Chapter 17
For the next week, I took things easy. Apart from that first night, I was still expected to keep up with my chores. Washing the dishes wasn’t so bad, but making the beds and doing the laundry were a lot more difficult with bruised ribs. I had to move slower and be careful how I twisted and bent my body. As for training, Parisar had told me not to, but I didn’t want to lose what I had already gained, so I went back to doing the kata without the sword. I moved slower, trying to perfect each pose and movement rather than aiming for flow. It still hurt, but it at least made me feel like I was doing something. It was a far cry from what would have happened had I been injured at home. If such a thing occurred, I would have been sent to bed for complete rest until I was deemed completely healed. My meals would’ve been brought to me, and I would not have been required to lift a finger.
Part of me wished for that, but the greater part of me was glad I was required to keep busy. It gave me a sense of accomplishment and an empowerment over my life that I hadn’t experienced before.
I had also taken up a life of crime. Every day, I made a trip into the barn while everyone was otherwise engaged and pilfered a throwing knife. The only one who noticed was Zeyr, who complained bitterly one night over dinner about the carelessness of the other members and that he would have to make some new ones. No one looked like losing a few knives was a big deal, even though my heart pounded in my chest, sure I was going to be discovered at any moment. I didn’t take any more after that. I didn’t have anywhere else to hide them on my body anyway, so I didn’t see the point.
The rest of the compound had changed too. There was a dark cloud over everyone, and the laughter and joking that had been present before was greatly reduced. The news of the rumours about the queen’s mental decline was felt by all. The sparring practise seemed far more serious and focussed. It felt like they were preparing for war.
There had never been war in my lifetime, nor in my parents’ lifetimes either. War was something relegated to history books and boring lectures by Master Francis. The five kingdoms had once been one but when the king died, the five brothers, Kairos, Thalasso, Quero, Edam, and Wer fought over who would become the next king. Each had their supporters, and the argument turned to war until it was decided that the continent be divided among them. Since then, the kingdoms had lived in peace, or at least relative peace. Trade negotiations and border disputes sometimes became tense, but it had never devolved into war.
Was that what was happening now? Had one of the kingdoms decided it wanted to take over all the others? And what of Werifesteria? No one even knew if anyone lived beyond the thorned wood that grew along the border. Was this their doing? Had they purposely isolated themselves from the rest of the continent in hopes that we would forget about them only for them to spring a surprise attack on us? Of all the kingdoms, Eudaimonia shared the majority of the border with them. Querencia butted against them, but only a very small section of the kingdoms met. As for the others, they were both on the other side of Fernweh and shared no border with Werifesteria at all. It would make sense that if the southern kingdom wanted to make a play for the continent, Eudaimonia would be their first target.
‘What are you thinking so hard about?’ Parisar asked.
I blinked myself out of my thoughts and turned to him. I’d been standing by the well, lost in thought, the pail used for collecting water held limply in my hand.
‘Do you think Werifesteria has anything to do with this?’ I asked.
Parisar blinked at me. ‘Werifesteria?’
I nodded, warming to my idea. ‘They have isolated themselves for generations, but maybe they have had a long-term goal. Maybe they planned to invade us, but to do that they needed us to have our defences down. What better way than make us forget they even exist?’
Parisar didn’t immediately shoot my idea down. ‘Maybe,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘I did initially think that it had to be someone who was at your birthday celebrations,’ he said.
‘My birthday,’ I breathed, completely forgetting that I was now another year older. The date had passed without me even realising it.
Parisar frowned. ‘I…I forgot,’ he said.
‘So did I,’ I replied with a sigh. What did it matter anyway? I didn’t feel any different, and it was just a date.
‘Here,’ Parisar said, holding a folded piece of paper to me. ‘I meant to give it to you earlier, but when I arrived in camp and found you unconscious, I forgot about it.’
I took the paper and turned it over seeing my mother’s seal stamped into the wax. ‘You spoke with her.’
He nodded. ‘It was the reason I went there.’
‘Aren’t you supposed to be locked in the dungeons?’ I asked, tilting my head as I looked at him. ‘How did you explain your absence?’
‘The queen ordered me kept in solitary confinement with no visitors. I was dragged before her and banished, officially.’
‘You had to sneak back into the dungeon?’ I asked.
‘There are loyal guards who know the truth,’ he said. ‘They helped.’
I studied Parisar. He and his father had both held their positions with an authority and pride. Losing face in front of the entire kingdom had to hurt.
‘Your mother gave me the letter you asked for,’ he said with a nod of his head to the letter in my hand. ‘I hope it answers your questions about me.’
With that, he turned and walked away. I looked down at the letter. I’d asked for proof and he’d given it to me.
The letter was short and to the point. It was my mother’s handwriting, of that I was sure.
Trust Lord Parisar.
There are things happening that you don’t understand. I know you’re worried, but please believe me when I say that we have a plan.
I love you, Little Rose,
xx
Little Rose. Mother hadn’t called me that for a long time. I thought she’d forgotten about it.
Things had been strained between us for so long that seeing those words brought tears to my eyes and a pain in my heart. I missed her, and I didn’t just mean because of the last few weeks. I missed the way we used to be. I missed being her Little Rose.
I crushed the letter to my chest and tipped my head to the sky, willing my tears not to fall. I couldn’t fall apart. Not now. I needed to stay the course. I needed to get stronger, to fight harder, to become more like Tain and Cor and Sim. My mother was fighting this alone, and the only way I could help her was to join the fight, even if that meant staying here for the time being. I wasn’t being a coward. I was following the orders of my general, and I was preparing for the future.
I exhaled roughly and sniffed one last time. I slipped the letter into the hidden pocket in my tunic—a little addition I’d made during my ‘mending’, along with a few places to hide my pilfered knives—and then finished drawing water to take to the kitchen.
It was Cor’s turn to cook, so I didn’t offer to stay and help. Her meals were barely edible, and I knew I would learn nothing from her, so I headed to my training room. My ribs were still sore, but I needed to pick up the sword and resume my practise, even if it was slow and painful.
I approached the wood pile and stopped, watching as Parisar stripped his shirt over his head. I should keep moving, but the sight of him again like this gave me pause.
He sensed me watching him and turned, his eyes scanning over me before he smiled.
‘Did you do this?’ he asked, motioning to the axe still stuck in the log. It had been a week, but no one had needed to cut wood, so there it had stayed, and I had forgotten about it.
I shrugged.
His smile broadened as he stepped over to the axe and gripped the handle. In one swift movement, that had all the muscles in his back rippling, he wrenched it free. He turned, placing the head of the axe on the ground and leaning on the handle.
‘You read the letter?’ he asked, the smile from earlier gone and caution in its place.
I nodded.
‘Do you believe me now?’
I rolled my lips together before swallowing. Why was I so dry-mouthed?
‘Maybe you should put a shirt on if you want to discuss it,’ I said.
Why did I say that? I didn’t really want him to put his shirt on, although it would definitely help me think better if he did.
The corner of his mouth ticked up in a crooked smile and he took a step closer to me, swinging the axe up so it rested on his shoulder.
‘I thought you liked me without a shirt,’ he said, his voice low and dangerous.
I felt the heat on my cheeks and willed it away, praying that the flush wasn’t noticeable to him. No such luck, if his grin was anything to go by.
‘Whatever gave you that idea?’ I asked.
He paused and looked up, using his free hand to rub his chin as he pretended to think about it. His fingers rasped against the short beard he’d grown over the last week, the beard I had been studiously ignoring. It made him look older, more distinguished, and gave him an extra air of authority that he really didn’t need. I liked it. I liked it more than I wanted to admit.
‘Maybe because you seem to be around any time I take it off.’
I scoffed. ‘Once,’ I said. ‘And it was quite by accident.’
‘Twice,’ he countered, ‘if you include now.’
‘And again, it was an accident. I was heading to the training room.’
He nodded, but his eyes said they didn’t believe me. Had I come this way because I knew he was here? If I had, it had been an unconscious action.
‘I also wanted to speak to you,’ I said hurriedly. ‘But I thought you’d be clothed.’
His grin widened at that. ‘My ears still work whether I’m clothed or not,’ he said.
Do not think about him naked.
Too late, although I really couldn’t imagine what a naked Parisar would look like. His bare chest was as close as I’d come to a naked male. I’d seen anatomical drawings, much to Master Francis’ chagrin. But they would surely pale in comparison to the real thing.
‘What about me?’ I asked.
His eyebrows rose in question. ‘Your ears won’t work if I’m not clothed?’
Why did I say that? I hadn’t meant it to come out quite like that, but the words were out there, hanging between us like glowing embers. The question was, would they ignite something, or would they die in the wind?
‘Snow,’ he breathed, his voice low and gravelly. ‘You shouldn’t say things like that.’
The embers between us continued to glow, getting brighter as Parisar stepped closer to me. It wouldn’t take much to spark them…us. And I wanted to, even if I got burned.
I closed the distance between us, not sure what I was doing or why. I just wanted to be closer to him. I wanted to feel his skin under my fingers. I wanted him to kiss me.
There. I admitted it. It had been burning in me for days now, but I had been too scared to acknowledge the truth.
This yearning was different to the one I felt for Elil. Elil was my ideal. The man I could see myself marrying and sitting beside on our thrones and building a family with. But Parisar…what drew me to him was darker, wilder. I knew it would be a mistake, but I wanted to do it anyway.
Someone nearby cleared their throat, breaking the spell. Those glowing embers died and floated away as Parisar looked up, over my shoulder.
‘Breust,’ he said, and for all the world I would have sworn he hadn’t felt a damned thing in the moment we’d shared. In fact, if I hadn’t experienced it, I would have thought it a lie.
‘Messenger,’ he said.
‘Messenger?’ I asked, twisting to look at Breust.
Breust nodded, and I looked back to Parisar for an explanation. He taken several steps away from me and put down the axe. He was reaching for his shirt when he answered.
‘We will be receiving correspondence from the castle from now on,’ he said, tugging the shirt over his head. ‘You are to stay hidden. No one can know you’re here.’
Without waiting for a response, Parisar stalked to Breust’s side and together they walked away.