“Get drunk and beat each other to a pulp,” Solena sighs. “It’s believed the Pale Eye blesses the strong on this night and protects them in battle. So they fight for her favor.”
“And for how long will they be gone?” I ask, glancing around the room, feigning indifference, but Solena’s smirk hints she sees right through me.
“A few days,” she replies.
“Good,” I say quickly.Too quickly. “I will happily be rid of the prince for a while.”
She nods. “Of course, Your Highness.”
Souls, I wish I was a better liar. I push up from the bed, but immediately wince. “Damn it!” I shout, cradling my hand.
Concern flickers in Solena’s eyes. “Your wound isn’t improving. We should tell the king and queen. They should know if you are unwell.”
“My hand is none of their concern.” Solena eyes me suspiciously as my chest heaves. “Please, Solena.”
At this moment, I wonder what choice Solena will make.
“I will not speak of it again, Your Highness.”
I swallow the lump in my throat, creating just enough space to finally exhale.
Chapter 11
Tonight, The Warrior’s Eye cleaves the moon in two—one half glowing bright, the other swallowed by shadow. I never paid much attention to the moon before coming to Baev'kalath. In the forest, it was always hidden above the thick canopy, and at best we’d catch glimpses of scattered light filtering through the leaves. But here, I see it every night, and in this world of darkness, it’s the only light that guides me.
Suddenly howls and cries from outside beckon me to the balcony. I shiver beneath the evening’s cool touch as fresh rainfall soaks through my nightgown and when I reach the railing I see hoards of Mordorin warriors perched on the walls of the courtyard dressed in leathers, seeming more ready for merriment than battle.
One by one, they leap off the wall, their wings bursting from their backs as they soar high into the night sky, the moon illuminating them like giant birds of prey, and I can hear their laughs long after they vanish into the dark abyss.
As the last of the Blades leaps from the wall, I wander back inside and sit down in the high-back chair in front of thefireplace. What will Daed be doing these next few days? It may not be The Lover’s Eye, but drinking and fighting seem to be an aphrodisiac to the Mordorin, regardless of what moon is in the sky. Who could he be with? One of the fearsome yet beautiful female Blades among his Ebon Flight? They seem more suited to him, with their brutality and strength, than I do, with my endless questions and penchant for inappropriate outbursts.
Will he make love to one of them?
There’s a knock at the door, and when I say to come in, Arax steps inside.
“Good evening, Your Highness,” he says. “Is there anything else you need from me tonight?”
I shake my head, my thoughts scattered. Then I tilt my head curiously. “Is this part of your punishment? Not joining the others to celebrate the moon?”
Arax exhales, a hint of fatigue in his eyes. “The Warrior’s Eye is a young Fae’s game. I’d much rather have a quiet night with a good book and a proper cup of tea.”
“Not limmeth tea,” I add with a cringe.
His face mirrors mine, disgust flashing briefly. “Old gods, no. Not that dirty water.”
A laugh escapes me, and I catch the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Good night, Your Highness,” he says, his tone softer.
“Good night, Arax,” I reply.
In Daed’s absence, I wander the twisting halls of Baev'kalath alone, the walls echoing with an unfamiliar silence. With King Kaelus also away celebrating The Warrior’s Eye, each meal alone with the queen feels like a subtle interrogation, her questions prying into my thoughts with unnerving precision. Her gaze is heavy on me, studying every word, every shift in expression as if searching for cracks beneath the surface. I respond with vague answers meant to satisfy while revealing nothing. Still, wheneverI am with her, tension coils in my chest like a taut string on the verge of snapping.
Now, in the mornings, Solena is the only one to rouse me. Without the chaos of the other maids bustling about, it’s easier to breathe, to move without feeling like I’m being pulled in a hundred directions at once. Solena’s demeanor has softened, too—well, softened by her standards. Her words are still clipped, her instructions brusque, but there’s a noticeable shift in the way she looks at me, her eyes less judgmental, more… understanding, perhaps. She gives me herbs to ease my constant headaches and takes care of my hand that has not improved.
We often linger in the quiet of my chambers, our attention drawn to my serpentine vine as it sits on the table, its once-vibrant leaves now faded and thinning. I try not to let it get to me each time a leaf detaches, fluttering softly to the table.
In the quieter moments, I find myself wandering the fortress with Arax, who, despite his stoic demeanor, has become an unexpected source of solace. I’ve even managed to draw rare laughter from him—a low, reluctant sound that he promptly denies ever happened. But I take it as a small victory. And thankfully, the ghostly apparition leaves me be and the elusive stairs to nowhere remain just that—elusive. I start to feel that I’m not going mad after all.
But no matter how hard I try to focus on the light, the shadows loom large. I spend hours on my balcony, staring out at the restless ocean, my thoughts a tumultuous tide. With every crashing wave, I reflect on the chaos of the last few weeks—the uncertain future that stretches before me, but when I scan the horizon, I know I am not looking for answers. I am seeking wings, a glimpse of him soaring back to Baev’kalath, yet the skies remain stubbornly empty.
