Page 14 of Only in Moonlight (The Moonlit Court #1)

Valen

T he palace was quiet so late at night. My footsteps echoed through the empty hallways, and I nodded at the guards that I passed.

Was Emmeline all right? I’d left as soon as she’d fallen asleep. There was no other choice; I couldn’t let her know what I was doing. But with a trespasser lurking around, I didn’t like leaving her alone—especially not chained to the bed and helpless.

I’d asked one of my stable hands to keep watch.

He was a burly man with some combat experience.

And Nin was staying overnight, as well. She was no fighter, but she could raise the alarm.

And she wore that wildfire agate ring that could burn more than just clothing.

I’d even mentioned the trespasser to the city guards and asked them to increase their rounds on my street.

My ring would alert me to any intrusion, though I couldn’t get home fast enough to intervene.

But I’d reinforced the locks and strengthened the wards on the windows against forced entry.

The new confusion spell atop the walls would send most trespassers wandering in circles, and I’d scattered caltrop spikes in the garden to give a nasty surprise to anyone who made it inside.

But if the trespasser was the person I suspected, that might not be enough…

My steps slowed, and I itched to turn around and rush home. But the queen was expecting me in less than an hour. I wouldn’t—couldn’t—fail to meet her.

Yet I was too early for my audience, so I headed for Cael’s chambers.

They were at the top of a tall tower, so I had to climb an absurd number of stairs.

I tried to focus on my purpose in the palace, but part of my mind remained fixed on the darkened bedchamber where Emmeline slept.

Could the trespasser know about her specifically?

What if she woke and found me gone? Would she panic?

No, she’d probably pick the lock on her manacles somehow and escape.

My mouth curved into a smile at the thought despite how it would ruin all my plans.

She was truly brilliant despite all the difficulties she caused.

Keeping her in my chateau sometimes felt like trying to tame a lightning bolt.

When I reached the top of the stairs, two guards stopped me at the door. A person couldn’t just stroll into the crown prince’s chambers in the middle of the night.

“Good evening, Rogel, Sanctus.” I stopped a short distance from them and kept my hands away from my sword. “Can you ask if His Royal Highness will see me?”

“It’s the middle of the night, Sir Valen,” Sanctus said stonily.

“Is he actually sleeping?”

The two guards exchanged weighted glances.

“I'll get him,” Rogel said after a moment.

I waited in silence, and after a few minutes, the door opened again, revealing Caelestus Ithelion, heir to the throne of the Moonlit Court. He hadn’t bothered putting on a shirt or shoes, and he glared at me with bags under his eyes.

“Are you aware of the time, Sir Valen?” he asked.

“It’s time for a spar. Grab your things. I’ll meet you in the training room.”

Cael arched an eyebrow.

“It’s my duty to ensure my prince can defend himself.” I took a cue from Emmeline and gave him an exaggerated, flippant bow. “I worry you’re slipping, Your Highness.”

Cael said nothing. The guards exchanged a worried glance behind his back.

“Swords or fists?” Cael asked finally.

I hid my relief. “Your choice.”

“Swords, then. I’ll be there in a moment.” He strode back to his chambers but then looked over his shoulder with a ghost of his usual grin. “Don’t worry. I won’t make you wait long to get your ass kicked.”

***

Cael entered the training room fully dressed, with his long, silvery-white hair neatly combed and pulled back with a cord. The bags under his eyes remained unchanged, but at least he was making an effort.

I took two wooden practice swords from a stand along the wall and tossed one to him. “Sticking to your strengths, I see.”

The prince was the best swordsman in the Moonlit Court. That might be meaningless praise in other Courts, where tutors flattered a prince’s skill to gain favor, and opponents purposefully lost to avoid offending him, but here it was the truth.

“You’re no slouch yourself,” he replied. “How many Netherworld soldiers fell to your blade during the invasion? I hear Mother wanted to give you a second knighthood.”

“Where did you hear that?”

That kind of rumor could undo all the work I’d put into my foppish ladies’ man persona. I didn’t need people taking a closer look at me—especially not now of all times.

Cael shrugged and took his position on the training floor. Sparkling white sand covered the extensive square area, intended to cushion fighters when they fell. I’d heard they’d brought it in all the way from the Lunoreth Ocean.

Biting back questions about the rumor (I hadn’t come here to interrogate him.), I stood across from him. We bowed, and the duel began.

I must have pissed him off more than I’d thought, because he attacked instantly and ferociously. He drove me back, and I could barely parry his rapid strikes. I knew without glancing backwards that I was approaching the edge of the training floor. If I went out of bounds, I would lose.

I pivoted, narrowly dodged a strike, and counterattacked. My focus was on Cael’s sword, but I caught the grin on his face.

Thank the stars. I’d been afraid even this wouldn’t shake him out of his sorrow.

The cracks of our wooden swords colliding echoed through the large room, sounding loud enough to wake half the palace. My breaths grew quick, and I was working up a sweat—which wasn’t ideal for my audience with the queen later.

I drove my sword toward Cael’s ribs, his chest, his thigh.

He blocked each strike, just as I’d expected.

I was trying to wear him down enough that he’d give me a real opening.

Then he spun, and I ducked just in time to avoid his sword slamming into my head.

I tried to stab him, but he danced maddeningly out of the way.

I fought until my arms burned, and my shirt clung to my damp skin. Cael’s hair was coming loose, and sweat dripped down his brow. But his strikes remained as fast and forceful as ever. If I didn’t beat him soon, I’d have to forfeit to give myself enough time to get to my royal audience.

The thought of forfeiting burned my insides.

I pushed forward, the impact of our swords seeming to rattle my very bones. Then—finally—it happened. He let his sword fall less than an inch. I had an opening.

I lunged.

The next thing I knew, I was lying flat on my face.

The sandy floor felt warm beneath my cheek. My arms, knees, and ribs all ached, and I tasted coarse sand on my tongue. I spat it out, my breath coming in short, ragged bursts.

“Your problem,” Cael said cheerily as he stood over me, “is that you’re too eager for a killing strike. It makes you predictable. Easy to lead into a feint.”

I groaned and rolled over—then kicked his legs out from under him.

He landed on his ass with a grunt. “What the hell? The duel was over.”

“You tripped me. You didn’t land a hit on me.”

“Because it was obvious I’d won. You want me to bash you over the head while you’re down just to prove a point?”

I stood and dusted myself off. “Your problem—” I couldn’t help but smirk. “—is that you expect everyone to act as honorably as you do. It leaves you vulnerable to sneak attacks.”

“You’re an asshole, Valen.”

He pushed himself up—and jabbed the tip of his sword into my side. I grunted, stumbling.

“There,” he said. “Now I’ve officially won.”

I rubbed my side. “And I’m the asshole?”

“Not to mention a sore loser.” Cael spun his sword, looking incredibly pleased with himself. “Rematch?”

“No time. I have an audience with Her Majesty.”

The air between us shifted, and Cael eyed me closely. “Anything I should know about?”

“You’ll have to ask her.”

He frowned but didn’t argue. It surprised me that his mother hadn’t told him, but perhaps it shouldn’t have. She’d been gentle with him since he’d returned from the battle with the Netherworld, excusing him from most of his duties to allow him time to grieve.

We put away the practice swords and were bidding farewell when he suddenly stopped.

“I almost forgot. I heard you’re courting a woman from Earth.”

I stiffened. “I… Ah, yes.”

He looked at me expectantly.

“Her name is Emmeline,” I said. “She’s…”

I floundered. Cael knew me well enough that my standard lies wouldn’t pass muster.

How would I describe Emmeline if she were truly my lover?

I remembered gushing to Cael about Aurea once upon a time, telling him how beautiful, sweet, and gentle she was.

Emmeline might be beautiful in her current form, but “sweet” and “gentle” didn’t describe her at all.

“She’s quick-witted,” I said. “Her sense of humor is rather ruthless, and she’s not afraid to turn that sharp tongue on me.”

“I’m sure she isn’t,” Cael said with a suggestive grin.

I made a scoffing sound, but now I was thinking of Emmeline using her tongue on me in more intriguing ways. Inexplicably, heat rose in my face and neck.

“She’s very beautiful, overly fond of cheese, and adores her mother. I think she likes me second best, to be honest. If I were a lesser man, I’d be jealous.”

Cael’s smile softened. “I’m happy for you, Valen. Truly I am.”

My chest constricted.

“Treasure every moment with her,” he said softly. “And keep her safe, or you’ll never forgive yourself. Believe me.”

I tried to hide my discomfort as we said goodbye. As I walked through the palace, I felt cold and slimy, and not just because of my sweaty shirt.

Lying to Cael wasn’t like lying to Amatien and Ishaq.

Cael’s lover had been human, too, but he’d lost her in the battle against the Netherworld, and it had destroyed him.

He was listless during the day, sleepless at night.

He came back to his old self when fighting—hence my challenging him to a spar.

But he drifted through the rest of his time like a ghost.

I didn’t know how to help him. And I’d probably made things worse by lying about my own courtship with a human.

I sighed, rubbing my face. But by the time I reached the doors to the reception room, my expression was carefully blank. I straightened my shoulders and presented myself to the guards.

The queen was waiting.