Page 57 of To Touch A Silent Fury (The Bride of Eavenfold #1)

I stomped along with the rest, my body rigid, like a soldier marching to someone else’s drum. They called out my father’s name. “Braxthorn! Braxthorn! Braxthorn!”

I looked at him, then. The man who had forced Kallamont to kill his own mother.

The man who had killed a dragon who had never harmed a person to my recorded recollection.

His eyes shone as he stared out into the chanting faces.

He glanced my way, and his face soured. There must have been something in my gaze that gave me away.

Norgallin the Hammer, who had killed the dragon Andillin, stole her egg, and subdued the five kingdoms. Praevontil the Kind, who listened to his Moontouched brother until the very end.

Watch us, he declared. And yet, all I saw when I watched my father was a man so desperate to live up to them that he was nothing at all.

My father looked back to the crowd, and so did I, clapping as long as the last man, and then returned to my seat. I was glad that Tanidwen had not arrived in time to hear it.

It took me several minutes to acclimatise.

I felt distanced from myself, as if one part was pinned atop a burial scaffold and the other was at the bottom of the Oktorok.

Quaffing another drink helped, and the murmured congratulations forced me to conjure some kind of reply whilst men slapped my shoulder.

Eventually, it was Chaethor who brought me back, making some joke about Braxthorn’s clothing. It was not so shocking. I knew the death likely lay with him; I should have expected him to claim the action.

My embroidered golden tunic lay heavily around my chest in the warm air.

Betraying my aunt’s ever strict advice, I unbuttoned the top two fastenings of my white shirt, exposing my collar to the stuffy air and finding some relief in it.

I sighed and wet my already dry lips with my tongue, leaning back, and once again casting my eyes to the hallway door.

Tanidwen.

Blessed Edrin, it was unfair. Why had I given her Plonius? He was too good a tailor for me; with her , she was Mephluan remade. The Muse of the Five .

Thread Ersimmon had painted her as a blushing bride-to-be. It was effective and memorable. She was perfect in that moment, like snow at dawn.

Plonius rewrote her as an ancient goddess.

The emerald green gown clung to her waist before floating from her hips down to the floor.

A gold bodice netted across her torso, extending up past the fabric of the gown to her collarbones and flaring out towards the tops of her bare and dusted arms. Her hair fell in the softest curls, and her eyes, needing nothing to be spectacular, somehow came to life, drawn and accentuated with golden browns.

The only loss was her beautiful mouth, hidden behind golden beads that signalled her availability to every man in the room.

Her skin sang against the gold and the green, the warmth of it in perfect complement to the richness of the colours against her.

Tanidwen Treleftir.

She was staring straight at me.

She held her skirt with her right hand, and her left trembled slightly.

I stood. She swallowed.

I had not taken one step before a man ducked into a deep bow before her, the depths of which would honour a queen.

Septillis? No. Another white-haired man. He straightened, and I only saw his braided white hair as he raised his arm to her. What Brother was here? I did not expect one.

Tanidwen smiled at him, and my heart skipped. By the Five, I was wrecked.

This was it, I could refute it no longer. She stayed in my mind through no guilt nor intrigue. Her deception could be damned, for I long understood it. I still wanted the girl, more than anything.

Cursed to fall for women who hated me. Or maybe just the same woman, in all her forms .

Edrin, she was beautiful.

And every man here saw it. I watched my brother watch Tanidwen, and it churned against me with such vehement anger I found it hard to concentrate. I forced myself to sit back down before too many noticed I had arisen.

As some kind of distraction from the woman I was unhealthily obsessed with, and the brother I wanted to kill, I watched him. The man who escorted her for her first dance.

Definitely a Brother from his stiff posture and formality, but not from the Sightlands, and certainly not one I was aware of. His hair was longer than we tended to wear it in the Triad, yet he wore the muted pastels I associated with the central Scentlands. Who was he?

“Theollan of Lavendell.” A voice came from behind me, spoken close to my ear. I turned to find my aunt, Princess Derynallis, leaning over my chair, watching Tanidwen with cold eyes. I had been distracted indeed to let her creep up on me. “Arrived earlier today.”

“For what purpose?” I asked, keeping my tone as icy as hers. It was the only way to speak to her, with the same cold detachment she favoured in all things.

“He is a renowned scholar, apparently,” she said, coming to sit on the silk-covered chair beside me and glancing down at her dirt-free nails. “There is some matter of redrawing the northern borders.”

My aunt looked perfect as always. Her deep russet hair looked lightened by the Tanmer sun as it pulled back into a low chignon, with an elegant navy dress which showed off her pale Sightlands skin. But her eyes, narrowed and yellow, gave away her malice.

“I see.” I waved a bored hand in their direction. “And he dances with our guest, it appears.”

She raised a brow. “I am surprised she can dance at all. ”

I barked out a laugh, falling back into the role I had played my entire life. Only today, I felt utterly stifled by it, even sitting outdoors. “She must have had some lessons over the last few nights.”

The princess’ eyes flashed. “I have word the Brother was seen in the gardens with her earlier today.”

I stiffened. Did he know, as I was certain Septillis knew? Or was it simply a coincidence? “Why would he visit her?”

She narrowed her eyes. “The report said he was on his knees.”

It could not be. A Brother would not propose to her.

How many admirers had she gained in the Eavenfold?

From what I had seen, our Septillis was the only one who had spoken with her.

A spike of jealousy rose up my throat, and I couldn’t stop myself from looking back to the pair.

Theollan bent his head to speak into Tanidwen’s ear.

She smiled and responded, her steps clumsy but correct.

Then I returned my gaze to my aunt. I would not look at them again; she had already caught me watching, and it would not do for her to know my partiality.

Everything I had ever wanted was used against me.

Braxthorn might lay the order, but I knew who whispered in his ear.

I wouldn’t let them have her, too. “I do not understand.”

“I think it is clear enough,” she replied, her voice quiet and her mouth moving behind a wafting black fan to keep her lips from the eyes of any who would dare to read her.

“Theollan must have heard of her and her dragon. His young prince is unwed and looking for any way to claw beyond the dreary politics of Lavendell fisheries.”

“You think he has proposed?” I asked. “On behalf of Prince Eamallan?”

“The longer the girl remains here, the longer she will stir intrigue. This is only the first viper of many. ”

I hummed. A proposal from the Scentlands might have nothing to do with Eavenfold, then. At least it would get her out of Droundhaven, and away from my family. “Maybe Prince Eamallan isn’t so bad of a match.”

Derynallis’ retort was flat. “I’d rather see the girl dead than see her take her runtish lizard to another land.”

My skin felt cold for the first time since I’d landed on the roof. I wondered if Princess Derynallis knew the irony. If I was destined to desire Tanidwen in every form, it seemed my aunt was destined to want her dead. “The Scentlands are our allies.”

“How stupid are you, Langnathin?” she asked. “Do you not understand how hard your grandfather worked for that alliance? The sacrifices your father has made to keep it?”

I scoffed. Aunt Hyamis was the true sacrificial lamb of the family, married off to Canenrill before I was born. Whatever my father did to secure that deal was little more than a bartering of flesh, no different from his approach to the Brotherhood. “Oh, his sacrifices have been grave indeed.”

Her hand shook in her lap. If I had dared to say the same thing in a more private environment, she would have boxed my ears as cleanly as my father had earlier.

Only, hers would have hurt more; it usually did.

I did not mind her rage, so long as she pegged me for an ungrateful prince acting out, and looked no further into my life.

She glared at me. “Mark my words, the girl is trouble. I will not see her ruin our plans with a treasonous marriage, nor will I see her worm her way into our family.”

I nodded slowly. “She is impressionable and uncultured. If we sway her to accept a more favourable match, I am sure she will agree.”

“I hope you are right.” Her quivering hand steadied, and I allowed myself to breathe out. “In any case, we must act fast, before the Euphon marries herself to some upstart powdered boy.”

Again, I forced a laugh. “Tell the king, not me. I have no influence over her suitor.”

The dance ended, and I allowed myself the smallest of looks. Tanidwen dipped her head to Theollan, leaving the dancefloor on his arm.

Princess Derynallis watched her with no such reservations, and even the billow of her fan would not hide the open hostility in her eyes if anyone was watching. She waved at me, clearly bored of my conversation. “Go dance, there are far too many women awaiting your favour.”

“As you wish, Your Highness.”