NEIRIN
I tookthe long way to the castle kitchens, giving a wide birth to the Queen’s gardens. After I left the cover of the quaking aspens, the rays of yellow light that beamed down settled a faint warmth on my back. The lick of the sun was welcoming, for it indicated the coming of spring. I drew in a breath, letting the scents of young grass and wildflowers fill my lungs.
As my feet carried me down the familiar dirt path that edged the east side of the castle, a prickle of anxiety took root, however. And with it came a tingling beneath my skin. I shuddered, eyes scanning the high-level windows reflexively. No shadows caught my attention, though, no peering eyes around drawn curtains.
Remember your place.
The King’s parting words formed a knot in my throat. As much as I desired to leave the capital, to start a life far from the Queen’s presence, I was bound here by the promise I had made to myself all those years ago, by the promise I’d made to my brother. It was why being sent away, even for short periods of time, was so conflicting for me.
The few assignments I’d taken over the years outside of the capital had lent me a sense of freedom. Yet with that came the nagging concern that should any danger come to the prince, Iwould be unable to aid in his defense. Never before had I been absent longer than a quarter cycle of the moons. Inner turmoil twisted at my guts.
“Neirin, is that you?”
I blinked, forcing down my thoughts, and found Nyana standing in the stone doorway at the path’s end, hand to her brows as she squinted into the rising sun. My apprehensions eased, if only slightly, comforted by the warmth of her voice. My steps lightened as I approached the woman who raised me.
“I’ve been keeping an eye out for you,” she said as I stopped before her, my figure casting her in a shadow. The pale blue of her eyes gleamed, wet—from emotion or staring into the sun I was unsure. I drew her in, and she sighed contentedly against my chest. When she lifted her chin and smiled, making the fine lines around her eyes more prominent, I released a breath.
“I’ve not even been gone half a fortnight,” I pointed out, though I’d missed her too. She was comfort, familiarity, family, as I was to her. She’d be hurt terribly by the possibility of my being sent to the western lands. But Kaius was drunk, and I could speak with Rion, tell him the importance of my place here.Nothing is yet set in stone.
Nyana scrunched her nose, turned her head to the side so her ear rested against my chest, and tightened her hold on me. I laughed softly, feeling a bit lighter. When she drew back, however, her eyes lowered and a breath escaped her parted lips.
She traced a finger at the base of my fresh wound, and the worry in her eyes wrenched at my gut. Damn.
“I’m okay,” I reassured her.I took her smaller hand in my own and guided it down. “It wasn’t a deep cut.”
Her expression sharpened, and when she stepped into the kitchens, I followed. The scent of cinnamon caught my attention. I looked past Nyana to a pot hanging from one of the large stone cooking hearths.
“Rice porridge?” I asked, tempted by one of my favorite breakfasts, though I’d already eaten.
Nyana set me with a studying gaze. Right, the wound. I’d never been able to lie to her. Somehow, she always knew when I tried. She scoffed, a strand of straight gray hair falling in front of her face. She tucked it behind her ear and adjusted her white cap before gesturing with her hands to my tunic.
“Off with it,” she prompted. “If it’s not bad, let me see it.”
I sighed, knowing well enough there was no negating her, soI unbuckled the simple leather belt that was cinched about my waist and let it drop to the stone floor. Better to get this over with. If tending to my wound gave her some comfort, it was a suffering I could endure.
I removed my long shirt, pulling it over my head, and bashful giggles erupted from the back of the kitchen. Letting the cloth drop beside my belt, I ran a hand through the long, loose strands of hair along the left side of my head and offered the girls a flirtatious smile, tightening my muscles for their reaction even as it agitated my wound. The action wasn’t humble, but I liked their attention, even if I held no desire for them.Damn, I should though. Both had pretty faces, simple but pleasing to look at. Bright eyes, long lashes.
Nyana drew a sharp breath and my attention returned to her. She traced the ridge of the slash, trailing a finger just beneath it. Despite my efforts not to, I flinched when she brushed over a particularly tender spot.A bruised rib, perhaps.
“Nyana, it will heal,” I said, not wanting her to worry over me. How many times in my childhood had I come to her, nails torn and bleeding, fresh marks along my back, hysterical, shaken, and every time refusing to confide in her the cause of my sufferings. But I could never tell her. If I had, she would have learned the truth of what happened to Thatcher. I gritted my teeth as the guilt of my long-kept secret weighed on me.
With a determined shake of her head, Nyana’s resoluteness returned to her. She turned her back to me and paced to the cabinets. She had to stand on her toes to reach the bottles on the higher shelf. Glass clinked as she shuffled through the wine, searching for something to sanitize my wound. It would sting and be purposeless, for infection never plagued me despite my many injuries, but it would ease her troubles to feel she’d done something. She didn’t know of my healing abilities.
I followed her, nearly bumping into a maid with a tray of breakfast biscuits and tea as she hurried past.
“Sorry, sir.” The girl, younger than the others, dipped her head. Pale blond waves fell from her cap. She straightened, retreating a step. Brown doe eyes trailed up my bare chest until she met my gaze, and a faint squeal of a sound escaped her. Tilting my head, I drew my brows in, but she averted her eyes and brushed past me, returning to her duties.
“Leave the poor girl alone,” Nyana lectured. I let my gaze linger on her, though, as she left the room, headed toward the halls and likely the stairwell beyond. The dress she wore, cinched at the waist and bunched out elegantly at the hips, indicated she was one of the girls who brought meals and refreshments to the upper levels to serve the King, his family, and those he entertained.
Nyana cleared her throat.
“Hmm?” I turned my attention back to her. Well, at least worry no longer laced her expression. She raised one thin brow in an arch, and beneath her long paisley skirts, one of her boots tapped on the stone flooring.
“You know that girl’s only five and ten,” she said as I approached her.
I cringed.Though it wasn’t uncommon for a girl of that age to begin courting, it was a crime to lay with one. The law was firm when it came to such matters, and for good reason. Deathsamong women in childbirth were high, especially in the case of younger girls. Beyond that, Nyana raised me better.
“She doesn’t look that young,” I defended, uncomfortable with the topic and in a sense, deflecting. I suspected Nyana knew of my affliction, though she never mentioned it. It made her lecturing feel somehow disingenuous. A cloak to cover the scar of last year’s stain on my reputation after Frella, a ladies’ maid desired by many men of the guard, spread the story of my inability to take her when I tried. She would have been my first, unheard of for a man my age, yet I simply held no interest in women. When Frella revealed her intentions to pursue me, it was a chance to make a show of my prowess to my brothers in arms, or so I thought. I’d been so damn nervous. And then ashamed.
