20. Chapter 19
Chapter 19
I expected the high court to consist mostly of nobles, and therefore, after last night’s festivities, anticipated them to be late in rising.
I was wrong.
Summoned before dawn, even Sainte groaned. I missed my opportunity to speak with Anderz, who sent word he would meet me there. My handmaids rushed to dress me and make me presentable, while Sainte donned his armor and combed his short, dark hair.
We hurried along the corridors, led by a servant until we reached a set of large wooden doors flanked by four soldiers.
“Her Highness, Princess Elspeth,” he announced with a bow as he stepped through.
I followed and steeled my expression to mask my shock. Instead of a handful of high court members as I expected, nearly fifty people surrounded an enormous stone table. The size of it seemed impractical. I’d wager servants had to crawl across it to clean its center.
“Princess, we have been eagerly awaiting your arrival.” Anderz stood, motioning to the empty seat beside him.
I inclined my head and walked with quick strides to my place, our footsteps echoing in the silent room. I sat next to a young woman with golden hair. Though petite, her posture exuded inner strength. She nodded and smiled, and I returned the gesture before I glanced around the many faces.
I didn’t see Adastrus, but my gaze locked onto Leihim, whose sharp eyes watched me intently. He flashed a bright smile, which I returned with a tight-lipped nod. Anderz took his seat as a man far to my left spoke .
“Having passed two rites, we have requested your presence during our high court meetings. It is fitting that our potential future ruler makes informed decisions.”
“And where is Prince Regent Adastrus?” Leihim inquired.
He asked what I wouldn’t have been brave enough to. And by that bright, cheery grin plastered on his cheeks, it seemed he knew it.
“As you well know, Master Hinyte, he is far too busy managing the kingdom to honor us with his presence,” the older man replied, resting his hands on his large belly.
“He trusts his advisors to inform him of any… areas of concern,” a woman added.
Her skin, pale as snow, contrasted with her dark appearance. Hair the color of fresh ink framed her hooded brown eyes, giving them a deeper, mysterious shade. Black robes concealed her figure, and she wore her locks braided and piled high, which added an air of elegance.
The room buzzed as nobles and council members clustered in animated discussions about trade and law. Conversations flowed about the success of breeding wild sheep in captivity and the advantages of farming their wool instead of hunting them for pelts. Another group debated the poor yields from food plots in one district and negotiated trades with other districts to alleviate the shortage. I tuned out, catching snippets of a debate about changing the color scheme in the castle’s main entryway and the expenses involved.
Adastrus’ absence made sense now. The meeting dragged on, half the counselors dozing in their seats. Leihim, however, leaned back, his keen eyes observing everyone. He resembled Anderz in this way, always alert. His careful nature ensured everything stayed within his sight.
I felt fortunate to have Counselor Dyre on my side. Even though I hadn’t pegged down his motives for helping me without promise of reward, he proved to be loyal to my cause. He studied the councilwoman speaking, golden eyes focused. Only his long fingers moved, tapping against his thigh under the table. Otherwise, he remained still, not a gray hair out of place.
“What of Ambassador Piers?” someone asked.
Anderz shifted, snaring my attention. His gaze narrowed on the noble who spoke, and I followed suit. The man, with a peppered gray beard, leaned back in his seat, exuding an air of relaxation as he surveyed the table.
“Dead.”
A chair slammed onto all four legs, drawing my line of sight toward the youngest councilman—his face still bore traces of boyish charm.
“How do we know?” another pressed.
“His head arrived by messenger last night.”
“A man can’t live without a head,” someone muttered .
How observant.
“One of our ambassadors?” I whispered to Anderz as comments ricocheted around the table.
“Yes, to the Glades,” he murmured, eyes flitting as different discussions broke out.
Gladier, a nation we had traveled through, sprawled to the southwest. However, a narrow strip of its land separated Wynterborne and Tilamuik. Poor relations with that region meant we risked losing commerce with the deep south. And if I learned anything throughout this meeting, it was that trade was important.
“Does our prince regent have a replacement?”
“Who would go willingly? It would be a death sentence.”
“Was there no cause?”
“No, a rumor of him bedding King Reid’s daughter.”
The room dissolved into murmurs, and I leaned toward Counselor Dyre again.
“How do we know it’s a rumor? Wouldn’t that be a crime?”
“Piers was… a man who did not enjoy women’s company,” Anderz said, studying a woman across the stone table. “To say that he lay with King Reid’s daughter… He would sooner grow a pair of wings and fly to the gods than do such a thing.”
I hummed in interest and leaned back in my seat.
“He was a citizen of our country,” a councilwoman bit out. “There should have been negotiations.”
Leihim shook his head and spoke up. “Our ambassador was killed without trial. My merchants would not dare to pass through Gladier.” His light hair swayed around his shoulders as he scrutinized the paper before him, jotting notes with a quill and ink.
“We need those crops.”
“If the southern trade route is severed, our people will starve.”
“Does the prince regent know of this? He needs to send another ambassador.”
“It is not his priority,” the woman cloaked in darkness remarked.
I frowned, tilting my head at her.
Right, my brother’s main focus was either eliminating me or expelling me from the kingdom. If he had the throne, he could do whatever he wanted. He only needed to kill me first.
“The rites are important, but this has greater urgency, Reuthland.”
“Prince Adastrus attends to matters he deems fit, and he sees this as a situation for future consideration,” she said.
Her dark stare flicked toward me, sending a cold shiver down my spine .
“Then perhaps we should send someone who thinks it is a priority.” The room fell into a sudden hush at Leihim’s suggestion.
I met his unblinking gaze as he focused on me, and the weight of everyone’s stare pricked across my skin, all of them anticipating my response. Silence lapsed and no one offered a comment in my place.
I cleared my throat, forming my words with care. “I await the third rite.”
“The God Stones are on their way, but with the Howls upon us, retrieval might take weeks.” Leihim leaned forward, a smile forming. “If a member of the royal family were to visit, perhaps King Reid would be more open to another ambassador, and trade could resume.”
“Sending Princess Elspeth into such a volatile kingdom is a grave request, Master Hinyte,” a woman’s voice cautioned.
I didn’t dare break my gaze from Leihim—his intensity held me captive.
“A risk. A gamble,” he mused, tapping his finger against the paper. “Perhaps a test.”
“You go too far!” someone snapped. “It is not our place to test the royals. That’s for the gods!” Hushed, murmured agreements followed that sentiment.
I deciphered his message through his silent gaze—he was daring me. It was a risky move. If Sainte couldn’t shield me, my life hung in the balance. Yet, if I succeeded, I could rally support from the high court.
Wasn’t this the dangerous game I’d been warned about?
“Will the rite be forfeit if I’m absent when the God Stones arrive?” I whispered to Anderz, maintaining eye contact with Leihim.
“As long as you are alive , the rite will wait for your return, Princess,” he assured me.
“I believe,” the table fell silent as I leaned in, addressing the court but fixated on Leihim’s challenging stare, “an ambassador shouldn’t travel where a royal wouldn’t dare.”
“The prince regent–”
“Has other priorities,” I stated, cutting off Reuthland.
“To ask the princess to–”
“I volunteer,” I stated calmly, silencing another council member. “I would like to meet King Reid. As you know, I grew up in Tilamuik. I understand their culture better than most who might go in my stead.”
“And what if you do not return, Princess? ” Counselor Reuthland sneered. “What about the hope you’ve kindled among the common people? The belief that the gods care for the souls of mere mortals?”
“I suppose one would have to have faith the gods will protect me,” I replied, tone dry. “Or else they might have higher priorities. ”
Lyana was in the single place I wished she weren’t—the Hall of Receiving.
While Adastrus attended to matters he deemed paramount, oblivious to the ambassador’s murder, I attempted to slip inside. A noble in luxurious furs pleaded his case nearby. My brother’s gaze locked onto me instantly, though he remained still, his eyes sharp with sinister intent.
Ethyan lounged beside Lyana, his hands folded behind his head against the wall. He grinned when I joined them, while his sister focused on Grimm, as if she might convey a message through sheer willpower.
I composed my expression and observed my brother’s Valahant at the foot of the dais. Once a jovial figure, his eyes lacked their usual sparkle. The velebond link embedded in his skin seeped red, with angry crimson lines extending from the wound, vanishing beneath his tunic.
It looked terrible—painful.
Urien’s voice, hushed yet intense, reached my ears as he conversed with Sainte beside me. The man showed a newfound concern for my companions, a protective stance against Adastrus’ threat.
“I’m going on a trip,” I murmured, glancing at Lyana before returning my gaze to my brother, who slowly straightened in his chair to peer at me.
I wouldn’t have long, lest he enact some cruel deed to assert his authority as regent over me, a point made with reckless disregard for consequence.
“Oh?” Lyana’s voice carried a note of curiosity, her gaze fixed on Grimm.
A hint of redness tinged her ocean eyes, evidence of her recent tears. The dark circles beneath them betrayed her lack of sleep. If my trip weren’t imminent, I’d have stolen a moment tonight to hold her.
“I’m bound for Gladier,” I said, my tone light with anticipation. “Their winter games are underway, and I thought you might like to come.”
Truthfully, I wanted to whisk her away from this place, far from Grimm. Her whispered confessions to me in the dead of night tugged at my heart, fueling a wish to move the sun and moons to free him. Yet Anderz made it clear there was no way. Even if Adastrus were to meet an untimely demise, his Valahant would follow through with the velefieor.
The passage of death.
I pleaded with him to continue his search for a solution, though his simple nods of understanding carried a weight of resignation. Hope seemed elusive, slipping through our fingers like grains of sand.
“I’ll sit this one out, El,” she said, hugging herself tight and leaned against her brother, who draped his arm around her, drawing her close. “I wouldn’t enjoy any games right now.”
A frown creased my brow. I didn’t relish the idea of her staying here, worrying over Grimm. There was nothing I could do, nor she could do. Love, in my limited understanding, seemed too vast to bloom within a few fleeting weeks of travel.
My eyes slid over to Sainte.
A few years of moments, though… that might be–
“I have to go right away,” I said, turning to her.
She nodded, as if she were a puppet controlled by unseen strings. “Safe travels.”
Ethyan offered an apologetic smile with a shake of his head. He wouldn’t leave his sister even if the sun itself tried to separate them.
“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” I whispered, stealing a glance at Adastrus. He sat upright, his attention fixed on us, heedless of the distraught noble at his feet who wailed and pleaded.
Something about sheep.
Lyana’s response was a noncommittal hum, a clear indicator of her distressed state. I didn’t want to risk her safety by lingering in this room. I stood and took my leave with Sainte close behind. As we rounded the corner, tears welled, blurring my vision.
“Urien will watch over them?”
“Aye.” A slight wrinkle of a frown formed between his brows as he met my gaze. “He will keep them safe.”
With a deep breath, I tried to compose myself. We faced far worse scrapes and pulled through.
But we always survived them together .
I drew strength from Sainte’s nod of encouragement, then turned on my heel and strode down the corridor with renewed purpose. I knew my way around these halls now—almost as if it were home.
Unable to sleep, I tossed and turned.
It wasn’t the bed. It was actually quite comfortable—a blend of feathers and straw—closer to what I slept on my whole life, unlike the plush pads in the castle. My mind just wouldn’t be quiet.
Doubt crept in like tendrils of mist. Was I even capable of challenging King Reid over the death of an ambassador?
No member of Wynterborne’s high court should ever fear for their lives. They were kin, part of our blood. They deserved our unwavering protection, and when that wasn’t an option, then our vengeance.
“Do you know if Piers had a family?” I whispered into the darkness.
“His mother is still living,” Sainte said .
“Is she cared for? Now that her son is gone, will she inherit his wages?” I asked, blinking at the dark ceiling.
The windowless room swallowed any hint of light. Despite the modest surroundings, the inn provided a welcome reprieve after two grueling days on the road.
“Piers came from the line of Gortyte, a noble family. She will manage well until the Veil calls to her.”
I huffed and rolled onto my side, the rough blanket scratching against my skin.
It still didn't feel right.
“Sleep, Elspeth.”
“I can’t,” I whispered.
My mind raced, tangled with questions. Why did King Reid blame Piers? If he needed a scapegoat for his daughter, surely his court offered better choices, ones that wouldn’t offend a neighboring nation.
Sainte groaned from his place on the floor, followed by a scuffle.
“I’m sorry. I told you to ask for a cot. If you want—oof!”
A strong hand nudged me aside, and I yelped, wriggling to the edge of the mattress. The bed dipped under his weight, rolling my body toward his. He pulled me against his chest, and his warmth seeped through my nightgown. His scent—a mix of earth and leather—filled my senses.
“What are you doing?!” I hissed.
“When you can’t sleep, you lay with Lyana.” His deep voice rumbled, the vibrations tickling my back.
“You are not her,” I mumbled, my voice a mix of frustration and exhaustion.
“I am your Valahant. Sleep.”
I pressed my lips together, forcing myself into silence. With my eyes shut tight, I struggled to quiet my mind. Images of fish swimming upstream flickered through my thoughts. I counted them over and over, then when that didn’t work, I repeated words in a futile attempt to exhaust myself.
Don’t move. Sainte is holding me. Don’t move.
“This isn’t the same!” I hissed, trying to scoot away.
He tightened his grip, pulling me closer. “Tell me of Landing’s End.”
I frowned, stilling against him. “Pardon?”
“Talk. It will help to get your thoughts out.”
“That’s not what I’m thinking about.”
“What are you thinking about?”
My heart pounded, cheeks burning in the darkness as I focused on the heat of his body against mine. Safe. Secure. In his embrace, I felt undeniably feminine, an unfamiliar yet welcome sensation.
No, I wasn’t sharing those thoughts with him .
“How terribly uncomfortable this must be for you,” I lied, clearing my throat. “I warn you, I kick in my sleep.”
“Lyana seems to manage just fine.”
“She kicks back.”
“I’m sure I can handle it.”
“Share a bed with many women, have you?”
I cringed, slapping a hand over my mouth. This wasn’t the question to ask the man I had crushed on as a teenager, especially while he held me tight.
In a bed.
In the dark.
Alone.
Sainte stiffened, the silence stretching between us. I bit my finger, torn between hoping he would stay and wishing he would return to the floor.
His sigh tickled my neck, and he relaxed, settling deeper into the mattress. “Can’t say that I have,” he murmured.
“Really? A dashing man such as yourself?” I asked, thankful for the darkness that concealed my blushing cheeks.
“No.”
Oh, don’t do it. Elspeth! No–
“Surely, there was a maid in the past. Someone you swooned over.”
Thrice-curse it and dunk me in a pit of pig dung.
“Swoon?” He chuckled, his chest rumbling against my back. “No, I can’t say I’ve ever swooned.”
“Never?” I pressed, surprised. How could any maid resist him? “You’re a simple man, perhaps a tavern wench or two?”
He laughed, then pushed upright, propping himself on his elbow to look down at me. “Did you just call me simple, and accuse me of having my needs met by a tavern wench?” Amusement lightened his tone. “Tell me, Ellie, how many men have you slept with?”
I grimaced, sensing the tables turn. His use of my nickname didn’t go unnoticed. This was a private conversation between friends. No harm would come of it.
I hoped.
“Did you keep score?” I asked the darkness. “Surely you counted–”
“I assure you, I take my score with all seriousness. I know my number well.”
“Likewise,” I huffed.
A pregnant silence followed, Sainte remaining still beside me. My heart pounded in the quiet, anticipation mingled with uncertainty. Would he return to the floor? Stay on the bed? Push for more?
“How many?” he asked .
Something changed in his tone. The playful mask slipped, and I suddenly didn’t want him to think poorly of me.
“A few.”
“A few?” His voice pitched higher, strained, as if he struggled to remain calm.
“There were a handful in the ports that I experimented with.”
By experiment, I meant I tried to flirt, to find the same connection I had with Sainte. Each time, I fell short. I sought that blend of respect, adoration, and attraction, but it always eluded me.
At Lyana’s suggestion, I even kissed one or two. Each encounter left me feeling dirty and used. The experiences were uncomfortable, to say the least.
None of them were Sainte.
“I’m not sure I want to know how you experimented .” His words held an edge of curiosity that he wasn’t willing to admit.
I huffed, desperate to take the heat off me and my past choices. “Well, what’s your score?”
“Not a few ,” he mocked, settling against me.
He didn’t hold me as tightly as before, and guilt pricked at my skin, as if I let him down somehow.
“So more? And you mock me for my few!”
“I’m not mocking you, Elspeth. People have different needs.”
“No, no. You don’t get to take the high road, Sainte.” I jabbed my finger into the darkness, wagging it as if he could see. “How many women have you been with?”
“None.”
My hand froze mid-air, and I went rigid. “What?” My voice squeaked on the word.
“None.”
“You’ve never–” Horror crept into my tone.
“Never.”
I jerked upright, taking this discussion far more seriously than I ever intended. “Fine, well let’s be clear–”
“No, Elspeth, I’ve never bedded a woman—never rutted like a dog in heat.” His words were dry, clipped, as if angry. “I choose to believe I’m above that kind of behavior.”
“Are you like Piers? Do you prefer–”
“Sleep, Princess.”
Gods above. He must see me as a whore, boasting about my experiences while he took the moral high ground.
“How old are you?”
“I don’t think I’ll answer that.”
“Sainte, how– ”
“I’m not a dog, Elspeth. Don’t expect me to act like one.”
Oh, that stung.
I frowned and flopped back down, sulking. This wasn’t how I expected the conversation to go. I meant to tease and flirt, not belittle him or end up feeling guilty.
“It was just kisses,” I mumbled into the pillow, curling away from him.
How could one man’s words make me feel so small?
“What was that?”
I lifted my face. “It was just a few kisses!” I snapped, then dropped back down with a thud.
“Ah,” Sainte sighed, shifting to embrace me from behind. “Did you enjoy them?”
I resisted his advance, kicking at him. “If you must know—no!” I spat.
His laughter filled the room before he ensnared me with his leg, anchoring me to the mattress. “I left you in one of the most vile cities, and all you have to show for it is a few kisses?”
“Are you doubting my seductive capabilities?!” I fought with renewed vigor, struggling to free myself from his hold.
“Not at all! In fact, I distinctly remember a certain sixteenth birthday–”
“Don’t you dare!” I managed a kick to his thigh, shoving his hips from mine, creating valuable space.
“The tugs on my tunic… The press of your hips against my—oh probably my knees at that age–”
“My head was to your chest!”
“Ah, my thighs, then. Yes, I have every faith in your art of seduction.”
Part of me was thrilled at his recollection, while the other seethed with irritation at his jest. I had meticulously planned that day for months, brimming with confidence in my allure, convinced he’d notice my blossoming curves. I believed he came because he cared, because he wanted my happiness…
And my happiness was intertwined with him.
“That’s not funny,” I snarled, driving my elbow into his chest.
He wheezed at the force, and I wrestled myself loose from his grasp. He chuckled, leaving me to simmer on the opposite side of the bed. I found a semblance of safety in the scant handspan that separated us.
“I didn’t think it was,” he said, a smile lingering in his tone as he shifted onto his back.
I sniffed. “You’re poking fun at it. I assure you, I was quite serious at the time.”
“As was I.” A moment of silence settled before he continued, “I was serious when I told you I couldn’t bring you with me.”
The teenage girl inside me flinched at the memory. “That hurt. ”
“I know.”
He reached out and drew me close. I released a contented sigh as I rested my head near his heart.
“I was…” He cleared his throat, “I was afraid.”
“Of what?” I murmured, surprised that anything could scare him.
“I feared the consequences of you coming after me. And when I couldn’t find you… I was terrified.”
He took a deep breath, his chest rising beneath my cheek. “I was afraid of losing you.”