“And every other soul in the reach looks at me like I’m a Wilds-touched monster.”
His eyes narrow, waiting for the crack or bend in my will.
“Fine. I’ll do it,” he says, the dagger held in his tail clattering to the icy ground. He steps back, raising his hands in surrender.
“What?” I’m still poised for an attack, lava burning in my veins, and now he’s just…giving in?
“Sure,” he says, with a casual air that makes me instantly suspicious. “I’ll take the throne for you. Wear the crown. I’ve already presented your bride for you, should I also bed her and make her squirm under me, gasping my name?”
There’s not a moment to think between those words hitting my ears and Valenar’s back hitting the ground. I don’t remember moving. I certainly don’t remember tackling him, but suddenly he’s pinned under me, my fist poised above his face. It’s only his laughter that snaps me out of the rage.
“Thought so,” he says, extracting himself from my hold while I’m still in shock. “You may think this isn’t what you want, but you haven’t even given it a chance. The whole point of bringing in a bride is to make the reach see another side of you. She might be able to help more than you think.”
I scoff, dusting myself off after standing, more embarrassed now than when Hilduin was offering me her pity. He didn’t see the way Ingrid looked at me this morning.
“I don’t see why she would. She clearly wants nothing to do with me.” Perhaps his optimism has blinded him to that, but I can’t fool myself.
“Clearly,” Val laughs. “That must be why she’s watching you so closely.”
My heart stops, gaze darting to my friend, then following his eyes up to the ramparts. Bundled in a heavy wool cloak lined in ifrak fleece, her nose and cheeks pink like cherry blossoms, is my precious bride.
Chapter Twelve
Ingrid
Morwen does her best to impress upon me the kind of leisure activities that areappropriatefor someone of my standing. She really does. And perhaps with someone a little less strong-willed, she would have been convincing. But no matter how improper or unseemly she claims I’ll be, I cannot be content sitting around doing nothing. It’s not a luxury I’ve ever been afforded; there’s always chores to be done, animals to be tended, clothes to be mended, and when at last I finished all my tasks for the day, I’d sit by the fire spinning late into the night until my fingers were too stiff to move.
Stillness and I have never been well-acquainted, and with the state of this place, it’s not a pastime I’m going to adopt any time soon. Appearances be damned. I’m already the subject of plenty of gossip around here, I’m sure. From what I’ve gathered, Xandril’s no different in that regard, so what reputation or appearance do I have to maintain? Morwen may be used to things being done a certain way, but like everyone else around here, she’s going to have to get used to things being different.
It’s not like the way things have always been done has worked out so well for these people. Maybe this place needs to get a littleunseemlyif it’s going to have any hope of recovery. In myexperience, a proper cleaning always makes a bigger mess of things before bringing about any order.
After sitting through what feels like an endless series of measurements and fittings and being stuck with pins and pinched and poked—all while being lectured by Morwen, mind you—I don my heavy cloak once again and set off in search of my betrothed. I’m sure as the king he must have his own designs for how to repair and replenish his new home. Who better to consult about what I might do to be of the most use?
And after our encounter this morning, I am not quite so intimidated by him. His willingness to let me set the pace in our relations is…unprecedented. I cannot imagine any of the men I’ve ever known being so accommodating, and I find myself wanting to show my gratitude in some way.
The castle’s halls turn me in circles, bringing me back to the same few rooms within the keep—the throne room, the king’s study, then back to the hallway where our rooms sit across from one another.
My stomach twists, acid burning the back of my throat. It shouldn’t be this easy for me to get turned around; I tried so hard to pay attention when Morwen led me around earlier! Despite repeatedly finding myself in the spaces most likely to harbor the king, he’s nowhere to be found.
For a heartbeat, I consider abandoning this plan of mine. What good does it do to win Xandril’s favor, help him restore his castle, or impress his people when I’m planning on leaving at the first sign of spring? But seeing how badly this place needs help—anyhelp—makes thoughts of deserting it come with a wave of guilt.
Swallowing that feeling, I turn back from our hallway again. Helping how I can while I’m here is the best I can offer.Whatever guilt is left after that will be my burden to bear once I’ve returned home and saved Phillip.
Finally admitting defeat, I start asking around the castle if anyone knows where I might find the king. Most of the staff are tight-lipped, or as clueless as I am, but the kitchen staff steer me toward the training grounds.
The moment I step outside, I’m buffeted by strong, icy winds and surrounded by three bulky demons in the same uniform. Staggering back a step, blocked from retreating any further by the door behind me, I’m struck by the sudden urge to flee.
But that’s ridiculous. I’ve done nothing wrong.
Future queen,I remind myself, squaring my shoulders.
“I would like to pass,” I announce with all the haughtiness I can muster. It’s not much, but it seems to do the trick. The guards split, leaving a gap for me to move through. I’ve taken only a few paces toward the training ground when I realize there are footsteps behind me.
I can’t imagine why they’d be following me, so I step off to the side to let them pass, in no real hurry myself. When I stop, so do the footsteps behind me. Staying a few paces back, the trio of guards just watches me like nothing out of the ordinary is happening.
Squinting at them suspiciously, I take a step further toward the training ground. The guards take a similarly-sized step.
Oh…future queen,I realize, feeling silly for having to repeat the same reminder. It’s going to take some getting used to. Although, perhaps I shouldn’t gettooused to it.
