11. Chapter 10
Chapter 10
A dastrus kept his eerie eyes on me, unblinking. There was no warmth, compassion, or even shock in that gaze, as if he predicted I’d show up and pluck the throne from his grasp.
I sincerely hoped he hadn’t been expecting it.
“Princess Elspeth,” a clear voice called from the crowd.
With a final glare at my brother, my attention shifted to the approaching older man. His dark green robes, edged in black, billowed gracefully with each step. The crowds parted for him, easing his approach.
A steady presence crowded my back. Without looking, I knew it was Sainte. With him behind me, I noticed a surge of strength, as though I truly were a princess capable of handling whatever challenges this man threw at me.
“I am confident I speak for our entire kingdom when I say that I am pleased to find you’re alive, and… as well as could be expected.” The man’s light-brown eyes, the color of warm honey, darted to my sweat and grime-covered clothes.
“We were in quite the rush to get here,” I said, stumbling over my words in High Wynter.
“Not a day late,” Adastrus spoke up, lifting his chin and arching a brow at Sainte behind me, “to issue the challenge, that is.” His voice was lilting and lovely, if not for his haughty tone.
I shrugged, not knowing what to say.
As if sensing I needed help, the man watched me with wary eyes before turning to his sovereign. “Prince Regent—”
My brother’s sneer turned to utter annoyance as he leveled his glare at him.
“—Princess Elspeth has had quite the journey. Might I suggest she retire to her rooms? The whole of Wynterborne would celebrate her return, with you, as her brother, leading the festivities.” His voice flowed as smooth as oil, eyes fixed on Adastrus with a deferential tilt of his head.
He didn’t trust my brother, but I doubted I could trust him, either. Politicians were never anyone’s genuine friend.
“I think that would be best. She does appear as though she’s been dragged through a dungheap, no?”
“At the very least, Prince Regent.”
The crowd’s laughter was hesitant, tinged with uncertainty. I could hardly blame them. I just upended their political world, and now they didn’t know what to expect.
“Princess Elspeth, Anderz Dyre of the House of Meledis, at your service.” The older man dipped into a bow, then joined my side, offering his arm.
I glanced at Sainte, looking for assurance or a warning. He would identify who to trust, not I. His cool blue eyes flicked to meet mine, then to Adastrus.
No help there.
Anderz’s sharp gaze studied my face as if it held all my secrets. Swallowing past the nervous lump in my throat, I forced a smile before glancing at Sainte. It dawned on me that he wouldn’t join me if I didn’t speak up. With a hand on Anderz’s arm, I allowed him to lead me to the side.
A recruiter had no place with a princess.
I opened my mouth to say something—anything—to allow Sainte to accompany me, when Anderz spoke.
“Your Highness, I respectfully request that Captain Nytestorm join us. His firsthand knowledge of her journey would assist the healers in understanding her needs more effectively.”
“Like an erring bastard?”
I flinched as if I had been struck, and my lip curled in a snarl as I turned toward my brother.
A slender yet firm hand gripped mine in a bruising hold. I whipped my glare to meet Anderz’s eyes, but didn’t find shock or urgency there.
He was deathly calm.
“We simply must be sure she is in perfect health and able to present the challenge to our prince.” Those cunning honey irises studied my brother. “If Captain Nytestorm were to offer any information concerning her injuries on the journey, they would all be taken into consideration.”
“Go then,” Adastrus huffed in disgust, shifting his attention to the crowd with hungry anticipation. “But, Captain,” he glanced back at Sainte with a sneer, his expression filled with disdain, “I see you’ve brought no recruits. ‘Tis a pity.”
Panic rose in my chest and squeezed my throat as my brother grinned. His eyes were wide in a horrific kind of way .
He was evil.
There was nothing more to it, Adastrus was evil.
Another squeeze around my hand warned me not to interfere, and I bared my teeth in a hiss, spinning to Anderz. His unblinking gaze held mine, a silent warning.
“I shall be at the stake at first light,” Sainte replied in crisp High Wynter.
“I look forward to it.”
Without a thought, I whirled, yanking my hand from Anderz’s grip. Sainte stepped between me and my brother—a wall of protection. Rage trembled through me as I glared. His gaze remained cool, unmoved by my silent command for him to move his arse before I handed it to him.
“This way, Princess.”
I clenched my fists so tightly my fingernails bit into my palms. Sainte held my stare, urging me to regain composure and act with dignity.
Curse that.
I spun and grabbed Anderz’s arm, glaring at the man. “Please hurry, I’m quite tired,” I growled.
I needed out—away from the stares, the brightness, the gaudiness. It was all too much. And I wanted to hurt someone.
Preferably my vile brother.
Anderz seemed to understand my urgency and led me through the sea of people. Gowns of silk and satin, woven with gold and silver threads, bodies adorned in jewels that made the room gleam. Every one of them parted, clearing a path.
Whispers and hushed voices followed as we hurried through the crowded doorway. Sainte stayed close to my heels, his presence a soothing balm to my rage. Anderz guided us deeper into the belly of the castle, and as we passed, servants paused their duties to steal glances at me. Their expressions shifted from curiosity to horror when they saw my disheveled state, then bustled off to resume their tasks.
The castle was a maze of passages I should’ve known like the back of my hand, but instead I relied on some old man to guide me. I kept pace with his surprisingly quick gait, only shaking my boot once when a pebble rolled under my foot. He moved through a towering corridor, its vaulted ceilings lending an air of grandeur. Though spotless, the space exuded a chilly darkness, illuminated by sparse lanterns along the walls. Portraits adorned rich tapestries, predominantly of royalty, their features reminiscent of my heritage—dark hair and piercing peridot eyes.
“This is your wing, Princess. ”
My brow furrowed as I surveyed the space, empty save for the flurry of servants darting about. Their hurried movements and wary glances our way spoke of their unease.
“It has been empty since your disappearance,” Anderz said, slowing our pace a margin. “Please forgive the maids as they freshen your rooms.”
“Anything is more welcome than a saddle on horseback,” I muttered.
The women chatted in hushed whispers, darting in and out of the room at the end of the hall. More carrying armfuls of blankets appeared through a thin door tucked away behind a massive tapestry—a servant’s passage. I remember them magically appearing as a child, not knowing where they came from or where they went.
Anderz cleared his throat. “I imagine a bath is in order.”
I shrugged, watching an older woman with silver hair and a stern face glide down the corridor. She moved with her back straight, and chin raised high, as if she were royalty herself.
“Your Highness,” she greeted. She sank into a deep bow before rising to peer down her nose at me. At Sainte, her eyes narrowed into a squint, as if we somehow disappointed her.
“Princess Elspeth, this is Master Servant Bernita. She will see to it that every need and desire you have are met,” Anderz said, coming to a stop in front of the woman.
I lifted my chin and matched her stare.
“The hearth has just been lit, my lady. It will take time to warm the rooms. We readied them as quickly as we were able. If, perchance, a messenger had been sent, we would have been ready to receive you.”
Clearly, she wasn’t among those who were pleased to see I was alive. I bristled and opened my mouth to speak, but Anderz beat me to it yet again.
“They were traveling with all haste, Bernita. You will prepare a hot bath and send for a healer to tend your princess.”
I noted the care he used with his words, rebuking her but, at the same time, being gentle. Her sharp gaze settled on me once more and, sniffing in distaste, she turned, disappearing into the room. We waited while she chased all the maids out, each trying their best not to ogle me, their long-lost princess, and each failing miserably.
When we had her nod of approval, Anderz stepped forward and held out his arm in a gallant gesture toward the door. I took a steadying breath and rounded the corner to look into the rooms that would now be my home.
I stopped in my tracks, both horrified and awestruck.
The room gleamed in hues of gold and green, adorned with intricate tapestries depicting vibrant spring scenes—a golden sun casting its warm rays over blooming trees and dancing girls. Thick doeskin hides covered the stone floor, offering warmth and comfort underfoot. Lanterns, brighter than any I had seen in Landing’s End, lined the walls with an inviting glow reminiscent of a sunny day, a full contrast to the snowy scene outside.
This had to be the receiving area, featuring an ornate table and six carved chairs placed opposite the roaring fire in the hearth. Beyond, I noticed a doorway leading to another brightly lit space. A bed, larger than most fishing vessels, caught my eye from within.
“Does it suit you, Your Highness?” Bernita asked.
“I can’t go in there like this!” I choked out. “You don’t even want to know what I’ve stepped in with these boots–”
“Princess, please. A bath and fresh clothes will be readied,” Anderz cut in, and I swear Sainte stifled a laugh with a cough.
Bernita’s stare fell to my shoes, and her lips pressed into a thin line.
After a moment, I swallowed past the nervous lump in my throat and took a step forward—then stopped, causing Sainte to plow into my back. I dropped to the ground in the middle of the corridor and sat on my rear, yanking my boots off.
It wasn’t as if my feet were any cleaner due to the number of holes in my boots, but at least I felt like I was making an effort to keep the furs clean. I shook out the few pebbles that had worked their way in and looked up as Sainte offered his hand. His eyes twinkled with mischief, even if his face was still and serious. I gave him a shy grin and allowed him to pull me up.
“If you will…” Anderz prompted again, gesturing to the doorway.
With an apologetic wince, I stepped inside, then cleared my throat against the groan that threatened to come out when my feet hit the furs. I had never felt something so soft against my bare toes—aside from warm sand.
That would have been welcome in this chilly climate.
I drifted further, taking in the sparse decorations that lent the room a cozy yet impersonal air. There weren’t many trinkets of my own to personalize the space. It felt like someone else’s home, not mine.
“I’ll not be long with the water and healer,” Bernita said, before she excused herself, pulling the door shut behind her.
After a moment, Anderz turned to Sainte, all formalities forgotten. “Cutting it a bit close, weren’t you, Captain?”
“We ran into a few minor issues along the way.” Sainte gave me a flat look.
“A few more breaths and we would have welcomed you in an entirely different manner.” Anderz walked to the fire and used the iron rod to adjust the burning logs. “The regent is seething. I hope you’re prepared for tomorrow.”
“I will do my duty.”
“Your duty will see you pass through the Veil if you’re not careful,” he hissed. “Princess Elspeth has very few supporters. Don’t waste your talent. ”
“She is here, is she not?” Sainte asked, tone weary.
“I am,” I snapped. “And I have quite a few questions, so if you both could stop talking about me as if I’m not standing right beside you, that would be splendid.”
Anderz turned, his movement slow and meticulous as he scrutinized my face. “You hid her in Tilamuik? Among the Meeds?” he murmured.
“Gladier didn’t seem safe.”
“As it wouldn’t have been. Adastrus never thought to search southern ports. I’m surprised she wasn’t sold into slavery.”
“I know my way about the slums,” I shot back, angry that he was still not addressing me. Perhaps the two had a lot to catch up on, but I was standing right here, could they not talk to me instead of about me?
Anderz appeared taken aback for the first time, and he turned his frown on Sainte. “You didn’t put her in a noble’s house?”
“They would have betrayed her.”
“That would have been a risk, but now we have to deal with her Common Muik.”
“It slips out,” I grumbled, then crossed my arms over my chest, my boots dangling from my hand.
“And her High Wynter is horrendous.”
I was an adult—but at that moment, I did not act like it.
I jerked, throwing my boot. It struck true, bouncing off of Anderz’s shoulder.
He froze, not moving a muscle, and I wondered if I misjudged his loyalty. If Sainte trusted him, then I would too… but perhaps Sainte was the only one that could deal with my level of rebellion.
“I’m right here,” I said again, suddenly unsure of myself. This was a counselor to the high court. I didn’t know how much power he had, and if I acted rashly, I had no idea how he would respond in turn.
“You threw a boot at me.”
His unblinking gaze met mine, and I ground my teeth to hold it.
“I did.”
“A boot you would not dare step on a fur with, yet you deemed it acceptable to throw it at me.”
“Yes, because I’m–”
“I now understand the issues you ran into along the way.” Anderz's face broke into a smile. He walked to the table and pulled a chair out, motioning for me to sit. “If you would, my petulant princess, have a seat?”
My lips pressed into a thin line as I stole a glance at Sainte. Despite the sweat and grime from the road, a hint of amusement tugged at the corner of his mouth.
Surely that meant it was safe .
I sat, dropping my other boot to the floor and leaned forward on the table, eager to participate in the conversation as an equal.
“Sit up straight, Princess.” Anderz settled across from me.
I cleared my throat, obliging him, then placed my hands demurely in my lap.
“Let me be blunt, the Wynterians have long mourned your death. Today you rode in looking like someone that the regent aptly described as ‘dragged through a dungheap.’ Besides Captain Nytestorm and myself, only General Jorgeson knew you might be alive. The band of men that joined our captain were the most trusted of our warriors. The court will follow the crown, whoever’s head it lands on.
“You are stirring up the emotions people have both feared and hoped for over fifteen years,” he murmured, leaning closer. “Few friends remain by your side in this endeavor. You have set down a challenge that many have not seen in their lifetimes. Remember, you stand at the mercy of both gods and priests, and the priests, my dear, are firmly aligned with Adastrus.”
Deep unease flitted through my chest—I was out of my depth. I had avoided anything Wynterian in Landing’s End and the ports. And now, confronted with this venture, I couldn’t shake my inadequacy.
“Can I trust you?” I blurted.
He lifted a single peppered brow, then a sly smile split his face. “Perhaps.”
“Counselor Dyre is the only one who would keep Adastrus from outright killing you,” Sainte said as he sank into a chair. He groaned, lowering his weight with care.
“What’s in it for you?” I asked.
Surely if he was a politician, there was a motive behind his desire to see my brother removed and me put in his place.
“I’m a simple man. I have no agenda,” he said, watching me with hooded eyes.
“Doubtful.” With a scoff, I flicked my wrist in a show of dismissal. “I haven’t met a noble that doesn’t have an agenda.”
“Met many nobles, have you?”
I snorted. “Pilfered their treasuries enough.”
When Anderz deadpanned, I couldn’t help but grin. Even if I didn’t get a rise out of him, watching his face shut down told me I hit some kind of nerve.
A knock sounded, and Sainte shot to his feet, his speed belying his weariness. He managed to push the chair in and take a few steps back before the door was thrust open and a woman wearing white and gold strode in.
She was tall and thin, a wisp of a woman. Her long black hair was as dark as my own, but lacked the blue sheen mine had… when it was clean. Her light eyes widened when she saw me, but her mouth lifted in a small smile.
“So it is true,” she murmured, walking over. “My name is Gilead, Your Highness. I am to tend to you. ”
“I need no tending,” I stood with a wince, muscles sore and stiff from so many days of riding, “though a bath would be welcome.”
“The prince regent asked that we care for you, see to any wounds you might have,” she pressed.
Her face was kind and her eyes shone with honesty, but I didn’t trust her.
“She’s one of the best healers,” Anderz said, standing as well. He offered her a nod as two servants followed her in hauling a tub between them.
A strange sense of longing bore into my chest. I hadn’t experienced a proper bath in years. I relied on streams, rainwater, and tidepools full of curious sea life. More often than not, I went without. The idea of having a warm soak with no danger of floating down a stream and drowning… I glanced at Sainte, who studied the servants hauling buckets of steaming water.
“It is my sole purpose to verify that you’re well,” Gilead said. “You will have the Rites of the Gods to get through soon. We must ensure you are fit to compete in them.”
“You mean, make sure I’m not carrying a bastard?” I accused.
A servant stumbled in shock, and harsh whispers berated her for reacting.
The healer only folded her hands in front of her. “If you were with child, you would be in no condition to complete the challenges, that is true.”
I sighed, peering at Anderz and Sainte, then at the tub being filled with steaming water. “A look-over, just to see I’m as fit as a fiddle, then a bath?” I was ashamed at how my voice came out as a whine.
“Well, perhaps bathing should be our first order, then I’ll examine you.”
I conceded to Gilead as a seamstress entered with Bernita. She took measurements while Sainte and Anderz retreated to the far corner, muttering to one another. I couldn’t help but wonder what plans they were plotting behind my back.
Moments later, the men left with Anderz promising to stay close by if I called. As soon as they departed, I shed my clothes and eased into the steaming tub, wincing at the heat. Halfway in, I froze, my gaze fixed on the two maids and Gilead lingering in the room, faces drawn with shock.
“Is this not how it is done?” I asked.
“Oh, it’s just—they haven’t seen so much dirt on a living soul in quite some time,” the healer offered with a reassuring smile.
She tucked her sleeves up and selected a jar from the many set out along the table. The maids nodded emphatically at her excuse for their stares and I shrugged, slipping further in, hissing as the heat pricked at my skin.
“This is… actually pretty clean,” I squeaked, forcing myself lower into the scalding tub. This wasn’t as great as I remember it being.
I scrubbed, oblivious of the water which was now a murky brown.It was so saturated with debris and grime that bubbles barely formed in it. Gilead came over to help, which I objected to until she rubbed some sweet-scented oil onto my shoulders. My protests died out as she worked loose, tense muscles that had been tight and nervous my whole life.
“Tell me, where have you been all this time?” she asked, pulling me out of my lull.
“Somewhere safe.” I ducked beneath the surface, coming up only when my lungs demanded air.
“I meant no offense, Your Highness.”
Gilead stood at the ready with a towel warmed by the fire. I stepped out of the bath and took the warm sheet gratefully, wrapping it around myself.
“You’ll also be pleased to hear I’ve begotten no bastards, nor am I with child now.” I stepped over to the hearth, which crackled and popped with comforting heat. “I bled on the way here.”
“As a healer, it is my duty to care for you,” she said, comb in hand, then motioned to my hair. “May I?”
I scoffed with a shrug. “Not much to work with.”
“Why did you cut it?” A note of sadness lingered in the question.
Behind me, the maids began emptying the tub, and I took a slow breath. What could I tell these people? Without Sainte, I had no idea what I was doing. I didn’t know what to say, or if I should say anything at all. Perhaps I ought to act as the proud, conceited nobility I witnessed in Port Siren, and simply ignore the healer.
“It was easier,” I hedged. “Not everyone can keep long hair clean.”
I stretched my fingers toward the crackling fire while she brushed out the mats and tangles. The sensation of someone combing through my hair was strangely comforting, a rare luxury. Memories sifted through my thoughts of nannies combing, braiding and primping. The bluish-black hue, along with our vibrant green eyes, served as a potent symbol of our royal lineage. From a young age, I was taught that it was a divine blessing, a mark bestowed by the gods to identify Wynterborne rulers. Places like Landing’s End didn’t follow such beliefs. The populace had the liberty to select their leaders.
Not that it benefited them.
The witch who concocted the potion to lighten my hair always warned me about angering the gods by concealing their gift. I never bought into her warnings, as I’d never encountered a god, nor had one ever spoken to me.
The priests and temples only exerted control over the population, dictating orders and laws. And not just in the religious sect, but the government as well. They stripped away the people’s freedoms. It didn’t sit right with me. Too many individuals sacrificed everything to worship in a temple, only to endure a lifetime in the slums.
It wasn’t worth it .
“You should grow it out,” she urged, voice soft. “Let it be your sign of your right to challenge. You have the means to care for it now.” With a gentle touch, she shifted to the side, weaving the small section of length.
“How long do I have to prepare for this challenge? ” I asked.
She glanced over her shoulder at the maids, who struggled out with two buckets of murky water. “There are three rites, not one. Prince Regent Adastrus would have you start today.” She finished the braid, then stepped before me, mouth dipping in a slight frown. “Yet, I would not let him.”
“You?” I asked, arching a brow in disbelief. “You can step in his way?”
“I am a Priestess of Togamar. The prince does not dictate what the gods say.”
I drew back, regarding her with fresh insight. Anderz mentioned the priests being on Adastrus’ side. I was uncertain of her intentions. Perhaps she harbored a noxious potion or magical spell to use against me. Sainte’s absence skittered down my spine, and I glanced toward the door. The maids were gone now, leaving me alone with her.
“You follow his lead.”
“I follow Togamar, and if there were a king or queen on the throne, I would follow them. I am not bought, as you accuse,” she spoke with a certain calmness, despite the bite in her words.
She set the comb on the table, then began organizing her things. I watched her with a frown, tucking the sheet more firmly around myself. More maids knocked and entered, each carrying buckets. One paused by the tub, her eyes widening in surprise as she glanced at me. I managed a faint grin before the other servant nudged her, a silent reminder of her station.
It wasn’t long before the seamstress returned with Benita, trailed by a maid who carried bolts of fabric and a case full of dresses.
Annoyance crawled beneath my skin, and I wondered if I shouted for Anderz, if he would save me from the torture about to ensue.
I was proud of myself. I conducted myself with maturity, allowing them to drape cloths and gowns around my body. Years in the slums had stripped away any sense of modesty or privacy, leaving me unfazed by the exposure. The seamstress took care, avoiding my bruised ribs and thighs, and Gilead applied salves to my battered skin where she saw fit.
After a time they allowed me to dress in a thick cotton gown adorned with lace and flat opals.
I peered at it in distaste, picking at the teardrop stone near my neckline. “You want me to go to a ball, or can I sleep? ”
“Sleep. Tomorrow you will have a good meal and feel better for it,” Gilead said as the others filed out.
“Where’s Sainte?” I asked, gravitating toward the bed. Every single muscle in my body got heavier just looking at it. Was it safe without him? What if someone tried to kill me?
“He is resting as well. It took quite a toll on him, retrieving you.”
She drew the heavy blankets aside, revealing a stupidly soft mattress stuffed with—I reached out to pat it—feathers?!
“Shouldn’t I stay up to wait for him?” I asked, sliding onto the bed. My body had a mind of its own—it knew what I needed.
“He needs his sleep as you need yours. Rest, Princess.”
She pulled the blankets over me. I moaned as I sank into the mattress and my eyes drifted closed at the heavy warmth.
“But–” I mumbled, unable to form more words.
“You’re safe here.”
Safe? In a castle with my mad brother who tried to murder me at the age of six?
My mind struggled, fighting to stay awake, but I fell into a dreamless abyss to the faint hush of Gilead dousing the lamps.