by N. C. Hayes
Aydan lay sprawled on the kitchen floor, his belly sliced open from navel to sternum, gore spilling from the wound. His handsome face was twisted in fear, dark eyes staring into nothingness. Blood covered everything: his body, the floor, my bare feet. I dropped to my knees.
“Aydan!” I yelled, grabbing at his cold body, “Aydan, please—please wake up—” I choked. I shook him over and over, “Someone help him! Aydan! Can you hear me?
“Aydan!
“Aydan!
“AYDAN!—”
“Shaye!”
“Someone, PLEASE—”
“SHAYE, OPEN YOUR EYES!”
My eyes snapped open at the command. I was on my feet, back to the wall with strong hands pinning me there by my shoulders. Aydan’s eyes were wide, nostrils flared, and his hands engulfed in that blue light I hadn’t seen since the first night we met.
“Put it out, Shaye,” he said sternly. I looked down and saw that my own hands were engulfed in flames, orange and blazing in the darkness. My eyes shot back up to meet Aydan’s, and the flames went out before I could even ask how to extinguish them. My face was hot with tears and I heaved out a sob as he let go of me and I threw my arms around his neck, squeezing tightly to prove to myself that he indeed stood before me, alive and well. He squeezed back, one hand rubbing up and down my back. “You’re all right,” he said in my ear. “We’re safe, we’re in Ayzelle.”
“What’s happening to me?” I whispered, my voice trembling.
He didn’t answer, but instead murmured, “Let’s get you back to bed.” I let go but he kept an arm around my shoulders while we walked slowly down the hall to my bedroom.
We entered, and Catchfly was fast asleep on her pillow. Aydan guided me to my bed, where I sat, still shaken, and he poured me a glass of water from the pitcher. I drank it while he lowered into an armchair that had been across the room a second before, and now sat beside the bed. I drained the glass and played with the empty cup in silence, staring at my lap as his gaze burned into me. When I finally lifted my head, he had his chin propped on his fist, looking me over, waiting for me to say something. I opened my mouth and closed it again. Where would I begin?
“Are you all right?” he finally asked.
I sighed. “No.” He sat up straight.
And then I told him everything. Every nightmare I’d had since the first about Gideon, every bit of tingling beneath my palms, the involuntary sparks—and that they were all getting worse. I told him what I saw in my nightmare that night.
“It’s so real,” I said, digging the heels of my hands into my eyes. “It’s not like a regular dream. I feel like myself in them, everything feels normal, and then I see such horrible things.” I swallowed. “I’ve woken up outside of my bed before, but tonight is the first time I’ve left this room.” Aydan continued to look me over, digesting the story I had just told him. “Please say something.”
“Well,” he said as he went back to propping his head on his fist. “We can almost certainly do something about the nightmares. I’ll consult a healer in the morning.” I let out a relieved sigh. “The sparks, the flames—you’ve never experienced this before we met?”
“I never experienced magic before meeting you.” He considered.
“That will be more difficult to conceal, but we will need to keep this to ourselves for now.” I nodded dully. Untamed sparks flying from my fingertips would certainly not encourage the king to lift our house arrest.
“Thank you,” I said. “I’m sorry to wake you. Again.” Aydan waved me off.
“Try and get some sleep, Shaye. I’ll stay and make sure you don’t wake again.” I started to protest, but Aydan repeated gently, “Sleep.”
Rather than argue that he should not sleep in an armchair on my behalf, I yawned and rearranged the covers, pulling them to my chin and rolling over to face Catchfly. I placed my hand on her tiny warm body, a touchstone in the darkness.
“Thank you,” I said.
He did not reply.
Chapter Thirteen
I woke the next morning to Catchfly pawing at me, demanding to be fed. Groaning, I picked her up and set her on the floor despite her protests.
“Give me a minute,” I mumbled, running a hand over my face. The previous night played in my mind’s eye: the pond, the nightmare, and all that came after. I looked over at the armchair and saw that it was empty. The table beside it, however, held a tray with covered dishes and a folded sheet of stationery with my name scrawled on it. I reached my hand out and attempted to summon the tray to me as I sat up in bed. A moment of concentration and the letter drifted into my hand while the tray crashed to the floor.
I swore, and Catchfly pranced over to the spilled tray looking for a treat.
“Don’t choke,” I warned her as I peered over the end of the bed and watched her snatch a slice of ham nearly the size of her body. She looked proud of herself as she dragged her prize off to a corner tore into it. I turned my attention to the letter in my hand, my name written in careful, neat loops. I opened it and read:
Shaye,
I am sorry to have left you so early this morning. I have been summoned by my father to weigh in on a diplomatic matter in Irsa’s place while she addresses trade in Xarynn.
The king has insisted on placing Captain Whittaker in the foyer to keep watch over you. He has been instructed by me to leave you alone. Please use my study should you need a place to read privately. I will return as quickly as I can.
Fondly,
–A
I folded the letter and left it on the bed while I dressed. Today, I chose a simple gown of pewter gray, then gathered my hair and pinned it at the nape of my neck. I stooped down to gather the spilled food back on the tray. Catchfly was now snoozing in the corner, her ham unfinished but her belly swollen. I laughed and shook my head before scooping up her leftover breakfast and taking it with the rest of the tray.
The kitchen was busy. Elise and Isolde had joined Zale and Tory rather than making their normal rounds throughout the chambers. The women were chopping vegetables and tossing them into a large pot that I guessed would soon contain lunch. Zale and his husband seemed to be starting their preparations for dinner. I placed the tray in the large sink and began separating pieces of ruined food from the dishes and threw them in the garbage. Isolde tried to take the dishes from me, but I waved her off and moved on to washing, placing each item on the wooden drying rack next to the sink. When I finished, I opened a cupboard and fished out an apron.
“How can I help?” I asked as I tied it on. Isolde and Elise shooed me out of the kitchen, insisting they did not need it, that I should go relax, and they’d bring me lunch when it was ready. I protested but soon gave up, taking the apron off and placing it on the counter.
Instead, I now glanced through the shelves in my bedroom, looking for something interesting to read. I found a novel on the shelf beneath a stack of some neglected-looking volumes—a romance, by the sound of the title. It would have to do.
Rather than retreat to Aydan’s study, I decided to brave the parlor, to show Captain Whittaker that he would not be intimidating me today. I walked swiftly into the room, made myself comfortable on a sofa, and cracked the volume open. I glanced up once, to find the tawny-haired captain staring in my direction. He was mortal, to be sure, and young—not much older than myself. I scoffed, not caring if he knew my disdain for his presence and turned my attention to the book in my lap.
It did not take long for me to become engulfed in the story. Hours passed, and I was swept away in the tale of a daring princess and her quest to free her subjects from the rule of an invading tyrant, all while she fell in love with the prince of the enemy kingdom. Isolde tried to call me into the dining room for lunch, but I was too enthralled to leave the world of the story. After I ignored her twice, she brought in a lunch tray and left me to my own devices. The soup went cold and when Isolde came back to retrieve the tray, she mumbled something about me wasting away if I did not stop to eat
at some point. When the clock chimed for six o’clock, I looked again in the captain’s direction. He still stared.
“May I offer you something to eat, captain?” I asked more coldly than I meant to.
“No thank you, Miss Eastly,” he said stiffly. If he had an opinion of me beyond the orders set by his king, I could not tell. His face was utterly unreadable.
“I’m sorry that you won’t have anything more interesting to report back to His Majesty tonight,” I said.
“I’m not,” he replied coolly. “I’m not particularly eager to report nefarious plots to my king.”
“It’s a good thing I’m not doing anything nefarious, then.” I held up the book and tapped the cover. A smirk appeared on the captain’s face.
“Well, that’s debatable.” He chuckled darkly. “That book is a crime against literature, to be sure.” I scowled at him.
“I like it, thank you very much,” I said. “And it’s not as if I have a wide variety of choice here.”
“If you’d like to change that, perhaps you’d like to tell the king what Sylvanna’s plans are with you.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Did you really expect anyone to believe that shit your prince was—”
The front door opened, and Aydan walked through, looking irritable. He paused when he registered the captain in the doorway, then me sitting with a book in my lap and a scowl on my face. His eyebrows rose at my expression.
“You’re dismissed, Captain Whittaker.”
“Your Highness.” The captain inclined his head just long enough to pass for formality, then turned on his heel and marched out the door without another glance. Aydan lifted a hand toward the door, and I felt a hum beneath my skin as his wards reset themselves for the night.
“Was your day as terrible as mine?” he asked.
“Only the last few minutes,” I replied, then held up my book. “I read for most of the day.” Aydan glanced at the title and grinned.
“Enchanted, Enchanting?” He chuckled. “Where did you find that?”
“On a shelf in my room,” I said defensively. “I rather enjoyed it.”
“My apologies,” he teased. “I’d never hope to insult you, my lady.”
“What made your day so terrible?” I asked.
“Besides being stuck in a chamber with my father’s council?” I pursed my lips as he added, “Only being the subject of every snide remark regarding past relations with mortals . . . I would have thought they’d have a better insult than Wayward Prince after all this time, but Lord Declan isn’t exactly known for his creativity.”
“Mortals?” I stood and set the book on the side table. “Why is Zathryan asking you to weigh in on issues with mortals? I thought the mortals here were loyal to the Crown.”
“They were.” Aydan sighed. “But generations of them have come and gone, and many of the families whose ancestors followed my father here to Ayzelle are now experiencing the same frustrations as those who led the last rebellion. My father has changed almost nothing and will not negotiate. The council tries to reel him in, but they’re too scared of him to argue much.”
“What will happen now?”
“For the next few days, I’ll be in and out of meetings with the council, standing in until Irsa returns at the end of the week. With any luck we can keep the mortals at bay.”
“Will the captain be monitoring me the whole time?” I asked.
“Unfortunately.” Aydan replied as he removed his jacket and made it vanish. “But if I can play along with my father and quell this unrest, he may be convinced to lift his hold on us.” Excitement fluttered in my chest.
“We’re going to Sylvanna?”
“With any luck, yes. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves. I’m starved. All they ever serve at those meetings is mutton.” He grimaced. “Let’s get ready for dinner.”
~
That night, after Aydan and I had had our fill of Zale’s venison pie, we sat at the table, drinking wine while I practiced the magic Aydan had shown me and he told me more about the grand council and the troubles with the mortals. They were represented by a handful of men from the surrounding villages and had submitted a list of requests to Zathryan and his council with the signatures of nearly two thousand mortals in and around Ayzelle.
“I didn’t know there were two thousand mortals in Medeisia,” I said.
“Oh yes.” Aydan unbuttoned the collar of his shirt and leaned back in his chair. It was nice to see him so genuinely casual. “It was only a thousand or so that followed my father from the capital after the Rebellion, but there are mortal populations scattered throughout the continent. Entire mortal-only villages exist in Xarynn, and I hear in the lands beyond the sea there are mortal republics looking to ally themselves with sorcerers, if they can get equal footing with us. There is a lot of opportunity for benefit there. I hope I can make my father see that.”
“What does the council say?” I asked as I practiced creating balls of light in my hand, letting each one go out just as I produced another in the opposite palm, never letting the room get dark.
“The grand council is too scared to challenge him much beyond gentle suggestion. He hasn’t had a proper Cabinet in decades. The only person he will listen to is Irsa. I’ve already sent word to her to return early. We’ll see if she responds. In the meantime, I’m willing to challenge him, but I must tread carefully and not push him too much. If he feels his power being threatened, he’ll shut down the meetings and ruin the opportunity to negotiate.”
“His power being threatened? Why have a council at all if they only tell you what you want to hear?”
“From what I’ve heard, my father has become increasingly difficult to reason with in recent years. Immediately after the Heirs’ Duel and my assignment to the emissary position, there was a change in him—more defensive of his hold to the throne. It got worse after the Rebellion, and apparently came to a head following Lord Ronan’s execution. He was the only one who could truly challenge my father’s decisions. Aside from Irsa, that is.” Aydan drained his glass and it vanished.
“Couldn’t Irsa step in?” I asked, giving up on my light practice and simply sending both balls to the ceiling to illuminate the room. Aydan looked impressed by my work but shook his head at my question.
“Even if she wanted to, no.” He drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair, “Once one takes the title of crown prince or princess, they are magically bound to follow the anointed monarch’s orders.” A knot formed in my stomach at the thought of what might happen if this negotiation went poorly. “Oh, I nearly forgot,” Aydan added, reaching into his inner jacket pocket and pulling out a glass bottle. “I spoke to my favorite healer today, Jemma, and she gave me this for your sleepwalking.”
“Is that what we’re calling it?” I asked, eyebrows raised as I took the bottle and examined it. It was filled with a lavender liquid and had a tiny dropper in the lid.
“I figured that would be a better than telling her about your extra abilities,” he replied. “It would be a good idea not to mention that to just anyone, by the way.”
“You’ve already said that. I wasn’t exactly planning on handing out a newsletter.”
“Just thought I’d mention it,” he quipped, drumming his fingers again. “Jemma said a drop under your tongue at bedtime should stop you from sleepwalking. Two will stop the nightmares as well, but you won’t have any dreams at all.”
“Fine by me.” I pocketed the bottle. “Thank you for that.”
“My pleasure.” He looked at the clock. “It’s getting late. I’m afraid I’ll have to call it a night.”
“I’d better do the same,” I said, moving to stand. Aydan followed suit. “Will I see you in the morning?”
“Most likely. The council isn’t meeting until lunchtime.”
“Good,” I said. Aydan smirked.
“Did you miss me?”
“Shut up.” I pushed the chair in sharply and Aydan’s grin
grew. I strode down the corridor to my room and his laughter followed me to my door.
“Good night, Shaye,” he called after me. Heat rose in my cheeks and my fingers sparked at the teasing in his voice. I closed the door and ignored it.
Chapter Fourteen
Jemma’s tincture worked. I did not have a single dream that night; instead, I’d sunk into a comforting pool of blackness and didn’t come out until Elise entered the room to wake me the next morning, offering to help me dress for the day. She was pushing the final pins into my hair when we heard abrupt voices coming from the front of the chambers. We exchanged a glance and both stood.
Aydan was talking to someone in the foyer.
“—cannot arrive unannounced at my private residence.” He said in a voice I didn’t recognize. The voice, I realized, of the Wayward Prince—dripping with the sort of lazy authority that the court had come to expect from him. As I approached, I saw that he stood before Captain Whittaker.
“Your Highness, with all due respect, I take my orders from His Majesty,” said the captain. “He has ordered me to stand guard over your household while you assist in the council, and to let you know that they are starting an hour earlier than scheduled.”
Aydan paused, eyes narrowed. Then he twisted and said, “Apologies, my lady, but it seems I must postpone our meeting.” He turned back to the captain, “Captain Whittaker, you may take your orders from my father, but let me make one thing clear—if you spend your time here trying to intimidate, interrogate, or otherwise harass the members of my household, I will personally see to it that your life becomes very difficult.” He stared deeply into the captain’s eyes, and the captain, to his credit, held the prince’s gaze. Aydan turned to me, sketched a bow, and was gone. The captain was watching me now. His icy blue eyes bore through me, and I tried not to look intimidated, instead turning my back on him as I retreated to the kitchen.
