25. Chapter 24
Chapter 24
I woke to a loud thud and muttered curse.
I jerked upright, scanning the shadow-filled room through my sleep-hazed vision. A surge of alarm shot through me as I realized Sainte was missing from his cot. My gaze darted to the entrance, where a figure loomed near the doorway.
Sainte stood flush against the wall, a knife gripped in his fist. Positioned out of sight of the intruder, he waited in utter silence, poised to strike anyone who entered.
His chest was bare.
The dips and curves of his muscled torso caught the moons’ dim light, his trousers undone, hanging low on his hips.
My throat tightened, and I must have emitted a choked sound, because his head swiveled toward me. I forced a grin, pretending I wasn’t appraising him like a piece of meat. He nodded, his expression solemn as his attention returned to the door. Whether he was unaware of my plight or simply focused on what lay beyond, I couldn’t tell. I strained to make out anything, wondering if it had been his curse that woke me.
A smile played on my lips as I allowed my gaze to wander down his powerful frame, imagining him asleep with a knife in hand, ready to spring into action against intruders. The thought of his protective presence filled me with reassurance… and the sight of his physique sent strange flutters through my stomach.
Sainte’s body showcased a divine blessing, his muscles defined without excess bulk. The firelight from the hearth cast shadows, highlighting the tautness of his frame. Each sinew stood out, even the smallest of muscles .
The door to my sleeping chambers creaked open, snapping my focus to the present. Lyana’s head peeked through, her sunken features illuminated in the faint auburn glow. Tear streaks glistened on her cheeks as her gaze found mine.
I threw the blankets aside, and she burst into the room, not waiting for me to meet her. She flung herself onto the bed, crashing into me, and I wrapped around her, trying to steady us both.
“Shh, it’s all right,” I murmured into her hair, glancing at the doorway.
A shadow moved, and I caught Sainte’s eyes. He spun, knife in hand, but the figure hissed something that caused him to pause.
Lyana sobbed, her weight pressing me into the mattress. Sainte spoke in hushed tones, then ducked inside, retrieving his tunic. With a frown drawing his features, he gave me a long look, then shook his head before slipping into the shadows, closing the door behind him.
“Hush, hush now,” I murmured, guiding her closer.
I held her, feeling every tremor of her sobs. They echoed in the quiet room, each on a release of pain and fear. She curled into my embrace; her face pressed to my chest. I whispered reassurances in the darkness, hoping my words brought some comfort.
When her cries faded, I wiped her cheeks with the blanket and offered a pillowcase for her to wipe her nose.
“What good is royal bedding if you can’t use it to wipe your snot?” I asked.
She wadded the silky fabric, then flopped onto the bed. When she rolled to her side, offering her back, my heart ached. I scooted in, pressing close. Her body shook with a shuddering breath. I embraced her, listening to the hearth crackle in the darkness, staring at the dark orange light flickering on the wall. I smoothed her frizzed hair, snuggled in, and nestled my chin on her head.
“El?” Her voice, tight and raw, broke the silence.
“Hmm?”
“Do you think he’ll ever forgive me?” Another sob hitched her words, and she trembled, on the verge of tears again.
My embrace tightened. If she could just feel me holding her, everything would be all right. “Who?”
“Grimm.”
Her body went rigid, wetness trickling down her cheeks as she opened her mouth in a silent sob. A gasp broke the silence as she shook against me, trying to stifle her cries.
“He loves you. Of course he will forgive you.”
Thrice-curse Adastrus and may he rot beyond the Veil, endlessly devoured by Nothar’s wolves.
“He didn’t know.” She sobbed. “He didn’t know! ”
She jerked the blanket over her head and screamed. I held her close, murmuring as she struggled to calm herself. Heart shattered, I waited, smoothing the hair from her face until her breathing steadied.
“What didn’t he know?”
“That I—I did it for him.” Her voice rasped and cracked, her nose too stuffy to make a sound when she tried to blow it on the blanket.
“Of course he did, Lyana. Why else would… would that happen?” I treaded carefully, not wanting to accuse her.
No one ever taught me how to handle someone with trauma like this. I feared triggering her into another fit of sobs.
“He—gods, El! He thought I wanted it!”
I frowned, staring at the wall, confused. If Anderz discovered Adastrus’ lies to trap Lyana, and if she met with him the night before, Grimm would have known. A Valahant wouldn’t have left my brother’s side. He would have known she did it for his sake.
“Adast—your… the prince re–”
“Call him what he is, Lyana. Sir Pig.”
She adjusted her head on the pillows, pulling the damp blankets from her face with a sad laugh. “He… he sent a missive first. Said he had a way out for Grimm if I talked with him.”
I should have told her. Over and over, the notion hammered in my mind. If she learned it from me, she wouldn’t have fed into his lies.
“I waited, El. Three days, I resisted his summons.” Her words trembled, exhausted from tears. “Each day, I watched Grimm deteriorate. He refused to look at me. If only you saw him on the way here—if you’d seen his smile–” Her voice pitched higher until it shattered. “He is broken. That… that pig fractured something in his mind. He’s not the same.”
I believed her. I witnessed my brother’s cruelty firsthand. He had a knack for breaking people, twisting their minds.
“I left to meet him. Urien tried to come… but it was like he knew. Soldiers were waiting, ready to escort me to his chambers…” She trailed off, lost in memory before continuing, “Niena, have mercy. Have you seen his rooms, El?”
“I haven’t.” Thankfully.
She shivered at the memory. “When I got there, Grimm had the faintest flicker of hope in his eyes.” She laughed, a bitter, sad sound. “I really thought I could do something. I believed sacrificing my body might free him.”
“Oh, Lyana–”
“Then he sent him away.”
“What?”
“He told Grimm to piss outside like the good dog he was. So he left.”
Oh, no .
No, that meant…
“He is sick… revolting. But he promised to release him if I gave him just one night.” She swallowed hard and pulled the blankets close. “I feared he would rape me then, without warning.”
“He couldn’t,” I whispered. “He would lose the high court’s favor.”
“Yeah, well, your girl from the slums here didn’t know that,” she scoffed. “I figured if I could make it through one night… I’ve faked it before. It’s not hard.”
I grimaced, imagining the act of pretending to enjoy lying with anyone.
“I almost didn’t go,” she said. “That guy, Urien… he’s a decent man. He would have stolen me away if I let him.”
I nodded my agreement, recalling the moment we met. He joked about not being one of the good guys, yet here he was, trying to save my friend from herself.
“But I went. I… I assumed it would just be the two of us.”
I bit my cheek to stop from interrupting her. Adastrus needed witnesses to avoid my accusations.
“There were people—a lot , El.”
“I’m going to need their descriptions later.”
“So you can kill them?”
“Or worse,” I snarled.
She let out a small, bitter laugh and snuggled closer. “Grimm wasn’t there, and I figured it was a sick kink—that I could suffer through it.” She paused, taking a deep breath. “I told myself we could run away. He hails from the Great Iceland. We could return to his homeland.”
“My beach-loving, Lothar-worshipping, Lyana? In a cold, dark wasteland?!” I snickered.
“Love makes you do stupid things.”
I cut my laugh short, pressing my lips together, regretting my mirth.
“He… I… he took me to the bed, and started… you know–”
I stayed quiet, unsure if I wanted the details, but if talking helped her through this, I’d listen a thousand times over.
“Then he called him in,” she whispered.
“Grimm?”
There was another pause. “Yes,” she choked.
I clenched my eyes shut against my pain for her. Had this been reversed and involved Sainte instead, I would have died.
“The look he gave me when he saw… he would have killed him, El.”
And all of us would have been better for it.
“I had to lie to him.” She sniffed as more tears came, but she was so exhausted she had no more energy left to sob. “I told him I wanted it… and he… your…”
“The pig”, I provided again.
“Yeah, well, he… it was like he fed on it. He made him watch. ”
I gripped her tighter, disgusted by the one living person who shared my blood. What demented man would do that? What purpose did it serve? To make Grimm a mindless monster? To hurt me, influence my choice to challenge him? If anything, it fueled my rage. It made this fight my choice , not an obligation.
This mistake would cost him dearly.
“Grimm thinks I wanted this,” she whispered, voice trembling.
“Those marks… the abuse… no man would believe you chose that. He had to realize there was some other reason.”
“Your—the pig—is sharp with words. He twists them, makes awful things sound good. It really seemed as if he’d release him. He told me he never bedded a Muik—it was so simple. Who knows what lies he’s been spewing to Grimm? He hates me.”
“No, Lyana. He loves you. He would’ve taken on everyone in that room. It must be tearing him apart that he wasn’t able to save you.”
“I made everything worse.”
I cringed, grateful my face was out of her line of sight.
“It’s fine, El,” she said. “I did. Don’t lie to me.”
“To be honest, things couldn’t have gotten worse. We’re stuck in this mess.”
“I just wish he knew.”
“We will send word,” I assured her. It was the least we could do.
“No. Maybe it’s good he doesn’t. This way, he won’t notice I failed.”
“He’d realize you tried.”
“No. I don’t want him to know I was so… na?ve.”
I pressed my lips together to keep from contradicting her. She knew Grimm better than I did, but if he was anything like Sainte, he would prefer to understand. Curse it all—I would demand the truth if I were in his boots. But this was about her trauma, her healing. I had to let her go at her own pace.
“Well, if you change your mind, I can tell him myself. Or send word through a sneaky spy.”
“You have spies?” She laughed, stealing a glance from the corner of her eye.
“Maybe not yet, but I will soon.”
“Ha! Acting like a queen already.”
I smiled, curling against her, my heart humming with pleasure as she sought my comfort.
One day, when I was queen, I would have my brother’s head.
Anderz clasped his hands atop the table. “The God Stones have arrived. ”
“Thank Nothar,” Aliea said, features settling into a relieved grin, “another Howl is echoing across the plains.”
Leihim leaned back in his chair, sharp blue eyes on me, anticipating a comment as the high court convened. “Do we have a date for the third Rite?”
“Prince Regent Adastrus has not announced it,” Reuthland snipped.
I didn’t bother gracing her with a glance as she spoke.
“We can assume sometime within the next few days. We should not delay–”
“What you mean, Counselor Greer, is we shouldn’t keep the God Stones longer than required.” Reuthland straightened her shoulders, lifting her chin. “The date will be settled and announced tomorrow morn.”
I shifted in my seat, leaning toward Anderz, who subtly turned his ear my way. “Why don’t we want to keep them?” I asked.
If they provided answers from the gods, why not use them? Perhaps people were afraid of what they’d say? Nobles might lose their status—laws practiced for generations could change.
He cleared his throat, then whispered, “Legend has it they hold up the world.”
Ah, more myths and fables.
“Funny how we’re still standing,” I murmured.
Anderz’s golden eyes met mine, a silent warning in their depths. He rested his fingertips against his lips, and I smiled, reclining in my seat. Doubt gnawed at me—this test seemed more like pure chance. So far, the odds were in my favor during the Rites. I had to imagine that trend would continue. If any god watched over me, it would be Niena of Luck.
“‘Tis more of an analogy, Princess,” Lady Aliea said softly to my left.
I glanced at her before leaning to her side so she could speak to me in low tones.
“The world balances on the word of the divine,” she explained. “One wrong move, and we risk their displeasure, plunging everything into darkness.”
Adastrus hadn’t yet incurred their wrath? What kind of gods allowed him to rule without restraint?
“Then why not keep them here?” I whispered.
Leihim watched me from across the table with hooded eyes, his mouth a flat line.
“We trust that those favored by the divine will make the best choices for us,” Aliea said. “We reserve direct intervention for… specific occasions.”
“In other words, we don’t draw attention until absolutely necessary?”
She faced me with a sly smile, her gaze sparkling with mischief. So far, she proved to be a valuable ally, explaining the nuances, while Anderz preferred me to remain silent and listen .
“We shouldn’t give the gods more reason to forsake us,” she breathed, leaning close as her stare flickered to a counselor further down the table.
“Surely the divine have abandoned someone already,” I muttered.
“Not all have renounced your brother.” Aliea’s smile never faltered, but her eyes snapped back to mine with a silent warning. “Some that would see him ascend.”
“Then why hasn’t he won a trial?”
“Not all the Rites have been completed,” she warned, her bright grin incongruous, as if discussing the weather.
Anderz’s thin, wrinkled hand rested on the back of my chair. “Princess, the road to the North is vital to the Priests of Nothar.”
I cleared my throat and offered Aliea a smile of my own, then returned my awareness to the topic of discussion. The council debated providing draft horses for the priests’ winter travel. Adastrus neglected their requests for years, delaying the delivery of the Stones.
In Tilamuik, the common folk supplied goods for the temples. Their offerings kept their places of worship well-maintained. Perhaps things worked differently here?
“The priests are being tended to in the Temple of Togamar,” Lady Aliea supplied. “They are in poor shape—donations being sparse.”
Ah, there was my answer.
“Faith means little when you have no coin to fill your belly.” Leihim’s voice rang out clear, drawing the room’s attention.
“Choose your remarks carefully, Master Hinyte.”
“I’m stating a fact, Counselor Feyre,” he replied, his gaze fixed on me. “Perhaps if our ruler prioritized the gods, the people would as well.”
“The prince regent reveres the divine, Master Hinyte.” Reuthland’s words snapped like a whip at a rebellious servant. “The people provide for the temples, and the gods provide for the people.”
In that case, one might question the necessity of a ruler.
“Tradition dictates the prince regent hear the priests’ request,” someone called further down the table.
“He will hear it.” Reuthland’s hand curled into a fist.
It was obvious, since I returned to Wynterborne, that she received more pushback than ever before concerning my brother. His standing with his court was slipping.
“As you all well know,” she hissed, “he has more pressing matters to attend to.”
“Like seeking the gods’ favor?” I scoffed before I thought better of it.
The room fell silent, every gaze turning on me. Anderz’s hand slid from my chair to his thigh, tapping a restless beat .
“He prepares for the Rite, Your Highness ,” Reuthland said, her tone clipped, promising violence. “As you would do well to consider.”
I took a deep breath, sitting straighter. It was time to employ some of the political tactics I’d learned. “Counselor Reuthland, tell me… doesn’t the second in line to the throne receive a yearly allowance from the treasury?”
She clenched her jaw, her glare dark enough to stifle the sun. “If only they were here to claim it.”
What she meant was, if only I stayed away.
“Incorrect, Counselor,” Lady Aliea interjected. “Tradition dictates that they are provided for as long as they live, by the ruling heir.”
I owed that woman a pastry—a dress, a necklace—whatever it was that noblewoman liked.
Reuthland’s lip curled in a snarl. “As we were unaware of her survival–”
“That my brother was unaware of my survival is irrelevant. Does anyone know how much of my allowance has accumulated?”
Murmurs hummed around the table as nobles pondered my next move.
“Counselor Hinyte, would it suffice to purchase a few top-quality draft horses for the Priests of Nothar?" I turned to Leihim, catching the corner of his mouth quirk into an amused smirk.
“Yes, I do believe you can afford a few beasts,” he replied smoothly.
My vicious grin fixed on Reuthland. “You see, Counselor, I am preparing for the Rite of Favor. If I expect the gods to hear me, I can safely assume they’d expect me to care for their priests and temples.”
I might not be religious, but I could play into the people’s faith.
“Send word to the priests at Togamar’s temple,” I called to the messengers lined by the door. “Princess Elspeth has heard their request, and answered it. They will be provided for.”
When I returned my attention to the high court, Leihim had his chin propped in his hand, an amused grin brightening his features, while Reuthland’s glower promised my demise.
I simply smiled at her in response.