“Well, whoever the subject is meant to be, this painting gives me chills.” Camion’s brow pinched together. “But I can’t deny I’m drawn to how unusual this piece is. Especially in contrast to what I’ve seen of the rest of the art in the palace. Your mother picked this?”
“No, a grandparent of one line or other picked this one. The mural has hung there for a long, long time. Mother considered replacing the whole thing, but last she mentioned she was going to leave the piece be in tribute to the person who chose it. I haven’t decided if I’ll let the mural stay or pay to have it removed.”
Camion nodded. “I’m genuinely curious, does she know the artist?”
“Not that she’s mentioned, but I can ask her. There’s also usually a record of palace purchases in the library, I could check that too.” I squinted at him. “Why do you really care?”
“I like the artist’s work, whoever they are.” He shrugged. “I’ve never seen anything close to the same style before.”
“You care about art?”
“I am an artisan.” He smirked.
I rolled my eyes. “I’ll look in our books and see what I can find.”
Jyn looked between the two of us, his expression cautious. “Is this what you two getting along looks like? Is this possible?”
“I didn’t say I’d tell him.”
“Ah. There’s the princess I know.”
***
Mother was waiting for me upstairs after Jyn and I saw Camion out. She sent me into the library alone while she stepped into the hallway with Jyn and my stomach clenched at the thought of what she could want with him. The doors creaked open after several moments. Jyn strode in first. His face was cold, a careful mask of hard lines. He sat himself to the side of the room in a plush armchair under the pretext of reading, but Jyn wasn’t sly. I could see the deep movements of his chest, the ripple of unsteady breaths he fought to calm.
I tried not to focus on him when Mother started my lessons. Growing up, Annalea and I had learned the basics—math, history, formal etiquette, language studies, geography. Normally my final lessons would have begun shortly prior to the coronation and would continue until I was actually crowned. Because I’d petitioned to claim the throne early, Mother had to shove as much information at me as quickly as she could before the Council demanded her official resignation. While she would still be around the palace, I officially became the lead Royal the moment the coronation had ended. A lot of my immediate lessons would involve learning new gestures—foreign and domestic—and what they meant in their uses. The information was imperative if I wanted to present myself appropriately—for instance I hadn’t known that the Numyra found handshakes offensive, or that the Elves abhorred cursing from their guests. Mother and Father had always dealt with the heavy politics, as well as court guests, so Annalea and I had no need of such details. Not until we ascended the throne.
The Council would test my knowledge of specific religions and politics before we were done. There would also be need for recitation of common law at some point, whenever the Council decided to surprise us with a visit.
Mother didn’t last long before she said, “Natylia, dear, I need to attend our guests. But I’ve selected some books for you and marked out significant passages.”
“Yes, Mother.”
“I want you to write lines, each of your notes in three passes, please. Do as much as you can before I return.”
She left the room in a few quick strides. I stared at the massive leather-bound books she’d stacked on the table in front of me and grumbled, “Typical. She doesn’t want to actually teach me, so she doesn’t. Lines, how very thrilling.”
I unraveled a piece of parchment and opened a book, but I paused before dipping my quill, staring at Jyn until he glanced up from his book.
“Everything okay, Princess?”
“That’s what I was going to ask you.”
Jyn sighed. “With your mother?” I waited. “She felt the need to reiterate her threats about the prince.”
“She’s harassing you over archery lessons?”
“This isn’t about archery, you know that,” he said softly. His scowl grew and he laid the book on his knee before rubbing his eyes. “Once Lucian leaves, your mother will lighten up. I know she’s worried for you, for what she’s leaving you. I’ll be the obedient lap dog she wants for another week.”
I stood from the table and stepped around a pile of books that teetered dangerously beside my chair. These stacks were all over the library—once the shelves had been filled, books went anywhere they would fit.
Jyn eyed me warily as I moved closer and perched myself on the arm of his chair.
“I don’t care what she says. Your position isn’t at risk. I’m the queen; she can’t override me.”
Jyn reached for my hand, squeezing gently. “She could, if she got the Council involved especially.”
“My father wanted you here. I want you here. If she dismisses you, I’ll simply hire you back.”
“Don’t worry about this, Princess.” His lips were a tight line, though, and I noticed the small shadows under his eyes. Still, he persisted. “I know how to keep my head down. I may not agree with your mother’s methods, but she is trying to do what she thinks is best for you.”
I groaned. “I thought you were on my side.”
The curve of his lips was genuine when he picked his book back up and glanced at the table behind me. My shoulders sagged and I threw out my lower lip, but he pretended not to notice—even as his smile stretched to the corners of his eyes.
Mother returned as the sun started to drop from the sky. She glanced over my notes with her critical eye, but she had no complaints. For once. I had been thorough, especially when I took notes on the trade deals with Kalum and Wydus, and when she quizzed me I answered most of her questions correctly. For the first time, she seemed content with my work, before she demanded that I change into a gown to walk the gardens with herself, Annalea, Kathryn, and Lucian. Jyn visibly rolled his eyes but escorted me to my room so that I could change.
Raye laced me into a maroon gown and corset this evening. I hated the ribbing, but I’d chosen the dress for the color. Something about the crimson spoke to me this evening. My lungs were crushed in the tight bodice but I would have to get used to the feeling—I certainly couldn’t wear my preferred casual attire for formal events. I tried not to complain when Raye tightened the laces further.
Lucian waited on the stairs as we descended. Annoyance thrummed off Jyn when he offered me his arm.
“You look beautiful, My Lady.” Lucian’s voice was low. He cast a glance toward the women who waited in the main foyer. “You left me with these three all day, where were you?”
“Ah, sorry about that. I have swordplay lessons once a week, and I had lessons with Mother this afternoon.”
“Oh. Right. I forgot about your lessons. I’m not looking forward to the etiquette part myself. Father says the training is tedious. I feel like we’ve already trained for that so much already . . . though Wydus does a lot of our political studies in with our regular education. I’ve been told Thrais waits for most of that?”
“Some,” I said. I picked at a hangnail on my thumb before continuing. “We do general information so we can understand situations like the peace talks, but the material gets more in depth and specific in these lessons. We get more involved in religious studies as well.”
Mother looked over her shoulder. “Natylia, darling, I’m going to cancel your lesson in the morning. Kathryn, Annalea, and I are going to look at the art vendors in town.”
“More art?”
I heard the hastily stifled snort from behind me and fought to keep my composure.
Mother flushed. “Yes, well. Maybe.”
“I can do political lessons with her,” Lucian chimed in, with a sideways glance in my direction. “I’ve done that much already, and our laws aren’t really so different. Plus, we’d already planned on practicing archery tomorrow afternoo
n.”
Mother considered, but I could see the excitement in her eyes the moment he’d finished the question. “Lucian, that would be incredibly generous of you, but you’re our guest. I wouldn’t want you to feel obligated.”
“The pleasure is mine.” He smiled. “I’m honored to help.”
“Then the matter is settled. Dearest daughter, apparently, you’ll be spending all day with the prince tomorrow. How delightful.”
I pretended to ignore the way she spoke, as though I wasn’t already involved in the conversation. Kathryn wore a coy smile. I didn’t dare a glance at Jyn, though the instinct twitched through my muscles.
The garden was lovely this time of night—the sky had gone dark only recently, so the flashing light-bugs were out. Their tiny butts flashed above the roses, and the scent of the flowering trees chased across the wind. Lucian chattered in my ear about the possibility of fishing up at Starberry Lake before he left Thrais. I tried to give him my rapt attention. I failed multiple times to realize when he tried to ask me a question.
“Do you fish, My Lady?”
“No, I’m afraid not.”
“I could teach you!” Lucian’s eyes lit up, grin wide, but I shook my head.
“No, thank you. I’m not sure I’m up for handling slimy, squirmy fish all day.” His face fell slightly, and I added, “But if you do get the time to ride up, perhaps I could ride along.”
He seemed sated at that.
Chapter 9
I stared at the page in front of me, gaze locked on the rise and fall of the metal tip of my quill as it scratched across the parchment. Mother had told Lucian I needed a run down on marital policies, despite the fact that our kingdom was the most lenient of the three where marriage was concerned. We had been identical to Wydus for decades—until my father met my mother.
Mother was of common birth. I couldn’t remember the exact details of how they met. Father had only told the story once, when I was fairly young, and I’d never thought to ask again. In essence, he’d been in town for some venture or other, and Mother had dropped the wares she had been carrying. She blamed him for the accident and had given him a great degree of attitude over the spilled pieces. Apparently, he’d found her temper refreshing—someone who didn’t treat him as though he had to be held at arm's length in fear of causing offense. He had petitioned the Council shortly after and received approval for a law that would allow him to take her as his bride. If she would agree to such, of course. The first time someone of common birth had married into the palace of Thrais.
I sighed. Their story was so romantic. Lucian blushed, mistaking my sigh as a reaction to whatever passage he’d finished reading a moment before. I winced but went back to my notes.
Several sheets of parchment later we decided to break for lunch. We ate quickly so we could get down to the archery field. The scent of grass was strong today, and over that wafted the scent of baked treats. I was almost tempted to completely drop the archery lesson to visit Meryn and find out what heavenly goodies taunted me on the breeze.
“So, what do you know already?”
I stared up at Lucian. “Nothing. I know nothing.”
“Well, I’m sure you know how to put the arrow in the bow and pull the string, yes?”
“Fair point.”
He stepped closer and nudged me into the proper stance. My muscles shook against the resistance of the bowstring and Lucian chuckled. “You haven’t even nocked an arrow yet, this could be a terrible idea.”
I narrowed my eyes. Nevertheless, he helped me patiently, and when I missed over and over he simply made adjustments. Each miss led to another small change.
“Lift your elbow more.” He tapped my arm.
I fired the shot, this time greeted by the solid ‘thunk’ that meant I’d hit. The arrow was off though, too far to the right. Lucian tilted my aim, and as though I immediately forgot every other adjustment he’d made, my stance fell out of alignment. Without missing a beat, he fixed every misstep and this time when I shot, I was much closer to the center. Now, I could hit every time. Even if my shots weren’t dead on.
Jyn leaned against a tree a few dozen feet away. His eyes were locked onto the pages of his book but I hadn’t seen him turn a single leaf. I wondered if he had, not that I was surprised. What did shock me was when—an hour into the lesson—he stood up, shook his head, and strode over to where we stood.
“I think we’re done for today,” he said, his tone icy.
“She finally found the perfect stance, why stop now?” Lucian’s nostrils flared. He puffed his chest out, rolling his shoulders back. I cringed.
“You’re teaching her wrong. If she’s going to learn to use a bow, she’s going to learn properly,” Jyn snapped. His hands balled into fists at his sides. “Her mother isn’t keen on the idea in the first place.”
“Her mother is the reason she’s standing here right now.”
“Queen Palina despises the idea of one of her daughters training for combat. I’ve been fighting that battle with her for years. We both know why she really allowed this.”
I hid my face in my hands and took a deep breath. “Stop this, both of you. You’re acting like children. I’ve had a long day anyway.”
I grabbed Jyn’s arm and tugged lightly, but even as I tried to move him I could see the two of them doing mental circles around each other, measuring what they imagined the other was capable of. There wasn’t a doubt in my mind who would win such a fight, and I wasn’t inclined to explain to Kathryn what had happened to her son.
“What do you even know about archery, Sahrian?” Lucian spat the word, and I froze. Sahrian. Dirty slang for the Elves, who lived primarily in Eythera in the Sahri desert to the South-East. Elves weren’t inclined to socializing or trade unless absolutely necessary. Most people despised them for their presumed arrogance. Add in the natural golden skin and pointed ears—which had cost many Elven lives on their own—and slurring “Sahrian” wasn’t something done in polite company.
Jyn jerked his arm from my grasp and spun on his heel. He stooped to pick up a bow. My heart thudded in my chest as I watched him, but Jyn simply nocked an arrow and fired. Flawless. He split one of my arrows where it still hung from the target. His hands trembled slightly as he repeated the action again—and again—until every arrow I’d shot had been decimated in a matter of seconds. For good measure, he threw one in the direct center and split that one as well before throwing the bow at Lucian’s feet.
“Deadly assumption you’ve made there, thinking my choice to avoid bows is for a lack of knowledge. Or skill,” Jyn spat. “There's not a weapon made that I can't use, but I've found that my choices have just as much power as my actions. I choose not to use bows. Trust that they aren't my only form of action.”
He grabbed my arm lightly and pulled. I didn’t fight him, merely cast a look over my shoulder at the stunned Lucian before Jyn pulled me away. He didn’t make a sound until we reached the third floor and then he said only, “I need . . . a moment. Will you be okay?”
“Go,” I said quietly.
He checked my room silently before he slammed the door to his own. Ever vigilant, even when I knew his rage was immeasurable. The steady thud of his daggers banged through the room. He was blowing off steam on the tiny target that was hung on his side of the wall. Shortly, I would hear the rapid clatter of wood that meant he was sparring with the bricks of his fireplace. I was accustomed to the routine, had been as long as I had known him. Jyn had a temper, but he was its master. Mostly.
I pulled a book off one of my shelves, an old fairy tale book with a faded pink cover and aged yellow pages. I flipped through the stories. Some of the shorter tales suited to occupy my mind for a while, until Jyn’s room grew quiet. The binding snapped when I closed the book. My nose was filled with the soft scent of antiqued paper before I slipped off the bed to knock on Jyn’s door. My only response was a soft grunt of admission from the other side.
Jyn’s room was simple. His bed was l
arge and dark-wooded like the majority of the palace furniture. A ragged woven blanket was folded over at the end, one of the only things he’d brought with him when he’d first arrived. He refused to part with the blanket, even though I was fairly certain the remaining cloth was too small and threadbare to be used functionally.
The walls in here were mostly empty, especially in comparison with my own, but he did have the small target—a straw bundle tagged with dye. On the other side of the door hung a small embroidered bluebird in a frame that I’d stitched for him several years before.
He had taken off the leather jerkin he’d worn for the day and gestured to his bare torso apologetically. Even from the door I could tell he was drenched in sweat. He wiped at the moisture with the old shirt, dropping the soiled cloth into a basket of laundry to be washed. I crossed my arms over my chest and leaned against the door frame to wait while he tugged on another. Finally, he turned to face me, hands on his hips.
“You can’t kill the prince.”
“But I wanted to. Doesn’t that count for anything?” Jyn smiled hesitantly. “I’m sorry, Princess. You’re not a novice to a proper stance. Lucian should have had you hitting that target far sooner. You’re much better than that.” He paused. “Anyway. I let my temper and distaste for him get the best of me, and my behavior was completely uncalled for. I’m sorry. I’ll face whatever consequences your mother has for this, as is fair.”
I shrugged. “I don’t mind. Nahara knows I’ve taken out plenty of unwarranted anger on you. But you’re going to have to apologize to him. Before Mother finds out, preferably, so we might de-escalate everything. Kathryn and Drask aren’t high strung, thankfully. If either one had heard that slur from Lucian’s mouth I imagine Drask would have popped him for you.”
Jyn smirked. “Yes, well. That’s fine. But I’m fairly sure your mother won’t be sated so easily. I deserve the consequences. I knew the cost.” He met my eyes, but I noticed the jagged stutter to his breathing before he added, “Princess, I’m so sorry.”
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