“What are you doing here, Embarr?” Aurora went back to brushing her long hair.
“I think that question is better left to you, my little sunshine.” Embarr rolled across the bed, leaving his sweet scent all over the pillows, like a dog marking its territory. Aurora would have to air them before she went to sleep. She rolled her eyes.
“For a man who kidnapped me as a child, I think it’s rather inappropriate for you to judge my decisions now.”
“Judgement is a strong word—as is kidnap. As I recall it, you followed me. Willingly.”
“You’re a Gancanagh.” Aurora replaced her brush on the vanity table. “I was young and hardly in a position to say no to you, whatever my preference.”
“We were pawns obeying the whims of my Lady Niamh. I warned you of the potential risks, but you agreed to come with me. Of course, had I known it was the Korrigans we would face, I would never, for all the golds in the land, have asked for your aid…I do love you, little one.”
“Oh?” Aurora tittered. “I find that difficult to believe, seeing as we both lack the inclination for one another.”
“Now Aurora,” Embarr clucked, “it has nothing to do with my inclination. Can I not proclaim my love for a dear friend?”
“The same dear friend you let the Korrigans take?” Aurora raised her eyebrow. She heard Embarr sigh very faintly.
“It will haunt me forever,” he said. “But your sacrifice brought three strong allies together.”
“Two of whom are now dead.” Aurora didn’t swing around, though she wanted to face Embarr. Her time in the Korrigans’ nest had strengthened her against certain potent magics, like a person becoming accustomed to poisons over time, but she was still not fully immune to the Gancanagh’s charms. She was sure he’d never cast a spell over her, but she decided not to give him the chance. “The gods will play their games, but I must at least try to have some word in it.”
“Is that why you have come here?”
“I needed to see it for myself,” Aurora said. “War is coming. Jionat told us so, almost thirteen years ago now. This is how it begins—Kathra, Bethean and Harmatia all ostracised from each other.”
“Or maybe it begins with the rape and murder of the Betheanian Princess.” Embarr got to his feet. “You should not be here, Aurora.”
“If I was going to die, Jionat would have told me.”
“The Delphi are the children of Niamh, and they are as notoriously manipulative.”
“I think with your parentage, you have no a right to judge.”
“It is precisely because of my parentage that I can speak with such authority.” Embarr came up to her and she grew very still as he gathered her long hair in his fingers. “Aurora, you have a fairer head on your shoulders then your brother and father combined. Why have you done this foolish thing?”
“When the King of Harmatia calls for you, you answer.” She pulled her hair out of his grip. “Or how would it reflect if Sverrin cast his eye over Bethean, and saw it was gathering an army?”
Embarr pulled his hands away, and though she couldn’t see his face in the mirror anymore, only his neck and chest, she sensed him smile. “You are the pretty distraction.”
“My father did not approve, but it was the only way to maintain the illusion that all was well between our kingdoms.”
“But he did not ride with you.”
“Because we also had to send a message to our people—they’re proud and headstrong.” Aurora placed her hands on the desk, spreading her fingers wide. “While I am here, I shall endeavour to please the King, and learn everything I can of his nature.”
“You are quite the little spider,” Embarr laughed, and moved back to her bed, throwing himself across it. “So then, little sunshine, how has the King received you?”
“I believe he is taken by me. I do not laugh or agree with everything he says, which makes my smile all the more rewarding when he earns it.”
“Then he is already invested in you, with his efforts. I am impressed.”
“We shared a pleasant dinner. He was quite gentlemanly. Tomorrow, we’ll go for a ride together, and then he means to host a banquet.” Aurora stood and crossed to the bed, shooing Embarr out of it. She beat her pillows to clear them of his smell. “And eventually, I hope he’ll show me where Jionat is laid.”
“And what do you hope to gain from that?”
Aurora stilled in her task, her fingers gripping the bedclothes tightly. “I spent weeks locked in the Korrigans’ nest—I saw them come and go, watched them perform their rituals. I understand their magic better than anyone. If there’s anything to be understood of this spell, then I’ll learn it.”
“Perhaps that is precisely what the Korrigans intended you to do.”
Aurora shivered. Her imprisonment still haunted her on cold nights. She’d seen men eaten alive, carved away to nothing, and worse. In the darkness, she’d tried to arm herself with the only weapon she could—knowledge. She didn’t like to think that maybe, even now, she was still somehow confined by the Korrigans in some way. That they’d marked and predestined her actions. “You have asked your questions. Will you leave me alone now? I am sure there’s a General missing you from his bed in Sigel’eg.”
“That there is, but I needed to ensure my little sunshine was safe first. I see now I had no reason to fear—my Princess is now a finer temptress than me.” Embarr swung on her bed post, leaning out and around. She turned her back to him, unable to stop her smile. Even now, somehow, she was glad of his company.
“You are despicable, get out.”
“As Your Highness commands.” Embarr marked his exit with a flurry of wind and Aurora got into the bed, turning her pillow to the cold side. She usually smiled naturally, but today her cheeks hurt from forcing it. She sank into the soft bed, and prayed for the strength to face Sverrin with as much enthusiasm the next day.
Fae drew a circle in the ground and stepped back, pointing at it. “Stand in here.”
Rufus quietly obliged. The circle was approximately a stride and a half in diameter, and he placed himself in the centre.
“Circle training?” Joshua asked.
“Circle training,” Kael agreed with glee. The pair sat on the fence of the arena, sharing a loaf of bread between them.
“What’s circle training?” Rufus asked them, uncomfortable with his audience. He would have almost preferred Boyd, but the physician was attending to one of Reilly’s men who’d apparently been mauled during a hunt.
“Ignore them,” Fae said, bringing his attention back to her. “All your focus should be on me.”
“Yes, Captain.” Rufus stood a little straighter, and Fae rolled her eyes.
“It is unwise to mock me.”
“I’m not mocking.”
“We’ll see.” Fae circled him. “Circle training is taught from a young age in the Neve. It’s all about holding your ground. I gather your brother is already quite adept at it, so I expect you to strive as hard. The exercise is simple—stay in the circle, by whatever means.”
Rufus eyed the ground, and then Fae. “I gather you won’t be making that task easy for me.”
“No. I will do my upmost to push you out of it. You can fend me off in any way you see fit, so long as you don’t leave the circle. The moment you do, I win. It’s as easy as that.”
Rufus laughed nervously. “I suspect the only easy think about this is the concept.”
“You’re good at running away, Rufus. That isn’t an insult,” she added as he made to speak.
“I was actually going to agree with you.”
“From what Joshua says, you have become quite adept at moving through your terrain, and whilst I will encourage you maintain that ability, I also want to teach you how to defend yourself if you’re cornered. As such, I have taken away your two greatest strengths. No running or hiding, and for the duration of this training Rufus, no fire.”
“No fire?” Rufus sagged.
“No fire. Any other ele
ment or magic is fine. Remember, your objective is only to drive me back. It’s completely defensive. Do you understand?”
“Yes.” Rufus widened his legs a little, somehow already feeling unstable. It was early in the day, with Malak on the horizon. He drew in her power—wind would be the most practical element for the exercise. Fae moved into an offensive stance.
“Are you ready?”
“Yes,” Rufus breathed. In the next second Fae had launched herself at him, and with a sharp tug, pulled him over her shoulder and thrown him out of the circle. He landed on his back with a thud, and from the fence the children exploded with laughter.
Fae loomed over Rufus, blotting the sun as he wheezed.
“I…I wasn’t ready.”
“Clearly.” She hauled him to his feet and pushed back into the circle. “Again.”
“Let me get my breath back.”
“No. Again.”
“Alright.” Rufus straightened and gave a strangled squeak as Fae was immediately upon him. Once more, she tossed him over her shoulder, and he found himself sprawled out in the dirt. “Athea have mercy…” Rufus puffed, the air knocked out of him.
“You’ve almost got it Rufus!” Joshua shouted in encouragement, as he and Kael continued to laugh, the latter almost falling off the fence.
“Don’t worry,” Kael said between giggles, “if it comes to battle, Fae can throw you at the enemy instead.”
“You’ve certainly got that technique perfected,” Joshua agreed.
Rufus swore at them, and Fae lugged him to his feet again, pushing him back into the circle.
“Do you understand now?”
“If I say yes, are you going to attack me again?” Rufus rasped.
Fae tilted her head to the side, as if this were a stupid question.
“Fine. Yes.”
“Again.”
“Again.” Rufus nodded.
Fae streaked toward him but this time he released the magic he’d drawn in, a bubble of air erupting from around him. It was strong enough to throw Fae back off her feet. She twisted in the air and landed cleanly, the children now whooping. Fae smiled.
“Good.” She lowered her height, shifting her weight. “Again.”
Rufus followed her example, extending his hands in preparation. “Again.”
Zachary woke twice during his feverish nightmares to the feeling of something heavy sitting on his chest and pinning him down. He panicked both times, only to be soothed by somebody he couldn’t see. Kind hands had mopped his brow, reassuring him, and he’d slipped back into the mess of exhausted dreams. He thought he heard his master’s voice as he slept, and smelt Marcel’s smoke. Both comforted him.
The third time he woke for sure, it was bright outside and Isolde was sat at his bedside, looking forlorn and out of place. They stared at each other.
“You were calling for me,” Isolde eventually explained, “in your dreams. Heather told me to sit by you. How do you feel?”
Zachary touched the back of his head. He vaguely recalled falling down the stairs, but little else. “How long?”
“Three days. Your fever broke a little while ago,” she said primly, but Zachary got the impression she was relieved. “Everybody was worried. Lord Odin came, and Lord Hathely stayed with you several hours each day. You were never alone.”
A fierce burst of gratitude passed through Zachary, though he was embarrassed. “It’s not catching?”
“The sickness? No. Physician said it was of your own doing. You exhausted yourself.”
“Good.”
“Good, he says,” Isolde muttered, her posture closed off and small. “Daniel’s sat with you every day after class, and comes to see you every morning before he goes.”
Zachary closed his eyes. His body felt like it had been shaken and broken against a wall, but his mind was clearer than it had been in days. “He has a good heart.”
“Like his father,” Isolde whispered and Zachary grew still. His gratitude was replaced with resentment.
“Don’t,” he said coldly, his eyes flashing open.
Isolde bit her lip, as if unsure whether to continue. “You know,” she began, and Zachary growled. “You’ve always known—”
“Daniel is my brother.”
“He’s—”
“My brother,” Zachary repeated, “and that’s all he can ever be.” He pushed himself up, and though his throat was too dry to raise his voice, he spoke starkly and with a mean authority that made Isolde draw back. “You can’t just pick and choose according to what suits you best. You made your decision twenty years ago, and now you can live with it.”
“I was scared!” Isolde burst out. “Arlen, you were a student, barely nineteen, and I was a low-born maid you’d invited to your bed.”
“Oh, don’t you dare do that—twist the truth to justify yourself,” Zachary said. “Is it that easy for you to erase the years we shared? Deny the hours of laughter, the time we spent together. How dare you imply that I coerced you? You had seven years over me—I was the one with no experience. Don’t you remember how long it took for you to convince me—to teach me? How nervous I was? I gave myself to you, because you said it would make you happy, and that’s all I wanted.”
“Oh Sweet Haylix, spare me,” Isolde spat, rolling her eyes.
“I loved you,” Zachary said helplessly, “and you knew that.”
“You were nineteen,” Isolde repeated. “It’s easy to say ‘I love you’, but words don’t mean anything.”
Zachary closed his eyes. He was too tired to maintain his anger. “But my father’s words did?”
“Your father told me that if we continued, he’d cut you off.”
“And my wealth,” Zachary laughed, “that was the part you really loved.”
“It’s not a crime to want a good life. If you’d left me, I would’ve had nothing and no one. I couldn’t risk that, especially when your father was offering something guaranteed. Money of my own. Mine. Enough that I’d never have to work another day in my life. And all I had to do was give him a son.”
“And how happy has all that wealth made you. You look like you don’t even remember how to smile, living under his thumb.” Zachary wanted to hurt her. He wanted to make her suffer for her cruel decision, and it pleased him to know that deep down Isolde had come to regret what she’d done. After all, here she was again, in a household Zachary now owned, bought from his father with the wealth he’d earned, and with enough riches already to live comfortably for the rest of his extended life.
“You don’t know anything…” Isolde grimaced.
“I know that Daniel was conceived to torment me,” Zachary replied. “To be a constant reminder of the fact you chose my father over me. And yet still, somehow…somehow I don’t see your face in Daniel’s. Somehow, I don’t resent him anymore, and very soon Rivalen is going to realise that his plan failed. And he’s going to blame you.”
Isolde shrank back even more, and Zachary saw her shudder. It appeared she’d come to the same conclusion. Zachary felt no pity.
“The worst part, Isolde, is that I think after all the effort you made with me, you loved me too. And all of this, it could have been ours. We could have been a family.”
Isolde stood. Angry tears had sprung to her eyes. “No, we couldn’t.” She rubbed her eyes furiously. “Because maybe you wouldn’t have minded being cut off, maybe you would’ve been happy living by your own means, but we both know Rivalen would’ve had his way in the end, and you would’ve left me one way or another.”
“That is not true.”
“It is,” Isolde cried. “Because you’re a coward—tethered to your own abuse. Otherwise you’d have fought for me. You make all these grand declarations of love, but the day Rivalen came for me, you didn’t even try to stop him!”
Zachary clenched his jaw tightly, his head ringing from the pressure. “I told him to let you go…”
Isolde laughed bitterly, pleased by his agitation. “Oh yes, that’s right
. You ‘told him to let me go’…And then Rivalen looked you in the eye, said one word, and you lay down quiet as a mouse, and did as you were told, like you always do.” She tittered sickly. “I knew, then, that I’d made the right choice. Knew you’d always eventually give in to him. I stood there and watched as Rivalen whipped you in-front of all of the servants. And you—you weren’t even tied down—you just knelt there, still and unfeeling as he added twenty new scars to that deformed back of yours.”
Zachary flinched.
“And when Rivalen was done, you slunk away without a word—to Marcel, no doubt, to lick your wounds. You didn’t even look me in the eye as you left.” Isolde wiped the tears from her cheeks, forcing down the warble in her voice. “You’ve given Rivalen the world of power over you. So don’t demonise me for making my choice. I’m not like you, I won’t live for two-hundred years, I couldn’t just wait for Rivalen to die for us to be together…You would’ve left me, he would’ve made you—we both know that. So don’t expect me to apologise for taking his offer instead. Yes, I betrayed you and no, it wasn’t noble of me, but nobility’s a rich man’s indulgence, and I had to do what I could to survive.”
“What could I have done?” Zachary’s voice was so low it was almost lost. “What did you expect me to do?”
“Choose me,” Isolde half-wailed. “Take away that power Rivalen has over you, and choose me!”
“You know I couldn’t…that I can’t.”
“Yes you can! But as usual, you let that narcissistic sense of duty rule you. You say it was my choice that led us here, but it was yours. I should’ve come first, Arlen. I should’ve come first, but you chose them instead. You will always choose them! So the baby that should’ve been yours is now another precious sibling for Rivalen to hold over you forever.” Isolde gave a tight little laugh. “If I were petty, I’d almost call that justice.”
Her words rang in the hush that followed. Zachary stared at the woman he’d once loved, and felt sick. He slowly raised his hand. “Go and say goodbye to Daniel,” he ordered softly. “Then pack your bags and get out. And Isolde, never,” he stared her straight in the eye, from the bed they'd once shared, “ever come back.”
Blood of the Delphi (The Harmatia Cycle Book 2) Page 44
