesses."
I stared at her, my anger seething under my skin.
"Get out," I commanded.
"I will," she said softly. "But know this, Sylvos... I care for you. All of you. And nobody will ever love you like I do."
Her words hung in the air between us before she turned and left, shutting the door behind her.
The silence that followed was deafening.
I sank back into my seat, rubbing my temples as a headache pulsed through my skull. The papers lay scattered across the table, each one a dagger aimed at Raine.
And yet... something inside me refused to believe them.
After a while, the doors creaked open again and my brows narrowed into a scowl.
"I already told you to leave, Isolde."
When no answer came, I looked up.
It wasn't Isolde.
Pale blonde hair framed a face as still as a porcelain mask. And as usual, her empty blue eyes regarded me without a flicker of emotion.
"Cerys," I muttered, sighing. "I don't want any more company tonight."
She leaned casually against the carriage door, her posture almost languid despite the coldness in her expression.
"I came to give advice."
"What?" I scoffed. "To arrest Raine?"
"To promote her," she said. "To Nightshade."
My brows knit together.
"...Why?"
A faint shrug lifted her narrow shoulders.
"If she is Nightshade, she will have more authority. Perhaps then people will stop whispering about her. I am willing to offer my position."
I narrowed my eyes at her but could never tell what she was thinking.
"What do you want in return?" I asked.
"I want for nothing but to see my ruler freed from his burdens."
There was nothing in her tone that suggested she was lying.
So, I nodded, sipping my wine.
"It's certainly a good idea. Yes... A promotion would help quiet the rumors. I'll announce it in the morning."
Cerys dipped into a graceful curtsy.
"I am happy to help," she said, her voice as smooth as glass.
With that, she turned and slipped out the door as silently as she had come, leaving me once again alone with the scattered papers and the headache behind my skull.
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I woke to a blood-curdling scream that ripped through the dawn air. My eyes snapped open. And I realized with a start that I'd fallen asleep in my carriage.
Another scream followed, joined by frantic shouts, and my stomach knotted with dread.
Raine.
Without a thought, I threw open the carriage door and leapt out. The camp was in chaos, soldiers and servants surging toward a cluster of tents. My blood ran cold.
I had left her alone last night...
Fear clawed at my chest as I forced my way through the crowd, shoving aside anyone who moved too slowly. Servants dropped to their knees, bowing their heads as I passed, but I barely noticed. My mind screamed only one thing...
Let her be safe.
But as I reached the heart of the commotion, I saw the crowd was not gathered around my quarters. It was around one of the Nightshade tents.
Still, I had to be sure...
Soldiers lowered their eyes, their faces grim, while servants whispered behind their hands. As the crowd parted for me, I strode forward, every step heavy with dread.
The moment I crossed the threshold of the tent, the stench of blood hit me — sharp, metallic, and unmistakable.
Handmaidens were scattered about the room, their sobs filling the air. Two of them clung to each other, wailing with remorse.
And on the bed...
No...
Isolde lay sprawled on the sheets, her face frozen in a mask of surprise. Her green eyes were wide, unseeing, and crimson pooled beneath her.
But it wasn't the horror of her expression or the sight of death that rooted me to the spot.
It was the dagger protruding from her chest.
Raincatcher.
The longer I stared, the more knotted my thoughts became. Pieces of memories started crashing together, relentless.
Her victorious grin at her welcoming banquet after being assigned to Clover... The vylnir's escape... And then the way she almost immediately wanted to rise her rank again... Until reaching Lavender and once again not seeming interested...
Why Lavender?
What was there?
Suddenly, I remembered how many times I'd seen the vylnir in its bird form perched on Raine's shoulder.
I felt sick.
I wanted these thoughts to stop, but they kept coming. There were too many things that didn't make sense... How she knew about the Briarbound oath... How she was friends with a traitor's sister...
But then why did she save me in Flynmoore?
For what? To climb higher? To gain power?
My head pounded, each thought slamming into me like a hammer, until it stopped at my memory of Isolde's tear-streaked face.
Repeat.
Repeat... Repeat... Repeat...
The word dug its claws into my mind.
Everything was repeating. Over and over. A cycle I couldn't break.
My hands clutched my head, nails biting into my scalp as I staggered back. The tent spun. My breath hissed between my teeth. And for an instant, the body on the bed shifted — Isolde's face melting into another.
My mother.
I blinked, and it was Isolde again.
A strangled sound escaped me as I stumbled outside, gulping the autumn air like a drowning man. My chest heaved.
I had to see Raine.
I had to make sense of this.
But before I could take another step, a warning horn split the air.
Soldiers froze. Servants looked to the skies in confusion.
I forced my legs to move, moving to a higher spot on the camp's hill to see where the sound was coming from. And when I reached the top, my breath left me.
There, across the eastern horizon, an army approached.
What? How was this possible? Cape Saltmourne sat on the western coast.
So, who was this?
My eyes narrowed. Then widened upon recognizing the banners. A flaming helmet on a charred field of black.
Pyree.
But why? Why had they arrived? And why now?
Footsteps pounded up behind me and I turned toward Finnel.
"Y-Your Majesty!" he gasped, dropping to one knee, "t-terrible news!"
"What is it?" I snapped.
"It's Princess Raine..." His face was ashen. "She's nowhere to be found. It seems..."
"What?" I demanded. "What happened?"
"...it seems she has run away."
Everything went silent.
Finnel's voice faded, replaced by a high-pitched ringing in my ears. The air grew heavy, charged. My hand found Briarvex's hilt almost on its own and the weapon pulsed beneath my grip. With one motion, I unsheathed the cursed sword from my back, the steel singing.
"Get ready," I said, my voice carrying across the soldiers gathered nearby. "We're about to fight on two fronts."
The men scrambled into action, barking orders, scattering to their stations. But I didn't take my eyes off the horizon.
"Send word to the naval commander," I instructed Finnel. "Tell him he may proceed with the plan."
My gaze finally tore free from the Pyreen army and fixed on Cape Saltmourne. From here, I could see their shipyard glistening in the distance, their vessels lined like teeth. Most of them were aimed toward the land, not the sea.
A cold smile spread across my face.
Perfect.
I rolled my neck slowly from side to side, feeling the tendons pull, the hunger rising within me like a beast stirring from slumber. Briarvex pulsed again, its whispers threading through my mind, coaxing me to wield it fully.
I had always been cautious with the sword's curse. Always wary of the madness it promised if I gave it too much of myself.
But today...
Today, they would see what I was truly capable of.
Gripping the sword tightly with both hands, I lifted it up, its tip aimed toward the dirt beneath. And when I plunged it deep into the earth, I saw Raine's face appear before me.
Raine...
Princess Raine Stjorme.
I wanted to see her dance again.
But this time, I'd let Briarvex play the music.
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