Page 52 of To Touch A Silent Fury (The Bride of Eavenfold #1)

Tani

T he castle’s main foyer sat well above the water level of the canals, its floors sparkling.

A grand statue of a man, standing on a rock and gazing out, was in the centre.

I wanted to get a closer look to confirm it to be the Founder Edrin, but the foyer was not my goal that day.

I stepped down from the last carpeted step, keeping my head down.

No one paid attention to me, and my soft slippers made no noise as I rounded the corner and continued to descend, down to where I would find the kitchens.

At least my clothing was as close to camouflage as I could find now. A courier delivered two laced tunics and two pleated, plain skirts, the same outfits I had seen on the maids. They gave me the freedom to roam without stares, and they allowed me to make good on Seth’s other favour.

The two clusters of beads left atop the pile, one in black and one in white, were also gratefully received.

They were both dull glass and far less pretty than the beading I had worn before, but they were an extra level to a costume I dearly coveted.

I wore the black today, and it heightened my invisibility manifold.

I welcomed them even as they irritated my face.

Gone?

His little voice flitted through my head, louder than normal.

I’ll be back soon.

Hurts.

I’m getting food, I responded, knowing that would settle him.

He made a discontented huff, but his next word was drowsy and more calm. Food.

His personality grew with each day, and his words grew too. Sometimes, when he was more alert, I felt him listening to my own thoughts, picking them apart to understand their meaning.

I smirked to myself as I reached the bottom of the stairs, a few feet above sea level and both louder and warmer.

I followed the smell of rising dough and fresh fish, as my amusement turned to worry.

He had begun to open his eyes more and move around the rooms. Last night, he blinked at me, and I saw the bright whites of my own eyes reflected back.

He was growing restless, and even though he slept most of the day still, it would not be long before someone saw him awake and put the pieces together.

I was running out of time. Not just with the dragon, but with Langnathin. He had to choose a bride by the end of Tanmer, which was now only forty days away, and despite his strange kindness to me, I was hardly a marriageable candidate for him. Not yet.

Though, he had stood by his word. His brown-wrapped package of three books had been all that had saved me from an infernal boredom.

I had never had time to be bored in Gossamir, staying alive had consumed all of my energy.

But here, with comfortable quarters to protect me from the weather, and meals and water readily delivered, there was nothing to do but bathe or sit in that pathetic excuse for a garden.

Even enjoying the wonders of a scorching early Tanmer sun could only distract for so long, and I was ever aware of the men who watched me.

This span of days had been a handful of comforts away from a cell.

The guards had let me venture into the castle today, but only because I had left my dragon behind. They knew enough of us to know I would not go far, or be gone long.

My thoughts spiralled as I stepped into the busy kitchens.

Bustling men and women crowded the space, most of them with the deeper warm skin of the western lands.

It was common for any good kitchen to have a cook from the Tastelands, and it seemed, here in the belly of Droundhaven’s palace, there were two spans of them.

I stepped out of the way of a man holding a giant peach tart and spun right into the back of someone else. I turned, ducking my head in apology. “Sorry, ma’am.”

Wide hips and a floury apron turned to me. Her thin brown hair was scraped back into a bun, and her face was stern and reddened.

“Off with yous, girl,” she said, flicking her hand, and there was no mistaking she was one of Dional’s people. Her voice bore all the hallmarks of a good Tastelands farming family, with its elongated ‘oo’ and harder ‘r’. “We’ve got a lot to prepare without a chambermaid under our feet.”

“My apologies, ma’am,” I replied. “My name is Vorska. I was hoping—”

“Vorska,” she interrupted. Then she gasped, and gawked at my face. “Your eyes. So it’s true, then.”

The relief of not having to explain myself contrasted quickly against the awareness that I had turned from one type of freak to entirely another. “Yes, ma’am. ”

“I thought you a Barrowlands filly,” she said, squinting at my face as she referenced the southern stretch of the Tastelands. “You look right dark for a Euphon.”

I shrugged, trying not to let her shake me. “I don’t know my father’s birthspot, ma’am. It could be that he was from the border, near your plains.”

She narrowed her eyes. “And you speak very proper for one of them. Is it true you be killing babies in that forest?”

I swallowed, hardly knowing how to respond.

The rumour of leaving the Moontouched children out overnight had to be left unspoiled to stop the Triad learning of the Sons, a whole tribe of Moontouched in the Soundlands, but I didn’t want to claim the action myself. “All the lands speak common, ma’am.”

She sniffed. “Most don’t speak it like you. All clipped and formal like that.”

“We have good ears for the music of things. I can pick up on how others sound,” I said, in a measured voice.

The Triad cared for the Five, maybe referencing Mephluan the Muse would get me out of this odd interrogation.

I could hardly tell her the truth, that my strange accent was Eavenfold’s doing. “Maybe that is why, ma’am.”

“Maybe, as ye say. And no need to call me ‘ma’am’.” The woman rubbed her hands on her already dirty apron. “We got the message from upstairs about you. You’ll be wanting the offcuts, then.”

I nodded, relieved the questioning was finally over. “Yes, please.”

The woman grunted, giving me a strange look before walking to the back of the kitchen. I had no doubt my answers would be known by all the castle staff within the day.

Still, she returned with a generous wooden bowl filled with gristle, offal, and some slivers of fresh meat. She passed it to me with reluctance .

I bobbed a small curtsy. “Thank you.”

She shook her head, wagging her finger in my face. “Now don’t be eating any of that yourself, mind. There’s a lady up there right ill. A Miss Francillin. She spewed her guts in the prince’s luncheon yesterday. I don’t want to get the blame if you come down with something.”

I hid a smile. Septillis had found the ingredients. “Of course, ma’am. Thank you for this.”

She waved her hand away, but I noticed the way she puffed up her chest. “Get on with ya.”

With the bowl of meat in hand, I retraced my route out of the kitchen and into the scullery hall.

I trotted up the steps, eager to be back with my dragon once more.

This was the furthest I had been from him, and I could feel it making me nervous.

My head was heavier from it, my mind harried by worries.

But each step I ascended loosened that mental burden.

I was two flights up, and about to rejoin the main hall, when I nearly collided with someone again. Guarding the bowl, I stepped to the side, my back pressing against the bannister.

The man I was about to hit looked just as distracted, his dark, auburn hair falling into his eyes. He looked up with a readily apologetic smile, and then he froze. I felt him scan me from head to toe, his blood eyes coming back to settle on my face and the beads that covered it.

I bobbed a curtsy. “Good day.”

“Good day, Vorska.” Langnathin pointed to the bowl I clutched to my chest. “Is that for him?”

“Yes.”

He nodded. “Good.”

We both paused, on unsteady footing. It had been far easier to speak the other night. Was it merely the hour, loosening our tongues? The secrecy? Or perhaps he had been drunk, and he regretted our conversation entirely .

I opened my mouth at the same time he did.

“Let me know—”

“—What are you doing here?” I asked.

Then I blushed. What kind of question is that?

Some of his former mischief found its way into his expression. “This is my castle, remember.”

He referenced the other night, and my own words. Something about this felt different, though, with the morning light streaming through the window, casting his white face in a golden glow. I didn’t want to think of the prince as warm. I didn’t want to think of him as anything other than a plan.

I swallowed, not rising to his attempt at play. “Yes, of course. I am sorry for my rude question, Your Grace.”

He flinched, slightly, the smallest creasing of his eyes. “It is nothing.”

A new pause lingered, and both of us shuffled as two men carrying a keg between them stepped past us on the stairs.

I held the bannister behind me with my spare hand. “What were you going to say?”

“Nothing,” he responded quickly. Then he tried to smile. “Just to let me know if the dragon needs anything.”

Why was he helping me? The politeness reeked of guilt, but for what? Towards Vorska, he had done nothing untoward. I longed to find some excuse to touch him. I needed to know what he was thinking, feeling.

“Thank you, Your Grace,” I said.

“The library"—he flicked his head somewhere in the direction of ‘up the stairs’, which was far from helpful—“is well stocked. You might find some further reading to your tastes there.”

I nodded. “If I have your permission.”

“Of course,” he said, as if it was a ridiculous comment.

Again, we both paused. One of us could have made an excuse to leave, and yet… neither of us did. I told myself it was because I had to convince him to marry me. I would get nowhere unless I was agreeable. Yet I knew that reasoning had come after I had already paused too long.

He looked just as lost as I did. “I’m going down to the canals. To spar.”

“Oh, I see.” I gave him a faint smile before realising he wouldn’t see it under my beads.

He clenched his fist. “Would you like to—Have you seen any of the city?”

The city was far too distant a prospect when I struggled even inside the castle. I glanced up at the staircase above, knowing my dragon would grumble at me again soon enough. “Not yet, Your Grace.”

Langnathin followed my upwards glance, then nodded. “When you feel more able to move away from him, I would be happy to give you a tour.”

“You are too kind, Your Grace,” I said. The words stuck in my mouth. I didn’t mean them and yet, there was something to it. In a small gesture, he had seen through me and my intent, my thoughts. He was as bound to Chaethor as I was to my new charge. We understood each other.

“Not by half.” The intensity of his eye contact froze me against the bannister. A maid walked past, and neither of us moved an inch.

I blinked, ready to question him.

Before I could, he rolled his shoulders and dropped his eyes. “I will leave you to your mission.”

“Yes,” I said, and I could not explain why my heart was leaping. The conversation was nothing more than civil. “Enjoy your day, Your Grace. ”

I looked down at my feet, so as not to trip, and took a first step up at the same time as he took a step down. Then I took another, and he matched it.

I whipped my eyes to him, and he only stared at me with another emotion I could not place. The temptation to reach out to him only grew.

“Vorska,” he said.

“Yes?”

He dampened his lower lip, and I watched the motion, my fingers tightening around the rim of the bowl.

Then he blew out a breath, and the impassive prince was back. “Be on your guard.”

I nodded, utterly confused. “As ever, Your Grace.”

When I walked on, our steps were not in rhythm. If anything, I did not hear him at all, but I didn’t look back until I was two flights away. Only then did I finally breathe.