Page 14 of Nightingale (The Broken Kingdoms #1)

V rea followed his instructions as he led her to his room, as if she needed any help. She knew exactly where they were going since she’d been headed there all along three years ago. She’d almost gotten close too, if not for a wrong turn. A leap to the right hand doorway and she would have made it.

It would have been fascinating to see what would have occurred if she’d succeeded in the first place as well. If she’d been able to use the cover of darkness to stalk across the floor and to his canopy bed, raising one of her two beloved knives, ones they’d taken from her unfortunately- it would have been easier. With a quick plunge, because she didn’t believe in painful deaths unless they were deserved, and a slash of blood to follow. He deserved to die for the battle wound that ended Cyril. One that never should have happened since Cyril wasn’t a fighter.

It was all a game to the families though.

They didn’t care who lived or died.

A live chess match of white and black, where each side thought that they were the lighter side and their rival the darker. She didn’t particularly think that the Greenvasses were either, but a war was a war and she wasn’t going to question the complex things that were out of her control.

Killing off her enemy was in her control, however.

Alpheus never left Niroula anymore, not since he turned thirty nearly eight years ago. He was promised to lead and was next in line if they followed the precise order of heirs. Out of all of her siblings, Alpheus had avoided any attempts on his life. He’d fought in most of the war, slaying many in his wake. He’d been born second, made to be the first and liked to stay on top, whatever it took.

Teminos occasionally left the city, when he was bored enough to look for danger as a method of entertainment. He was similar to her in the sense that he could become the word stealth itself if he so willed it. They shared a father, and he was the only full sibling she had. A one time fling with a baker turned into a second event, resulting in her six years later.

They both shared the same tawny skin tone, the same chocolate hair, and the leanness handed down from their mother. Teminos was slightly lighter than she was, but that was where the differences stopped. They’d been called twins multiple times in their lives, even with the age gap between them and Vrea liked him most of all out of her siblings.

Eamin was the worst.

He was rude, cutthroat and a killer.

He’d turned thirty-two when she’d left for her mission, which meant he was nearing thirty-six now if her math had been correct regarding the days that passed since her capture. He took after their mother the least, with his cunning brown eyes and long black hair.

Which left Malik, who Vrea rather liked as well. Not as much as Teminos, but the three of them often shared some good times. He snuck her books whenever she was supposed to be asleep, even if he was a decent amount younger than her.

But the Moordians had a bad habit of killing them off, so Eamin had privately pulled her aside and asked her if she wanted revenge. Something she very much did, because of Tessa and her young death. The death was orchestrated by Theseus in order to take out Alpheus, which failed.

Vrea had poisoned him in return.

Mira and her twin Zara, who had come only a year after Cyril, had been slain because of it. Tortured and strung up like a banner. It was a never-ending wheel that rotated, on and on with endless names and targets as revenge for others passing away as a result of the bitter feud between houses.

Eamin had personally suggested going after Rian next since he’d been his father’s favourite, according to his sources. And as the last, living daughter of the Greenvass house, no one expected her to be the one to take him out.

Somehow though, they’d been expecting her.

Looking for her as if they held a physical description and knew who to look out for. Because as soon as she’d swung onto the balcony of the eighth story tower of Hawksmoor, and unhooked her harness, she’d been caught almost instantly. Way too fast for men who had never seen her before, unless they recalled the shape of her face from when she’d stolen a maid’s costume and donned it, dropping the poison into a bowl of soup and stirring it until it dissolved.

But now she opened the door to her target’s room after all this time and took in the details of her surroundings as he came in behind her and quietly shut the door with a click of the lock so that they wouldn’t be disturbed. Not as quiet as Castil, but still impressive.

Though if how silent one could close a door rendered her as impressive, Vrea knew she’d been locked away for far too long.

There was a massive bed with sheer curtains of emerald green that fluttered in the wind from the opened balcony doors across the chequered floor of ivory and ebony. There was a fat table with curved sides between the bed and the low couch, with a couple of doors along the furthest wall. In the corners, on either side of the bed, potted plants rose tall and made the bed appear as if it were in some sort of jungle or forest. They bore no fruits so she assumed it was for mere decoration.

She hadn’t been allowed such in her chamber.

Vrea crossed over to the table, running her hand along the gold surface and finding cold metal to meet her touch. There was a blue tray atop it, with a carafe and a couple of glasses. She didn’t trust anything here enough to pour one for herself and chug it, even if her throat was raw.

“It’s not poisoned,” Rian said as he passed her, and she caught a glimpse of the back of his auburn hair as he made for the first door, twisting the knob and opening it for her.

He was handsome, she supposed in a rugged way. His face was square and his skin held more of a yellow hue than hers, but only lighter by a shade or two. Unlike her siblings, none of the Moordians looked alike. Some may have shared some alarming features, enough to shrug it off, but none truly looked like brothers.

“I don’t trust you.” She retorted and he shrugged, unbothered. “Any of you.”

“Do or don’t. If you die of thirst, at least your siblings will know that I offered it to you first.” He checked for something in the room that she could now see was a bathing room. He opened another door out of her sight and began to rummage through soft things, by the sound of fabric rustling.

“They wouldn’t believe you. I’m sure they’d find some reason to blame you for my death in the end, which would result in your end.” She stated, and watched as he emerged a second later, carrying a couple articles of clothing.

“These belonged to Daria before she passed away. You look roughly her size, and well, you can’t be travelling across either land in that thing .” Rian explained as he pointed towards the mess of a pink dress that she’d ripped for better mobility. “Besides, it’s trousers which I have no doubt you’d prefer.”

Vrea took them as he offered them out to her, checking each piece before deeming them appropriate and harmless.

“Unless you’d rather I find another pretty gown for you to wear?” He questioned with a humorous glint in his azure eyes. “Or nothing?”

“I’d rather die.” She said flatly.

“I can arrange that, you know.” Rian jested, laying himself on the couch she stood before, shifting out of the silk flats that were a size too small for her. “Many of my brothers would just jump at the chance to slit your lovely neck, to stab you in the back or return the favour for Theseus.”

His balcony was open.

Vrea glanced down at her shoe.

And let her intrusive thoughts from the other night win. She tossed one out the window, then the next.

He chuckled at that.

“And yet you have the perfect chance to wipe me out and haven’t even tried yet. Suspicious.” She enjoyed the frigid feel of the floor against her bare feet.

“I’ve already explained it to you, Princess, and I really don’t like repeating myself.” Rian kicked his legs up, crossing one over the other as she went to change out of her dress.

“It’ll take quite a bit more than explaining everything once before I buy that bullshit.” Vrea didn’t care to move into the bathing chamber. Parts were parts, no matter who bore them. He’d already seen them once, as well. She started slipping her shoulder off, reaching for the collar so she could drop it at her feet.

“Here?” He looked surprised, as if he’d never seen a female body before in his entire life which she knew to be the exact opposite. “The bathing chamber is right there.”

That amused her.

“I don’t care. I don’t know what you have hiding in there, waiting to attack me.” She shot back, flicking the tattered dress off with a single motion and stepping out of it. There were things covering her important bits, but he didn’t break her locked gaze.

Admirable, she thought as she bent down and plucked the shirt off the table.

There had been a tub and a sink, as well as a toilet in her confined room so she wasn’t dirty in the slightest. There was no need to wash as she stuck the moss-coloured fabric over her head and flipped her hair out of the way. Her front strands had fallen into her eyes in the form of choppy bangs, and she found that she liked the way they looked.

“There are boots by the end for you. I guessed on your size, since we’re a bit limited on female garments here.” The Prince used the tip of his brown boot to pick the sable trousers off the table and tossed it at her with a quick jerk of his ankle.

She caught it with one hand, shooting daggers in his direction. She shirked them on easily enough, finding them snug around her lean waist.

“They’ll do.” Vrea tugged the stockings on, folding them over when they became too long and shoving her feet into each boot, wriggling them into place. “I suppose I should offer up some appreciation for not leaving me in those garments.” She motioned towards the window where her pinching shoes had most likely found a bush below.

Or preferably landed atop a Prince’s head.

“Saying thank you doesn’t suit what I know about you,” Rian commented as he observed her, seeming to find her worthy of whatever his moronic brain was searching for. “But I’ll take the sentiment anyway.”

“When do we leave?” Vrea didn’t sit down, didn’t move around. She just stared down at him, anxious to return home and begin the next phase of her plan.

If Rian would be escorting her home, then he would undoubtedly be entered into servitude by her mother. It didn’t matter what he’d cooked up when it came to the peace treaty he’d shared with her, her mother wouldn’t hear of it. She’d clap a silver collar around his pretty neck and force him into her service. And because Vrea would have been the reason for his appearance, he would belong to her and her alone.

She couldn’t deny the certain appeal in having a Moordian Prince as her slave. To have him bow to her every whim, fulfil her every wish, with the threat of death on the line if he didn’t.

For a moment, Vrea imagined Rian in the attire

The thin, gauzy slats that would fall over his broad shoulders, the muscled torso that would be on full display with the puffed pants that would be slung low on his waist. She pictured his wrists adorned with the pewter cuffs and the silver sandals slapped on his large feet. She thought about the collar around his neck and the way that he’d look over all. The country of Niroula liked to show off their captives, like walking art and so they dressed them as such.

Vrea decided that it wouldn’t be so terrible after all. He was attractive. He knew it too, considering that arrogant way he held himself, the sly curve of his tongue which cut into most of his sentences, the glib way he held himself. One thing that thankfully dulled her level of attraction to him.

“Tomorrow morning.” He responded with a causal drawl that wouldn’t have sounded right on anyone else. “I can bring up some food and you’ll sleep in the closet, where I’ll make up a bed for you. The room locks from the inside, so you’ll be safe in there and the only one able to get in or out.” Rian reached into his pocket and tossed a small key at her. “Just so you can be certain.”

“Tomorrow,” She fingered the key, shoving it into her pants. “You better not kill me in my sleep or I’ll come back to haunt you.”

He just smirked, “I wouldn’t dream of it.”