Chapter 5 #2
The dagger flipped in the air, my fingers catching the blade's tip. “Good. You don’t need them. There’s more to living than pretty, rich pigs drooling over your crown.”
Her smile faltered, just slightly, her eyes dimming. “They all expect the same thing—strength, power, magic that will make our kingdom shine. And mine…” She trailed off, lips pressing tight. “Mine barely flickers. I’ll be lucky if any find me worthy.”
My elbows hit my knees as my body leaned to her. “You are the treasure, Elva. And I’ll make them see that you don’t need flickering light to blind them.”
When Elva awakened at eighteen, like me, she woke marked. But unlike me, hers was no curse, only honor.
Her heir mark, ivory and delicate, spiraled down each of her slender fingers on her left hand, the thin lines converging at the back of her hand.
From the center, they rolled and curved into a perfect circle, flames shooting outward like rays of a sun caught at its peak.
A crown of radiance. A sigil of destiny.
It was the very essence of Elva herself; beauty, grace, the relentless will to be the glow Luamis so desperately craved.
A symbol meant to guide. To blaze.
Yet it had been stolen from her before she ever had the chance to shine.
It had been whispered behind doors once that her parents were joined for bloodline, not affection. Leora with her powerful lineage, Sebastian with his old magic. Luamis always refused to be the lesser of kingdoms.
So, marriage became a convenience, not a choice. It never stopped them from loving Elva, though. To Leora and Sebastian, she was all they’d ever need.
Elva hummed as she swayed across her chamber, sunlight threading itself through every movement.
Her fingers plucked pearl earrings from the vanity, fastening them delicately in place.
Mauves and marigold gowns swooned against her hands as she brushed past the armoire before drifting toward the open glass doors of a balcony.
Beams spilled through, painting the stone terrace in melted gold, gilding the garden I’d slipped through earlier.
Elva lifted my gift to her face, inhaling deep. “I do love my flowers, thank you.” Her shoulders rose, then fell on a quiet exhale. “I’m shocked there were some left looking so alive. It’s rather chilly this morning.”
She shivered, searching for a blanket, but came up empty. The fireplace crackled and she moved there instead, where porcelain vases lined up neatly along its mantle. Rising on her toes, she tucked the flowers into one with care.
“Never underestimate.” My eyes caught on the shadows following her across the walls. “Even the softest things have their way of surprising us with their edge.”
Her skin pebbled when another breeze slipped through, her attention lingering on the chess set in the corner.
I groaned under my breath. I was atrocious at chess. Elva, on the other hand, was exceptional at it, her mind sharper than she ever gave herself credit for. It soothed her, steadied her, and I could feel the unease beneath her skin today.
So, when she turned those doe eyes on me, face full of sunshine and white teeth, I relented.
She grinned as I slid the dagger back into its sheath and gestured toward the table.
Elva slid her bishop across the board, smirking as she stole one of my pawns.
“Callum told me about your…" She leaned in, cupping her hand around her mouth as if the walls might be listening. “…mission the other day.”
Leave it to Callum. The man couldn’t keep a single secret from her if his life depended on it.
The bishop clanked against the wood on my move, harsher than I intended. “That information,” I muttered, “was supposed to be classified.”
Her eyes glanced down, tongue clicking softly. “Only diagonal, Verena. Remember?”
Gods, this game was torture.
With a dramatic groan, I dragged the piece one space diagonally and lifted my hands as if to say, better?
She nodded, though the corners of her mouth twitched as she swept her queen three spaces ahead. A strand of hair slid down her shoulder, her fingers gracefully catching it and twirling it around.
“Are you okay?” Her voice was soft, like she expected me to say no.
Sweet. That was Elva. Always considerate, always caring. Worrying over me when she was the one who needed guarding. And unnecessary, of course.
I was more than capable of taking care of myself, physically, mentally. And when I wasn’t, that’s what Gemma was for.
I studied the placement of her queen. “Fret not, princess. I can assure you it wasn’t nearly as eventful as Callum likely made it out to be.”
But concern wavered across her features, dimming the glow in her eyes. She dipped her chin, clearing her throat. “Your turn.”
It didn’t take long for boredom to overtake me; my attention fixed on anything but the damn game. My eyes caught the tapestry draped beside the floor-length doors, its woven fibers etched with the history of Luamis.
A woman observed from the threads, her turquoise eyes fixed not on me, but on Elva—watching her fingers hover over the chessboard.
I rose, hand at my dagger when a knock broke the stillness, heavy against the door. I stalked closer, the blade raising as I inched forward, opening the door just enough to see.
As if an actual threat waited for us behind its barrier.
A creased face stared back, brown eyes worn by the sun and years of strain. Or perhaps only from the sight of me.
“Lunch for Princess Elvira, Ms. Vale,” Fritz muttered through the crack.
He used his elbow to nudge the door wider, forcing the maid through with a tray and shoving me back a step with nothing more than his presence.
It wasn’t that Fritz hated me, not openly at least, but he had been Elva’s guardian since she was only a baby, after she lost both her mother and father.
His love for her was built from duty and a deeper promise, an adoration he had once reserved for her mother, Queen Leora. A kind of love that made him territorial.
And though Elva and I had been bound since childhood, though she had called me friend for all her life, I was not a princess. Not even close.
My influence on her? Undesired.
I could still feel the sting from the first time Fritz pulled me aside.
Stop inviting her to train, he’d said. Stop putting a dagger in her hand.
Stop teaching her to fight. Elva was not a soldier.
She had rules, etiquette, a crown-shaped destiny to grow into.
She had guards for defense. She didn’t need to know how to wrench free of a grip from behind.
Or where to strike to open an artery. She was the most protected royal in Luamis, second only to the king himself.
She was safe.
At least, that was the lie.
Even then the unease never left me. Yes, she was safe... until she wasn’t. And what would the cost be then?
The scent hit first as the usual maid, Mina, strode in—rosemary and char, rich enough to make my mouth water.
She padded across the carpet, her hands steady for only thirteen, even as the tray steamed between them—chicken roasted to perfection, vegetables blistered and sweet.
My stomach betrayed me with a growl so loud Fritz’s disapproving frown cut over his shoulder.
Elva’s palms came together, the clap light and eager. “Oh, how wonderful. Thank you, Mina. Please tell the chef I said so. He knows this is my favorite.”
Mina set the meal down on the low table beside Elva, curtseyed, and vanished through the door as quickly as she came.
Fritz remained, immovable, his hands tucked behind his back, gaze hawk-sharp on Elva’s every movement. He never wore the same uniform as the rest of the guards. No Day-Glo blue and lion crest for him. His attire was always a blend, dark cotton woven with steel, dignity sewn with danger.
He didn’t blink, barely even breathed, just watched as she lifted her fork, each bite small and polite, as though swallowing under his scrutiny cost her.
I sprawled back onto the chaise, legs swung over the edge, limbs loose. “You don’t have to eat like a bird, Elva.” My mouth curved in a grin that dared him to scold me. “Not when it’s just us.”
Fritz’s brow rose, the faintest incline of his head as she glanced at him, then lowered her lashes again.
I turned my attention fully on him. “And you don’t have to stand here gawking while she’s eating. I pinky promise,” I lifted a hand, “if anything’s too big, I’ll cut it for her. I won’t let her choke.” I winked.
A sound dragged from his throat, from the depths of patience and years of enduring me as his hand slid into his jacket pocket.
“Actually, I’m here because Princess Elvira has a meeting to attend.
” He produced an envelope, its wax seal stamped with authority, and handed it to her with a bow of his head. “I am to escort her.”
Elva’s shoulders slumped as she scanned the letter.
Her mouth parted, eyes glossing with tears that threatened to spill.
She set the envelope down beside her tray, untouched food still perfuming the air, suddenly unwanted.
Her fingers curled around the pendant at her throat, twisting it repeatedly, hoping its chain might tether her to calm.
Then the shiver came, so hard Fritz startled. He turned at once to the stained-glass windows, fumbling to shut out the breeze.
But it wasn’t the cold that shook her.
He didn’t see it. Couldn’t. He was so convinced he knew her best, what she wanted, what she needed, that he missed the truth unraveling right in front of him.
A curtain shifted, the sunlight blinking out in fractured rays. Elva didn’t so much as lift her head. Only threw her hand out, dismissive. “Leave it.”
Fritz froze at the balcony; hand braced against the glass. “Princess,” he said carefully. “The sun may sit high, but the cold will surely render you ill.”
He pushed the pane until a dull ripple of light caught his arm.