22. Chapter 21
Chapter 21
W e journeyed to Wynterborne Castle, savoring the exceptional weather. The sun beamed, casting a radiant glow on the glistening snow, illuminating our path as we headed north. Kaen suggested we ease our pace, immersing ourselves in the surroundings and allow the locals to see me as their princess.
I relished my moments with Sainte and the other men; even Kaen was surprisingly pleasant company. Laughter filled our conversations, often centering on the whimsical wool hat he wore, complete with flaps over his ears and a playful yarn tassel atop. Despite Kaen’s maturity, the sight of him riding a horse in that hat added a touch of youthful comedy to his demeanor.
As the days passed, the soldiers relaxed, sharing stories of their families over steaming dinners at various inns. They confided their fears and aspirations, creating a bond of camaraderie. We learned about Sole, a young man with a deft hand for blades, who, after much probing and prying, revealed the name of his beloved—Millie. Amid laughter and jests, the men teased me for insights on how to win a lady’s heart. In those moments, Sainte’s gaze would shift to mine with a careful intensity.
Each night, he shared my bed. I made no comment, fearing to break the spell. He stayed silent in the face of my taunts, maintaining his aloof demeanor. Yet, a spark of hunger ignited in his eyes when his gaze lingered too long.
He was more intoxicating than any vat of spirits.
Laughter rang out at a joke about Valen’s backside as we rode two abreast across a bridge to Wynterborne Castle. A smile tugged at my lips.
“You complain about the saddle, but forget about Dane’s training,” Sole jeered.
The men groaned, their chuckles trailing off. Dane, the rigorous training officer, kept the guards in top shape. His dedication bordered on legend .
“What of Jorgeson?” I asked, recalling the general who escorted Sainte and I when we first arrived.
Hanek barked a laugh. “Nah, he’s all bark and no bite.”
“He leads by example,” Sainte cut in. “He doesn’t ask his men to do something he wouldn’t.”
“Like you, Your Highness,” Sole said. “The general would have done exactly as you did if he had the power to do so.”
Pride warmed my heart. “I couldn’t send another ambassador to Gladier without going myself. Their life would be forfeit.”
A boy darted through the courtyard as we reached the castle grounds. “Princess!” he called, waving his arms. “Your Highness! Princess!”
My horse snorted, shifting its hooves as I pulled it to a halt.
Kaen slowed his stallion next to mine, his sharp gaze fixed on the boy. “Spit it out, lad.”
He slid to a stop, panting, his eyes wide with fear. “I—Counselor Dyre told me to meet you!”
“What is it?” A knot tightened in my gut. Something was wrong.
“Now?” Kaen asked.
A wailing bugle pierced the air, halting everyone. Dogs and horses stood still, ears pricked. Heads turned westward, drawn to the echo. Its high, ominous note froze even the courtyard staff.
“A stag,” Sole whispered.
“That is no stag.” Kaen’s voice, low and chilled, hinted at fear. “That is Nothar.”
“A god that sounds like a stag?” I asked, ignoring the sinking feeling in my gut.
Kaen dismounted with an eerie stiffness, eyes locked to the west. “Don’t make light of it, Princess. He is warning you.”
I followed his lead, glancing at Sainte, whose deep frown mirrored my unease.
“Tell Counselor Dyre that Princess Elspeth will meet in her rooms–”
“Begging your pardon, but he said to meet in his chambers.”
Kaen’s nervous eyes flitted to me before giving the boy a quick nod. “You’re off to fetch him?” he asked.
“Aye. Shall I see to your horses?”
“Go, lad.” Kaen shooed him, and he took off running, kicking up snow with each stride. “Sole, Valen—take these horses to the stables.”
The two wasted no time leading the travel-weary beasts away. The courtyard, filled with an uneasy silence, eased into motion as servants resumed their tasks. I cast a worried glance to the west, where the eerie call still seemed to hang in the air, casting a lingering spell over us all.
“Kaen told me about your visit to Gladier,” Anderz said, entering his chambers. “I’m pleased to see you in one piece.”
Perched on the edge of my seat at a small table, I felt Sainte’s presence beside me, his back to the neatly made bed. Anderz’s room surprised me with its simplicity, not what I expected from a member of the high court. Dark and sparsely decorated, it seemed more suited to someone of lower status, though the many books and maps crammed onto shelves hinted at his importance.
“King Reid wasn’t happy,” I said as Counselor Dyre closed the door, dismissing Kaen with a nod.
“I imagine not. We were equally displeased to hear of Piers’ untimely death.”
Anderz took the remaining chair and collapsed into it with a sigh. After a moment, he rested his forearms on the table, pinching the bridge of his nose. My anxiety spiked at the sight of his uncharacteristic demeanor. When I noticed the muscles in Sainte’s jaw tense, I knew I wasn’t alone in my worry.
“Why am I here, Anderz?” I asked, treading carefully.
“Sainte, I trust you to keep Elspeth detained in this room until I am finished.”
My world spun as my heart dropped. What in all the nations could have happened?
“Until you give the word,” he agreed, dipping his head in a show of respect.
Golden eyes bore into me as Anderz pressed his thin, steepled fingers to his lips. He studied me for a moment before speaking. “There has been an incident involving the prince regent—”
My mind raced. Was he killed? Was the blame placed on me? Would I ascend the throne without trial?
“—and the lady, Lyana.”
I shook as a shudder ran through my body at those words.
“Where is she?” I whispered, pushing my chair back.
“Sit.”
“ Where is she?! ” I screamed, causing Sainte to jump.
He grabbed me before I could run to the door. I couldn’t fight him. Instead, I held myself, trembling with rage as he gripped my arm.
To his credit, Anderz didn’t flinch or look surprised. His infuriating calmness somehow fueled my fury. If my brother harmed a hair on her head, I would kill him. I would rip out his heart and feed it to the pigs.
“She is safe in her rooms, as well as Sir Ethyan.”
His words did nothing to calm the dark creature inside me thirsting for blood.
“What did he do to her?!” I hissed through clenched teeth, my mind racing with horrifying possibilities .
“Please sit.”
“No!” I snapped, refusing to comply. “Tell me what he did to her. I will have his head! You don’t get to–”
“Actually, my petulant princess, I do,” he cut in, his tone dripping with condescension. “You forget you are not regent. Here, you are a pawn, like all the rest. Here, without us, you have no power.”
A red haze clouded my vision. “I trusted you!”
I tried to wrench my arm from Sainte’s grasp. He grunted as I swung a fist at his chest, but he took the hit with no complaint, pulling me close and wrapping himself around me.
“Yet,” he growled in my ear, his grip tightening as I struggled against him. “You have no power yet .”
I panted, more from restrained fury than exertion. Stilling in his arms, I glared at Anderz. “What did he do to her?”
“As a ruler, you will receive ill tidings,” he said, gesturing to the chair. “Your heart will ache with news of war, famine, and destruction. You must learn to control your anger and use it to your advantage. To act out in wrath will lead to irreversible mistakes for you and all of Wynterborne. Now, sit.”
I shrugged off Sainte’s grasp, then seized the chair from the floor. After slamming it in place, a snarl lifted my lip as I sat, bracing my elbows on my knees.
“Tell me.”
“Your brother did nothing she was not willing to suffer.”
My face closed off in a frown, lip curling in repulsed confusion.
She bedded my brother?
Impossible. Lyana was no prude. She was quite free with her body, but touching Adastrus? Never.
“What are you talking about?!”
Anderz rubbed his jaw, as if his next words pained him. “Lady Lyana cares for your brother’s Valahant.”
“She loves Grimm,” I said.
“Which makes this all the more tragic.”
I slapped my hand on the table. “What happened?!”
“I will be blunt. There’s no easy way to relay this. Sit back, close your mouth, and listen.”
I bared my teeth, drawing a deep breath. With my nails biting into my crossed arms, I tilted my head, daring him to go on.
“Lady Lyana lingered in your brother’s presence. Her purpose was to keep an eye on his Valahant, but she caught his eye. Urien and I warned her. Sir Ethyan swore he wouldn’t let her out of his sight. Adastrus met with her, dined with her for two nights. I can safely assume she went because of her affection for Grimm, yet he spun a web of lies to trap her. ”
He paused, letting the details sink in a moment before continuing. “She drugged Sir Ethyan with a sleeping draft. Urien tried to intervene, but even he was helpless against the castle guard. Lady Lyana was escorted to the prince regent’s chambers, seen of all, walking of her own accord.”
He worked his jaw as though he tasted something bitter, then cleared his throat, picking at the table’s wood grain to avoid my gaze. “She was abused.”
I jerked my head aside, tears stinging my eyes. My breaths came in quick gasps at the thought of her suffering.
I wasn’t there to stop it.
“Elspeth, there were witnesses.”
“What?!” My voice cracked, shock and outrage flooding me. “Witnesses?!”
“As your Valahant sleeps in your rooms, so does your brother’s.”
No. Gods above, no.
“Beyond Grimm, Adastrus made sure others were involved. It’s true that she appeared to welcome the abuse.”
Anderz vanished from my sight. Tears streamed down my cheeks, a hollow ache spreading through my chest.
I wasn’t here.
I was enjoying myself. Having fun. Laughing .
“Princess, do you understand?” Anderz’s thin face and gray hair blurred through my watery haze. “She did not fight back. Your brother did not rape her.”
I broke. My shoulders collapsed as I wrapped around myself. Sobs wracked my body, and a cold, nauseating wave of horror and guilt engulfed me.
She was here because of me.
She met Grimm because of me.
My brother singled her out because of me.
This was my fault.
“Do you understand?” Anderz’s footsteps shuffled closer.
I gasped through my tears. “Why? Why would she–”
“We had our suspicions, but a witness confirmed it,” he said calmly. “The prince regent promised her that if she lay with him, he would dismiss Grimm as his Valahant.”
“He can’t.”
“As we told her—many times.” A mournful note lingered in his tone. “Urien and I explained repeatedly—once the velebond is complete, they are bound in life and death. Adastrus could no more release Grimm than he could sever his grasp on this world and pass beyond the Veil. Lady Lyana would not listen. She insisted there was a way.”
She would’ve listened to me. I should have warned her, but I feared it would crush her spirit even more .
I never should have left.
“Is she all right?” I asked, wiping my nose with my sleeve.
When he didn’t answer right away, I froze, a sickening dread knotting my stomach.
“Anderz?”
“No.” Regret seeped through his heavy sigh. “I will not lie. She is not well.”
“Are you done?” I steadied myself, forcing myself to straighten as I fought to regain control.
“No. I need your word that you won’t seek out your brother.”
“I’m going to kill him.”
“Save that for after your coronation, Princess.”
Sainte wouldn’t let me leave until Anderz secured my oath. He reassured me that once I ascended the throne, my actions would be my own. Until then, I was bound by law and his status as regent.
We walked through my silent corridors. The air felt thick, almost suffocating. A draft stirred the hall, but it couldn’t dispel the lingering sense of evil that hung about like smoke.
At Lyana’s door, Anderz stepped in front of me and knocked lightly. The room beyond remained quiet, nothing to rouse suspicion. When the way cracked open, and Urien peeked through, he took a long breath, his eyes darting over our group before he allowed us entrance.
As soon as I passed the threshold, my feet stopped working, shock freezing me in place.
Lyana lay on the bed, curled into a ball, a blanket pulled to her chin. She seemed so small—frail.
Ethyan sat on the floor, hunched against the bedframe. His dark, resentful eyes fixed on me over his knees. Bruises marred his face, his arm hanging at an unnatural angle at his side. Dried blood and scabbed wounds littered his body.
“Who did that to you?” I asked.
He raised his head and spat at me. “Your watchdog.”
I spun on Urien with the fury of a thousand gods in my glare. He slumped against the door, wincing as he folded his arms across his chest, showing a fresh bandage beneath his tunic.
“That was after he stabbed me.”
My fingers curled into fists as I turned on Anderz for an explanation.
“Would you rather him be dead,” his gaze flicked to Lyana’s unmoving form, “or worse? ”
I ground my teeth together, biting down on my fury. If my brother was so vile as to abuse Lyana in such a way, he wouldn’t have been above torturing Ethyan as well.
“Why didn’t you send for a healer?!”
“We tried. He threatened them.”
“If any of you Wynterian scum come near me, I’ll kill you all.” Ethyan’s words hissed past bloody lips, glower locked on me.
My heart writhed as fresh tears burned my cheeks. I rubbed at them with my sleeve and headed for the bed, giving Ethyan a wide berth. My breath caught as I looked down at Lyana.
Her ocean eyes were dull, unseeing. Inflamed bruises stained the space beneath them. A gash near her temple seeped into her hair. Flecks of crimson shrouded her crooked nose and swollen split lips.
“Lyana?” I whispered, scared to breathe.
Her blanket concealed further carnage, and with trembling hands, I lifted the fabric, revealing the full extent of her injuries. A delicate white silk robe clung to her body, now a macabre canvas painted in crimson, filth, and unnamable fluids. The stench was overwhelming, a nauseating mix that threatened to choke me as I struggled to process the sight before me.
A surge of blistering fury welled within, a visceral response to the brutality inflicted upon her. The sensation battled with the raw ache of loss that tore at my core, a pain not for myself, but for her.
Her robe hung open, allowing a glimpse of the devastation beneath. Bruises mottled her skin, a cruel tapestry of violence. A jagged wound snaked from her ribs, disappearing into the fabric, its edges inflamed and oozing a sickly yellow discharge.
Hot tears streamed down my face, scorching trails of remorse. Guilt gnawed at my insides. Every ache and injury bore the weight of my mistake.
This was all my fault.
I slipped into the bed beside her, a futile attempt to absorb her pain with my presence alone. If only I could shoulder her suffering, I would do so in an instant, without reservation. I reached out to stroke her hair, studying the emptiness in her gaze.
“No!”
Her scream shattered the silence, and I reeled back as she thrashed. She yanked the blanket close, curling into herself. The wide-eyed terror in her glare pierced through me with unfamiliar intensity.
Hatred—anger. Hurt. Accusation.
“Lyana, it’s me– ”
I extended my hand towards her, a silent plea for recognition. If only my presence could bridge the chasm between us, if only it could convey the truth. I never meant for this to happen.
“Don’t touch me!” Her scream sliced with startling force.
I darted from the bed, retreating until my back hit the wall. Her glare bore into me with unbridled loathing—a fierce manifestation of her contempt. I glanced towards Urien, whose expression spoke of sorrowful understanding. Anderz’s eyes, golden and troubled, remained fixed on her, his frown etched with concern.
Sainte’s stare locked with mine, unwavering even as tears cascaded down my cheeks, tracing the contours of my sorrow. A deep sob convulsed through me, my chest heaving with unrestrained emotion. His lips formed a firm line, a silent reassurance. His chin lifted slightly, a subtle gesture of confidence, as if to remind me of my strength.
But inside, I felt the fragility of my resolve. His belief in my resilience stood in stark contrast to the turmoil raging within, a tempest of doubt and vulnerability that threatened to consume me.
He believed I was strong enough for this.
He was wrong.
The room dimmed as evening descended. Not bothering to find a lantern, I lingered in the darkness as shadows stretched and deepened. Anderz and Urien departed hours ago. Counselor Dyre saw to the high court in my stead, while the latter sought respite, weary from his constant vigilance over my friends in my absence.
Ethyan, stubborn as ever, still refused to see a healer. His piercing gaze swept between Sainte and me, his animosity palpable. Each time his glare landed on my Valahant, it seemed to deepen, fueled by a simmering hatred that took root within him.
It was no comfort to know he harbored more contempt for him than for me.
We hadn’t eaten or drank anything since our arrival. Endless tears stained my cheeks since Lyana’s rejection, leaving me with a dry, empty ache in my heart.
“Sainte, can you leave us?” I asked, voice cracking.
“No.”
When I met his gaze, his expression showed no anger or suspicion toward Ethyan. He understood my friend wouldn’t harm me—it was unreasonable to expect my Valahant to abandon me in any situation that carried the smallest risk of harm .
I sighed, letting my exhaustion and shame pull me down as I rested my forehead on my knees. Hollow inside, this drain depleted all reserves, both physical and mental. The burden of it all made me hesitate to retreat to my room for sleep, afraid the guilt would return with even greater force upon waking. My friends needed me more than food and rest.
“We shouldn’t have come,” Ethyan whispered.
I held my breath, waiting for him to lash out, to curse. When nothing more came, I peeked over at his shadowed form. “I shouldn’t have left.”
His arm, the one he used for throwing, hung limp and swollen at his side. I couldn’t shake the thought of how long it had been broken, questioning if he’d ever regain his uncanny accuracy. His relaxed posture belied his discomfort, head tilted back, eyes locked on the dark ceiling. Slowly, he lowered his legs, spreading them out in front of him.
“I don’t blame you, El,” he murmured. “I blame your Valahant . The inane idiot that pulled us all into this mess.”
“He didn’t–”
“Don’t fight his battles.” Ethyan’s gaze locked on Sainte, the moonlight catching the fire in his glare. “He’s big enough that he can handle it. Unlike Lyana.”
Sainte’s jaw clenched as he took a slow breath. He knew my friends wouldn’t relent with him present. Their hurt was too fresh, their anger too raw.
“Please,” I begged, “just a few moments.”
“I’ll be in the hall,” he paused, giving me a long stare, “and the door will stay open.”
I nodded, grateful for his understanding, though he shook his head, features etched in disbelief as he slipped out. He left the way ajar to storm in if needed.
And rescue me from my friends—my family.
Ethyan’s shoulders sagged, then a guttural cry escaped him, his face contorting in agony. I rushed to his side, and he neither flinched nor glared. At that moment, I was his El, not the Princess of Wynterborne.
“Gods above and below, Ethyan,” I cursed, tearing his tunic’s sleeve to inspect his arm.
In the dim moonlight, the darkness of his skin worried me—bruises, I hoped, not old blood pooling. He didn’t yell or push me away, a sign of his acceptance. I brushed the hair around his head, checking for swelling or knots on his skull.
“How long has it been like this?” I hissed.
“A few days—I don’t know. Gods, El. It hurts.”
“You need a healer.”
“No!” His gaze snapped to mine, fear flickering in his eyes.
“Lyana needs care. How will we convince her to accept help if you’re too scared to let anyone near you? ”
“I’m not afraid,” he hissed through clenched teeth. “You weren’t here.”
“And you were sleeping. We all messed up. Now play the hand you’ve been dealt and I’ll fetch Gilead.”
“No, I can handle it!”
“Perhaps.” I rocked back on my heels, throwing my hands up. “Maybe you’ll lose an arm! You might not die , but do you think Niena will grant Lyana the same luck? Have you seen her? She’s not going to make it.” Fresh tears welled and spilled over. “Her body is broken. Her spirit is crushed. She won’t fight unless we force her.”
Ethyan crumbled, his anger collapsing into a sob—his mask shattered. I moved to his uninjured side and wrapped my arms around him. We held each other, tears mingling, the weight of our shared grief pressing on us. We couldn’t undo what happened—and it would change us all forever.