Chapter 50
MYRA
Myra had forgotten how dark and cold the Frenzian castle was because of the lack of windows. Scattered candles lit the quiet halls, casting an eerie glow across the floors. As her gaze swept over the stone walls, she missed the beautiful stained glass of Tetria. Silently, they crept down the hall.
When the heavy rhythm of footfalls sounded around the corner, Laurince pulled them into a nearby alcove.
The tight fit was snug for the three of them, but they slipped inside it.
Myra tried not to think about who she was touching—or possibly what she was touching.
With no room to move, there was no point in worrying about it.
Laurince’s breath was warm on her neck, his exhales blowing gently across the tip of her head and sending stray strands of blonde hair flitting in the air.
A piece stuck to her mouth. She tried to blow it away, but the sound felt like a thunderous crack in the silence as they waited for whoever it was to pass.
The footsteps paused, and Myra wasn’t sure if any of them were breathing anymore.
Sweat dribbled down her back, soaking the top of her shirt. Steeling her nerves and forgetting the annoying strand of hair, Myra reached out and grabbed the unfamiliar loose thread twisting in the air. Suspicion laced the string of emotions. With a deep breath, she squashed it as if it was a bug.
The steps continued down the hall, passing the hallway they were hiding in. When the steps faded in the distance, they all sagged in relief, exhaling simultaneously.
"Nice work, Haze," Laurince whispered in her ear as they filed out of the alcove.
With her power dancing at her fingertips, Myra beamed at the praise.
Laurince grabbed Myra’s hand and pulled her forward, leading them in the opposite direction of the stranger.
As Myra followed him, the corners of her mouth turned down when a strange feeling washed over her.
Laurince and Rian’s emotions spun around her, and she tried to push past them.
Goosebumps scaled her skin as she dug deeper.
She choked on a gasp and reached out to warn the others, but she was a moment too late.
"Laurince?"
The captain skidded to a stop at the sound of the feminine voice, and Myra crashed into him. His hand slipped from hers as he turned and faced the woman who had snuck up behind them.
"Ferencia?" Laurince called out.
The woman lifted the candle she held, casting its flames toward them.
"It is you," she gasped, pressing her hand to her chest. "You disappeared, and I thought—" The woman swallowed, her eyes flicking to the spot where Laurince and Myra’s hands were previously intertwined.
Myra reached for the woman’s emotions, and waves crashed into her, one after another. The woman’s emotions were so tangled, Myra struggled to parse them. Notes of longing and sadness and fear dripped from the thread.
"We had some things to take care of," Laurince said, his voice strained with discomfort.
Myra could have sworn he shifted away from her. She was tempted to read his emotions, but stopped when Ferencia’s attention turned to Rian.
Ferencia blinked several times before gasping and falling into a curtsy. "Your Majesty, y-you’re back."
Laurince’s eyes widened as he realized his mistake, but it was too late.
"Oh," Ferencia exclaimed, eyeing their appearances and the dark cloaks draped over their shoulders.
She glanced down the hallway and at the trail of water left in their wake.
"If the guards see you…" Her words trailed off.
She nibbled her nails, anxiety pouring out of her.
"We have to go," she demanded, spinning on her heels.
After a few steps, she must have noticed no one followed her because she looked back. "Well, come on. Are you simply going to stand there and let them catch you?"
"This is my castle," Rian argued.
"Not anymore."
Rian flinched as Ferencia’s words struck him in the chest.
Myra glanced at Laurince, questioning what they should do.
But it seemed their choice was being made for them as several pairs of steps sounded.
A belly-deep laugh ricocheted off the walls and sent a chill down Myra’s spine.
The side of her hand brushed against the small blade pressed against her thigh. There was no time.
Myra turned to Laurince and spoke so only he could hear, "Do you trust her?"
"Uhm…" Laurince glanced at Ferencia, who stood wringing her hands together nervously. When he returned his attention to Myra and Rian, Laurince nodded. "Yes, I do."
"Then let’s go," Myra said, ushering the captain forward.
"At least one of you is sensible," Ferencia said, peering past them and checking the hall. "This way."
One after another, they followed Ferencia through the halls. As Myra oriented herself in the castle, she soon realized the woman was taking them to the southwest corridor. Fear laced Myra’s throat as she recalled several important figures staying on this side of the castle.
"Isn’t this where—"
"Shhh," Ferencia hushed, immediately silencing Myra. She turned down another hall, then stopped at a door.
Myra’s brows bunched together. But when she glanced at the two men, neither of them seemed as concerned as she about their location. If a lord or lady saw them, word would spread like wildfire, quickly falling to Sebastian’s ears.
Myra leaned closer, popping her head between Ferencia and Laurince. "Whose room is this?" she whispered as Ferencia pushed the door open and ushered them inside.
"Mine," Ferencia said just as Laurince answered, "Hers."
Myra’s heart stuttered as Laurince swiftly entered the room and tossed his wet cloak on the coat rack without a glance, as if it was his own room. He wiped the dirt off the soles of his boots on a quaint pink rug, and Ferencia smiled warmly at him.
Were they—had they—?
Myra jumped as the door locked shut behind her.
Laurince cast an inquisitive look in her direction. "Myra, is everything all right?"
"Mhm," she hummed, hurrying out of Rian’s way as he tried to slip past her.
Myra. Not Haze or Mys. Laurince rarely called her by her actual name. She was probably only paranoid, yet she couldn’t shake the jealousy and strangeness that covered her skin.
Laurince unbuckled his sword and sat it on the table. He pulled a wooden chair out and sat on it backwards, his arms resting over the back. He looked like he belonged there. It was almost as if Ferencia had chosen the purple curtains purposefully to accentuate the warmth in his deep brown eyes.
Rian whispered something in Laurince’s ear.
"It’s fine," Laurince responded, batting him away.
Rian groaned and yanked his cloak off. Tossing it over an empty chair, he rubbed a hand across his hair.
"The black hair suits you, Your Highness," Ferencia said as she rested her hip on an elegant vanity table that sat beneath a large silver mirror framed with rubies.
Myra quickly averted her gaze, not wanting to witness her frazzled state in the reflection. Especially not with Ferencia standing there, her hair falling in perfect ringlets, wearing a satin dress that miraculously bore no wrinkles.
"Thanks," Rian mumbled.
Myra fiddled with the buttons on the top of her cloak.
She couldn’t tell whether she was hot or cold.
Either way, the wool was suddenly uncomfortable and irritated her skin.
She began undoing the buttons. It should have been a simple task, something that was mindless, yet helped distract her from the awkwardness that hung in the air.
However, it was taking her far too long to undo them.
The others must have noticed, too, because she could feel their eyes on her.
When she finally undid the last button, she hung it up beside Laurince’s and turned, facing her next predicament.
She wasn’t sure if she should sit or stand.
She felt out of place here, uncomfortable even among friends.
When Myra looked at Laurince, he tipped his head to the seat beside him, and Myra plopped down in the chair. As the others exchanged awkward pleasantries, Myra rubbed her hands across her arms, regretting having taken the cloak off. At least it had provided some layer of protection.
"Do you need something for that?"
Myra snapped her attention to Ferencia. "Pardon?"
Ferencia arched a brow and pointed. Following her gaze, Myra found her sleeves were up to her elbows, revealing patchy red skin. Her cheeks flamed in embarrassment and horror, which only made the redness on her arms worse.
"If it’s infectious, you probably should not be so close to others, no?" Ferencia asked, glancing at Laurince sitting only a foot away from Myra.
"Oh, I—" Myra struggled to speak, her tongue suddenly feeling thick in her mouth.
Could one be allergic to embarrassment? If so, then she most definitely was.
She made to stand, but a large hand grabbed her thigh.
"Leave her alone, Ferencia," Laurince demanded, removing his hand from Myra’s thigh only once she settled back into the seat.
"I’m only looking out for you, Lo." The bitter tang of annoyance and frustration slipped into the air as Ferencia narrowed her gaze at the captain. "But you never were good at listening to me, were you?"
"If this is going to be a problem, we can leave," Laurince said, his jaw popping. He began to stand. "On second thought, this was a bad idea. We should go."
Ferencia’s shoulders dropped, her eyes widening. "Wait, no. I’m sorry," she sputtered as she ran her palm down the front of her dress, smoothing out the fabric. "It’s been a little tense around here. I didn’t mean—" She swallowed and looked at Myra. "I’m sorry if what I said was offensive."
A pang of jealousy hung in the space between the women.