“Precisely,” I assure him. “Avelisar’s stonecutting and masonry have been of little help to us during this war. They would crumble without our support. And Erynthe is as reliable as a bridge made of glass.”
Valentin paces across the balcony, crumpling the letter in his grip as he works out his frustrations. His chestnut brown hair sways slightly with each step, his thick brows furrowed in thought. He often did this when he worked out a new plan or strategy in his mind.
“Raelys?” Eleanor says as she enters my bedchamber.
“We’re out here!” I call out to her.
“I’m here to pack your belongings for Avelisar.” She walks toward my wardrobe and opens it.
“All right.” Valentin nods, moving toward the door. “Let me talk to Father.”
“Thank you.” I am eternally grateful to my brother. “Just remember.” I grab his arm, stopping him. “I am wholly loyal to you, no matter what. Avelisar may be where I end up, but Cathros is my home.”
My brother’s eyes burn with determination as he grasps my shoulders. “The same to you. I am loyal to you until the end, Raelys.”
I nod. “Always.”
He pulls me into a tight hug. I won’t miss much about Cathros, but I will certainly feel Valentin’s absence—his warm personality, sharp wit, and the kindness he always showed me. Tears gather at the edges of my eyes. The weight of saying goodbye is too much to bear. My brother leaves the room, taking a part of my heart with him.
I watch Eleanor fold up dresses and shawls, tucking them away. She packs my worn pair of slippers that I don’t have the heart to throw away. My favorite wool gloves. Eleanor knows exactly which pieces to pack—those I like or those with the comfort of familiarity. She doesn’t know that I won’t have a need for most of the items. I don’t intend to stay in Avelisar long, likely not even a day. After Wrath fulfills his end of the deal, things will return to normal, and I’ll come home.
There is no turning back now. Our fates are bound together.
“Do you have a satchel, Eleanor?” I ask.
“You’re a princess. What would you require a satchel for?” She folds another dress into a large trunk.
“That’s enough things.” I walk over and shut the lid.
“You need more than one trunk of clothes, Princess.”
“Thank you, but I’ll handle packing myself. Please get me a satchel so I may carry some books with me on the long carriage ride to Avelisar.” The edge in my voice makes her flinch. I hate that rank is the only language she seems to hear.
“Yes, Princess,” Eleanor replies quietly as she bows and leaves the room.
Pulling open the trunk, I remove several of my favorite gowns and pack the older and simpler ones for the trip. I replace some of my slippers with riding boots and swap a thin nightgown for a thick winter cloak.
I slowly open my door and peek out into the corridor.There isn’t a new guard at my door yet, as they are likely rotating for the afternoon shift. Exiting my bedchamber, I move through the corridors as quietly as I can toward Valentin’s room. If he is out sweeping the grounds for Elvarrans again, it gives me a chance to steal a pair of pants from him.
I crouch down to peek through the keyhole.Empty.Twisting the knob, I open the door and slip inside Valentin’s chamber. I open the wardrobe and rummage through for pants.
I hold the first pair I find up to my hips. Too big. I toss them back into the wardrobe. Holding up the next pair, I can see a large red stain. Too bloody. I keep searching until I find a third pair. It is a dark brown color and made of thick material. That will have to do.
I close the wardrobe, then fold the pants and tuck them close to my bodice, hoping I can conceal them as I exit Valentin’s bedchamber. If all goes according to my plan, I must make the ten-day journey home from Avelisar on horseback. These pants will provide comfort and practicality while riding.
Upon my return, Lydia stands at my door, clutching something close to her body. A silk cloth wraps around the object, masking its shape from me. Her hazel eyes light up as she sees me, a smile forming on her lips as I approach.
“Lydia,” I greet her.
“Hello.” She gives me an impish look as we enter my bedchamber. “I got it,” Lydia whispers, unraveling the small cloth to reveal a dagger in a sheath.
I pull the dagger free and examine the blade. It’s strange, appearing to be made of black steel—the surface drinks in the light, not even a glint of reflection. The hilt fits perfectly in my grip, balanced and deadly without being too heavy and cumbersome.
“Where did you get this?” I keep my voice low in case anyone can hear us in the hall.
She has a devious look on her face. “I stole it from my father’s collection.”
“Lydia!” I say in surprise. She is never one for deception or trickery. “What if it holds significant importance to him?”
