Chapter 13 Aura
AURA
Blackwood Estate, Treland
“What troubles you, Aura?” Avina tugs her dark auburn curls into a braided crown wrapped around a thin silver tiara embedded with sapphires. “You have hidden in your room again over the last several days. You seemed to be doing so much better since the Trial.”
Aura steadies her expression, knowing her mother watches her facial features closely in the mirror.
Calder’s betrayal hit so much deeper than Isabel’s. The latter presented signs she simply chose not to adhere to, where the Iss Drengr was everything she could have ever wanted.
How could he pleasure her to release one moment and then tell her he could never be with her the next? Since that day, she has chosen to remain in her room, not even confiding in her family about the men who took her that day.
They planned to kill her.
Worse, there was a familiarity with Calder.
Her captors knew him.
Why has her presence strengthened his powers and unsettled his ability to control them?
“Mum,” she says, picking at the fabric of her gown. “How did you handle Pops when he denied his feelings for you?”
Avina’s hands momentarily pause in her hair. The Princess had stopped inquiring about her parents’ complicated courtship as a child.
“It was complicated,” she recommences her twisting of Aura’s locks. “We had to grow to trust and respect each other.”
Avina catches her hesitation and stops, placing her hands on her shoulders to meet her gaze in the mirror.
“Did something else happen with Isabel?” While the look in her mother’s eyes was nothing compared to her father's, she caught a hint of the simmering intensity reserved for the King’s berserker side.
“Nothing.” Aura lies.
I should tell Mum the truth, yet something holds her back.
After the Trial, those around her seemed to treat her like a delicate flower. She wants desperately to prove herself as a strong Salt Warrior, even if she could never become a Drengr.
“Aurie,” Avina spins her around. “My daughter, I want you to know I am so proud of the woman you are. I also worry about this pressure you place upon your shoulders at no one else’s bequest.”
Aura wraps her arms around her Mum, laying her head on her shoulder. “I want to be worthy of your admiration.”
Avina kisses her forehead, redirecting her to the mirror. “You always are worthy of my admiration. I just need you to be worthy of your own.” They smile through the reflection, and Aura nods. This is not the first conversation about her self-worth between mother and daughter.
“Now, this,” Avina taps the tiara on Aura’s head.
“It was my favorite headpiece when I was first Queen. Your father crafted it for me, along with all my jewelry. It reminds me that he will always be at my side. Let it be a reminder today that you are our daughter, and we love you, no matter what has happened.” Avina twirls the perpetual loose hair at her temple. “Come on, let's finish getting ready.”
Her mother insisted that she and her daughters wear the same gown style: a tight bodice, crisscrossing corset, and flowing satin skirt. While the Queen’s fabric is the color of the South Sea, the Princess’s is deep crimson.
Thora makes a choking sound in the doorway of their parents’ bedchamber. Despite her discontent over wearing a dress like a proper lady, she still shuffled into the matching gown. Except hers is a stunning shade of deep green, akin to the leaves on the Blackwood trees.
“Thank the gods, Aura finally looks respectable.”
“That’s ripe, coming from the one who stinks like an unwashed man. You must need two baths before anyone will even look at you.” Aura quips back.
Avina levels them each a look to desist.
Before Thora can retort, a click along the floorboards instantly silences all of them.
“No need to quiet on my account.” The Dowager Queen Frida, Sigvid’s mother, appears in the doorway, leaning on a cane, with a goblet of wine clutched in her free hand.
“Grandma Frida!” Both Thora and Aura embrace their only mortal grandparent.
“Look at my three lovely girls.” She gushes. “Except, Aura. What is that fake smile on your face? Have your parents taught you nothing? We do not conceal our thoughts in this family.”
“She’s been cooped up in her room for the last week.”
Thanks, Thora.
“What good does that do? Is this boy trouble? Or girl trouble?”
“Grandma!” Aura blushes wildly. “Is it not possible I am distressed over something else?”
Frida takes a long drink of wine, surveying her over the cup's rim. “Doubtful, my dear. Is it that nice boy from Salt? The blacksmith? Oh, I find him the sweetest lad.”
“Oh, I think this one might be just a bit older, Grandma,” Thora smirks from behind Frida’s back as she shifts out the door.
Dammit, Thora and her bird infestation!
“We can discuss romantic lives, or lack thereof, later.” Avina ushers their Grandmother from the room.
“I see we are going through with this… thing.” Frida humphs.
Avina sighs at her mother-in-law. “Sigvid feels passionately about uniting the continent on the Draemonium front. One did almost dismantle our country.”
“The Ridge Province’s Golden Standard Winter 98 almost dismantled me one night, but you do not see me arranging a damn meeting about it.
” She leans heavily on her cane as she walks.
After a terrible fall a few winters ago, she now claims she is bound to it.
According to her father, Frida simply liked the aesthetic.
“We are supporting Sigvid on a matter that could destroy everything. Tonight is about greeting dignitaries and other Kings.”
“Briny’s great balls.” The older woman swears under her breath so only Aura can hear.
“Come along, both of you. Or the King will have our heads.” Avina nearly shoves Frida out the door.
“Ha! I would like to see that boy try. He could do with more stable heads on that Inner Circle of his.” Frida’s loud voice echoes down the corridor.
“I will be right there!” Aura shouts over her shoulder, still staring at herself in the mirror. The forced smile upon her lips hardly fools her family. How did she expect it to be passable tonight?
Pain over Calder’s rejection lasted only a few days before morphing into bitter anger.
He is just like all of the others. Leading me on with my emotions, only to tear me apart for someone else to pick up the pieces.
Tonight, she would enter the Farewell Feast with her head held high. A proper princess focused on proving she is a daughter to be proud of.
She spins away to be confronted by her brother, Bjorn.
The Drengr leans against the foot of their parents' bed with his hands stuffed in his trouser pockets.
Unlike their father, who wears warrior clothing for nearly every occasion, Bjorn always manages to find high-quality attire.
This evening, he appears like the prince of an ancient, wealthier kingdom such as Pradacia or Steinlund.
Shit, will anyone in this family leave me in peace?
“Practicing how to smile again?” He grins.
She smacks his arm. “The last few weeks have been exhausting, B. Cut me some slack.”
“My, my little sis, does this have anything to do with Jarl Avardsson?”
Aura gapes like a fish out of water. “Why would you say such a thing?” She emits an awkward laugh more damning than had she just remained silent. “No…Jarl Calder…no. How ridiculous!”
Bjorn remains silent while his grin widens across his face.
“Stop it!” She swats at his arm again. “The Gods may have bestowed you with foresight, but your Sacred Stone power does not make you superior. You do not know everything.”
“So defensive.” He tilts his head, maintaining that annoying smirk. “What I do know is that mountain of a man paces outside your door each night. Do not forget, little sis, I can see into the future–no matter how briefly–and he desperately wants to open your bedroom door.”
He adjusts his charcoal-colored vest while she averts his gaze, her cheeks burning.
Bjorn places his hand on her shoulder. “Be careful, sissy. You know Father just as I do. He will burn the country down should he catch you with him in any questionable state. And Calder will return to Skalor in two halves.” He tilts her chin upward so she can gaze into his gray eyes.
“I know more than you believe. And you have been less subtle than you think.”
She tugs away from him, gripping her forearm. “None of this matters anymore.” She taps one of the boards with the tip of her boot. “Anything we were is now in the wind. I care nothing for him.”
“I know you better than that.” He ruffles his loose black locks. “When you find your way back to him, please take caution.”
Aura snarls. “What are you saying?” She pokes him in the center of his chest. “That I am some sad, desperate girl?”
“Not at all. Knowing you two enjoy each other's company doesn't take foresight.”
“You are mistaken, B.” She rolls her shoulders back and lifts her chin. Whatever he has seen or foreseen is false.
Bjorn kisses the top of her head. “I do not make mistakes, little sister.” He sweeps out of the room.
Aura chooses to walk alone to Toftlund. The carriage with her mother, sister, and grandmother has already left, and she does not desire to catch the subsequent ride with Bjorn and her uncles.
There are too many questions she doesn’t want to answer.
When she arrives at the longhouse, all the doors stand open, and laughter spills out, pulling her lips into a hesitant smile.
“Princess!” Eivor almost topples her on the stairs as her brother, Serk, joins them, leaning on his staff. “Did you see they have free food on every street?”
“Father paid all the business's extra coin to provide for tonight’s Farewell Feast.” Aura embraces the young girl. “I am thrilled to see you both joining in the festivities.”
“Of course!” Eivor rolls her eyes. The little girl wraps her arms around her waist. “I always wanted a sister. You are the closest I have.”
She brushes aside the little girl’s brown hair. “You know I am here for you.”