Chapter 10
I feel terrible. There’s only so much I could’ve done on my own to resolve the issue of Ether potentially leaving us, so when Ronan offered his solution, I hadn’t thought twice about it.
Now I am thinking twice about it, but it’s much too late.
My fists tighten on the reins as I watch the elf bob up and down on Melanie’s flank.
The magical elixir Ronan had given me is made of fairy dust, which is collected from Aldorin.
It’s rumored to carry different properties depending on the owner’s intent.
Ronan had assured me that the disc Ether swallowed whole would briefly intoxicate her, then magically conceal the obvious body parts exposing her elf heritage–her ears and teeth.
Instead of feeling like I’ve done her a favor, the entire situation has gotten worse.
Ronan stares forward, one hand gripping Melanie’s reins while another stretches in the air as he yawns. He must have seen many Aldorin folk in his travels with Xavelor, because he seems to have already forgotten about the elf dangling behind him.
When he puts his arm down, he faces me, his expression flat. “You have the makings of a crown prince,” he drawls, almost like his words are an afterthought.
I clear my throat to hide my surprise. “What makes you say so?”
I’m not sure if he means to compliment me or make a mere observation. He worked alongside my brother for a while, after all.
He casts me a sidelong glance, eyes flicking from my knees to my head, as though that gesture answers my question.
I shake my head and widen my eyes, eyebrows pushing together. “Are you telling me my trousers and tunic make me look the part?”
Ronan huffs a dry laugh. “No, it’s the way you carry yourself, Ramiel. It’s similar to how Xavelor does… did. ” At his correction, he turns away, jaw tightening. His words become clipped as he quickly adds, “You must have picked up his posture somehow.”
If only Ronan knew how far he is from the truth.
I was never that close to Xavelor. In fact, during his life, he was almost constantly battling mini wars in the outlying provinces, conquering land and villages with ease.
He had no time for tea parties and glamorous balls, where I spent my time.
I saw him most when we were children, though my memories have grown rather hazy.
One thing I do remember, however, is that Ronan would never leave the crown prince’s side. They were stuck together like a fly to a spot of pitch—no one would’ve taken pleasure in trying to separate the two.
It used to bother me, seeing Xavelor treat someone else as his brother when I held that title. But our father hadn’t made it necessarily easy for us to bond either. After all, I was born two years after Xavelor, and to a concubine. Our association had been taboo.
I’ve never once thought my brother held any ill will toward me, nor have I ever thought he held me in high regard. But he’s given me his trusted servant and best friend.
Why would he do that?
I open my mouth to speak, but Ronan beats me to it.
“Ramiel.” When I regard him, his head bows, choppy silver hair shading his dark eyes. “Thank you for trusting me.”
I smile at him and nod. There’s no reason not to trust him.
After all, he’d served Xavelor for almost fifteen years, aiding him in his victories.
He has always been close to the royal family as the son of Duke Perri.
I’m still learning who he is beyond all of that, but for now, I don’t dislike him.
Maybe Xavelor assigned Ronan to me for his sake, and not mine.
“Your Highness,” a castle guard greets me, a sign we’ve reached the outer wall of Bellmane. And a sign my disguise isn’t as successful as I’d hoped it would be. I frown as his fist thuds against his chest and he bows deeply. Remaining bent in half, he continues, “Welcome back.”
“Benjamin.” I nod and smile tightly. He’s an old, loyal friend of my father’s. He’d attended Xavelor’s funeral. His son, whom he is quite proud of, is a mage.
Claude chuffs, shaking his mane. Specks of sweat dot along his neck of glistening black fur. Poor animal. He’s never had to travel so much in a day, and in such dreadful heat, no less.
My hands grab the saddle’s horn, and I swivel my left leg over Claude’s broad back to land squarely on the stone ground. Ronan drops from his steed, then grabs the reins to lead the horses to the shade of a nearby elm tree.
“Take our mounts to the castle stables, Benjamin?” I phrase it like a question, but he knows I’m not asking. He pounds his fist again and nods, taking the reins from Ronan.
The sound of our exchange wakes Ether, and she twitches on Melanie’s flank, then her head flips to face us.
Her pupils thin to nothing. A brilliant red color invades her nose, cheeks, and ears.
I can’t tell if she’s angry or embarrassed, but her eyes hold me with an intensity I can only break from when the soldier speaks again.
“And who might this be?” Benjamin asks with a chuckle.
His eyes are lazily half open, half shut as he surveys the petite girl with no shoes, two messy braids, and commoner’s clothing, and who is still drooping over the mare’s rear.
His question is light, but the scrutiny in his expression makes me swallow.
I take a step closer to her, my hands clasping behind my back so as not to get in the way of my speaking. Her gaze fixes on me, but I resist peeking down at her for fear of discovering how she truly feels.
Probably trapped and terrified. Thanks to me.
“She’s to be a new maid-in-training.” My words carry more confidence than I feel, making me inwardly cringe.
I’ll have a lot of explaining to do later, if Ether doesn’t first put me on my ass the first chance she gets, like she did to the villager in Arcanvale.
“On my outing, Ronan scouted her for her build and youth. She’s a perfect understudy for Bernadette. ”
I wouldn’t feel the need to explain myself, but Benjamin might tell my father, so I choose my words carefully.
To my relief, he seems convinced. His shaded green eyes bounce between me and the elf, then finally rest on me.
“Of course, Your Highness.” He gestures with his long arms, directing us into the castle gates.
I glance at Ether, who is now sliding from Melanie’s flank. She lands on the hard ground, a little wobbly. My hand twitches, even though I’m too far to stabilize her.
Ronan cups a hand around her elbow before she falls, and she snatches her arm away, huffing as she strides forward.
My hand stiffens as we all turn to head for the castle grounds.
We have to walk through the castle town first, and we keep to the outer edges. Buildings in Bellmane are shades of yellow, orange, and red brick, perpetuating the feeling of autumn. The heat rises in distorted columns along the dark gray streets as if trying to reach the clouds above.
Two guards fall in behind us, and two take the front. Ether takes notice. Her eyes move along the path, her arms finding themselves once again after being limp for the past hour or so.
Though she’s taken Ronan’s magic elixir and her ears have been disguised as a human’s, her expressions are still uniquely hers.
Lips a deep red, light pink freckles kissing the skin on either side of her thin nose, and eyes constantly atwinkle, one might think she’s in love with everything she sees.
Even these rugged streets. Which are eerily empty.
It’s late afternoon, and cool enough for vendors to sell without a sweltering heat keeping away customers.
It doesn’t take me long to realize my father has heard of my escapade…
and my imminent arrival. And no one can witness an entourage such as this, or else they’d think I’m?—
“Um, Xavelo—Your Highness?”
I flinch at my brother’s name. At this point, she must know I’m not…
him , right? Ronan has said my name a few times now, and a guard from earlier also leaked my name in front of her.
But even with those instances of honesty, this situation might convince her I’ve been lying to her, hiding behind a false name.
I can’t confess my real identity to her now, can I? Not when there are so many listening ears, waiting in silence behind propped windows and slightly open doors.
I straighten my shoulders, attempting to stand like Xavelor would . It would be better if she continued to think I am some amazing warrior, at least for now. She might have more respect for me if she thinks I’ve conquered nations and slaughtered mighty beasts.
Once she started believing me to be Xavelor, she must’ve forgotten my initial request, to teach me these things.
My head tilts in her direction. “Yes, Ether?”
Her arms swing at her sides like they have minds of their own. Her braids are synced with her biceps, twisting to and fro with the movement of each limb.
We continue walking at the same pace as the guards, staying in the center of the little square they’ve formed.
“You’re...not Xavelor, are you?”
My feet forget how to walk for a moment, and I nearly trip over myself, my arms swirling around my body for balance. A lump clogs my throat.
“It’s okay if you’re not,” she continues in a rush, her volume dropping.
Is that disappointment I hear in her subtle shift in tone?
“You used a different name earlier, and since you need my help, I can’t see how you could be the same prince with a bloody battle history.
Also, as you know, elves are cursed to always tell the truth.
” I finally face her, our paces perfectly matched.
The dullness in her muted blue eyes makes my heart ache.
“So, if you can, please be honest with me, as I’ve been with you. ”
I want to meet this simple, vulnerable request. I do, but sweat creeps up my back as the claws of guilt scratch at my conscience. Will she understand? Can I trust her to understand?