Page 9

CHAPTER 9

‘Females are not allowed to train in Clochain.’

‘But that was not the arrangement—’

‘The arrangement between our two nations commences on the eve of your nuptials. Until that time, you are a guest of King Dermont and will be treated with the same respect as any other female of this land.’

Elva could feel her temples throbbing, but she bit down on the anger threatening to erupt.

Her adrenalin was still high from the first ceremony, and this conversation was almost too much for her to handle after the ordeal.

She’d wanted to follow Fynton’s retreating figure out of the cathedral – his talent for disappearing was almost enviable, had he not constantly been running from her.

Instead, she attempted to match the formality of the Clochain dialect to get what she wanted.

‘Advisor Gudren, I am indeed apologetic if this wasn’t communicated thoroughly, however—’

‘It was communicated.’

‘Just like the ceremonies were communicated?’ she bit back.

The advisor pinned her with a glare, and she shrank in her seat, her Ever fluttering like a trapped butterfly.

She shouldn’t have said that.

She was the outsider here; she was the one whose life hinged on behaving, and she’d let her mouth run off as if she were talking to one of her soldiers, not a fucking demigod.

She should be grateful he wanted to speak with her about Cailoch, rather than interrogating her for acting so strangely at the ceremony.

She averted her gaze, watching as her knuckles turned white from gripping the arms of her chair.

Advisor Gudren’s presence was endless, everywhere.

There was nowhere she could move to be out of his sight, nowhere that offered a glimmer of reprieve from his prying.

It made her throat feel thick, as if her own voice was being swallowed.

‘ I would think carefully about what you say next, Princess . Your warriors won’t hear your call for backup.

’

They were in Advisor Gudren’s office on the second storey of the castle.

He was sitting with his back to a window that overlooked the lake, a perfect vantage for the comings and goings of the city.

The view was the source of the only movement in the room.

Otherwise she was alone.

With Advisor Gudren.

And she was trying not to panic.

It wasn’t just because he was a demigod.

It was the fact that she was so wholly out of her depth trying to negotiate with him.

Politicking had never been her strong suit.

She’d left Myrra to debate and word-wrangle while she sparred with the warriors.

Being seated across from the Voice of the Seacht was so far beyond her capabilities she didn’t even know where to start, and that was without the fear of the ceremonies and the weight of her life hanging in the balance.

‘Perhaps, Advisor Gudren, there is some middle ground we could—’

‘No.’

Her Ever writhed in warning as magic flared in the room.

She froze, assessing.

Advisor Gudren rummaged through his desk and pulled out a ream of parchment, but didn’t notice her stillness.

The sensation was unlike when he spoke directly into her mind, this was just her Ever sending a general alert, but under the circumstances.

.

.

Was he trying to trap her, or—

‘Your marriage will take place on the eve of the spring equinox. Until that time, you are a guest of the castle. You will attend the ceremonies that check whether this match is viable. You will assist the wedding planners. And you will not train.’

She nodded amicably, lowering her gaze to cover her reaction to the Ever he was wielding.

It was light, barely a whisper, and her panic only ceased when a gentle knock sounded, and she realised he had summoned someone.

As the Voice of the Seacht, Advisor Gudren’s power was the ability to communicate over long distances, a one-way conversation.

He can’t read minds, Elva, get a godsdamn grip.

‘Enter.’

‘Advisor Gudren. Sir. I received your summoning.’

Elva turned to see a soldier in the doorway.

He was tall and lanky but moved with the grace of a trained fighter.

‘Princess Elva,’ Advisor Gudren said to her.

‘This is Second Lieutenant Avi. He will be your private guard. Where you go, he goes.’

She turned and looked at him properly, recognising his long auburn hair from the party in Vettona.

His eyes were green and almond-shaped.

Just like mine , she thought, a sliver of familiarity warming her.

He nodded at her, a smile twitching at the corner of his lips, before turning back to Advisor Gudren.

Elva had a million comments on her lips, not least of all was the fact that she was feeling more and more like the marriage was an utter farce and she was here under false pretences, but she held her tongue.

In so many ways she was out of her element, but soldiers were one thing she knew.

And asking any questions right now would dig the hole she was trying to claw her way out of even deeper.

‘Second Lieutenant Avi will show you to your rooms.’

She stood, trying not to show her relief at being dismissed.

‘Of course, if you need anything, Princess, please don’t hesitate to ask.

You are a female of the Clochain court, now .

’ The final words were whispered into her mind, and it took more control than she cared to admit not to run from the room.

Second Lieutenant Avi escorted her to a second-storey suite in the castle which overlooked the lake, then disappeared to stand guard outside under the guise of letting her settle.

Her rooms were ornate, with large marble fireplaces and a pair of glass doors facing Caius’ obelisk, but they lacked personality.

Script was etched above each doorway with holy platitudes: In the shadow of Caius we follow could be found over the entry, while Obedience shall be rewarded at the Ending was above the doorway of the bedroom.

Food had been left on the dining room table.

She forced herself to eat the soup, though like the rest of the Clochain fare, it was bland, with even less salt than her own tears.

Each mouthful took her further and further away from her homeland.

No one came to visit.

As the hours passed without interruption, she grew agitated.

She was used to the bustle of Vincentia, of structured days filled with purpose, not.

.

.

this.

She’d never questioned whether she could physically handle herself in this marriage, but the mental fortitude required to overcome the feeling of loneliness was a different beast.

Clochain was slowly stripping her of everything she held dear, making her redundant in a fight she’d dedicated her whole life to trying to win.

She tried to shadow spar with her reflection, but the harsh rattle of Advisor Gudren’s disapproval echoed in her mind, and she couldn’t tell if it was her imagination or a real projection.

Even sleep offered no respite.

Her mind twisted in on itself, dredging up memories of Neve’s lifeless body until nightmares of her friend’s bloody corpse, reanimated with the voice of Advisor Gudren, ripped her from sleep.

She slunk onto the balcony, bracing her hands against the iron railing and forced her breath to slow down, willing her ghoulish dreams to subside.

She took another deep breath, inhaling the smell of pine and morning dew and looked up, training her gaze on the horizon.

The pastel colours of the morning grew, deepening in saturation until the sky was streaked with lines of pink and gold.

Movement caught her eye, and she saw a figure emerge from the barracks.

Something about his gait was familiar, but just as the thought was about to crystallise, the shadow disappeared into the scrub that bordered the castle hilltop.

She leaned forwards, curiosity a welcome relief against her loneliness.

She glanced around; her room was on the second floor, and the drop from her balcony would have been intimidating had it not been far shorter than the drop from her childhood room.

When she was young she used to sneak out to see Neve, perfecting the art of escape from her third-storey window by the time she was twelve.

The fastest way to get rid of the tightness in her chest was through movement, and while Advisor Gudren had banned her from training, he’d said nothing about exploring the castle grounds.

It was early enough that she didn’t think many people would be awake to see her, and she technically wasn’t breaking any rules, so.

.

.

She climbed over the wrought-iron railing, her loose pants catching before she untangled the hem and jumped.

Her feet hit the soft grass, and she dropped to the ground, rolling a few metres to shake off the force of the impact.

She waited to see if anyone noticed.

When the dawn remained silent, she darted to the point in the garden where the man had disappeared, her sharp eyes catching the indentations in the scrub that indicated a trail.

The brush scratched at her legs as she jogged down the path.

She wished she’d put on sturdy boots before jumping off the balcony in house slippers, but she couldn’t deny the movement was a release, and she found her mind relaxing the farther she moved away from the castle.

The track carved downhill, and she heard the soft lulling of the water before she saw it.

Her heart skipped a beat; the familiarity of the sound was like a friend welcoming her home.

She emerged in a small, green cove, hidden beneath the cliff under the castle.

The little beach was entirely private, the city hidden behind a tree-laden peninsula on her right, the mountain with Caius’ monolith to her left.

Unbridled yearning crashed into her as she looked at the lake, and she kicked off her slippers, hands automatically rising to remove the loose linen clothing until she remembered that nudity, while not explicitly against Advisor Gudren’s rules, would probably be frowned upon.

Shrugging, she left her clothing on, not caring she’d have to trudge back to the castle wet if it meant she could cleanse her nightmares with a swim.

It might not be her inlet, but it was something.

She ran to the water line, its glimmering surface beckoning.

Her toes scrunched into the sand as the cool water hit her legs and she gasped, giddy delight washing away the final dark cobwebs of the night before.

She took a running leap and dived under the surface, the cold biting her limbs, the loose fabric of her clothes clinging to her body.

She kicked her legs, cocooned by waters that were new, yet familiar, and opened her eyes.

A school of silver fish darted before her, their scales glimmering in the morning light as they shot left to right, their movements one.

She kicked to the surface, admiring the sea-green kaleidoscope above, and for the first time since she’d left Vincentia, she grinned.

She emerged and rotated so she was floating on her back, eyes drinking in the brilliant blue of the morning sky.

The fresh water was less buoyant than the salty inlet, but it felt softer somehow, its silken rocking instantly easing the ache in her chest.

Gods, she’d missed this.

If she closed her eyes, she could pretend she was home.

‘Your Highness?’ A voice jolted her back to reality, and she looked up to see her guard, Second Lieutenant Avi, swimming towards her.

In the light his auburn hair had streaks of gold, and his eyes shone brightly.

His jaw was square and his nose was slightly crooked, but the asymmetry of his face was striking, and the longer she looked, the more she found herself liking it.

‘What are you doing here?’

‘Swimming?’

‘I mean...’ Confusion was written on his features.

‘I don’t think you’re meant to be here, Your Highness.

’

‘I thought I could go anywhere if you were with me?’ she replied, twisting Advisor Gudren’s words.

As a man in Clochain her guard already outranked her, but she had a strange feeling about him that was impossible to ignore: friend.

‘Yes, but, Your Highness—’

‘It’s Elva,’ she said, interrupting his hesitation.

They stared at each other, heads bobbing as they paddled to stay afloat.

‘We shouldn’t be here together,’ he said, expression wary.

‘My shift starts in an hour; we can return then, if you choose.’

‘I choose to be here now.’ She met his gaze, hoping the feeling in her gut was right.

He looked at her, eyes piercing, and after a moment something in his expression shifted, then he dipped his head and brought two fingers to his brow.

She watched the movement, her homeland’s sign of respect making her throat catch.

Flashes of memory came back to her of the engagement party; his laughter, dancing with her sister, drinking shots Kella poured.

‘Why haven’t I seen you since the engagement party?

’

His mouth twisted into a half-smile, but his eyes remained sharp.

‘I’ve been training.

’

‘For what?’

‘To be your guard.’

They lapsed into silence.

His skin was tanned, kissed with faint freckles that matched her own.

‘It would have had nothing to do with the fact that you’re Vettonian?

Keep the rabble apart until we’re back on solid Clochain ground?

’ She was being forward, but she knew she was right.

His rigidity faded and he laughed, eyes dancing in surprise.

‘What gave me away?’

‘Aside that we look like cousins? It would be because you matched Kella shot for shot at the party in Vincentia,’ she said, and his grin cracked, a deep laugh rumbling from his chest.

He inclined his head in acknowledgement, and she smiled.

They were silent for a moment, listening to the wind and waves, and when Elva broke the quiet it wasn’t out of discomfort, but rather curiosity.

‘What is this place?’

Avi smiled, looking around the cove.

‘The best place to swim in Cailoch.’

‘Is it always this empty?’

‘The path is only accessible from the castle grounds and none of the fishermen come this close. There’s a few of us who work at the castle who swim here, but not many.

’

What a waste.

If this was Vincentia it would be teeming with locals.

While it didn’t have the stark beauty of the inlet, there was a softness to the bay that was welcoming.

‘So, what’s a Vettonian doing in Clochain’s army?

’ she asked, turning back to look at him.

Clochain had closed their border to Vettona a decade ago, and its xenophobia had only grown in the years since.

She was surprised they even let Avi serve, and doubly surprised they had made him her guard.

‘I was born in Vincentia, but we moved here when I was a kid. My mother’s Vettonian, father’s Clochain.

’

‘That must have been hard,’ she said, biting her tongue to stop herself from asking what had made a Vettonian woman choose to move to Clochain.

‘It was definitely an adjustment,’ Avi said, voice soft.

Elva looked up at the mountains.

She couldn’t help but feel at ease in his presence, and she wondered if that was a very bad thing.

After the disaster with Neve, she was only just learning to trust her instincts again.

‘I don’t know how much I’m willing to adjust.

’ She looked back at Avi, taking in his bright green eyes, unafraid of what he might see in her expression.

‘You’re Captain of the Vettonian Warriors, a group of women who notoriously don’t marry.

I’d say you’re compromising a lot already.

’

She didn’t want to admit how true his words rang, so she broke his gaze and stared at the sky as Neve’s voice floated in her mind.

I like him.

She coughed and dunked her head again.

‘So, how’d you get the job as my guard?

’ she asked when she surfaced.

He grinned.

‘Aside from being the most experienced?’

‘Obviously.’

‘My father is the master of arms. I’m here because of his good graces.

’

‘Ah. I wouldn’t know anything about that,’ she said flatly.

Avi’s eyes crinkled and he laughed again.

A smile twitched at the corner of her lips.

She loved her mother, but the weight of her birthright was heavy.

It was why she’d joined the warriors, it was the one thing she had claimed that was truly hers.

And now it was gone.

‘It would have absolutely nothing to do with the possibility that a familiar face would be the easiest way to lull me into a false sense of security?’ she asked instead.

He was silent for a moment.

‘Is it working?’

Frustratingly enough, it was.

The sun flashed and Elva looked to see a bird soar across the sky, its wings outstretched.

The distraction was enough to let her truly ponder his words.

Was this a trap, or an offering?

Curiosity outweighed her feelings of uncertainty, so she hedged.

‘Do you want it to work?’

Avi’s eyes shone with something she couldn’t read.

‘I do. But not for the reasons you might think.’

‘Why are you telling me this?’ she asked quietly, unable to piece together the different fragments of information he offered.

Avi swam a little closer, thoughts flashing across his face in such rapid succession she didn’t know what he was going to say.

‘We should go. I can usually get away with a quick swim before the castle wakes up, but we have your first meeting soon.’

She nodded, and they swam to shore.

Only when her feet hit the sand did she think to ask, ‘What meeting?’

By the way his shoulders tensed she knew she wasn’t going to like the answer.

‘I think lavender would be a much more appropriate colour than periwinkle, don’t you?

’

Elva stared at the two colour swatches the wedding planner had laid out.

She could tell they were different, but in the grand scheme of things they still looked the same.

She made an approving noise, hoping if she just agreed the issue would be over.

Avi stood near the door at attention, his eyes trained on the middle distance, but she saw his mouth twitch.

She wanted to strangle him but settled for sticking her tongue out when the planner’s back was turned.

When Avi had mentioned a meeting, she hadn’t realised it would mean.

.

.

this.

The planner had taken over her entire room: bolts of fabric were strewn over the chaise, the air smelled of potpourri, and boxes of different dinner plate options were stacked haphazardly on every surface.

Did she want porcelain or stoneware?

Scalloped napkins or embroidered?

The only thing she knew for certain was that she wanted to poke her eyes out with the mother of pearl dessert forks lining the table.

Where the hell was Fynton in all of this?

Perhaps she’d stab him, too.

‘How do you feel about mauve undertones for the placemats if we proceed with the lavender floral arrangements?’

‘I feel... good,’ she said, wincing at her forced tone.

The wedding planner smiled thinly, his greying hair falling over his face as he noted her selection.

‘Excellent choice. With that sorted, let’s move on to the seating arrangement.

Advisor Gudren has sent over his recommendations.

’ He began naming people she’d never met, and she closed her eyes, trying to centre herself as his voice droned on and on and on.

She could do this.

She’d planned battles and defeated repeated attempts to take the border, for fuck’s sake.

Surely she could plan a simple wedding?