48. Homeward
~ GRACE ~
I knew the city that surrounded the Fyrehold Castle well.
I had visited since my childhood. I knew its concentric rings, each level of the city a step up in both geography, and resource.
The lowest streets, just inside the city walls, filled with inns and taverns, street vendors, prostitutes, and thieves.
And between each district, each level of humanity, a new wall.
New guards. More wealth required before one was allowed in.
Until we reached the Jewel District, just one ring below the center, the wall guarding the sprawling land on which the castle turrets soared, banners rippling higher than anything, bar a dragon’s flight.
The Jewel District could barely be called a city, full of grand estates owned by the most favored nobles.
The walls and manors sprawled in the shadow of the throne’s presence, if not its structure, each separated by miles of fine lawns, manicured gardens, woods, thickets, and roads wide enough for grand carriages, or four horsemen, to ride abreast.
I’d loved this area when I was young—my parents had given me a great deal of freedom when we visited friends here, because there was little risk beyond poachers, who were far more interested in the king’s deer or pheasant than a young girl on a horse.
But as we drew out of the ever-widening streets, and through the final wall into the Crown District, even from a distance the loom of the castle set the tone. Everything grew virtually silent because there were no more streets, or industry, and my heart sank.
While we traveled alone, with only Breckon’s entourage of servants, the moment we entered the gate, those at the castle would know we were here.
Messengers had been sent on winged feet the moment we rolled past the estates in the Jewel district, and now, glimpses would be caught on the road, by servants positioned in the towers specifically to watch for the approach of anyone on the ground.
My skin tightened with the peculiar tug I suffered every time I entered a room or building from which I couldn’t identify escape.
We were still in the open air, but I knew every creak of the harness, every sway, every turn of those wheels took me closer to the cage I’d been trying to avoid since I was twelve years old.
Panic fluttered in my chest, but I stuffed it down. I’d been watched too carefully back at Breckon’s estate to have taken action. But now my time was short. And as the miles rolled under us and the castle approached, I knew I couldn’t step into that cage once more without some plan for escape.
But I despaired. Barring some coincidence of timing with the guards, or the arrival of Voski with his eerie ability to appear seemingly through walls, it was clear Breckon planned to keep me just as tightly controlled as he had back at the estate.
The court would not help me. The women had never liked me, and the men didn’t want me.
So, if the king took any true interest in this union, even those that might have been sympathetic would refuse to help.
No matter which way I looked, I saw myself being dragged up the aisle to the wedding that froze my lungs time, and time again.
I was beginning to shake. It couldn’t be hopeless! But I’d lost my blade and Voski and Kham were still too distant to reach.
Please, I begged God. Please. Don’t make me marry this monster.
My eyes had begun to blur, my throat pinching with frantic tears as each breath became harder and harder to take, because all I could see was myself dressed in a grand gown, surrounded by compassionless faces, bracketed by guards, and watched by the king, as I trudged up the aisle of the castle chapel.
In a fit of despair, I imagined throwing myself at the feet of the priest and begging for mercy, screaming that I’d been brought here against my will.
In vivid detail, I conjured the gasps of the maliciously delighted court, and the scandalized queen, Breckon’s smug indifference.
And then the tubby man of the cloth urging me to simply stand and take the vow like the obedient girl I’d always been.
And I saw myself do it. I saw myself give the vow through trembling lips, and wet cheeks, and my heart sank to my toes, the sound of this life clanging into place like the locked prison door—when I saw it.
I stopped breathing completely for a moment, certain it couldn’t be so simple.
And yet…
It was.
There was only one path through this. And the priest of my imagination had been utterly correct. I blew out a breath as a reluctant, uneasy, hopefully brilliant plan emerged.
I had to let Breckon win first. Then I would take everything.
Because here, I understood the rules of engagement.
Here, I knew what was expected.
Here, I had witnesses. Including the king.
Yet, they knew nothing of me.
…like the good girl you have always been.
Even Breckon, who knew me capable of adventures, was unaware of the training I’d received, or the experience.
None of them understood Koa’s strength, or how deeply our bond ran.
They saw me as a flighty, dramatic noblewoman who was a little bit strange, who’d tried her hand at being common, and had been dragged home in shame.
And so… I had to show them what they wanted to see.
I would be cowed. I would be frightened. I would appear to cling to my dignity in desperate hope of salvaging my life. I would be on my best behavior—and as long as Breckon didn’t touch me, I would keep my word.
For now.
I would be the fluttering fiancée, frantic to keep her rich groom.
I’d be embarrassed by the scandal, and grateful for an opportunity to overcome it.
I’d provide the excuse they needed to believe that I’d been taken in by sophisticated, worldly men.
And I would bide my time.
Breckon would, indeed, enjoy his obedient betrothed, suddenly desperate to ensure the wedding went ahead.
My parents would have their dutiful daughter, no longer enticed by the wide world—and no threat of them being accused of failing as parents.
And the king? God only knew why he was invested in this union, but he would see the contract fulfilled, and the noble bloodlines preserved.
I would do everything I was supposed to do—including, marry this pervert. Only once he’d won, and let down his guard, would I act.
I’d seen it. And it was beautiful in its simplicity. And most ironically, it was Breckon’s idea: If the contract were fulfilled, all exterior pressure suddenly vanished.
Only then, if one of us died, was the other free.
If my new husband passed away in a tragic riding accident, or choked on an olive, or fell off the cliff where he’d taken me to enjoy the sunrise… I was a widow. A highly regarded, financially independent, no longer under the purview of her parents, widow.
The freedom was breathtaking.
But only after the wedding.
And only if I could bring myself to kill this man in cold blood.
Everything in me shied away from the idea, though Koa was very pragmatic.
I hoped and prayed there was another way. Begged God to bring Voski and Kham, or my parents, to somehow intervene… But though my life had been sheltered, it had taught me one thing: if I wanted something, I had to find my way to it. Not wait for it to come to me.
Please, I begged God. Find another way. Or give me the courage to do this. But don’t let me be bound to this man. Please.
My desperate thoughts were interrupted by the crunch of the horses’ hooves as they stepped onto the wide, circular drive in front of the castle. I blinked and leaned forward to look out the window, shocked that so much time had passed while I’d been ruminating.
“Remember what I said,” Breckon muttered as the servants rushed to open the door.
I nodded, struggling not to smile. Because at least I knew what I had to do.
As the sunlight poured in through the narrow doorway and I was nearly blinded, Breckon stepped down first, then turned and offered me a hand.
I made myself take it as would be expected, bending to step out of the low carriage door, before stopping and using the straightening of my skirts as an excuse to let go of Breckon.
With a deep breath, I looked up at the looming castle, with its stone walls, high towers, and an interior that I knew intimately, full of dark corridors, and passages, and hearts.
Before us, servants stood in a broad V, awaiting our arrival, as would be usual. But at the peak of that V, to my surprise, stood the King and Queen of Fyrehold, personally waiting to greet us?
I hastily dropped into a curtsey, as Breckon bowed, before he led me up those broad stairs under the eyes of the royals, who’d never once personally greeted my parents on arrival at the castle, despite the fact that they were of higher blood than Breckon—though far less wealthy, and rarely attendant at court.
But still… why was Breckon being afforded such an honor?
I’d never anticipated this. When he’d described the king as a friend, I’d assumed he simply meant a political ally.
Instead, as we reached the top of the stairs, I found myself curtseying once more, to the king first, then the queen, murmuring the formal greetings, and watching dumbstruck as Breckon was greeted warmly by the king. So warmly, the skin around his eyes crinkled.
‘Why do you feel shocked?’ Koa asked through the link. I’d warned her to remain off the castle grounds until dark. I didn’t want anyone to see her who might know enough of dragons to recognize her in later days.
‘Breckon wasn’t exaggerating his relationship with the king,’ I told her. ‘He wasn’t bluffing with the Queen of Vosgaarde. He really is a personal friend.’
How had I not known this? Was this why my father pressed for the contract? Or had this developed without my parents knowledge?