Page 20 of To Touch A Silent Fury (The Bride of Eavenfold #1)

Lang

T he sight of her struck me to the bone. I was not a strong follower of the Five, nor one who had yet thought of marriage, but seeing her dressed all in white with her hair falling behind her perfect golden shoulders like moonlight, I struggled to decide if she was mortal enough to be a bride.

What a prize, Chaethor breathed in my head. I want pearls like those.

Tanidwen stepped in with no awareness of her own power, meeting my gaze with surprise and, if I wasn’t mistaken, ire.

I smiled at that. How I had managed to provoke anger in her, I did not know, but that slight line between her brows somehow only elevated her beauty.

She whispered something to the Thread beside her, but I made out nothing, too focused on the smattering of freckles across her nose, the line of those white beads withholding my admiration of the rest of her face.

Her dress wasn’t white, I realised. As much as the vision had been instantly bridal, I now saw the subtle colour beneath it, as if she had worn white but then been dipped in pure sunlight.

Pearls lined her bust, and all of her seemed to dance in the candlelight.

Seeing her like this, all unblemished tanned skin and captivating milk-white eyes, I had definitely underestimated her.

I glanced to my left to see cousin Brascillan’s eyes as attached to her form as mine had just been.

Then I looked behind me and saw every other man’s eyes drinking her in more deeply than their forgotten cups.

The musicians at least, cramped on a small dais to my right, had the discipline to keep playing their instruments, the vocalist not skipping a note of her ballad of Myrgh.

Even in her drab cloak, I had thought Tanidwen to be very pretty, and dangerous if her power were allowed to be met. Now, I realised how far from the mark I was.

This woman could start wars.

I finally took in her companions. As on the boat, cousin Septillis was attached to her right. He held her hand, leading her down the stairs. His eyes did not leave her as she stepped carefully towards the ballroom floor.

My Moontouched cousin admired the girl, that much was plain. Did she reciprocate his affections? Had her Marriage Fate interrupted what could have been a love match? I studied the pair of them, filing the questions for later, and looked instead to her other companion.

I scanned for the old man, and found him fast, for he walked towards me. I took him in, still in his grey robes even here, but he had taken the time to comb his hair at least. His fellow Threads were dismissive of him at best, and he read as a pure simpleton, with easy smiles and nothing to say.

He approached, and bobbed a bow. I returned it, and when our eyes met again, I saw something new there I hadn’t seen before. Wariness and cunning .

“Prince Langnathin,” he said. “May I speak with you?”

I smiled. “You are speaking with me now, Thread.”

He nodded. “Then, may I speak plain?”

Now, I was truly curious. I raised an eyebrow. “You may.”

“Do you intend to compete in tomorrow’s Games?”

I blinked. “Why do you ask?”

He had told me he would speak plain, and yet, I still expected him to talk around his thoughts more than he did.

Part of me had considered competing, if only to win and then reject the girl.

That would be the easiest and most humane way to prevent her powers from growing, for the victor to refuse to marry her.

But it was far too risky. The Sightlands were formidable and, as with every formidable dynasty, we had enemies.

Enemies that would like nothing better than the chance to murder me in good faith at a sporting event.

There were too many ‘accidents’ that could befall me.

Father would kill me for even considering it.

The Brother studied my face with a candour usually only reserved for members of my own family. I felt embarrassed by his uncompromising stare, made to feel younger than my twenty-seven years. “Why do you evade the answer?”

I glanced then at the Moontouched girl as she placed her gold slipper-clad foot down onto the ballroom floor. I wondered if she knew how to dance.

No sooner had I thought it, than Brascillan blocked all view of her.

He bowed before her, and outstretched his arm.

Septillis frowned, and there was one of my questions answered.

He was sweet on the girl after all. It was a shame for my cousin what her Fate had dealt her, for otherwise he might have claimed her for himself.

I returned my attention to the Thread. The intensity of his stare began to unnerve me. “I don’t intend to participate. ”

He released a breath and nodded, his shoulders relaxing. “Good,” he said, half to himself. “That is good.”

“And what if I had intended to compete?”

His watery white eyes creased at the corners, and he spread his palms. “I would have tried to dissuade you.”

He had intrigued me again.

“Why is that?”

He smiled, but it looked strained. “You know her Fate.”

Her Fate? To marry the victor of the Games?

Yes, I knew it. Why would that make him dissuade me from competing?

A Moontouched married to the future King of the Sightlands would be a feather in the cap of the Brotherhood.

They could only wish for such an alliance.

I bristled. “You would not want me as a suitor? The heir of the most powerful kingdom in all the near lands?”

His smile flickered more genuinely now. “It is not my wants that I am beholden to.”

Not his wants?

I glanced back at Tanidwen. She spun in Brascillan’s arms, her steps light and her arms shimmering in the candlelight of the room.

A vision. I found myself wishing to be him, wondering how her waist might feel under my hand.

I was nearly as jealous as Septillis. It must be a new form of madness, wanting to dance with a weird Brother of Eavenfold, simply because she was a girl.

“Do you mean you discourage my suit at her bidding?” I asked the Thread softly, as I kept my eyes on her mesmerising form.

“You do not wish to compete, so no discouragement is necessary.”

The answer was yes, then. Tanidwen wanted nothing to do with me. Beyond that, she had ordered her man to warn me off.

In my head, I heard Chaethor’s laugh. Of course, she would find this amusing, when I only found it confusing. I scanned back to our meeting. I had said nothing, done nothing, to cause her to dislike me so much. Nothing I could recall.

“What issue does she have with me?” I asked, posing the question half to myself.

“Most women would hesitate to marry a man,” the Thread began, and his frosty tone forced me to look at him once more. The amusement had been replaced by something far darker. “If he had hired another to end her life.”

I took a step back. I scanned the Thread’s expression, his manner, the way he held his body.

He was tense, but there was nothing to indicate he intended a challenge.

I could end him in seconds, even without my weapon.

But his words were fighting words, and it was fortunate for him that no one else had heard them.

He accused me of what? Hiring an assassin against her? I had never done such a thing. Why did she believe I had?

You had thought to, Chaethor grumbled. Maybe she read it in your touch.

But I was not resolved then, I thought back. I had thought of her risk, certainly. In that room I had no thoughts of killing her.

Perhaps another sensed it.

I narrowed my eyes. “I can imagine one would have such reservations for such a suitor. But I cannot claim the action.”

The Thread studied me, and then nodded. “Interesting.”

I folded my arms. “What was your meaning? Was that nothing but a test?”

“It was no test. And if it was not you, I must discover the real culprit.”

I looked at Tanidwen again, unable to stop myself. “Someone tried to kill her, then?”

“A merchant in Lavendell Point,” he said, scanning me with the same scrutiny .

My blood heated, boiling up in my body in pure anger. I couldn’t fathom why it bothered me so. On dragonback not a week prior, I had thought to throw her in to my father, to report her Fate and see it Broken in any way possible.

Then I found I could not. I reached my father’s door, and somehow my words had failed me. I had only expressed the success of the trip north, and the unpleasant weather on Eavenfold. Tanidwen had been less than a sentence.

But someone else had seen her threat and had acted fast.

The Thread ducked his head. “Thank you for your time, my prince.”

I only nodded at the man as he left. I grabbed another cup of the Cavelot merle.

I had hoped this dinner might have stocked some Vintarrun syra, but they had clearly stuck with the cheaper Scentlands offering.

It was drinkable enough, and I took a seat at the edge of the room to gather my thoughts.

Without even wanting to, I stared at the woman as she laughed at something Brascillan said.

Blessed Edrin. She believed I had given the order. Why?

You must have lost your charms, Chaethor rumbled.

I ignored her, thinking only of who could have ordered it.

Ravillin caught my eye then as he pranced about the room, ordering the servants like a preening peacock.

It did little to settle my nerves. He was gaudily dressed and looked entirely ridiculous, a far sight from the man who had won this same bout a span ago.

He’d all but bought his title with it. Some hillchild from the Flourines, and now he acted like he owned the place.

Soon enough, though, some other peacock would hold the title, and its bounty, and ‘Lord’ Ravillin would cease to be relevant.

My indignation was more than the upstart man deserved, but it needed some direction. I followed Ravillin’s movements about the room, until he stopped his official duties to gaze upon the newest entrant. Another woman had entered the ballroom.