28. Chapter 27
Chapter 27
I rushed back to my rooms with Sainte and Counselor Dyre trailing behind, using the excuse of needing to prepare for the celebratory feast. It was meant to mark my victory, the third win affirming my status as the Gods’ Chosen.
Instead, it would become a gathering for gossip, centered on Adastrus’ clear favor. There would be endless questions about what I’d done to earn the divines’ ire, and doubts voiced about the legitimacy of the indications I received during the first two rites.
Once in the safety of my rooms, anger, frustration, and confusion brewed like a chaotic storm within me. This was meant to be a divine message, but what did it signify? If the gods were involved, why lead me on only to drown me at the end as if it were all some cosmic joke?
“What was that?” I asked, striving to keep the accusation from my tone.
This situation wasn’t of my choosing. They forced this path on me. They paraded me in front of the people, instilling hope that Adastrus might not be their destined leader, only for it all to come crashing down, leaving their faith shattered while I struggled to stay afloat.
Anderz held up his hands in a placating gesture. “You have won two rites–”
A knock sounded, stopping the curt response on the edge of my tongue. I pivoted toward the door as Sainte opened it.
“Counselor Hinyte,” I bit out with a smile that was all teeth.
“Princess,” his eyes flicked between Anderz and me, “I hope I’m not interrupting.”
“Not at all,” I snipped, though my expression proved otherwise.
“May I have a word? ”
“Now is not the best time,” I said. “I’ll gladly answer the onslaught of questions at the feast. Save it.” My fists curled tight, knuckles turning white with the strain.
“I saw the… gods move as clearly as anyone in that room. I only wanted to suggest that a trip to the Temple of Togamar might enlighten you on your future path.” The smile he offered didn’t reach his eyes, but he dipped his chin in a show of dismissal. “I’ll see you at the feast, Your Highness.” With that, he took his leave, departing as if his words hadn’t been cryptic.
A deep frown carved a wrinkle between Sainte’s brows. I looked to Anderz for clarification. If anyone could decipher his meaning, it would be him.
He gave a slow shake of his head, a silent answer to my question. “I would advise you to visit the temple tomorrow, Princess. Perhaps seek Togamar’s forgiveness for any offense.”
He meant it as an excuse for me to go, but it only fueled my frustration.
“Is there a way for me to challenge this?”
“Because of today’s outcome, he remains in power as regent. He cannot ascend the throne unless you pass beyond the Veil. The witnesses saw him marked as favored. With so many observing the outcome, you cannot contest the result, as much as he cannot rise because of your victory in two rites.”
“What about the Rite of Combat?”
“You think you stand a chance against him?” Sainte snapped.
“It’s better than–”
“Than what, my petulant princess?” Anderz interjected, tone soft, using that infuriating nickname. “Is risking your immediate demise worth your challenge? The prince regent will surely plot against you, but for now, you can seek the gods’ favor and perhaps sway the high court with any evidence you gather. You still hold influence there.”
With a long, deep breath, I attempted to rein in my emotions. Lashing out served no purpose. This was the hand I’d been dealt, and I needed to strategize accordingly. I had to uncover how my brother manipulated the God Stones. There was no logical explanation for the gods choosing him… assuming they even existed, which I was counting on now.
I would have his head, one way or another.
He would pay.
After taking a few moments to compose myself and allowing the maids to change me into more appropriate attire, I entered the Hall of Feasts. The dress that should have celebrated my victories in all three rites now brought a bitter taste to my mouth.
Chin held high, I met every questioning glance with defiance. I refused to be subdued. There was a reason my brother emerged victorious. Whether through manipulation or divine intervention, I was determined to find out.
In the meantime, I would carry myself as the princess I was—the victor of two rites.
I strode to the raised table at the back of the hall, sensing my brother’s eyes tracking me as he laughed at something Reuthland said.
“To my sister!” he called, lifting his wineglass. “And to her exploits that led to her loss of favor!”
Poor taste, brother. Poor taste.
I maintained a smile as the room tensed, people reluctantly raising their drinks to their lips. Adastrus winked at me over the rim, and I took my seat, waiting as a servant filled my glass to the brim with wine.
“To you, brother,” I called, lifting it with care, “and your sudden, unexpected Favor of the Gods.”
His features brightened with mirth as my Valahant pulled the drink from my hand and sipped. I focused on Adastrus, my smile not reaching my eyes as he drank from his cup. Sainte returned mine, and I brought it to my lips.
There was a first time for everything—and after the reactive toast, this seemed like the perfect opportunity to start.
I took a small sip, the sour and fruity scent warning of its bitterness. As the liquid scalded a trail down my throat, and my eye twitched in distaste.
Adastrus grinned, noting my reaction. “Drink up, little sister. It’s a time for celebration.”
My jaw clenched as a servant set warm soup beside me. Sainte sampled it first, and I gripped handfuls of my skirt, nails digging into my thighs. I anticipated a long night of questions and accusations, so it surprised me when everyone at Adastrus’ table ignored me. Even the regent himself seemed more focused on gloating.
Just when I thought the evening would glide by without incident, my brother rose from his seat. The cruel gleam in his eye did not bode well for me.
“Good ladies, and fine sirs!” His voice echoed through the hall, silencing all chatter as nobles, ambassadors, and dignitaries directed their attention. “I realize you’ve traveled far, endured our harsh winter, expecting a coronation. Until today, there were premature rumors of my sister’s ascension. Those were misguided hopes. The gods have chosen me as their favored.” He paused, his smile growing as he gave Counselor Dyre and Lady Aliea a pointed leer.
“I wouldn’t have you leave without news,” he continued. “Take with you, back to your homes, your castles, your kingdoms, a message worthy of celebration! I would like to announce that the coronation of the new King of Wynterborne will proceed as planned in a fortnight!”
Cheers mixed with confused murmurs, and I frowned as my brother’s gaze narrowed on me. Madness sparked in his bright eyes as he sipped from his glass, letting uncertainty ripple through the crowd. The fact that he couldn’t take the throne while I lived clashed with the fear that he might have me killed in my sleep. If he persisted, the high court would have to assume he intended to eliminate me before ascending. That would be grounds to delay the coronation.
“You can’t–”
“Oh, but I can, little sister.”
“Not while I–”
“I, Prince Adastrus, First Born of King Vardis,” he declared over the crowd, commanding their attention once more, “Regent of Wynterborne, challenge Elspeth, Second Born, to the Rite of Combat.”
My breath caught in my chest. I held his stare, avoiding guidance from Sainte or Anderz. Was refusing an option? Would I, if I could? Teeth grinding, I stood and offered a small bow. When I met his gaze, I lifted a brow in challenge.
“I accept, brother.”
“I trust you’ll keep this between us? For the people’s sake?” Mocking placation tinged his tone. “Your Valahant need not fight in your stead as I am without one. We would give the good folk a fair fight?”
I glared, remaining silent.
His grin widened, and he raised his wineglass, eyes trained on me. “To the death, little sister. To the death.”
The walk to my rooms felt like I was in someone else’s body, as if I navigated through thick fog. Memory, rather than conscious thought, guided my steps through the castle. Sainte’s presence remained steady, a silent shadow.
Once inside my chambers, the maids dressed me in my nightclothes, then I dismissed them. With a blanket draped over my shoulders, I stood by the fire, its flames flickering across the room while I pondered the gravity of the situation.
My brother essentially ordered my public execution. I never engaged in a formal duel before. Gods, I wasn’t even handy with a sword. While I knew how to fight with a dagger in a dark alley, such tactics were neither proper nor sanctioned. No, I’d be given a sword with the order to defend myself, miss the first strike, then Adastrus would remove my head from my body.
My expectations were grim, and Sainte’s silence echoed my apprehension .
“There’s no escape now, is there?” I murmured, watching the flames flare, then subside, consuming the wood with vigor.
“No.”
His validation tightened my jaw.
A bitter laugh escaped my lips, heart twisting, as I pulled the fur blanket tighter over my shoulders. “I’ve come this far only to face beheading.” Disbelief tinged my words.
How could I have stayed so long, endured so much only for it to culminate in death?
I sniffed, then faced him. “We need to get Lyana and Ethyan out of here.”
He leaned against the table, his arms crossed over his chest, a hint of agitation rippling beneath his calm exterior. A furrow formed between his brows, and a strand of dark brown hair cascaded down to his temple. I started toward him on slow, careful steps. His nostrils flared with restrained rage, and I reached up to caress his cheek, offering what solace I could muster.
“How long do I have?”
“Until the coronation,” he replied through gritted teeth. “As the challenged party, you have the privilege of setting the time. It’s expected within the week.” His eyes pressed shut, and when he met my gaze, it filled with resolve. His warm palms grasped my face, gentle and sincere. “I will do my best to prepare you.”
“Don’t get your hopes up.” I whispered, leaning into his touch.
“You couldn’t disappoint me.”
I let out a breathless laugh. “Oh, I’m sure I could manage.”
“I mean it, Ellie,” he rumbled, his thumb caressing my cheek. “You’ve exceeded expectations. I won’t abandon you.”
“Such fine words,” I murmured. I turned, pressing my lips against his palm. Our eyes locked as I moved, his gaze sharpening where our skin met.
“We should visit the temple.”
He made no move to pull away, and neither did I.
“Relying on Leihim’s guidance?”
“If there’s a chance that we might find answers, we need to try.”
“And if there are none?”
“We’ll confront that path as it unfolds.”
I nipped his palm, and he withdrew, thumb brushing my lips. Hunger blazed in his eyes, and I closed the distance, his hands settling on my hips, neither drawing me closer nor pushing me away.
I took hope in this revelation.
My voice trembled with nerves, heart racing. “What if tonight was our last?”
A rejection now would shatter the facade I maintained into a thousand pieces .
My hands slid to his sides, tugging at the buckles of his formal attire. His eyes ignited with desire, throat moving as he swallowed. It was empowering to see this fearless man, unflinching in any punishment my brother could mete out, now tremble at my touch.
“I would serve you,” he said, tone husky and raw.
His fingers curled at the small of my back, drawing me closer. Blood rushed in my ears as I pressed against his armor, the barrier suddenly unbearable, and I tugged at the buckles with heightened urgency.
“Serve me how?” I breathed, tipping my head.
He cleared his throat, eyes dropping to my lips. His hold on me tightened, relaying his apprehension. “With my life.”
“With your body?” My teeth sank into my lip to contain my grin.
“If you asked it of me.”
“What if I didn’t?” I abandoned the buckles in my impatience, lacing my fingers around the nape of his neck. The gesture pushed my frame flush against his, and I tugged his face closer to mine.
“I wouldn’t act without your consent.” His voice was rough, and he searched my expression as if seeking affirmation.
“And if I did want your advances?” I murmured, threading my fingers into his short hair, tugging him close. “What if I dreamed of you, craved you?”
His breath hitched, and he closed his eyes, collecting himself. I was his undoing. Power thrummed through my veins, watching my Valahant, my champion, my steadfast Sainte attempt to compose himself against this flame burning between us. When his gaze returned to mine, fierce desire bloomed in those swirling depths.
“Do you dream of me?” I asked.
“We are connected through the velebond,” he said. “I am bound to you. You will always lead.”
He dropped low, gripping my thighs, then lifted me against him. I gasped and, on instinct, wrapped my legs around his waist as he spun, settling me on the table. My heart pounded without mercy as I stared into his eyes—I was so sure he could hear it.
“If I were but a man,” he leaned close, lips pausing but a breath from mine, “or a noble worthy of a queen–”
“You–”
He darted forward, cutting my words short as he pressed his mouth on that tender place just below my ear. Heat exploded within me, a delicious flush that sent flutters low in my belly.
“I would have you,” he whispered, his breath tickling my skin. “Every night I lay with you, I would have you. I would have you on this table, on the bed, before the hearth. You test me, rile me. You’re an itch I can’t scratch. Elspeth, you’re a fire in my chest that cannot be tamed.”
My arms tightened their hold, pinning him against me.
“Of course I dream of you,” he said, teeth grazing my ear.
It felt as if my soul left my body and passed beyond the Veil, and I clung to him for all I was worth. Heat surged through me, and I arched against him, craving more.
“Now,” he jerked out of my embrace, the motion abrupt and swift, putting plenty of space between us, “sleep.”
Disbelief washed over me, cold and consuming. He regarded me with strange uncertainty. It was as though the man standing before me, shy and hesitant, hadn’t been pressed against me in a moment of passion just seconds ago. Had I done something wrong? Reacted in a way he didn’t like?
I had time.
Not much, but enough.
I hopped off the table, bridging the gap between us. My fingers curled around the back of his head, drawing him closer until our breaths mingled, a mere heartbeat apart. His breath was ragged as his hand instinctively cradled my waist.
“Tonight, I will dream of you.”
I planted a swift, innocent kiss on his lips. His exhale was sharp, as if he’d taken a punch to the gut. His expression had me torn between pushing for more and falling to the floor in a fit of laughter.
The man was clearly out of his element.
Wide-eyed, his breath hitched in controlled bursts. I winked, a playful spark in my eyes, and turned away, giving him his space.
For all of Sainte’s knowledge and expertise, women seemed to be an uncharted territory for him.
“For that reason, Princess,” he called, clearing his throat. “I will sleep on my cot. Fully dressed . ”
I threw my head back and laughed. With a glance over my shoulder, I started for my sleeping quarters. “Not in my dreams, you won’t.”