Chapter 14
I pace the length of my bed, thinking of ways to convince the castle’s culinary servants to lend us a raw magical fish they might not even possess. Curtains feather around the windows as a breeze winds around the room, doing little to cool the sweat heating the back of my neck.
I stop when Ronan appears at the crack in my door.
“Tallup in our kitchens are rare, and they lack the magical cores Ether wants,” Ronan drawls, reading the concern on my face.
He bends his neck, and the door opens when he presses his chest against it.
He wears only trousers, the rest of his body on full display.
I try to hide my horror, but I’m sure I do a poor job of it.
Had he waltzed down the hallway half naked? Had nobody seen him or stopped him?
His eyes are thoughtful as he moves swiftly to my wardrobe, unperturbed by disbelief. “They need to be fresh, or she won’t be able to gain anything more than a full belly.”
“You seem to know a lot about elf cuisine,” I say dryly.
He shrugs, which is mildly irritating.
His arms reach through the fabrics lining my closet as though he knows his way around the wardrobe.
A small part of myself, perhaps the little bit of vanity in me, wants to tear him away from my belongings.
It’s improper for servants to thumb through a royal’s clothes without an order to do so.
I also don’t know when he last bathed, and I don’t even rummage through my clothing without first slipping on a robe at least!
Before I get the chance to voice my disapproval, he retrieves two of my gray tunics, hardly worn. Perhaps even a little small. He shoves one to my chest.
Has he always been this curt? Did Xavelor allow it?
I eye the tunic and swallow.
He pokes his arms into the short sleeves of the shirt, but stops before pulling it over his head.
“We can’t risk others finding out who you are.
Ether was able to determine your royalty easily.
I think it was the cloak.” He looks over me, nodding at my clothing as though they’re admitting to him it was their fault I was found out.
He must have already forgotten he’d called me “prince” more than once in our travels.
Apparently that is not the issue.
“You have to disguise yourself better, and the best way you can do that is by wearing the same thing as your companion.” His tone, I realize, is flat and matter-of-fact but not inherently rude.
So I simply nod. With a smile, he continues.
“Don’t worry about whether people recognized you before, Ramiel.
Dwelling on the past will prevent you from witnessing your glorious future. ”
“Of course,” I say, and I mean it.
I’ve long since decided not to allow my princely status to alter who I am or what I do.
Yes, it may inform my upbringing in certain ways, in the way I’ve been taught etiquette, but it hasn’t impacted how I view my servants or other species and creatures.
I figure if I, as a prince of Arioch, haven’t been treated with fairness, others must be much worse off than I am.
It humbles me, reminds me to recenter my thoughts on the future and forget about keeping up appearances when it’s just Ronan and me.
With a quick exhale, I change the subject. “It’s decided then. We are venturing to find this…tallup . Should we rethink bringing Ether? I know we’ve sent for one of the soldiers to keep watch over her, but…”
Ronan pauses, his arms still hanging from the holes in the top of his tunic, which is turned upside down. A confused smirk twitches on his lips. He averts my stare. “Are you asking me ?”
I clear my throat. “I assume you’d be better at making this decision, since you’ve traveled much farther than I have, and you’ve interacted with more creatures. If you think we should leave her behind, I will say no more. But perhaps she could train me along the way?”
“I do know much about the creatures of the wood, and therefore, I ought to be sufficient for this mission,” he says with a huff.
His eyes focus on the curtain rippling against the stone wall behind me, though I know he only does this to avoid eye contact.
Is it possible he feels threatened by Ether? Or is there something else?
“I’d implore you to leave her behind,” he continues, rushing his words. “She made it into the castle once, but I’m not sure she’d be able to enter a second time unscathed, unless she were disguised as an entirely different girl.”
“I’d hardly characterize her arrival as unscathed .” I try not to dwell on how his word choice bothers me. Someone hurt her, though I hadn’t seen who. I know Ronan is implying that I’m not supposed to care. She’s only a maid , after all.
Except she’s not. She’s a skilled elven warrior who has more than earned my fear and respect.
“Royals have returned in worse conditions.” His words are careful, but I can tell something haunts him, something dark swirls in his eyes.
I feel a pang of guilt when I realize he’s referring to my brother, who hadn’t returned, whose body was lost to the carnage.
At my look of sympathy, he purses his lips and glances away.
There’s still too much I don’t know about Ronan and his relationship with Xavelor, too much to assume he will always keep my best interests at heart.
But everything he’s saying seems to be in line with what I expect.
He is wise from many days on the battlefield, even witnessing my brother’s death.
Perhaps he’s putting on emotional armor to make himself appear stronger.
I hope he knows I am the last person who would judge him for mourning his best friend.
With a nod, I remove my cloak, toss it onto my bed, and throw my arms through the gray tunic.
It’s still big enough for me to fit into, despite my tailor once telling me I’d grow enough muscle to fill it out, perhaps even to break the fabric.
Alas, I’m still as scrawny as I was at sixteen.
I ignore the disappointment and embarrassment heating my neck.
I tap my chin as I make my way to the window. Stout candles are melted to the frame, dripping from the unrelenting rays of sun. “Are you sure this soldier will keep Ether’s identity secret? Is he aware she is an elf?”
Just the thought of Ether being discovered by the king… A shudder twitches my shoulders back.
Because of my father, magic frightens humans.
It’s too unpredictable , he’d grumbled to Xavelor when we were boys.
That’s why they have certain…restrictions.
It’s better that way. He may have spared us from witnessing the sacrifices for ourselves, but we weren’t immune to the shrieks ringing up from the dungeons.
I search for Ronan over my shoulder, willing the memory of my father to vanish.
He appears at my side, his tunic having mussed his silvery hair.
“Of course not,” he grumbles. “Though he is no noble, he is loyal to the throne first and foremost. I’m sure he’d gladly hand over any magical being he discovers.
It’s written in his oath. But don’t worry, he won’t discover she’s anything but a maid.
Even with an eye on her all day. Ether wouldn’t let that happen. ”
I raise an eyebrow and hold my breath, but Ronan stands as confident as ever. He’s speaking for Ether as though she’d told him this in person. Had they spoken privately?
I shake my head.
I should trust him. My breath steady, I nod once.
Ronan opens his mouth, then promptly closes it. The following smile is tense. Hesitant. With a hand to his chest, he bows. I try not to read too much into the stiffness. “I will fetch your footbath, my liege.”
When Ronan returns, he brings me a wooden basin filled halfway with water. He places it at the base of my bed, then steps aside and holds his arms in front of him, studying his wrists.
“Is everything alright?” I raise a brow at him. He continues to focus on his wrists, squinting as though trying to spot something microscopic.
After a beat, Ronan blinks himself out of his stupor.
“Oh, yes,” he says, shaking his arms. “Let’s get your swelling taken care of so it doesn’t hinder our travels.”
I laugh before returning to the bucket beneath my feet.
It’s filled with ice-cold water, a method commonly used to reduce inflammation.
The summer heat tends to blow my ankles out, so this has been a daily ritual I’ve grown accustomed to.
However, it’s usually Bernadette who brings the water for my feet. It’s strange that she isn’t here.
As I submerge my feet carefully into the small container, Ronan moves to kneel in front of me, his eyes down. Something radiates off him, something wrong. Something he is uncomfortable with.
“Your Highness.” There’s a hint of hesitation angling his tone, amplifying my suspicions.
“Speak,” I say lightly. “Whatever you have on your chest, I’m sure it won’t hinder us. We must make haste, for my training must begin as soon as we retrieve the magical fish for Ether.”
My feet plunge the rest of the way into the ice bath, chunks of the splintering cold shards nipping at the heat clinging to my soles. I suck in a harsh breath. This never gets any easier.
“Very well,” Ronan huffs. He lifts his head, his dark eyes pensive. “The king requests your audience. Immediately.”
My toes hit the bottom of the basin, and water sloshes and scatters puddles across the marbled floor. The sound might’ve hidden my shocked gasp if it weren’t for the action itself exposing my reaction.
I haven’t seen my father since our meeting with the military men, a little over two weeks ago. What could he want now? No… There’s no way he’s already discovered Ether’s presence here. No one has suspected a thing.
Right?
“Why didn’t you say so?” I clear my throat to calm myself, then reach for the towel lying across my bed. “We best hurry?—”