Page 36 of Nightingale (The Broken Kingdoms #1)

W hen they arrived at the gates of Vasthold, the towers seemed far larger than she ever remembered them being. Perhaps it was the belly flips that ceased to stop like a child doing flips within a lily-coated pond, or the war-drum beat of her nervous heart that sounded like a herd of wild horses. It might have been the winter chill that slank down her small spine as they rode through the massive archway that led into the capital of Niroula, where her mother and brothers were stationed. It could have been the cruel ice that frosted her blood over until it felt like sludges of glaciers, or the way her skin was undeniably clammy to the touch.

The castle was mighty and proud, rising from the rich town like a raised mountain. Tufts of trees and green surrounded the stronghold, sand as far as the eye could see. Even between the buildings that staggered around the tall building, it all sank into her heart. She passed her people who watched her with nervous eyes and it made her wonder if they remembered her. If she’d changed so much in the missing time that even her brothers wouldn’t recognise her.

Vrea hadn’t seen them in three years.

Any of them.

She couldn’t decide who she was more anxious to see, her mother or Teminos.

She rode at the front with Amir, who held himself pridefully with one hand on his hip on his broadsword, as if he’d been the one to rescue and retrieve her. She supposed he’d been the one to escort her over the border, to ensure that she survived past the Blacklegs, and made sure she reached home in the end. There was still pride to be found there. If anyone was to ride at her side, she was glad it was him.

The streets became more filled with Niroulians as they came to see the small parade, the way the soldiers wrapped around her and Rian once more. But Rian had been shoved to the very back, in between two men that separated her and Amir from him. She didn’t dare to look back at him, didn’t dare to sneak a peek when all eyes were on her at the moment.

On their missing Princess, home at long last.

Vrea’s lungs tightened, her breath shortening to something that felt nearly impossible as she commanded herself to exhale, then inhale. It didn’t matter. It all fell away like leaves on the wind as soon as she lifted her head. Because there, on the first floor of Vasthold where they entered, was Teminos.

His long, hazel braid was carefully tossed over one of his lean shoulders, a red tie at the end. He held an unopened scroll, as if he’d heard the commotion in the streets on his way to the library and raced to the ramparts to see if it was true.

Vrea didn’t miss anyone, anything but her knives.

But there, in the very center of her heart, may have been a sliver of relief to see her closest sibling once more. To see that he was still alive and that nothing had happened to move her up the line of ascension. A warm sensation that filled her veins, ignited her soul, blossomed a new sort of comfort at the sight of him.

He smiled as she neared, a wary one that didn’t reach his blue eyes but one for her nonetheless. The party stopped as they reached the rounded courtyard that held two sets of stairs on either side, meeting in a middle platform where Teminos remained. He didn’t descend down either, nor did she think he would as his sight landed on Rian. He folded his thin, plucked brows together in confusion, then shot his gaze back to her with a silent question lingering within.

She didn’t answer.

Vrea dismounted, handing the reins over to a nearby servant that rushed forward to take them from her grasp and straightened her spine. There wasn’t much she could do to return her appearance to that of the Princess of Niroula. Not when she reeked of ten days on horseback without a proper bath, or a comb to fix her short, messy hair. Her joints were sore, her clothes were beyond stiff and she longed for a goodnight sleep in a real bed instead of along the ground or a bedroll on raised wooden slats.

But she lifted herself back up to her full height, cracking her spine and shoulders as she went and made her way towards the closest staircase. He watched her every step of the way as she strode up them, occasionally taking two at a time in order to hurry her ascension along.

Amir ordered the men behind her, and she blocked them out as she came face to face with her brother for the first time in three years. There was a faint buzz in her head as she took him in. He hadn’t changed, looked every bit the same as she last remembered.

He still wore clothes fabulously and still held a shine to his hair that she’d always been envious of. His upturned eyes were intelligent and his nose was still perfectly sloped, something that had caused jealousy inside of her for the sake of the bump on her own. One that he’d always teased her on, told her that she should have been proud to bear as a sign of their heritage.

“You look like a woman.” Teminos commented with a reminiscent fog within his sight. “I feel as though you were barely a girl the last time you left this place.”

Her tough facade cracked.

“I’ll remind you that I’m not that much younger than you, Tem.” She huffed lightly. “Just because it took longer for my female body to develop, doesn’t mean my mind paired alongside it. I was grown up there far before I ever left Vasthold, the first time.”

His lips curled up, straight teeth showing. “Considering our minds have to be the first thing to sharpen around here, I can’t argue with your logic, little sand-serpent.”

Her old nickname.

Granted to her after she’d slayed three in the span of four minutes; a test from her mother to prove her agility and reflexes that she’d passed with flying colours. Only Teminos dared to show a hint of affection with the nickname and it brought familiar warmth into her system that she’d missed sorely.

They did not share in tender embraces or teary reunions. It was not how it was done between siblings, not when a tight hug could result in a knife between your third and fourth ribs. Eamin had tried at one point, only to end up with a scar of his own on his right thigh as she’d averted the blade away from her torso and shoved it into his leg, deep.

He had screamed and she had smirked.

Vrea opened her mouth to respond with a quick comment, a silver-tongued quip that he’d slyly smile at or laugh softly to. Someone else spoke before she had the chance to get a sound out.

“Teminos,” A sharp voice reprimanded from a row above them. “Get away from her.”

They both turned their attention towards the sky and the balcony one up to see Eamin standing there, a stoic look painted on his square face.

“And why would I do that?” He politely asked, as if he cared. “She’s our sister, after all.” His emerald robe swished along his sandal-clad ankles as he made room for her to stand directly next to him. She slid into place without any encouragement.

Teminos was known for the easy, simplistic ways that he could anger their older sibling, this included.

Eamin liked control, order.

He believed that everything had an assigned place, that nothing should move past it or to another.

Including them.

Which meant other than Malik, who was younger than her by a few years, she was near the end.

“I don’t care if she’s our mother . She’s spent three years with their kind, and somehow lived to make it all the way back here. They must have turned her against us somehow.” He arched away from the veranda edge, only to follow the second set of stairs down to their level in a way that suggested he thought of himself like a god. “I don’t trust her, and nor should you if you had any seed of cleverness.”

Vrea held her simmering displeasure back but not her lashing tongue. She let that fly like a whip. “Good to see you too, Eamin. I’d ask if you missed me, but I think the answer is clear enough in your hostile tone.”

“I don’t miss anyone, least of all, you.” He said as prickly as a cactus flower. “Why is he here?” His thumb dragged through the air to Rian, who stood in the courtyard below as the horses were all led away to be watered and fed, groomed and properly rewarded for their long trip across the sandy lands.

“I was just about to get around to asking her, before you so kindly interrupted me.” Teminos muttered under his tongue, rolling his eyes. “Flies, honey.”

“Enemy, in our lands.” Eamin snapped back with a vicious bite that could only belong to a predator. “I don’t care if I have to douse her with vinegar or drown her in honey, as long as I get the answer of why the fifth Prince and heir to Carylim is standing in our courtyard.”

“With a bemused smile, it would appear.” Teminos added helpfully, glancing back towards the redheaded male. “It seems that he’s here of his own volition considering that no chains bind him, no shackles are around his ankles and the fact that Amir allows him to live.”

“It is still an ongoing debate.” Amir said curtly.

“Of course I am.” Rian called up to them, cupping his mouth with his hands in order to project his voice so that they could hear him without issue. “Am I allowed to join you up there, or will my head roll off my shoulders in a sudden swipe of steel if I even so much as try to gain an inch forward?”

Vrea struggled to hide her smile between tucked lips that formed a flat line as Amir groaned, shaking his head in obvious dislike and distrust of him.

Rian grew cockier, bolder in stressed situations.

It made her laugh, made her find humour in everything.

“Try to put any part of your shined boot on the lowest step, and I’ll kill you with my bare hands.” Eamin warned, snapping fingers above his head to summon servants. “Your days in Niroulian soil are limited, Rian.”

“He prefers it when you use his full name and title to threaten him.” Amir informed them with a bored, feline smirk that belonged only to scoundrels and thieves. “Prince Rian Cillian Ezra Moordian.”

Vrea almost snorted.

“You remembered, my friend!” Rian slapped a hand over his heart, groaning as he clearly forgot his wound. He nearly doubled over to recuperate.

Teminos snickered, covering his mouth with a hand. “I could learn to tolerate him.”

“I am not your friend.” Amir grumbled and lifted his head back to the royals on the balcony. “What would you like us to do with him, my Prince?”

Teminos didn’t respond, looking at Eamin.

“Since Alpheus isn’t here at the moment to make a call of judgement over this situation, it’s up to me to take charge. Mother would want him locked in the cells and I agree.” He answered, refusing to look at either of his siblings for confirmation.

Not that either of them would give it to him.

“And here I thought that I was the second born.” Teminos hummed in fascination, as if he’d just discovered that the order of their birth was a lie all along and that Eamin had actually come before him.

“No, put him in a room and make sure it locks from the outside.” Vrea argued, pushing past her elder brother to the second eldest. “He’s my prisoner, if one at all. I brought him here, not you. I get to decide where he goes until our mother has a better look at everything and makes a decision for herself.”

The crowd had fallen away, leaving just the five of them as Amir remained beside Rian.

“Have you grown attached to him, is that it?” Eamin laughed quietly in a cruel way as he rested his hand on the plain but sturdy sword at his hip. “Is he a little pet that you want to sleep at the end of your bed, perhaps in it? I’ve heard stories of how the fifth Prince fucks, but perhaps you wanted to test that theory out for yourself, hmm?”

Teminos sucked in air, and she could see the faint laugh he swallowed out of perth peripherals as she fought back.

“None of that is why I claim him. You claimed Daria when she came to our doorstep, you had your hold over her far more than I would ever try with Rian. But he is my capture. I am the reason he is here.” She was tempted to punch him, to remind him that even if she was a girl, that she could still make him suffer.

Rian let out a staggering puff of air from below at the mention of his youngest sister, of the one that her brothers, half of which stood in front of her, brutally murdered before flinging her broken pieces across the border for all of Carylim to see.

“She has a point, Eamin.” Teminos uttered from the sidelines in a hushed voice that almost replicated a song. “Mother would side with her, not you on this.”

“You two love to team up on me.” He insisted, tucking a strand of darker nutmeg behind his curved ear. He kept it around his shoulders, longer than hers but far shorter than Teminos’s long braid.

Teminos tsked, finding enough disappointment to muster it into his lean features. “Is it really teaming up on you, when it’s just correct and you are not ?”

Their brother’s eyes flashed in anger, a trait they all bore and proof that they came from the same womb. As was their bloodlust, dark skin set, and desire to prove themselves.

“We’ll see what she has to say about this all.”

A flood of cold water rushed through her at the thought of Eamin spinning her story to better suit his vain needs, to usher their mother onto his side and make sure that Rian followed in the way of Daria.

She couldn’t let that happen.

But as Vrea opened her mouth to argue, Teminos stepped in on her behalf.

“Don’t go bother her now, not whilst she’s in the middle of a council meeting.” He clicked in clear admonishment, like Eamin was a young boy no older than four in need of a scolding and a swift hand to the backside. A punishment that they’d all received in their youth, for various crimes. “You can wait until she’s finished. And even then, I highly suggest that Vrea be the one to approach her, as it is her matter of concern, not yours.”

“It is a concern for us all. ” With that, he turned on a hasty heel of his boot and disappeared up another level, vanishing into Vasthold without another disagreeing word.

“It’s good to be back.” Vrea sarcastically slid out of her mouth. “The homecoming feels especially warm.”

“Did you expect anything else? He’s disappointed that you didn’t kill the Prince,” Blue eyes met blue as Teminos studied Rian, “Which I do have my own questions about, or that he didn’t lose another sibling in the attempt. Even if he’s next in line after Alpheus, you are primed as Mother’s favourite. There is a delectable joy in the idea of your death.”

“I’m assuming that you also think that way?” She propped an arm along the stone railing. It was cool, crumbling under her. So many things had withheld the testament of time, this magnificent fortitude included. It often reminded her of their mother, strong willed and resilient.

How she hoped to be one day.

Mighty and proud like Vasthold. Fierce and regal, like their mother. Clever and quick, like Teminos. Strong and stubborn, like Alpheus. There were some other traits she longed for as well, ones that reached far across the lands and towards the otherside. Powerful and cunning, like Rian. And there, within the back portion of her mind, a seed of Castil that she envied. Cold and cruel, allowing none to get in her way.

Teminos sighed. “Not exactly. I like having a similar mind to converse with. And there’s no desire in the throne or crown inside me. Therefore, I am not a threat to you and you don’t need to wipe me out in the middle of the night.”

“Sounds like the opposite, if you ask me. A ploy, to throw us off your scent.” Vrea chuckled, relaxing in the sound of her own enjoyment. It had been too long since she’d laughed, for real. “But, It’s good to see you, Tem.”

He lowered his braided head, “As it is you. I had a feeling that you were not dead. If anyone could survive three years in Carylim, it would have been you, Vrea. Welcome back to Niroula, to Vasthold and your home.”