19. Chapter 18
Chapter 18
I was an intruder, a counterfeit, a fake.
A girl from the streets wrapped in a pretty dress paraded around like a princess. My heart pounded—a frightened rabbit in my chest. Shame burned my cheeks. I stumbled over proper terms, curtsied to the wrong people, and botched my High Wynterian.
I clung to Anderz’s side, using him as a shield against the nobles. His presence deflected their probing questions. He steered conversations toward familiar topics or those where my ignorance wouldn’t raise eyebrows.
Sipping my glass of water, I tried to stay hidden in the sparse shadows. Flames flickered in decadent lanterns, their light glinting off hanging crystals, scattering warm glimmers in every direction—making it infinitely harder for me to hide.
The dress was suffocating. I despised being here. People either bombarded me with questions or mocked my upbringing.
As if being murdered by my brother at the age of six would have been better than my life on the streets.
No one acknowledged that detail, though. I wasn’t sure if they were unaware of that night’s horrors or if they chose to forget, preferring to ridicule my High Wynterian accent.
When I asked the server for water instead of wine or ale, she gawked at me as if I’d grown two heads. She fetched it, but explaining my abstinence from alcohol seemed pointless. To her, I was a royal, and royals should glut themselves during feasts and drink like common drunkards.
My brother was across the grand room, engaged in conversation with two older men. A sea of mingling guests almost drowned out the small group performing in the corner .
Musicians.
I got corrected more than once—they were trained musicians, not simple tavern bards. I frowned, glancing at the quartet playing their stringed instruments in a slow, calm song. The bards I knew could create better entertainment with just their voices and a hand slapped on a table.
“Tiring of the festivities so soon?” A man approached, tall and handsome, with pale blond hair hanging past his shoulders. His eyes warmed, giving the illusion of old friendship.
Sainte stood behind me, watching him with careful scrutiny.
“I needed a drink,” I said with a casual shrug. “I’ve had more introductions tonight than I have my entire life.”
The man laughed, sipped his wine, and nodded to Sainte before stepping closer, blocking him from view.
I frowned.
“It is tedious,” he agreed. “Though many would give their firstborn to meet you.”
I arched my brow, unamused. “That’s a bit dramatic.”
“But you, too, have a flair for the theatrical, do you not?” His eyes lingered on the fresh, rosy handprints on my face.
I sniffed, turning toward the crowd. “I don’t know what you mean.”
A chill ran through me as I noticed Adastrus staring, his expression blank. He ignored the younger noble speaking to him, focusing entirely on our exchange.
“Chosen of the Gods, the one to guide us to the old paths, the Favored Princess—that’s what the commoners are calling you.”
“And what would you call me?” I dared, watching him from the corner of my eye.
“Ah, Leihim Hinyte at your service,” he dropped into a deep bow, “Your Highness, My Lost Princess.”
I scoffed, shaking my head. “I’m not lost anymore.”
“There are those who wish you were.” He straightened and sipped his wine, watching me over the rim. “Those who wish you were more than lost.”
“Careful,” Sainte warned, hand resting on his dagger.
“I mean no harm.” Leihim smirked, raising his palm in a show of submission. “I’m simply stating a fact you must already be aware of.”
“Well aware.”
He seemed friendly enough, his body language open and calm. He didn’t appear unnerved by my presence or words.
“I’ve watched you with Counselor Dyre,” he said, stepping closer. He scanned the crowd as he leaned in to whisper, “Cunning, that one.”
Something in my shoulders relaxed when Adastrus returned to his conversation, evidently dismissing any thoughts about me and Leihim .
“He’s proved to be a well of wisdom,” I said.
“He observes the old paths. Tradition and honor, always.”
“That’s not a bad thing.”
“Not at all,” he agreed. “Not at all.”
A comfortable silence lapsed as the crowd moved about, nobles circulating among their acquaintances. People greeted those they knew and sought introductions to those they didn’t. Some conversations were brief, while others were drawn out, as if they were essential sustenance.
A shy smile played over Leihim’s lips. “Care for a walk?”
A few paces away, Anderz engaged in conversation with a small group. A young woman listened intently, sporting an eager grin.
What would he advise?
Wasn’t I brought here to mingle? To be presented to the nobles and masses? Leihim seemed friendly, and Sainte would come with me…
I set my glass on the nearby table. “That sounds lovely.”
“Splendid.”
He offered his arm, and I frowned, sensing something was off. Anderz cautioned me against causing a scene or bolting. Tonight, I had to play the game. I placed my hand on the crook of his elbow, and his features warmed, blue eyes twinkling with silent mirth as he led me out of the stuffy ballroom. The weight of every gaze settled on my back as we departed, Sainte following close behind.
As soon as we cleared the door and entered the halls, Leihim heaved a dramatic sigh. “I feel better already.”
“I thought a proper noble would enjoy the… mingling,” I remarked, amused, as we strolled toward the gardens.
“Ah, but perhaps I am not a ‘proper noble’ as you would think.”
“No?”
“Not quite. You see, I wasn’t born into nobility. I worked my way up the social ladder, making a name for myself as a businessman.”
“You?” I stifled a laugh, then made a show of looking him over. “A merchant?”
He stood tall and lean, dressed in some of the finest attire of the night. His cheekbones were high and sharp, with the striking looks of nobility about him; I wouldn’t have pegged him as anything less.
“Oh, not anymore. Though I once was.” He patted my hand and nodded at the guards, who stood watch over the gardens. “Now I oversee the merchant guild. I’m simply a person of necessity, which grants me status without an official title.”
“You keep the food on their tables.”
He laughed. “Aye, and coin in my coffers. ”
The walkway, cleared of snow, felt cold and crisp underfoot. A faint crunch of icy patches added a rhythmic melody to our steps. The winter night enveloped us in its brisk embrace, a welcome relief from the stifling warmth of the crowded room. A hint of pine lingered on the breeze, mingling with the subtle aroma of wood smoke from distant hearths.
I chuckled softly, the sound echoing in the stillness of the night, and shook my head as I gazed upward at the clear, cloudless sky. The twin moons, usually radiant, were veiled tonight, their subdued light casting a gentle glow over the winter garden. The chill in the air kissed my cheeks, a refreshing contrast to the heat trapped in my elaborate dress.
“I admit, I did not seek your company without purpose,” he said. “You see, I have a bit of a problem you might be able to assist with.”
“I have little power,” I scoffed, then sat on a stone bench.
As I settled, Sainte’s gaze met mine, a silent warning flickering across his features as he took his place at my side.
“Yet, you have enough.” Leihim sat in the space beside me. He crossed his legs, clasping his hands over his knees, and tipped his head to admire the starlit sky. His pale hair cascaded over the back of the bench. “I’ve brought my… problem to the prince regent on multiple occasions. He dismisses me each time. So, with your sudden arrival, I thought to myself, now here is an opportunity for the both of us.”
“I’m not sure you’ve shaken off your merchant ways, Master Hinyte.”
“Ah, but I am a businessman at heart.” He winked at me before returning his attention skyward. “There is a bandit, perhaps a group—”
Intriguing.
“—He, or they, as it might be, go by the name of Dire Wolf. They’ve been a plague on my caravans, raiding and plundering without mercy.”
“Why do you suspect there’s more than one?”
“There may be a single head to the spider, but it has many arms,” he said, voice hushed. “I have reason to believe the lower class protects them. Rumors hint the Wolf shares its spoils with the destitute.”
Well, that wasn’t so bad. “What aid do you seek from me?”
“You carry a unique influence among the commoners,” he remarked, tilting his head to flash a smile. “They adore you, their ‘Chosen of the Gods.’ I only ask that you make discreet inquiries, using your status to glean insights. Nothing overly perilous, I assure you.”
“Why should I?” I smirked. “I hail from the slums, Master Hinyte. I understand hardship and the value of a kind gesture, be it a bit of coin or loaf of bread.”
“Consider this a service,” he offered, gesturing to himself. “I’d owe you, and it’s time you forged alliances in the high court, Princess.”
I snickered at that. “But you claimed you’re not a true noble. ”
“I also mentioned how every noble seeks my favor,” he countered, arching a brow in challenge.
My eyes narrowed, a faint grin pulling at my lip. Oh, how I missed haggling with vendors in the ports!
When I wasn’t stealing from them, of course.
“You would ask my help to catch a thief? If the common folk are protecting the Wolf, wouldn’t I betray their trust by exposing him? I risk losing their support.”
“Merchants are common folk too, you know. They are the backbone, the lifeblood of any realm. Can a kingdom thrive without commerce? You can’t redistribute wealth entirely to the needy without reinvesting some to fuel the economy. Otherwise, you deplete resources without replenishment. It would be a kingdom’s downfall.”
This man was a bargainer.
He leaned closer and continued, “I’m not asking for military intervention, dear princess. Just keep me informed. My people are hard workers, toiling day and night to scrape by, only to have some rogue thief rob them blind to feed the idle, those too lazy to step up and earn an honest living.”
With a shake of my head, I laughed and offered a half-hearted shrug. “I’m a bit chilled, Master Hinyte. I should return to the festivities.”
“Of course. It would be my pleasure to escort you.”
His hand settled on my thigh, eliciting a wary glance from me as Sainte shifted.
“Will you consider my proposal?” he asked.
“I hope you know I have a great many things to think about.”
“I can only imagine.”
He stood, offering his assistance. I accepted it eagerly, rising beside him. He placed my hand on the crook of his elbow, enveloping my cool fingers within his warm palm and sturdy arm.
Our exchange was amiable, as if we were old friends bantering for the fun of it. I appreciated his company and his straightforwardness—a rarity among the nobility who often relied on deceit and schemes to maintain their status.
We made our way back to the ballroom, our conversation intermittent. Sainte trailed behind, his presence silent and unwavering, much like it had been throughout the evening.
Anderz whisked me away as soon as I entered. His golden eyes exchanged a lingering glance with Leihim’s before the latter nodded in acknowledgement.
I followed the counselor’s lead as we traversed various circles through the crowd, nodding politely. I maintained a quiet demeanor, doing my best to avoid appearing rude .
Leihim had not commented on my accent or my somewhat broken High Wynterian. He seemed indifferent to such details. If he truly lacked noble birth, he would have grown up with a distinct Wynterian dialect, which should have been detectable in his speech.
My gaze wandered around the room, pondering what social circles he frequented. According to him, nobles were at his beck and call, eager to curry favor. One would expect him to be surrounded by aristocrats.
My stomach dropped when I found him.
Adastrus curled lifeless fingers around Leihim’s shoulder, drawing him in for a rough embrace. When my brother peered my way, his lips spread into a sinister grin.
“Your leaving with Hinyte caught me by surprise,” Counselor Dyre said as we entered my chambers.
Fatigue slowed my steps and my thoughts, and my cheeks ached from forced smiles. “He offered a walk in the garden. I needed some fresh air.”
Anderz came to a stop near the table, gripping the back of a chair. “Be cautious with him, Princess.”
“And to think he warned me about you,” I replied just as a knock echoed at the door.
“Oh?” He arched his brow, then called out, “Enter.”
A team of servants bustled in, carrying a tub for me to wash up after the night’s festivities.
“He said you were cunning.”
“High praise from him, I must say.” Anderz studied the maids as they worked, a slight frown drawing his features. “He’s not bound by nobility, only coin. A true entrepreneur at heart. A potential ally if our interests align, but he’ll switch allegiances if another party offers more.”
At least with a merchant, there was no need to decipher hidden agendas or sift through half-truths. They followed the money, nothing more.
“I will leave you to retire. Tomorrow, the high court will request your presence. I shall see you then.”
“Anderz?”
He stopped at the threshold, his face a perfect image of patience. “Yes, Princess?”
“Why are you helping me?”
He studied me with a gentle smile and clasped hands, then dipped his chin. “There are some who have faith in the gods, and there are some who have faith in certain people and their resilience. I’m a man of faith, Princess.” He nodded, then took his leave.
Faith in me, or the gods?
I sighed, then turned to Sainte. “That was terrible.”
“His answer?”
“The whole night!”
“I agree.”
He pulled up a chair as the maids filled the tub with buckets of steaming water. They filed in and out, seemingly unaware of our presence, yet attentive in case we needed anything. I held deep admiration for the castle staff. They were some of the most observant people I’d ever known.
A maid stepped forward as the others departed. They learned by now that I preferred solitude during my baths, although Gilead’s soothing oils would have been a welcome addition after tonight’s events.
“May I assist you in removing your gown, Your Highness?” she asked, head dipped with respect.
“No.” Sainte gave her a flat stare.
“Oh, uh… yes, milord.” She lowered into a quick curtsy, then scurried out the door.
Before I could question his swift dismissal of her, he stood up, his muscles flexing as he stretched with a soft groan. His leather armor creaked as he unclasped and removed each piece, placing them on the table. He focused on the belt that secured his daggers, fingers working to unfasten the clasp.
“Like what you see?”
My heart raced, and I jolted like a startled rabbit, meeting his amused gaze with wide eyes.
Yes. Yes, I did like what I saw.
I pushed to my feet, tugging at the back of my collar to find the seamstress’s thread. My fingers fumbled until Sainte batted them away. His warm touch grazed the sensitive flesh at the nape of my neck, sending a delightful, dangerous shiver down my spine.
With a deft tug, he loosened the dress, and a rush of cool air caressed my skin as the seam relaxed. Heat flushed my cheeks, and I faced the hearth to hide my embarrassment. His touch lingered, fingertips tracing a path down my shoulders before he withdrew.
When I looked over, he had taken a seat with his back to me. He leaned on the table, fingers pressed to his lips, his gaze fixed on the door.
A smile crept across my face.
“What do you think of Leihim?” I asked, as I shed my dress and slid into the tub. The water’s warmth drew a hiss—almost too hot. Still, I sank in, easing into its comforting embrace .
Sainte cleared his throat. “I don’t know him well enough to make a judgment call.”
“What about this Dire Wolf character?” I reached into the basket beside the tub, pulling out a bar of soap.
“Heard of them in passing.”
“I think I should meet them.”
Sainte shifted, glancing over his shoulder to observe me from the corner of his eye. “He’s killed before.”
I batted my lashes, feigning innocence as I sank lower. “So it’s a ‘he,’ is it?”
“It’s no place for you, Elspeth.”
“So you know where he is.”
“El,” he pivoted fully, bracing his hands on his knees as his sharp gaze flashed a warning. “This is a dangerous game. If we make enemies of the common folk, we won’t survive. And crossing Hinyte will have the nobles at our throats.”
“I have to learn to play, eventually.” I shrugged, then lathered some soap in my hair.
“Anderz can guide you. Ask him for advice.”
I ducked under, scrubbing at my scalp before resurfacing. Gasping, I rubbed the wetness from my eyes. “Do you think he knows where to find him?” I asked, noticing he had once again turned his back to me.
“Dyre knows more than you can imagine.”
I squinted at that. His tone carried a hint of mystery, suggesting more than his words revealed.
“Why won’t Adastrus aid Leihim?”
“The prince regent can’t be bothered with their issues.”
“There’s a bandit in the kingdom. Wouldn’t he want the matter resolved?”
“Not if he doesn’t care enough. To him, it’s the caravan’s problem. They should hire more security. He won’t send soldiers to defend a common merchant.”
My frown tightened, and I finished my washing.
It didn’t add up. If Hinyte was as influential as he claimed, the regent would want to stay in his favor and, at the very least, pretend to address the issue. Something seemed off in this political web, and I hadn’t been raised to navigate the nuances of such intrigue. I was a simple girl, masquerading as a princess.
At least I had Anderz.
Resigned to seek him out in the morning before being summoned to court, I glanced at Sainte’s back before rising from the tub. I stepped out, quickly wrapping a robe around myself and plucked my dress off the floor. Approaching Sainte, I draped it over the chair beside him. His eyes tracked from my robe to my face. Something dark and dangerous heated in that cool gaze, and I responded with a sweet smile .
He grunted, standing abruptly, and pulled his tunic from his trousers. As he neared the tub, he set a dagger beside it before yanking his tunic over his head. A quiet hiss escaped his lips, drawing my attention to his injuries. The wounds from the flogging healed into long red welts, some still scabbed over, bright pink flesh exposed where scabs fell off. A faint bruise lingered on his lower back, a reminder of Adastrus’ blow when I claimed him as my Valahant.
I stepped forward, compelled by an unseen force to touch those wounds. Sainte froze at the sound of my footsteps, glancing over his shoulder. My fingers traced along his skin, drawn tight over a layer of muscles. The thick, uneven ropes of scar tissue weren’t ruggedly handsome in some dangerous way—they were ugly.
“Fifteen years’ worth?” I murmured.
“I managed to recruit enough to save my hide a handful of times.”
He turned to face me. I swallowed hard, the sound loud in the quiet room as my gaze roamed over his chest and abdomen. Sainte stood solid and powerful, his thick muscles defined beneath a dusting of dark hair, which almost concealed the bruises left by Adastrus’ fists. I held my breath, finding his face. Bruises still stained the right side, and I reached up, my fingers brushing his discolored cheek. His eyes fluttered shut at my touch, and something twisted in my heart.
“I’m sorry.”
When his stare met mine again, a strange emotion flickered across his face. Without warning, he nipped at my finger. I pulled my hand back, a surprised smile playing on my lips. He shook his head, then turned to the tub, unfastening his trousers.
I took that as a sign to leave and retreated to my dressing room to slip into a nightgown. My heart felt light, a rare happiness settling over me.
That night, my dreams were filled with thoughts of Sainte.