27. Chapter 26
Chapter 26
A t dawn, a servant delivered a dark wooden box. In the privacy of my chambers, Sainte watched me open it. As I lifted the red and black silk inside, the scent of iron and flesh hit my nose. A large, bloody organ lay within, its surface slick and glistening in the dim light. I stared at it, fingers trembling. Heavy, damp air clung to my skin, and a metallic tang settled on my tongue.
Was this really what a human heart looked like?
I sought Sainte for assurance, and he clenched his jaw, giving a stiff nod. After a deep breath, I eased the lid shut. My fingers traced the carved swords and shield etched along the woodgrain, and a prayer for Grimm beyond the Veil escaped my lips.
I might not believe in the gods, but it just felt right.
Morning blurred by as seamstresses stitched a dress onto me. Sainte, ever modest, faced the door during the most revealing moments. Only when the dark green fabric fully concealed me did he turn.
The kiss of silk caressed my skin, cool and smooth. The thin material offered no warmth. Thick wool trousers layered beneath stopped at my knees, providing a semblance of heat, but I still shivered, my torso covered only by the evergreen fabric.
Gold-embroidered snowflakes began at the waist, condensing as they drifted to the hem. The full skirt demanded to be hiked up as I walked. As if the lack of layering on the top wasn’t enough, the seamstresses pulled the silk off my shoulders, gathering it over my arms to expose my collarbone. I frowned at the amount of skin exposed to the chill, but the women just tsked and worked around me.
They supplied a necklace with a large Tiger’s Eye gemstone at its center, with smaller sunstones embedded into the thin gilded chain. The gold ring placed on my finger depicted a rearing griffon with emerald eyes framed by snowflakes and sunrays.
My signet, a gift from my father at birth.
I clenched my fist, and the sunstones set into the band caught the morning light.
I was ready.
After weaving golden leaves and polished citrine into my braid, they wrapped it around my head into a crown. The final touch, a soft fleece shawl with gold threads woven into the fibers. The maids laid it atop the table before they drifted out, giving me a moment before Anderz collected me.
Nerves twisted in my gut. I returned to my sleeping chambers, reaching under my pillow for the parchment he had given me. Unfolding it, I read the words once more.
Little Kitten,
A shipment snuck past. Something important.
Beware of the favor, all may not be as it seems.
Wolf
Frowning, I tucked the note into my dress and returned to my receiving room, where the dark ornate box held Grimm’s heart. Pain twisted in my chest, breaking over last night’s events. Nothing could change—we had to face the consequences of our actions.
There was nothing else I could do to help Lyana.
Helplessness and anger swelled within as I clenched my fist atop the box, eyes shut tight.
Sainte draped the shawl over my shoulders, his warmth seeping into me as he stood close. I leaned back, drawing strength from his presence. His arms wrapped around me, tucking me against his chest.
“Thank you,” he whispered, lips brushing my ear.
“I will give it to Lyana,” I said, turning to search his face. “Is that all right?”
A sad smile graced his features, and he shook his head a fraction before resting his rough cheek against mine. “She had his heart from the moment he laid eyes on her,” he murmured. “If she wishes, Urien will guide her to the western wolves.”
A sigh pushed past my lips. “I wish I could go.”
Instead, I had to seek the approval of a couple rocks.
“Some things are better done alone.”
“No one should have to be alone when they say goodbye.”
I shook my head, stepping forward. He let his arms fall, and I immediately missed his warmth, but I had to get moving.
He blocked me, then lifted my chin with his calloused fingers. “You will do well today. ”
My eyes narrowed. “Because the gods favor me.”
It was all about them.
“Because you are a queen in the making.”
With that, he leaned forward, pressing a kiss to my forehead.
It was chaste and unexpected—his warm lips on my skin. I didn’t move, taken aback by the gesture. He pulled away with a mischievous smile as a light knock sounded. I jumped at the sound, causing him to chuckle and step aside.
“And here, I thought you were saving your kisses for your wife,” I huffed, a blush heating my cheeks.
I started for the door, ignoring his amused grunt. When I reached it, I allowed Sainte to answer. As always, he preferred to be in the line of fire in case anyone made another attempt on my life.
My brother was much too interested in torturing me now—killing me would be too easy.
Anderz stood beyond the threshold, his thick gray hair neatly combed, clad in his regular black and viridian robes. His gold eyes lit up as they fell on me.
“Your Highness,” he greeted with a bow, his gaze trailing down my dress, snagging on my signet ring. “Shall we proceed?”
He guided me down the hall as I balanced the box in one hand and gathered my skirts in the other. Behind me, the hem dragged along the floor, a beautiful yet impractical display that made me cautious of each step.
“I need to visit Lyana’s room.”
“Of course.”
My gentle knock brought Urien to the door, his haggard expression softening when he saw me. Without a word, he ushered us in. Lyana stood near the window, her gaze fixed outside through the bubbled glass. Ethyan lounged on her bed, legs crossed at the ankles. I exchanged a questioning glance with him as I entered, noticing his sister’s reluctance to acknowledge our presence.
At least she was up.
With a subtle shake of his head, Ethyan returned his gaze to the ceiling.
“Lyana?” I called softly, not wanting to startle her.
When she faced me, she seemed surprisingly composed. Her eyes were clear, not the bloodshot red I anticipated. A faint smile touched her lips, a fragile thing that spoke volumes. She glanced at the box, a solemn reminder of our loss. On slow steps, I approached, offering it to her.
“His heart was only ever yours,” I murmured, guiding her hands to grasp it. “Do as you please with it.”
Her eyes pressed shut, a silent gesture of her pain, before she cradled the box against her chest. When she looked at me again, her tears brimmed, threatening to spill over.
“Thank you, El. ”
A remorseful smile wavered on my lips. “I wish there was more I could do.”
“I…” her attention drifted back to the window, “I think I want to go home.”
A pang shot through me at her words, like an arrow striking true.
I should’ve been grateful for the time she spent here, especially considering she only suffered since her arrival. Still, knowing the two people I loved more than anyone wanted to leave—hurt more than I thought possible.
“I understand.” My voice remained steady. Perhaps my royal blood was finally asserting itself, allowing me to keep my emotions in check. “I will have preparations made.”
“We’ll be back.”
Ethyan’s reassurance barely registered through the haze clouding my heart. Her desire to leave, to return to what she knew as home, cut deeper than I dared admit. My composure became a shield, masking the raw hurt.
“Of course.” I forced a smile, though it felt brittle as a tear slipped down my cheek. “When you return, the castle will be ready to welcome you back.”
The weight of those words was heavier than the box in her arms. The journey from Landing’s End to Wynterborne was grueling, and the chances of them ever making that trip again were slim to none.
I hurried my goodbyes and fled the room. As the door shut behind me, enveloping me in the quiet safety of the corridor, I closed my eyes and drew in a deep, steadying breath. After I swiped the tear from my cheek, I forced a grin at Anderz, but it felt hollow.
I would have to rule without my friends.
Sainte stepped closer, his arm brushing against my shoulder, and I startled, meeting his gaze. Understanding swirled in those blue depths, and he offered a reassuring nod.
I could do this.
Sniffling, I inclined my head to Anderz, who studied me with attentive eyes.
“Lead on, Counselor.”
I thought the throne room was glamorous, but the Chamber of the Gods put it to shame.
My ancestors spared no expense in crafting this vast and magnificent space. The ceiling stretched above, our footsteps echoing along the stone floor. Veins of gold ran through dark walls, connecting them to the luminous white marble beneath our feet. Far above, chandeliers bedecked with crystalline mirrors scattered light with every gentle sway. Sculptures and shrines adorned each surface, evidence of meticulous craftsmanship. Designed by skilled hands, the natural cave gleamed under numerous glittering lamps.
High above the bustling crowd were statues depicting the gods. Among them, a white marble statue of a little girl caught my eye. Frozen mid-spin on one dainty toe, face bright with perpetual laughter, an intricate marvel of sculpted joy.
Nellie would have adored it.
At the opposite end of the chamber, a colossal sculpture dominated the space. Nothar, perched atop a majestic stag, towered over all others. The gilded antlers spanned wide, far beyond any ordinary deer’s. It matched the stag from the second rite perfectly. The god sat tall and regal, a crown of ice adorning his head. His long hair billowed in a chilly breeze, adding an ethereal touch to the scene.
But his eyes—they stopped me dead in my tracks.
Their haunting, green glow seemed to watch me as I lingered at the room’s edge. I swallowed, intrigued by their eerie luminescence. What kind of stone produced such a mesmerizing effect?
Perhaps it was merely a play of light.
“Your Highness?”
Anderz’s calm voice jolted me from my reverie. I forced another smile, tilting my head, urging him to continue.
Onlookers lined the chamber’s walls, their presence obscuring the smaller statues and alcoves filled with shrines. Never had I seen so many gathered in one place.
Anderz guided me along an aisle covered in soft golden fabric, providing a stark contrast to the chilly marble beneath our feet. Sainte followed close behind, a welcome presence as I glanced up at Adastrus, positioned on a raised platform underneath Nothar’s imposing figure.
Clad in white and blue, he stood out against the room’s earthy tones. His hair, often unruly, was combed back, save for a rebellious strand that lay against his forehead. The freshly shaved sides of his head accentuated the dark hue, emphasizing his presence amidst the ceremonial setting. When I spotted his boots, my nose wrinkled at the pristine white leather. Such luxury was foreign to me. How many times would they require polishing to maintain their impeccable appearance? Surely he had servants on standby to attend to them at his every whim.
On determined strides, I approached, disregarding the smirk playing on his lips. Confidence radiated from him, but I countered with a vicious grin, reminding myself of my two victories, solidifying my position. This was merely a formality, a spectacle to affirm the gods’ favor toward me .
The note tucked close to my heart felt like a brand, a reminder of the Dire Wolf’s message. As I reached the stairs, the gaze of Nothar’s eyes, that eerie green, still bore into me.
What a trick!
A deep breath filled my lungs as Anderz stepped aside, granting me a solitary ascent to the dais. Sainte knelt at the top of the stairs, one palm resting on his dagger, the other on the cool marble, his gaze sweeping over the crowd.
Adastrus strode forward, offering his hand. The gesture of assistance twisted my stomach, but I accepted it for the sake of appearances. His grip was tight, unnervingly damp, and as soon as I reached the dais, I withdrew from his touch. With a sick grin and airy chuckle, he wiped his palms on his trousers as if he were actually nervous.
Several priests lined the back end, each representing different gods. Some donned colors and symbols hinting at their deity affiliations—light blue for Nellium, vibrant green and gold for Togamar. White and viridian marked the Priests of Nothar, their collars fashioned from polished antlers. One stood out among the rest, who held a dark cape with formidable metal pauldrons, each adorned with intricately carved sockets. A second priest took up the space behind him, holding a pillow with two stones resting on its cushion.
The first, pure white, the other black as onyx—the God Stones. They didn’t look like anything special.
“Ready, little sister?”
Something about his tone unnerved me. And as I took my place beside him, facing the crowd, a thrum of uncertainty chilled the blood in my veins.
I passed the other rites—I’d pass this one.
Faith in the gods, right?
I glanced at Sainte, seeking reassurance, but he was preoccupied, observing the line of priests.
Adastrus shifted his attention to the hushed, eager crowd, then raised his arms in cordial reception. “Citizens of Wynterborne! Friends from afar! I welcome you to the Rite of Favor!” He beamed at their applause.
Various emotions played across their faces, from nervous smiles to pure joy. Anderz, at the front, clapped, his observant stare taking in everything.
“Since Nothar’s seed first spread among men, this sacred tradition has upheld the natural order of succession and confronted those who seek to disrupt it.” Adastrus motioned toward me with a good-natured smile, even as his eyes demanded my death. “My sister, our long-lost princess, has returned to our great kingdom and presented me with the Gods’ Rites. With Nothar’s favor, I embraced this challenge! After all, it’s only fitting that the divine determine your leadership!”
Murmurs of agreement rippled through the crowd .
“We have seen, in the past two trials, indications of the Gods’ Chosen.”
I narrowed my eyes at the back of my brother’s head. Was he acknowledging they singled me out, that they granted their mark?
“However, those indications are just that—hazy and ambiguous. Distorted by the expectations of the people, and perhaps a few malcontent nobles. There is no definite victor from the previous trials. For that reason, the Rite of Favor is last! Finally, we will receive a clear answer, a solution to mine and my sister’s supplication. The God Stones have never failed, and they will not do so now!”
He turned to me again, a wicked smile on his face. “Today, we shall see who the gods truly want in power!”
My teeth ground together, a sinking feeling growing in my gut. Something was off.
“After much reflection, I won’t keep you waiting. You’ve heard the rumors and seen the signs. All of you wonder if Elspeth is their chosen. You shall have your answer!” He motioned to the Priests of Nothar, then to me. “Make your plea, sister.”
His voice dropped low, his next words only for me. “ Beg the gods.”
I took a sharp breath and strode forward as my brother stepped back. A strange buzzing filled my ears as I scanned hundreds of eager faces. My heart pounded, fingers trembling as my shawl was removed, exposing my shoulders to the chilled air.
With my chin held high, I locked eyes with the distant statue of Togamar. Her wavy hair caught in a breeze, her scarf draped over head, wrapping around her.
A heavy cape settled on my back, the pauldrons pressing down with unexpected weight. I braced myself against their burden.
The goddess held my gaze, as if challenging me.
I was chosen—marked. This would work.
The stones slid into their sockets, white on my right shoulder, black on my left.
I trembled, anxiety knotting in my chest. After clearing my throat, I crossed my arms, palms resting on the cold stones, their smooth surface chilling my skin. “I, Elspeth of Wynterborne, Second Born of Veiled King Vardis seek the Favor of the Gods.
“Today, I ask the gods to proclaim me as their chosen, mark me as a true victor among my rivals. I seek to rule their people with a strong but gentle hand.” My eyes drifted shut, as an unspoken plea formed within my thoughts—begging, as my brother instructed.
Nellie’s words echoed in my head, ‘You’ve got my papa in you, chicken!’
“Will my father, Nothar, give me his blessing? ”
Tense silence gripped the chamber. No sound, no breath, no movement. Every soul awaited a sign, an answer to my plea.
Then gasps rippled through the crowd.
I opened my eyes, fear striking a note in my heart. Hands covered mouths in horror, expressions wide with shock, heads shaking in disappointment.
I jerked my touch away from my shoulders and looked to the right. The white stone maintained its form. No change.
A sick sensation thrashed in my stomach as I peered to my left. The black stone glowed blue, that same eerie hue as the pool in the Temple of Togamar.
“Dear sister, it seems the gods have answered your plea.”
His tone, that haughty smug arrogance, sent a chill through me as the priests removed the stones, then the cape.
The Wolf’s note itched against my chest, a constant, irritating reminder of my position. Sainte’s mouth pressed into an angry line, his frustration evident. Anderz’s eyes darted over the priests behind me, searching their faces as if they held the answers to our plight. They returned the shawl over my shoulders, and I stepped back.
Numb.
The cape draped over him, and the stones settled into their sockets. His words drowned in the roaring in my ears as he reached toward the ceiling, making his plea. He crossed his arms, hands resting over the stones.
Heavy silence fell, broken only by my pounding heart and the rush of blood in my veins.
The white stone lit—a bright blue glow spread under Adastrus’ hand, and the crowd erupted into cheers and applause.
The gods had spoken. And I was not their chosen.