Page 66 of To Touch A Silent Fury (The Bride of Eavenfold #1)

Lang

M y mood was still black when Chaethor dropped me off on the walls nearest the barracks of the City Watch. I ducked my head into Foxlin’s quarters, and found them empty. I slammed my hand against the doorframe and turned to his men in the barracks. “Where is he?”

One of them stood, his eyes firmly on my boots. “He’s been reposted, Your Grace.”

“Reposted,” I repeated. “From the City Watch?”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

I gritted my teeth. “Under whose authority?”

His ears burned red. “I don’t know.”

This had my aunt written all over it. “Where is he now?”

“The castle,” the same man replied.

Then another man stood from a bunk across. “He said it was door duty, sir.”

“Door duty,” I said. “By the Five, I’ve been gone a day. One fucking day.”

I stalked out of the room and down the corridors. My aunt had over-stepped this time. As soon as I rode out, she stole my right-hand man. Door duty? What was the meaning of it? She picked him to torment me, surely.

I glanced up at Chaethor as I stormed out of the front door and saw her perched on a nearby tower, soaking up the admiration and fear from the morning guards.

Need a lift?

No, I said. I need to walk off at least a fraction of this rage.

Good, she replied lazily. All these fine dinners have gone straight to your gut, and that’s no way to catch a wife.

Maybe I’ll take the lift after all, if that will help repel the women, I replied.

Too late, she responded, and I heard the gasps and then the thwomp of her wings. She was up in the air in the next breath, and I felt her tune out of our conversation.

She was sick of my foul mood, just as I was frustrated by her apparent freedom. I wished I could circle the skies all day.

Still, the morning was young, and the temperature was already rising.

It was working up to being a scorcher, and despite my dove-like skin’s aversion, I had always loved the heat of Tanmer.

The walk, combined with the fearful nods of passersby, grounded me.

I was a Prince of Droundhaven. I could not be ruled by a fickle emotion or driven so easily to rage. It was my duty to be neutral and fair.

Though, when I crossed back into the marble constraints of the castle, I felt the weight of the stones, the weight of expectation, the bonds of my birth shackling me.

I weaved through the main hall and up two flights of stairs. I exited out into the southern gardens, in hopes of finding Princess Derynallis. Instead, I found her son. He studied a crop of medicinal plants, his white hair falling over his face as he knelt in utter concentration .

“Cousin.” I could not help but smile at the way he straightened instantly, his perfect composure momentarily broken as he whipped his neck to look up at me. I folded my arms. “Did you have a hand in this, then?”

Septillis blocked the sun with one arm as he righted himself onto his feet and bowed. “Welcome back, Your Grace.”

I scanned the plant at his feet and realised this was one of the very few I could name.

Domil, used for drowsiness. Had he been having trouble sleeping?

It would not surprise me, given the very large secret he was hiding from my father about a certain guest’s identity.

“Your mother has taken it upon herself to repost my men. Where is she?”

His enviable mask was back. “If you mean Foxlin, then I must admit the action was my own.”

I narrowed my eyes on him. Septillis had done this? Septillis had ordered my own man? He who exercised such droll fucking caution in all things, acting like a serpent the moment I turned my back? Part of me respected it.

“There was a matter for which I believed he would be well suited, and when I heard he was not accompanying you to the Vidarium, I thought it would be no problem.” He bowed again, ever the picture of an obsequious helper. “I apologise for any inconvenience.”

“What matter?”

Septillis paused, then he met my eyes truly. “I posted him at Vorska's door. Wainstrill was needed at Unger Lift after all.”

He had posted Foxlin outside Tanidwen’s door? Why? Something in his white eyes, something about his whole manner, was off. “What happened?”

“The lady was taken ill. I thought it best we keep everyone out until we know if it could spread. I thought Foxlin would be adept enough to keep any guests away.”

“She’s ill?” I asked.

“She appears to be on the mend now, but it’s best everyone keep their distance.”

Oh. Oh.

So, that was the play. And he was completely in on it. She must have left already, yesterday hopefully, and this whole ruse with Foxlin was merely to keep Wainstrill from discovering her sickness was really nothing at all. She was long gone, and he had bought her days of time.

Ever the loyal Brother. Choosing his Eavenfold kin over his own.

It was clever. Truly clever. As much as I resented his betrayal, if he had warned me of it, I would have aided him.

Instead, I only sighed. “I know you fool my father, Septillis, but you do not fool me.”

He stiffened. “Your Grace.”

I saw it in his eyes then, the love he had for her. The same love I’d seen there back on Eavenfold. “Edrin’s watch, you haven’t changed a bit,” I said. “Still as moony-eyed as ever.”

Septillis flinched. “I do not—”

I took a step forwards, close enough that I could see every fine hair on his cheek, and he stopped talking. “Never repost my men again.”

Septillis only breathed through his nose, unmoving. “As you say, Your Grace.”

Then I turned on my heel and headed back up the stairs.

The tiny garden looked less magical in this light.

I had reimagined my visit here so many times, wishing I had kissed the girl that night, or concocted an excuse to stay longer.

I thought of her, a leaf stuck to her braid as she held out the tome of our history.

By Edrin, she was beautiful. And now, she was gone.

If she was lucky, she would never see any of us again. I mourned that reality, stepping around the pillars, not wishing to rewrite my last time here with her with this new absence .

Foxlin leaned against the wall as I moved around the final pillar.

“It suits you,” I said, and he turned to me. “The lowly door guard.”

He grinned and walked over to me, pulling me into a hug a few feet from the door. I embraced him back, and he murmured into my ear. “There is more to this posting than meets the eye, friend.”

“Let me guess,” I said, matching his volume. “You guard an empty room.”

We pulled back from each other, and he glanced around us.

“Wrong,” he said.

My heart skipped a beat. “She is in there, then. You have seen her?”

“I have.”

Relief and excitement hit, and then confusion. Septillis was hiding something, but if it wasn’t this deception, then what was it? “So, she is ill after all?”

He shook his head, his voice still low. “She is perfectly well.”

It made less and less sense. “Why are you here, then?”

“Septillis left me very specific instructions,” Foxlin said. “Let no one and nothing in, besides food delivered by Kallie.”

“The cook?”

He nodded. “Yes.”

“I don’t understand it,” I admitted. “What happened?”

An aggravated sigh came from behind the door. I heard the sound of something heavy moving, and then she appeared. Her braid was loose, her dark hair falling out of it. She rubbed at her face and pinned me with those sapphire eyes.

I hated how delighted I was to see her.

She frowned at me, and I reveled in her ire. “If you are determined to speak about me outside my door, please remember my hearing is far better than yours. ”

I bowed deeply. “Lady Vorska, I am pleased to discover you are well.”

Tanidwen wrinkled her nose, closing the door a little as if realising herself. Then she glanced up at the sky, and back into her room. When she returned her piercing gaze, she was resolved. “I would like to take you up on your offer of a tour.”

Foxlin took a step towards her. “Is that wise, my lady?”

She sighed. “I have been in these walls for nearly a day and in this castle for a tenday. If I cannot step outside it, I will scream.”

He gave her an uneasy look. “I am not permitted to let you leave, my lady, for your own safety.”

“I know what your orders are to protect me against. And who.” Her eyes flashed as she said it, then she stared back at me. “Lang will not hurt me.”

Again, she called me Lang. Was she aware she was doing it? It did something to me, hearing her address me like that, so casually.

But her comments finally made it fall into place. Septillis had sent Foxlin here for Tanidwen’s protection, not to cover up her escape. Someone else must have tried to hurt her. Wainstrill himself? Or Daffinia perhaps, acting through my aunt?

Anger flared, hot and fast, as did the strange need to hold the girl. Lang will not hurt me , she said. By the Five, this woman owned my heart.

“Go get ready,” I said to her, and she turned, disappearing back into the room. I placed a hand on Foxlin’s shoulder. “It’s fine, Foxlin. I wouldn’t let anything happen to her.”

“Fine.” Foxlin shot me a warning look. “But don’t be gone too long or you’ll return to a new handsome head on a spike.”

“Watch who comes and goes from here.”

Foxlin rolled his eyes. “Of course, I am but your humble door man.”

It seemed getting ready meant just rebraiding her hair and tying her dragon like a sack of flour against her front.

She didn’t fasten beads around her face, and whether that was in some secret protest to her future husband or just not caring anymore, I didn’t ask.

I instead questioned her on whether it was wise to bring the dragon, but she told me she refused to let him out of her sight, and since I was determined to keep her in mine to whatever end, I let the matter drop.

We had until noon before I expected my brother and father to return from the Vidarium, which gave us a few precious hours in relative peace.

I led her down to the floor above the kitchen and out a service exit manned by a guard I mostly trusted, and I felt the collective sigh we both released as the walls faded behind us.

I told her of the city’s history, and she nodded as if she already knew it.

She asked after the names of bridges, the source of the masonry, and how often the place flooded.

I answered as best I could, and she seemed content with the answers.

Our words were nothing but small talk as I paid a surprised citizen for the use of his rowboat for an hour.

We stuck to safe topics even then: the low tide of the season, the architecture of the Vidarium, and even the number of livestock in the Sightlands compared to the Scentlands, as I rowed us through the tight and busy canals and finally out towards the wider channels at the city’s eastern edge.

I’d discarded my Tanmer coat already, and yet the sweat had not abated. I was right about the day’s scorching heat. Now, only an hour or so until noon, the sun bore down on the back of my neck with relentless precision .

Once we were in the middle of a canal as thick as any river, and far away from any eyes or ears, I peeled off my green tunic and laid it over the top of my coat. I unbuttoned my white shirt halfway and sighed in relief at the slight breeze.

I leaned back against the back of the boat and let us float as I looked at Tanidwen once more. She was staring at me already; her eyes caught on my chest with a lidded gaze. My breath caught, and she looked away.

“Will you tell me what happened, now?” I asked.

“Your aunt tried to poison me,” she said simply, staring at the sunlight dappling the water. “Well, she tried to poison him.”

It wasn’t surprising, and yet it rekindled my anger anew. “You are certain it was her.”

She blinked, as if caught in some half-truth. “I have reasons to believe it likely.”

“Reasons you will not tell me.”

She flicked her eyes to me. “Is it not customary for a woman to have secrets?”

“I think your secret is bigger than most.”

“You don’t know everything, Lang,” she said with a scowl.

I only smiled. “Try me.”

Tanidwen huffed out a sigh, and leaned back herself. She unbuttoned the top of her blouse, and my eyes warred between the need to reappraise the fine curve of her neck or stare at the patch of calf revealed beneath her skirts.

In the end, neither of those won, for her movement appeared to have woken her dragon. I saw the wing flex within the bundle, and his head poked out from the top of the fabric.

Tanidwen’s eyes widened with fear as she stroked his head, trying, not so subtly, to push him under the fabric. “I’m sure he’s just hungry.”

I smiled as he playfully nipped at her hand and pushed upwards more, sniffing the salty air and making a broken yawning noise.

Tanidwen shifted, but the boat rocked, and she reached her hands out to steady herself on the side.

Her dragon moved, too, his claw grabbing over the side of the fabric as he stared straight at me.

With her white eyes. Those eyes I had thought of for years, now blinking back at me with total innocent curiosity.

My grin spread as I stared back at him.

Tanidwen didn't even look at me, her hand quickly covering her dragon’s eyes as he made a sneezing noise in protest. She spoke to me through her panic. “Don’t be alarmed. I’ve read about this, and sapphire dragons often—”

“Stop,” I said.

“—have unsettled eyes for the first year or so.”

I reached towards her, holding my hand out for her to quiet. “Tanidwen.”

The word fell, and the only noise to be heard was the water slapping against the wood.

The woman’s shaking hands dropped to her sides, and she looked at me with a haunted expression. There was more than fear there: it was terror. I saw her glance quickly to either side of her and realise there was no easy escape.

Guilt wracked me; I had brought us here so we could speak freely, and then had acknowledged my awareness of her deceit. It was abominable timing from me to trap her like this, and I let my hand drop.

“You know?” she choked out.

I nodded. “I know.”