Page 32 of Shadowborne: Reckoning

By the morning of the fourth day, my body hummed with a vague, formless anxiety. I questioned Donavyn again about whether he’d seen any indication from the king that there were suspicions around us.

“No, nothing,” he admitted as he dressed. “But these men are all very adept at hiding their true motives and feelings. I haven’t knowingly seen the king lie before, so I can’t be sure how deft he is at it. I presume he’s extremely good.”

With no other productive options, on that fourth day, I once again headed to the dining hall without Donavyn for the breakfast meal, just in case Hanson made an appearance.

When I reached the long, grand room, there was a bustle in the air that perked my instincts. But it was merely the servants, busy preparing for the first feast of the Festival.

The Fyrehold Annual Festival was a full fortnight—two weeks—long, and appeared to be little more than an excuse to indulge. The tales from the nobles about why the festival was held were all vague, and questions were waved off with bored expressions.

Still, as I looked for Lady Faye—who had taken a late morning, it appeared, because she wasn’t at the table—and had to select a seat, I was surprised to see a young, blonde woman seated near the top of the table, looking around nervously. She didn’t look any older than me. I hadn’t seen her before, but she was alone, and anything new was worth exploring. So, I decided to play into my commoner-roots, and pretend I didn’t know it was rude of me to speak to her without a formal introduction.

“Hello! What’s your name?” I asked her brightly as I pulled up the chair across from her at the table.

Her brows rose, but she smiled. “Hello. I’m Lady Grace Barnslow.”

“Hello, Lady Grace, it’s lovely to meet you,” I said with a smile. “Are you here for the Festival?”

“Yes,” she said somewhat bemused. Then her eyes scanned my leathers before returning to my face with her brows high. “And… you as well?”

“Oh, no—I mean, I will be at the Festival,” I said eagerly. “But I’m here assisting the General from Vosgaarde to find dragons for our kingdoms to exchange for breeding,” I said, crunching into an apple while I waited for the servants to bring me a plate of hot food.

“Oh! That’s—you’re she. Yes, I’d heard,” Grace said, her cheeks pinking slightly. I wasn’t surprised she’d heard gossip about me, but it was refreshing that she didn’t seem to take delight in it. “That must be so thrilling to work with the dragons.”

“It is,” I assured her. “I love it. And it lets me come to places like this!” I said, flapping a hand around the room like we were at the theater and I couldn’t wait to see the players.

Her eyes widened slightly, but once the servants moved away, she leaned forward over her plate and dropped her voice.

“I had heard that you and the, uh, General had been here for some time. Everyone seems… very admiring.”

“Thank you.”

She nodded politely. “And I see you’re dressed for your work?” she asked hesitantly, as if she weren’t sure if it was polite.

I smiled. “Yes!”

“Please… I would love to hear about what you do. It seems so exciting and adventurous. I’m an avid horse-rider myself, but dragons?! I didn’t even know dragons allowed women to fly with them!”

“They normally don’t—or at least, they haven’t before,” I said with a shrug, thanking the servant for the plate they brought and digging straight into the meal. “The dragons are very generous—and when Akhane mated with Kgosi, and Donavyn had to come here, it was needed for someone to come along with Akhane so she was managed in Fyrehold, you understand. But Kgosi didn’t want a male close to her, and all the Furyknights were busy anyway… Well, she spoke with me, and now, here we are,” I said, flapping that dismissive hand again. “It’s been a wonderful time. I’ve never seen such a beautiful place as the castle. And Donavyn—excuse me!” I pretended to be embarrassed, like I’d made a terrible gaff, “The General is very grateful for my help, so he gives me a great deal of freedom and rewards,” I said with the tone I’d learned from the nobles here that suggested far more than was said.

But to my surprise, rather than responding with the sharp-eyed delight of most Ladies, Grace looked slightly horrified and dropped her eyes to her plate, stammering prettily as she chased a piece of crisp potato around her plate with a silver fork.

“That is… uh, I am very pleased for you, I’m certain—”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” I said, immediately changing tack and softening both my tone and expression—leaning towards her and lowering my voice so no one else would hear. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you. I just… it seems as if it’s encouraged here to—”

“Yes, I know what you mean,” she cut me off abruptly. “But I’m not married, you see, so…”

“Oh. Oh! I understand. Please forgive me, Lady Grace. I had no desire to offend. I’m lowborn, and sometimes it’s hard to know what’s the right thing to say or do here. I didn’t wish to make you uncomfortable,” I said, looking down at my plate with genuine remorse, because she seemed like a very nice woman who was now quite horrified.

“Please, there’s no need to apologize further. My mother teases me constantly for my sensitive nature,” she said with a glance that said she felt the criticism more deeply than her tone would suggest. “Please don’t concern yourself about it. The other ladies would enjoy your innuendo a great deal, I’m certain of it. I am not the measure of a noble woman in Fyrehold,” she said, her lips thinning at the end, as if she were chiding herself.

I felt terrible. This was clearly a sensitive subject for her and here I’d galloped right into it without thought. But as we both ate in silence for a few moments and I stumbled, unsure of the path forward, it was Grace who put her fork down on the plate suddenly and leaned in.

“You have spoken plainly, so I will as well,” she said dropping her hands to her lap and taking a deep breath as if she’d been preparing herself to be brave. “You are the first person who’s spoken kindly to me since I arrived. The Ladies seeking affairs view me as a rival, and those with daughters in search of a husband have determined I am competition—though I have no desire to marry a man here. I only have to stay for the Festival—my father is a familiar of the king, but couldn’t be here, and my mother eschews social gatherings. They sent me as an offer of goodwill from our family, but I find myself… lonely,” she said, her eyes darting to mine, then away as if she were afraid of how I’d respond. “So, thank you for speaking to me. Even if we are of different paths, I am glad that you’re here.”

She went very still then, staring at her plate like she wanted to be swallowed up.

My heart went out to her. If she was of marrying age in Fyrehold, she was at least a year older than me. But it was clear she had little experience away from her parents. And I remembered how that felt.