by N. C. Hayes
“Aydan said you had another incident. He carried you back here. The healers looked you over and said you seemed to be all right, just drained. You slept through the night and all day yesterday. The others went to look at preparations for the eclipse tonight. I stayed to keep an eye on you—”
“I missed the signing?” I interrupted, moving to stand from the bed. Alastair put his hand out to stop me.
“No,” he said. “Aydan wouldn’t leave your side yesterday. He postponed the signing. The only reason he went anywhere this morning was because Kenna and Hannele dragged him out of the house.”
“He’s furious with me, I’m sure.” Catchfly jumped up onto the bed and rubbed herself against my legs, demanding that I scratch her ears. I obliged.
“He’s worried sick about you,” Alastair said, raising his eyebrows.
“He won’t listen. I had an idea—a way to address my ‘incidents’—and he was furious.” I focused my attention on Catchfly. Al seemed to study me as I did so.
“The last Chief Advisor—”
“Lord Ronan was trying to usurp Zathryan. I’m trying to not die, but that doesn’t seem to matter to Aydan. Nothing I do seems to matter to him.” Alastair’s jaw clenched.
“You’re an idiot,” he said.
“Excuse me?”
“You’re an idiot. You are so . . .” He stood and quickly paced the room, running a hand through his hair. “When you mindwalked, was there any drain to your power?”
“I don’t think so.” I scowled. “You vomited. So it must just be a drain on yours—”
“Good.” He sat on the edge of my bed and held his hand out toward me. “Do it again.”
“What?”
“Mindwalk again with me. I want to show you how wrong you are.” I hesitated. “Look,” he said with a sigh, “I’m not . . . I’m not usually one to meddle. I try to let people work these things out on their own. But you and Aydan are so hell-bent on ignoring what’s right in front of you that I’m afraid you both are going to lose it before you figure this out. So, please. Let me show this to you.”
“I don’t know if I can do it on purpose.”
“Try. I’ll push the images forward, and we’ll see if it works.” I nodded and took his extended hand—
I was reading in my bedroom in Sylvanna when I heard a crash and a scream of anguish from downstairs. Gerridan and I burst from our rooms at the same time. We made eye contact, then effuged to the sitting room, where we found Hannele crouched before Aydan, who was trying to get up from the floor. He was disheveled and covered in dried blood—eyes wild as he sobbed. His breathing was labored, and he looked like he was going to be sick.
“NO!” he screamed while his blue glow crackled and turned to lightning around his fists. His power surged, then flickered—he was trying to effuge, but he was fizzling out. Something was blocking his attempts.
“Aydan—AYDAN, STOP,” Hannele said, taking his face in her hands.
“I have to go back, Hannele, I can’t leave her there, I can’t—”
“Where is the girl?” I asked while Hannele hissed at Gerridan to send for Lady Solandis.
“She’s still there—my father has her, it’s—gods . . .” he tried to catch his breath. “There was an attack on the castle—mortals—Irsa is dead. My father is wounded. Dying. He named me Crown Prince and sent me away—” He choked, looking up at me from the floor. “He kept Shaye, Al. He ordered me to leave her, but I couldn’t leave without saying goodbye, I—” Aydan tried to lift himself up but nearly collapsed from weakness. “If anything happens to her, I’ll kill them all. I’ll kill them.”
It was almost two weeks later, and Aydan had barely come out of his room. He’d given us the full story about the attack on Ayzelle, and about his imprisonment with Brina’s daughter, Shaye. The healers watching over his father had told him the king might last two weeks. Aydan was holding on to that number, spending his time in his room, pacing the floor, waiting for letters to arrive.
I was having tea in the sitting room when Zale and Tory, then Isolde followed shortly by Elise, all appeared in the room before me.
“My lord—quickly, where is the crown prince?” Elise asked me with terror in her eyes. Isolde wept silently behind her, while Zale and Tory were ashen, trying to comfort her.
“Elise, what are you—?” Aydan called from the top of the stairs. He rushed to her and gripped the servant’s shoulders. “Why are you here? Where is Shaye?”
“Lady Shaye ordered us back here, Your Highness,” Elise told him. “The guards were breaking down the wards, the doors were crashing down—she ordered us away, sir. She asked me to alert you. She says she’ll be fine and not to worry, but . . .” Elise couldn’t finish the sentence. Aydan ran his hands through his hair, then turned without a word and sat at the writing desk. He scribbled a letter before adding his seal and making it disappear.
“You are dismissed for the evening. Get some rest and resume your normal duties in the morning. Thank you.”
“Your Highness,” they each murmured before shuffling off to their respective rooms.
“Aydan,” I started.
“I’ve just begged him to release her. Again. What if the blood shield doesn’t hold? Or worse.” He drank. “What if he doesn’t care anymore? He’s dying, Al. What if he takes her with him?”
“If he thinks she has information, he won’t,” I tried to assure him. “If she’s anything like you described. If she’s anything like her mother, she’ll be fine.”
It had been nearly a year. Aydan had thrown himself into preparations for his return to Ayzelle, to rescue Shaye Eastly. I took to opening his letters and reading them for him in case a direct order from Zathryan was included. In nearly every letter received from the dying king, he demanded that Aydan remove the blood shield on the girl. Aydan resigned from his position on Solandis’s council, unable to focus on his duties. Instead, he spent each morning writing letters, begging for Shaye’s release, each afternoon sparring with Hannele or Gerridan, and by the evening he’d received a response from the king declining the request.
More days had passed, and a letter arrived from Ayzelle, requesting Aydan’s presence at his father’s bedside. Zathryan had taken a turn for the worse. Aydan was jittery. Elise straightened his cape as we all prepared to accompany him to the castle.
“Do you think she’ll still . . .” He didn’t finish the question and hadn’t directed it to anyone in particular. “We never. I never told her—”
“It will be fine,” Gerridan said, clapping our brother on the shoulder. “We’ll take care of business and then you can have her to yourself. As much as I’d like to finally take a look at that fire of hers, I’ll wait until breakfast tomorrow.” He winked. Aydan flushed.
“I don’t think she would want . . . There will be a lot to discuss before anything even close to that. If she even feels the same way.”
I walked from the kitchens back to the lounge in the king’s chambers, holding a stiff drink. Watching that horrible man take his last ragged breaths had been draining. Watching Aydan take on the title of king in a matter of seconds . . . my best friend, practically my brother . . . King of Medeisia. I stepped through the door into the lounge and when I looked up, I saw Aydan and, to his left, the ghost of Brina Eastly. I dropped my drink, which shattered. Hannele cleaned up the mess, and I looked back up. Not Brina. Shaye. Why are they here? They should be busy reuniting.
Lady Shaye left the lounge after an uncomfortable hour of watching her try not to make eye contact with Aydan. When the door clicked shut, he ran a hand through his hair, disappointment and concern painted on his face.
“Aydan . . .” Kenna said carefully. He stood and started toward his bedroom.
“She’s not ready,” I heard him mumble to himself.
The morning after the coronation, Gerridan told us what he saw between Shaye and the captain the night before. Icy rage flashed in Aydan’s eyes, but he only said, “If she says all is well, then
believe her. But keep an eye out.”
I entered the king’s chambers and found Aydan pacing the parlor. Shaye had rushed past me as I came in the door.
“What’s going on?”
“The captain’s been deceiving Shaye. He befriended her on Zathryan’s command,” Hannele told me. Gods.
“And she knows this?” I asked. Hannele and Kenna nodded. Aydan didn’t speak. The front door swung open and in ran Elise.
“Your Majesty!” she cried out. “Lady Shaye’s door is locked. There’s a man’s voice. She’s yelling for him to leave, but—the wards, I can’t—”
Aydan and I were already sprinting past her, down the corridor. We could hear her through the door. Yelling, and then a scream, and a thud. Aydan’s power surged through his arms, his hands engulfed in blue light. He broke through the wards at the exact same time the door shattered. I entered first, ordering the captain to stand down. He pulled a short sword, and I saw his face was sliced open and bleeding. He raised his blade and I struck. He got in a few good swings before I knocked the blade out of his hand and pinned him to the ground. Aydan finally made his way through the thick black smoke and emerged, carrying Shaye in his arms. Her face and hair were soaked in blood, and she was a terrifying shade of white. Aydan was stoic as he carried her motionless body back to the chambers.
“You couldn’t have known,” Gerridan said, pressing a drink into Aydan’s hand while the three of us sat before the fireplace. “The blood shield worked. We just didn’t know the extent of Zathryan’s cruelty.” Aydan slumped low in an armchair, defeated. He drank.
“You need to tell her the truth. All of it. Say the words. We can all see how she looks at you—”
“No . . . I can’t do this to her anymore.”
“What are you talking about?” I asked.
“She thinks if she leaves the Cabinet, she’ll be left with nothing. She should be free to do as she wishes, otherwise she’s just as much my prisoner as she was my father’s. I’m accepting her resignation tomorrow.”
“You can’t give up,” Gerridan said.
“I’ve damaged her life enough. The least I can do is let her go.”
My eyes fluttered, and it took me a second to realize that the sound I heard was Alastair vomiting into a bucket. It took a second longer to realize that my eyes were wet.
“Does he know you’re showing me these things?” I asked with my head in my hands.
“No.”
“I’m so stupid,” I whispered. “Al, I thought . . .” He sat on the edge of my bed, looking sympathetic and a bit queasy still. “I’m too late, aren’t I?”
“I have no doubt that Aydan’s feelings have remained the same since the night he left you. If you wanted to leave, he would let you go. But he would always hold out hope.” I chewed on my lip.
“I said horrible things to him.”
“He’s said worse to himself, I’m sure.”
“How long until the start of the festival?”
He looked at the clock standing in the far corner of the bedroom. “About two hours. The priestesses have estimated the start of the eclipse to be late afternoon.” I swore and threw the blankets aside.
“I don’t have anything to wear,” I said, pushing away Alastair’s hand as he tried to usher me back down. “I’m fine. I swear, I am. I just—can you call Elise for me? I need help dressing.”
~
Within a minute, Elise was knocking at my door. I called for her to enter while I tore through my wardrobe. “My lady?”
“Hannele and Kenna insisted I buy all these damned gowns and none of them are good enough,” I complained, rummaging around. “Help me. Please.” She looked me up and down, possibly assessing my sanity. I had never been concerned about what I wore before. “I want to look pretty,” I said finally. “I don’t have anything to wear to the festival.” Her face softened.
“Lucky for you,” she said, crossing the room, “the king thinks ahead.” She pressed a brick in the wall, and much like the passage in the king’s chambers in Ayzelle, it opened. Instead of a lit tunnel, it was a small room, a bit larger than a closet. It was empty except for a large white box. Elise brought it to the bed and set it down. “Every eclipse festival, His Majesty commissions a pair of gowns as a gift to Princess Hannele and Lady Kenna. This time, he asked for a third.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
With perhaps ten minutes to spare, I stood before Elise while she made her final adjustments. My hair she’d insisted remain in loose curls, free to hang down my back, with no embellishments save for a thin braid pinned over the crown of my head. She’d curled my eyelashes and brushed a hint of rouge on my cheeks, assuring me that I wouldn’t need anything else. Now she crouched before me, adjusting my skirts and helping me step into the gold slippers that matched it.
The dress was the palest pink of a sunset. Thin golden threads, which Elise explained were not dyed but made of pure spun gold, were woven throughout, making the gauzy fabric shimmer in the sunlight that poured through the window. The golden threads met at my waist, and again at the edge of the neckline, to form solid gold embroidered roses. Panels of sheer fabric in the same pink color were attached just behind the tops of my shoulders, giving the illusion of a cape without the bulk and heat, perfect for the premature spring of the garden city. The low-cut neckline rivaled any that I had seen Hannele wear. I’d thought I would be nervous to wear such a thing, but today, as I examined myself in the mirror, I thought I looked powerful.
“This was in the box as well, my lady,” Elise said from behind me. I turned, and she held a deep blue velvet box in her hands. She opened it, revealing a thin tiara made of golden leaves dotted with blush pink pearls, and let out the smallest gasp. She motioned for me to sit in front of the vanity, where she placed the tiara just behind the braided band of hair, then waved her hands, commanding my hair to subtly weave around it, fastening the tiara in place.
As we finished, there was a knock. “Shaye?” It was Alastair.
“Just a moment,” I called, glancing once more in the mirror. I mouthed a thank you to Elise, who smiled warmly. I opened the door. The general let out a breath, looking me over.
“You look . . . wow,” he said.
“That’s good, I hope?” I tried to joke. My hands were slowly coating themselves with a thin layer of frost. I opened and closed them, trying to shake it off.
“You look lovely.” He offered his arm. “Shall we?” I nodded, terrified. Alastair, rather than trying to help me down the stairs without tripping over my skirts, effuged us to the sitting room, where Gerridan, Hannele, and Kenna all stood waiting, the latter sipping on a glass of brandy. “Look who I found,” he said by way of greeting. The trio looked shocked to see me out of bed.
“I didn’t even know you were awake,” Hannele said, crossing the room to hug me tightly. Her gown was a similar gauzy material in white, with golden caps on her shoulders resembling battle armor that connected to one another on the back with gold chains made of the tiniest roses. Her tight black curls hung freely around her shoulders, bouncing with each motion. Kenna, who wore midnight blue in the exact same cut as her coronation gown, approached as well to peck me on the cheek.
“Stunning,” she said before returning to her spot near the drink cart.
“Do you think he’ll like it?” I whispered to Hannele. She gave a knowing smile and squeezed my hand.
“Dearest Shaye,” Gerridan said. “I’ll have you know that finding soldiers willing to scout the Creg’tam Mountains is proving quite the chore.”
“Scouting the Creg’tam Mountains?” I repeated. Then my eyes widened. “You’re searching for the Children.”
“Sweet Aydan asked me to do so—discreetly. You made quite a convincing argument it seems.”
“Well, dropping a tree on us was certainly effective,” I replied dryly. Gerridan snorted, nearly dribbling wine on his forest green jacket. Hannele conjured a handkerchief and dabbed the corner of the emissary’s mouth w
hile Alastair and I chuckled at the pair. The door opened.
“All right, let’s go get this over wi—” I turned, and Aydan stopped short. “You’re here.”
“I am,” I said. “I thought I might join you at the festival, if that’s all right.” He stared for another second.
“I’d be honored, my lady.” The king inclined his head. He wore the golden crown of roses once again, along with a finely made black ensemble. His jacket, perfectly tailored, was embroidered with gold thread at the breast to form a familiar lion within a wreath of bloomed roses, a marriage of the sigils of both his parents’ houses.
“Well then, let’s go. We’re due outside the temple,” Alastair said, looking at his watch again before shoving it back into his pocket.
The six of us joined hands, and suddenly we were in a lush green field outside of the Sylvannian temples to Lehrun and Ehnara. The houses of worship stood on opposite ends of the field, forever separated, like their patrons.
A crowd had already formed, and applause broke out when we appeared. Aydan marched forward, toward two figures in the distance that I quickly realized were Solandis and Priamos. The rest of us fell into rank behind him. As we passed through the crowd, people stopped to bow or curtsy to their king, and kept their heads lowered until the rest of us had gone by. I followed Hannele’s lead, smiling warmly and nodding at those who did the same to me.
“Lady Grandmother.” Aydan greeted Solandis with a kiss on the cheek. “Grandfather,” he said, clasping Priamos’s hand.
“Right on time,” Solandis replied. Her eyes landed on me. “I heard you had an accident.”
“Yes, my lady.”
“Well, you seem to be in good health now.” Her eyes flicked to the tiara on my head. She paused, looking to Aydan out of the corner of her eye as he spoke with Priamos and paid her no mind. “Enjoy the festival.”
“Thank you, my lady,” I said as she walked away. I shuddered slightly and realized my hands were now completely coated in ice. I tried to discreetly rub them on my skirts. Kenna handed me a handkerchief, which I accepted eagerly, nearly wringing my hands out on it.
