Chapter 8 #2
“Too old?” I laughed softly. “Then perhaps you should go and speak with the Ladies. Seek some… trophies there?”
He smiled faintly, one of those rare moments when his usually impenetrable mask cracked.
“I am speaking with one now,” he said, with a hint of unease. “A Lady, of course.”
He was so different from the other lords in the palace.
He didn’t have to force anything. He didn’t have to prove anything.
He simply was. But still part of him remained tightly sealed, a place no one was allowed to enter.
I could feel there was a great deal of suffering and pain hidden behind those green eyes.
When we reached the Inner Court, preparations for the bonfires were already well underway.
The courtyard roared with life. Fires were being lit, sparks climbing into the darkening sky, while servants hurried past with barrels of wine and ale, their voices and laughter colliding in a rising storm of sound.
Cedric, the young huntsman that was with us, started sharing his boar story with others.
I hoped he would skip the part of lady in the woods.
I didn’t need more unusual stories about me.
On our way through the crowd, we encountered Cassandra, commanding the chaos with sharp gestures and sharper words. Dricus turned toward her. The look on her face made it plain that the Lord of the Desert was the last person she wished to see.
“Lady Cavareth,” Dricus said. “It is good to see you.”
“Lord Cineris,” she replied coolly. “And I see you are keeping… interesting company.” Her gaze slid to me, heavy with disdain.
“Is there something I may assist you with, young Lord?” She stressed the word deliberately, a reminder that he still belonged to the younger members of the court, not the elders who made all the decisions.
Even though he was the sole heir to his lands.
“In the forest we found a tainted mire,” Dricus said evenly. “East of the road. Black sludge, reeking of rot. It should be investigated.”
“Interesting,” Cassandra said. “Thank you for the report. When time allows, someone will attend to it. As you can see, everyone is occupied right now.”
“How many balls and revels,” Dricus pressed, “how many corpses and how much rot will it take before the Regency treats this threat with the gravity it deserves?”
Cassandra fixed him with a glacial stare. Had she the power, she would have thrown him into a dungeon without a second thought. Dricus did not flinch. He was more irritated by Cassandra’s inaction than he was with courtly customs.
“Do not overstep yourself, Lord Cineris,” she said. “We pay you too well for you to talk back. And do not trouble yourself over the Regency. We have everything under control.”
His jaw tightened. “We’ll see for how long.”
We were about to part when Cassandra’s attention returned to me.
“And you. Daughter of Veymaris,” she said. “Soiled as though you had been crawling through the bushes in search of a husband. I see that on the islands they save coins on raising Ladies.”
Before I could answer, she vanished into the press of servants, denying us even the courtesy of a nod.
How much better the world would have been, had she sunk into that mire, instead of the boar. I would even grant her the mercy of a swift arrow.
Dricus met my eyes. He knew her words had cut deep. Before he could speak, the sounds of a hunting horn rang out across the court.
They had returned.
“Will you go to the bonfires?” I asked. I was not certain what answer I hoped for.
He grimaced faintly. “To join that riot of drunken Ladies and Lords?” He shook his head. “I shall pass.”
I didn’t know what I had been waiting for. An invitation from him, perhaps. But he clearly didn’t need my company. Nobody’s company.
“Take care of yourself,” he said. “I cannot save you all the time.” He allowed himself a small smile, one that only deepened the lines at the corners of his eyes.
“Perhaps I do it purposefully,” I replied. “So you may rescue me.” It had been a long while since I had allowed myself such flirtation. The rush of emotions after the hunt was still lingering in me.
“Maybe one day you will save me, for a change.” he said.
His gaze lingered on my face, then dropped to my lips. A shiver ran through me as I felt the faint pull of his power, subtle and magnetic. Then, as quickly as it came, he withdrew. He bowed and turned away, leaving in haste, as though he had frightened himself.
I remained alone in the courtyard. The lords came back loud and triumphant. One by one the heirs swung down from their saddles, laughing loudly and boasting of their kills.
The greatest trophy was a huge stag, brought in upon a cart. It was exactly the same one I was about to shoot before the boar attack. A crowd gathered around it, marveling at its size and judging the antlers.
I was wondering who had shot it.
Then he rode in, Cavareth himself. Slightly spattered with dirt, his hair tangled, stains of earth and blood upon his trousers. Even so, he looked infuriatingly good, wild and dangerous.
A fucking asshole.
With a single fluid motion he dismounted and began to accept the congratulations of the others.
The men raised their cups in his honor, and the court ladies flocked around him like flies to honey, giggling and showering him with praise for his trophy.
I noticed the jealous looks of some noblemen as well. Here, everything was a contest.