24. Chapter 23
Chapter 23
I was in good spirits upon my return, right until I saw Counselor Reuthland waiting outside Lyana’s door.
No one entered her room without my express permission.
Regent’s pawn or no.
We narrowly missed being caught by the woman, sneaking into my room not a moment too late. The servant girl was in tears, trying to hold herself together. When I asked what was wrong she wailed, claiming if anyone found her in my clothes, she’d be kicked onto the streets, her reputation as a maid ruined. Sainte gave her a silver coin for her troubles and sent her on her way with a long, warning look.
“You trust her?” I asked.
“Servants are the worst gossipers,” he said, changing into his regular attire, “but the best secret keepers.”
With that, we stepped into the corridor, off to check on my friends.
Dark, hooded eyes turned toward me as Reuthland lifted her chin. My teeth clenched at the arrogance in her glare. Beside her, a servant kept his face down, clutching a teapot, and a healer stood at her back. The braids piled atop her head had me wondering how heavy all that hair was.
“Reuthland,” I called, pulling myself up to my full height to meet her gaze.
“ Princess ,” she sneered.
The door to Lyana’s room was open, but Urien blocked the way, his hip propped against the doorframe, arms crossed tight, with a weary glare darkening his features.
“I would have you know—you are not allowed to post personal guards in the castle,” she said, “Not to mention, he’s a common soldier– ”
“Actually, Counselor ,” I shot back, mirroring her condescending tone. “General Jorgeson assigned Urien to my personal guard. As a member of the high court, I’m sure you’re aware that within this wing, I am permitted to post my guards as I see fit.”
“While that may be true, the prince regent has final say over his guests,” she arched a dark slash of eyebrow, “and he has ordered that Lady Lyana take the bitter waters.”
I knew of moon tea, used to bring on a woman’s cycle, but bitter waters? Never heard of it.
“Urien, send for Gilead,” I said, pushing inside.
Sainte followed, plowing into Reuthland, eliciting a shocked gasp. Urien rushed off, and I turned to flash a smile at the counselor.
Then slammed the door in her face.
I frowned, pinching the bridge of my nose to ward off the beginnings of a headache. “What are bitter waters?”
“Gilead would probably know. I have my guesses, but nothing certain,” Sainte answered.
After a stiff sigh, I offered Ethyan a small smile. He sat beside his sister, his arm splinted and secured with a sling. I couldn’t help but notice how his uninjured hand stayed close to the hilt of his throwing blade. His accuracy wouldn’t be as great with his left, but he could still inflict some pain if needed.
Lyana, sitting up, lacked her usual cheery demeanor, but her gaze showed awareness. Our efforts to keep her clean and prevent infection improved her mental state. She fought us the first few days, draining her strength, but it only ignited the fire she needed.
Ethyan sent a nervous glance Sainte’s way before nodding toward the door. “Is that bastard trying to kill her now?”
“He already had the chance,” Lyana murmured.
Guilt consumed me with her soft voice. Where was the fierce girl I roamed the streets with? The one who would’ve faced a battalion of Wynterian soldiers for my sake? Where was my best friend and her spitfire attitude?
Oh, right. My brother crushed her spirit with unknown torment.
“I doubt he would,” I said, approaching the bed on slow, cautious steps. “You’re still of use to him.”
When her ocean eyes filled with fear, I grasped her hand in mine.
“I won’t let him near you,” I assured her. “The threat of causing you harm is his way of controlling me, and he knows that. What he did—”
She shuddered, biting her lip.
“—He’s sick. Demented and disgusting. But intelligent. He wouldn’t kill you when he can still use you against me.”
“We shouldn’t be here,” Lyana breathed, tears filling her eyes .
“This isn’t your fault.” I rubbed her cold hand, drawing her distant gaze to mine. “He is ruthless and will exploit anything and anyone to win the crown.”
She fell silent, unwilling to speak. The bruises around her neck looked worse, though severe injuries often did before they improved. The gash at her temple and a few along her thighs required stitches. Her sunken black eyes worried me the most. She wasn’t sleeping well, if at all. She wouldn’t allow me or Ethyan in the bed with her at night.
That loss of closeness stung the most.
This was my fault. My brother did this to her, and now—she couldn’t even stomach my comfort anymore.
A soft knock pulled me from my thoughts, and Urien slid inside. Gilead lingered in the hall, her quiet voice carrying a hint of concern as she spoke to that other healer. She took the teapot from him, her movements stiff and deliberate. When her eyes met mine, jaw clenched, Urien let her in and shut the door behind her.
“The Priests of Togamar know nothing of this,” she said sharply, then set the pot on a small table, eyeing it as if expecting it to transform into a serpent and strike.
A terrible preface for whatever else she had to say.
“What are bitter waters, Gilead?” I asked.
She took a deep breath, closing her eyes to regain composure. “A tea brewed from wyrmwood. It has certain… properties that cleanse a woman’s womb.”
“He’s worried about a bastard,” I spat.
Lyana withdrew her hand from mine, tucking it beneath her blankets, her gaze distant. She was shutting us out, distancing herself.
Curse my brother a thousand times over.
“So it would seem.” Gilead perched on the edge of the bed, studying Lyana. “There are other methods, all I would choose, but the prince regent denied them.”
“Why?”
She understood my question, and our eyes met, confirming the truth. There was something ominous, dangerous about the tea, a side effect that would harm her. Another string for him to pull to hurt me.
Gilead’s lips pursed tight. “It only takes a single dose.”
Confusion clouded my thoughts. The tonics, teas, and tinctures I heard of to avoid unwanted pregnancy were used daily as a preventative. There were potent options as well, taken up to ten days after intimacy—never in one cup.
“He doesn’t want her dead,” I said, testing my theory, gauging the healer’s reaction.
“It won’t kill her.” She dipped her chin, speaking to Lyana, “But it will be… very unpleasant.”
Tears streaked my dear friend’s cheeks. “I don’t want it.”
“It works quickly, only taking a few days to run its course,” Gilead assured.
Lyana’s gaze widened with panic, and she snatched my hand, clutching it tight. I struggled to decipher the message she was trying to relay, but couldn’t grasp it. Was she afraid of more pain? Did she doubt the healer, fearing poison?
“Pour it,” I hissed.
Gilead took a sharp breath at my order and rose from the bed.
“El…” Ethyan’s warning was slow, his gaze guarded and dangerous as she poured the tea.
I silently begged him to trust me.
“Here, you must drink the whole cup.”
The healer held it out, and I shifted to reach for it, but Lyana gripped me tighter.
“Please, don’t make me,” she whimpered, voice a strained whisper.
Ethyan straightened, glare hard. “Elspeth!”
At the edge in his tone, Sainte came closer, tension crackling in the cramped space. Even Urien shifted near the door, sensing the unease.
I tugged my hands free of Lyana’s hold, offering her a sad but earnest smile. “Trust me.”
I took the cup. The tea, having cooled during the long wait, gave off a potent herbal stench. Bitter was a fair name for it. I arched a brow at Gilead. “Can I assume her rooms will be searched?”
“For the next few days, yes.” She cast an apologetic grimace toward Lyana. “This was not a request. I am bound by Nothar, but the prince regent’s orders hold sway over us mortals. We must obey his demands.”
My teeth ground together. Would she obey his orders and poison a guest simply because she was bound by his commands?
Lyana gripped the blanket’s hem, her knuckles white. “He’s not my regent.”
“I don’t obey him.” I raised the cup to my lips and tossed back the foul drink in two swift gulps.
Chaos erupted.
Urien cursed, Sainte stormed toward me, and Ethyan spun to face him, blade in hand.
“What have you done!?” Gilead shrieked, features twisted in horror.
After swiping my sleeve across my wet lips, I pushed to my feet and tossed the empty cup onto the bed. “I’ve cut my strings.”
A flicker of a smile twitched on Lyana’s cheeks—the first one I’d seen since this all started.
That was worth everything .
“It appears I’ll be out for a while. Make sure our sheets are exchanged before your healers check on her. If my brother asks, tell him I’ve taken ill from the elements.” I looked up, catching Sainte’s stormy gaze.
“You will regret this,” he growled.
That night, the cramps set in.
Did I regret my actions? No. Could I have done it differently? I wished. I experienced cramping with my cycles. They were manageable—something women lived with. In the slums, I didn’t have the luxury of lying about while I bled. This surpassed anything I ever felt. Women screamed in childbirth, and as I trembled on my bed, curled tight, I battled the urge with teeth bared. Surely, this pain rivaled birth.
Only Gilead and Sainte entered my rooms. The healer used one of my provided excuses to keep me isolated. Nobody would risk a contagious plague escaping, so we stayed quarantined. Winter’s Bite, the illness that claimed my father, could sweep through the castle within a week, infecting everyone and halving the staff in one blow.
Sainte avoided holding me, choosing his cot instead while Gilead tended to my misery. She offered tea to help me sleep through the worst, while I endured the waking hours with gritted teeth and groans. She draped blankets warmed by the fire over my abdomen and whisked away bloodied towels. Only once had I questioned if they were being smuggled to Lyana’s room. Sainte’s assurance that Urien handled the ferrying allowed me to rest.
After three days, the cramps eased, but the blood persisted. Gilead’s worried expression darkened as she took another blood-soaked towel away.
“What is it?” I asked when she returned to my bedside.
She pressed her lips into a line, folding her hands in her lap. Her eyes shadowed by dark circles flicked to Sainte, who leaned against the wall, legs crossed at the ankles, arms folded. He had done nothing but glare at me and seethe in anger.
“This was reckless,” she said.
I scoffed, flopping my head back onto the pillow. Their judgment was the last thing I cared about. I refused to let my friend be pressured into taking that awful tea. I couldn’t save her from my brother, but I could endure this torment, sacrifice a few days to offer her relief. This chipped away at the boulder of guilt in my stomach .
Gilead took a long slow breath, as if regaining her composure. “You compromised your womb. Lady Lyana would jeopardize her ability to bear children, but you risk the very heirs to the kingdom.”
“As if–”
“Nothar has favored you.” Her firm voice cut through my response. Anger glittered in her eyes, brows drawn down. “You bore Togamar’s mark and embraced Nellium’s touch. You are the Gods’ Chosen. Yet, you defy your heritage, your lineage, to spare your friend some discomfort.”
“Careful,” my glare sharpened, “what you say borders on treason.”
“The lies I’ve told shattered my vows to the prince regent, and now you accuse me of treason? No. There’s no falsehood in the claim that you’ve been chosen. You would throw it away for some false sense of loyalty?”
I turned, looking to Sainte for help. His accusing glare told me he would not be rescuing me.
His refusal only heightened my rage. “She’s here because of me! What happened to her–”
“Happened because she was willing.”
“Stop!” My arms trembled as I shoved myself upright. “Adastrus–”
“Lied—and she fell for the bait.”
“You’ve never been in love, have you?” I sneered, refusing to look at Sainte even as her eyes darted his way. “You have no idea what it’s like to lie with someone, feel secure in their embrace, invincible to the rest of the world simply because they’re there.”
My throat tightened. I paused, waiting for the sensation to ease so my voice wouldn’t shake. “You have never loved someone so much that seeing them in pain breaks you in two—all logic and reason vanishes. You’ve never tasted the high that comes with passion! Or the contentment after it subsides. Don’t speak of love like you know anything about it.”
She sat back, lips pressed together, jaw clenched, fighting not to snap at me. The anger that stirred in her glare confirmed my words. She had no right to talk about Lyana that way.
Gilead rose, brushing out her white dress. She nodded to Sainte, then crossed the room on soft steps. The door clicked shut behind her.
I heaved a sigh and fell back on the bed with a curse. “You think I was foolish as well,” I muttered to the bright ceiling. “Stupid and reckless.”
“Yes.” The word, harsh and blunt, echoed from Sainte’s place against the far wall.
I snorted at his predictable response.
The mattress dipped beside me, and I turned my head, watching as Sainte eased himself onto the edge. The bedframe creaked under his weight .
“Though, I too know the feeling of having to act out of guilt.” He reached over his shoulder and pulled his tunic loose from his trousers, exposing the small of his back. The scars from his recent flogging stood out, raw and jagged. “Every time I returned without you, failing to find a way to remove your brother and put you on the throne.”
Unable to stop myself, I let my fingers trace the raised welts—a mass of mutilated flesh.
“I had to leave you behind,” he said, “and I took the punishment. The floggings only relieved my guilt. They didn’t provide solutions. Do you feel better knowing I endured these for you?”
“No.” I jerked my hand away.
“Do you believe your possible infertility would ease Lady Lyana’s suffering?”
I frowned, then tugged the blankets to my chin. “You think I should have let her drink it.”
“I think you should have sought advice.”
I huffed in irritation and closed my eyes. Why did I always make the wrong choices, the ones others believed could be avoided? I didn’t care if I bore children later. To be honest, I’d never given it thought. Perhaps with the right man. I never considered the bitter waters might risk that. I never weighed the consequences.
To not act rashly was a lesson I still needed to grasp.
It proved challenging when Adastrus’ goons were breathing down my friend’s neck, pressuring her to drink something so horrible.
“A wise ruler seeks counsel.”
“I’m no ruler.”
“Not yet.”
I opened my eyes to find him standing, adjusting his tunic. His gaze softened as he watched me, his angry storm subsiding.
If I’d have my brother’s head, I needed to ascend the throne—and even then, it wouldn’t be a fleeting affair. My entire future would intertwine with that accursed seat, and an entire realm would hinge on my choices. Acting out of haste and without thought would not only harm me, but inflict suffering on my people—countless Wynterians reliant on my judgment.
Vulnerability washed over me, a feeling I’d grown accustomed to with my history of mistakes and poor decisions. While I hadn’t ascended to rulership yet, I knew I hadn’t inspired confidence in those who might follow my lead. Beneath my shelter of blankets, I gathered my courage, posing my question.
“Would you have me as your queen, Sainte?”
He watched me, face void of expression. Silence slipped by, snaring my nerves, wreaking havoc on the scraps of resolve I had left.
“I would only have you as my queen,” he said .
My heart swelled, threatening to burst with joy. Concealing my smile beneath the covers, a wave of gratitude warmed my spirit as he offered a small bow, then retreated to the wall. With closed eyes, I let myself rest, comforted by the knowledge that at least one person believed in me.
“Come in,” I called, smoothing the fabric of my dress.
As Leihim stepped into the room, I acknowledged the servant beside him with a nod. The counselor’s attire spoke of opulence. The luxurious green fabric of his overcoat and trousers hinted at softness even from a distance, a detail not lost on me.
“Counselor Hinyte,” I greeted, dipping my head but maintaining direct eye contact.
His piercing eyes locked onto mine as he smiled and executed a formal bow. “Princess.” He cataloged the space with a swift glance, his gaze catching on my Valahant. Undeterred, his smile remained fixed as he stepped further into my receiving room. “I see you’re feeling better, recovered from a minor plague, was it?”
I settled into my seat, allowing Sainte to guide my chair in. With my hands folded atop the table, I maintained a composed posture, chin raised.
I had to play this right.
“Yes, something I picked up among the Glades. Isolated, I assure you, else the whole of the castle would have had it by now,” I said with a guarded smile.
As of yet, no rumors surfaced that Adastrus suspected I drank the tea in Lyana’s place. Anderz kept a diligent ear for any gossip regarding it, but thus far, no nobles pieced it together. It might have crossed the minds of a few, but if they understood the potential side effects, they knew it would’ve been foolish of me to consume them. Any sane person wouldn’t have taken that risk.
Perhaps I wasn’t as sane as they assumed.
“You caused quite a scare,” he noted, resting a gloved hand on the back of a chair. “Some worried you might not be fit for the final Rite.”
“Oh, I am fit enough,” I replied with a coy smile. “Please, sit. We have much to discuss.”
He nodded and obliged, appearing at ease in my company.
“I hear your merchant guild is doing well.”
“It is, actually,” he said. “We’ve experienced fewer attacks as of late. Have you considered my request? ”
I stared at my hands, letting silence lapse between us before I met his stare with hooded eyes. “It’s a pity the only caravans targeted have been those that carry my brother’s goods.”
Recognition flickered in his gaze, but he kept his face a mask of politeness.
I continued, “But I’m pleased no one’s been killed… as of late.”
“Your sources are impeccable, Your Highness.” He formed his words with care, his smile faltering.
“It’s unfortunate the fabrics my brother ordered for his coronation have gone missing.”
He didn’t speak, but I could see his mind racing behind that cold blue gaze.
“Although,” I remarked, “I believe a shade of green would have complimented his eyes better, given his current efforts to gain favor with the gods. Dark blue wouldn’t suit him.”
What I left unsaid hung between us, a subtle message to Leihim. The Dire Wolf was under my influence—a negotiation to target only Adastrus’ wagons and report anything of significance to me.
“I suggest you choose your words carefully, Your Highness,” he warned, his grin replaced by an emotionless mask. “Some might deem this information treacherous.”
“Ah, mere rumors and hearsay.” I laughed, leaning back with an easy smirk. “But if you happen to see him, do remind him of your need for assistance with the Dire Wolf.”
A dangerous glint humored his expression as he mirrored my posture, feigning his ease. “So, you’ve been swayed by him.”
“Only as much as you’ve been swayed by Adastrus,” I replied smoothly. “They have no control over me, and I’d like to think as a self-made man, my brother has no authority over you.”
“Treasonous words if I dare utter them, Princess.”
“Yes, but true all the same. Your loyalty lies with coin. You’re a merchant at your core, are you not?”
“It puts food on the table and keeps the hearth burning, Your Highness.”
“It also ensures your comfort.” I dipped my chin, lifting a brow. “I simply want you to know that your coin is safe… as long as I am safe.”
“Do you threaten me, Princess?” He leaned forward once again, his eyes gleaming.
Sainte shifted, resting his hand on the back of my chair. My smile grew as Leihim glanced up at him, then sat back with a calculating look.
“Not a threat—it’s fact, Hinyte,” I said. “I will protect your merchants to the best of my ability. All I ask is for your support. It seems like a fair exchange. ”
“And if you make a decision I disagree with?” he shot back. “You would blackmail me into submission, use a common bandit to sway my vote? You’re no different from your brother.”
“Do not compare us,” I said, voice clipped and flat. I was nothing like him. I relied on wits and the advice given to me—not cruelty or manipulation based on spite or amusement. “It is not your blind support I seek. I ask for a chance to discuss decisions in private if you find them unfavorable.”
“You have the high court for that, Your Highness.”
“Not everyone aligns with my goals,” I replied, sweetening my tone.
“Ah…” He tilted his head, studying me as he processed my request. “So you propose limiting attacks on my caravans to specific wagons in exchange for public support and private counsel.”
“I knew you were wise beyond your years when I first met you,” I mused.
“Well enough. However, do you not think the prince regent will notice the isolated attacks?”
I raised a brow in challenge. “Who knows the mind of a common bandit? Their motives are as unpredictable as the wind. It’s not as if anyone in power can control them.”
“Indeed.”
I chuckled and ordered tea, using the pretext of catching up on the council meetings. After the side effects passed, Anderz had filled me in on essential details while sparing me the intricacies of trade and politics.
Leihim, however, delved into commerce with enthusiasm. For an hour, he rambled and elaborated on the oil trade between Wynterborne and Tilamuik. Apparently, our oil wealth complemented Tilamuik’s reliance on sea resources, making the exchange mutually profitable.
I strained to maintain a smile, and despite his occasional apologies for droning, he kept diving back into his monologue. He exuded sharpness, wisdom, and cunning. His passion for his guild was evident in every word.
His loyalty might be bought, but I would take advantage of it while I had it.