15
Because I’d stayed in the Storm Vault for two days straight, it doesn’t need subduing that afternoon, so I remain hidden away in my bedroom after Baelen leaves—even eating in there before finally collapsing into a deep sleep that night.
But even in my dreams, I can’t get away from him. His voice invades my sleep in the dark of night and I toss and turn, trying to ignore the ache in my chest. Finally, the early morning glow from the skylight wakes me before I want to be awake. Jordan bustles around me, folding blankets and pushing clothing into my closet much too noisily.
She pauses when she sees I’m awake. “How are you feeling?”
“It’s not the bruises that hurt.”
Okay, so I said that out loud. Not what I intended but I’ll have to live with it. I locate my spare pillow wrapped in the sheets beside me and pull it into a hug. She keeps shooting glances at me and it makes me feel like I missed something… Now that I think of it, the foggy memories of Baelen’s voice in the night seem a little too real in the light of day…
I pluck at my sheets, not wanting to sound too concerned. “I had a dream that Commander Rath was here in the middle of the night. Was that a dream or…?”
“He was here.”
I sit bolt upright. “What?”
“He was completely intoxicated so we sent him away.”
Baelen was drunk? That was a first.
“Don’t worry, we sent someone to fetch your brother to take him away. We weren’t sure if Commander Rath would make it home safely otherwise.”
“I’m… stunned. What did he say?”
She perches on the end of my bed. She hasn’t put her boots on, which means she wasn’t really trying to wake me up. Every time she flexes her toes, they enter a shaft of light shining from the ceiling. Even her feet move with purpose.
“He ah… said a lot of things. Mostly about killing Rhydian Valor and everyone associated with him. But he also kept repeating something about a lavender cloak and a blue ribbon? He kept saying that the wind stole the ribbon—that it took everything. Does that mean anything to you?”
I slide back under the covers, pulling them up around my neck. My heartbeat increases as I remember his younger fingers looping through the blue ribbon I used to wear in my hair, sliding through my braid, loosening it, letting it fall over my shoulders…
“The ribbon was the only nice thing I owned,” I say. “It was pale, like the color of blue ice. Which is ironic, considering what I became.”
Jordan slides from the base of the bed to the floor in front of me, crossing her legs and picking at the hem of her pants leg. “When Sebastian handed you his heartstone, I dealt with it by focusing on you and my duty to protect you. I pushed everything else out of my mind. You need to do the same thing now. Your life depends on these protocols and they’re getting more dangerous. You need to empty your mind and focus.”
She rises, always graceful, and brushes herself off. “It’s a new day.”
“I’m lucky to have you.” I loosen my hold on the pillow, letting it go, sliding my feet to the floor and planting them firmly on it. The Elven Command has stopped following the traditional sequence of protocols, but at some point they have to have a compatibility test. Sebastian Splendor will be eliminated then and my friend’s heart can mend.
“It’s a new day,” I murmur. “Let’s start it with a walk. It’s time to make some changes.”
* * *
Baelen wouldn’t approvebut I wear a simple, loose dress when I leave my quarters. I can’t bear anything pressing against my skin, not even the strap that would help me carry a wooden staff. To compensate, my ladies are armed to the teeth: full body armor, swords, daggers, bows and arrows. They even wear matching headpieces and smear red dust across their eyes to make themselves look fierce. Jordan, in particular, is ferocious. She’s the tallest of them, carrying red-feathered arrows and weapons with blood-red handles.
My destination is the armory. To avoid the majority of elves, we take the less busy path along the river. It doesn’t take more than a glance from my warriors for passersby to get out of the way.
Halfway along the river, an object sails over my ladies’ heads. With lightning reflexes, Jordan snatches it out of the air, crushing it. Oddly, she doesn’t look worried. We don’t stop and I trust my warriors to be on the alert, but Jordan falls back and opens her fist to show me what she caught.
Lavender petals from a gladiolus flower float to the grass.
I crane my neck to see the elf who threw it. “What does this mean?”
“The gladiolus flower symbolizes honor and strength,” Jordan says. “I’m sure she meant for me to catch it, not crush it.”
“Who?”
In response to my question, my ladies separate long enough for me to glimpse the young female running to keep up beside us. She has bare feet, wears a patched dress, clearly from a minor House. She can’t be more than eleven years old. As soon as she sees me, she cries, “Have courage, Princess. We’re with you.”
