As we mounted Niro, Kante came up alongside us, ears flickering.
Quinn looked between the stallion and me. Overhead, Robert watched from a perch, tilting his head with curiosity.
“Just whatareyou, Nightingale?” the question escaped him in barely more than a whisper, threaded with a newfound reverence.
Chapter 22
Autumn might havebeen reluctant to arrive, but winter showed no such hesitation. By Fintrus, snow blanketed the castle grounds more days than not.
In the weeks since Percy’s funeral, there was an unusual sense of peace. While one head of the hydra had been cut, more had not appeared to replace it. I took this as an opportunity to avoid the prince, no longer bound by any of his vile requests; beyond simple greetings and polite exchanges, I managed to keep our interactions at a surface level.
I spent an increasing amount of time with my steadily growing circle of allies within Castle Altaigne. Almost every day now, I made time for the Lady’s Chamber, horseback sessions or mentoring games of chess with Viscount Quinn, and, in the small hours of night, lessons of magic with Maitre Florence.
No longer were the lessons a subject of dread. In fact, after my initial introduction to the Lord of Night, I hadn’t experienced the full brunt of his presence again. I still felt him, always, but now the power coursing through my veins was almost comfortable, benevolent. Small magics became easier now, little blessings and charms that Florence guided me through with patient instruction.
Sometimes the thought struck that the prince might have been right: my voice, as much of a burden as it was, had been a doorway to something more. If I’d been granted the opportunity to meet the witch Laetitia, I might have slapped her and kissed her in the same breath.
Beyond curses and blessings, my voice had also become somewhat of a social tool. Ever since I first decided to perform a song for the Lady’s Chamber, I’d made a spot for myself alongside the other entertainers. Thanks to my upbringing, I was versed in anumber of Gallaean folk songs, but today, influenced by one drink too many, I had composed a bawdier performance. Angharad’s irreverent influence ushered me on as I performed the opening to my shanty:
“Well I lost my husband out at sea,
What a terrible place for a man to be,
I warned of the dangers, but no one heard me, What would I know? I’m a noble lady.
So, I took a boat, and I gathered a crew,
And I sailed out to prove that my point was true. We sailed past the sirens and the kraken too, And then I fucked the kraken.
The maiden and the monsters fair,
A man’s got a sword, but a woman’s got a snare,
No I didn’t kill the creature but I did take care,
And my poor late husband could never compare.”
The ladies’ approving uproar carried out into the halls, shrill and shrieking with laughter. Encouraged by their response, I carried into the next verse, clapping out a rhythm for my audience to participate in. Only when they fell in line did I resume.
“I remarried that year to a young upstart,
He wasn’t a sailor so I thought him pretty smart, But he went to the caves with an old oxcart, For there was gold in the mountain cavern’s heart.
But no gold did my second late husband find,
I warned him of the dragon but he paid me no mind,
I set out whence the mighty dragon was confined,
And then I fucked the dragon.”
From her alcove, Winnie sighed and covered her face in embarrassment. She shook her head, but I kept going through the chorus, raising a leg onto the low table for verse three.
“My third dear husband set out in the night,
To investigate the source of a lycan’s bite,
He and his men did the monster smite,
