Gardens sprawled out beneath my balcony in a mesmerizing labyrinth. A beautiful fountain tinkled in the center. Marble effigies of fairies and goblins, stallions and warriors, dotted the maze. Benches and gazebos welcomed those that lost their way and needed to rest. It was still too cold to draw many visitors, but when the temperature warmed, the gallantry would roam the grounds for hours, losing themselves in the maze.
The smell of rain soothed my nerves. I took a deep breath, savoring it
“Did you enjoy your afternoon with the peasants?” Siana asked.
I rolled my eyes, hating the assassin’s dig. I turned from the view and reentered my room, shutting the door behind me. “You’re Anolynian. You shouldn’t call them that.”
Her upside-down smile irritated. “But I’m in character, and in Eira, peasants abound.”
“Which is why you should have been helping instead of sulking,” I snapped, heat rising to my cheeks.
“If the king of Eira does nothing to rid his lands of such huge disparities in social classes, how much can a single lady’s maid truly do?”
I heaved a sigh and sat at my vanity, another recently added piece of furniture to my once sparse bedroom. A washcloth and warm bowl of water sat in the center of the table.
I dunked the cloth then wrung it out. “If the king—”
“You mean your father?” Siana smiled at me like the cat she was. “Such unfriendliness, Ilianna. And after he’s been so kind to you.”
My father.
Toma had seen to the refurbishing of my room. What once was an empty space with merely a cot and a single chest of drawers was now filled with a bed as big as the one I had in Anolyn, a plush purple lounge chair I never touched, and two matching armoires stocked with dresses. A porcelain tub waited in the corner of the room behind a screen of ivory drapes that cascaded from vaulted ceilings. My vanity table sat next to the fireplace that I was at one time never allowed to use. It roared with a warm fire and was the only change I really appreciated. The rest oddly made the room feel empty and cold.
Siana flipped over and watched me through her onyx eyes. “You’re still doing your best to ignore him, I gather.”
I didn’t answer. Instead, I washed the grime from my cheeks. Toma had ordered my execution upon first arrival—an order cast to test my reaction.
She hummed. “And just how long do you think you can get away with that?”
“If he continues to disregard the prince of Anolyn, then I will continue to disregard him.”
It had been almost a month since our arrival in Eira. Toma rejected meeting with Castiel time and time again, pretending to be busy with the preparations of Johan’s burial and the troubles of a torn kingdom on the rebound as it passed from a one torrential leader to another. Instead the prince was sent with a small group of soldiers and retired generals on tour across our extensive countryside to Eira’s most treasured sights. I rarely saw him. Castiel had been patient with the new leader, but every day that passed grated on my nerves. The sooner I could leave this new hell of mine, the better.
Leaning her chin against her palm, Siana smiled. “Your father has commanded me to fetch you to him the moment you return. Since you’ve rejected every other summons he’s made, I told him you might need an incentive.”
I growled a warning, but her smile only increased.
“You’ll be interested to know that Castiel will be present during your meeting with your father. I’m sure you’ll want to look presentable for you betrothed. You should scrub off all that peasant.”
My breath caught in my lungs and I turned in my seat, not willing to show the assassin my sudden excitement. “Very well. Can you please do my hair?”
“Do it yourself.”
Again, I sighed, ignoring my pathetic lady’s maid/assassin protector. I couldn’t be too mad at her. Life in Eira was vastly different from life in Anolyn. Not much had change with the new king, except that the princess was more available to her people and Toma was not as visibly corrupt as Johan. But Toma was no better. His works were done in the shadows.
I missed Sameen and her kindness. I missed her soft hands and her brown eyes. She was always far too good to me. Swallowing, I yanked out my pathetic braid to quickly draw a brush over my hair, ripping through the tangles.
Siana scoffed in disgust and came to me. “Let go,” she said, slapping my hand away. Tsking, she worked through the knots, starting at the bottom, moving her way up.
“Where did you learn to do hair?” I asked.
One side of her mouth tipped up. “In my line of work, you have to be adept at most occupations if you want to… blend in.” But she didn’t give any additional information. “The back of your neck is still dirty.”
I obeyed her silent command and washed as she deftly plaited my dark brown hair into an eccentric braid that fell down my back. When she finished, she gathered the basin of water and cloth, setting it outside my door to be collected, then climbed back in bed.
She grabbed a book from my nightstand and held it over her head, pretending to be instantly immersed. “You should change before you go. You look so drab in gray.”
From the horde of dresses in my armoire I selected a lilac gown with a low-slung belt of silver and slippers to match. There were none of my favorite leather ensembles in the selection of outfits. None of my old armor.
Irritation flashed through me. I wasn’t allowed to train with my armies, not with sword or hand to hand combat. Any magic was expressly forbidden until further notice from the king. Not that I listened to these orders.
Siana would exercise with me whenever she was in a more pleasant mood, and I didn’t need anyone’s help to practice my magic. If I wasn’t out with the commoners, I was in my room, moving furniture or directing my control past the walls. Unsuspecting passersby suddenly had the urge to procure me food with pretend orders from the king. This enabled me to miss meals with him. Thus far, no one had been the wiser and Toma hadn’t pushed.
From the pockets of my discarded dress, I pulled a small dagger and leather bands. The weapon was a cast-iron hilt masterpiece. Eirian leather knot-work weaved from the pommel to the guard. Etchings of vines cascaded down the stainless-steel blade to the razor-sharp tip.
“Where did you get that?” Siana asked, suddenly attentive. “I don’t think your father knows about any weapons you have.”
“And he won’t,” I warned with a pointed glace. I strapped the blade to my calf, lowering my gown over it. One of the gifts my father had given was a drawer full of jewelry—only small pieces and nothing too grand, but a single gold chain was more than enough to buy what I needed.
Siana shrugged. “I was just curious.”
“What will you do while I’m gone?” I asked, changing the subject.
She flicked a hand in dismissal. “What I always do, my lady. Wait for you to come back.”
I huffed, then pushed open the door
The guards stopped me just outside. “The king has requested your presence,” the blond said.
I grinned stupidly. “You don’t say?” With the wave of my hand, I displayed my gown—an abnormality for my usual selection of attire. “Why do you think I got all ready?”
The guard scanned my appearance. “Where’s your lady’s maid? She must accompany you.”
I flinched, my brows pinching together. “Since when? I’ve never been accompanied in my own home.”
He stood taller, crossing his arms over his chest. “Thing are different now, Princess. Your father demands you travel with accompaniment.”
“What’s your name, soldier?”
“Han, from his majesty’s ninth regiment.”
“Ninth? I didn’t know there was a ninth. I don’t recognize you.” In fact, I didn’t recognize any of them. “Why is that?”
Han peered at a spot over my head. “Your highness never came to train with the newer recruits.”
“I was never told to train with the newer recruits. Surely you must know that. I wa
s only ever, and still am, a humble servant of the crown.” Could he hear the derision in my voice?
“Of course, Princess Ilianna.”
I turned to the second guard, who hadn’t made a sound or even moved during our whole conversation, and I liked him even more because of it. “Why don’t you escort me,” I said to him, but he only looked away.
Han answered. “We are commanded to stay vigilant at your door.”
“And they are unnecessary.” Siana appeared behind me as she finished fastening her plaited hair in an elegant bun at the back of her head. “Your humble servant is ready to accompany you.”
I pinned her with a glare before spinning on the spot. “Fine.”
Siana kept by my side as we marched the corridors that led to King Toma’s throne room. The walk was so familiar to me, but somehow, I almost felt lost.
Hartsevain was six flights high, constructed of stone and marble and surrounded by an impenetrable wall. It was impressive alone, towering on the crag of the first low mountain peak of Kurreg, its white walls blended into the snowcapped mounts and clouded heavens. To the east our views overlooked a rambling crystal lake and to the west more trees until the ocean.
“Whoever designed this castle should be stoned to death,” Siana said beneath her breath.
“Actually, he was.”
She never blinked. “Lovely.”
Inside, Hartsevain, it was a labyrinth of oddly designed passageways and un-connecting stairwells. The kings and queens of old loved this unique design of their home, as it often confused visiting dignitaries and put them at a disadvantage for figuring out the lay.
I found it annoying and I missed the simplicity of Meyrion even more. My room was on the fourth floor, just above my father’s room one level lower. Guards were spackled throughout the castle and waited at each level of the split stair cases, watching me with dispassionate eyes. I led the way to the first set of disjointed stairs. “Alright,” I said through a tensed jaw “If Toma’s anything like my uncle, you’ll need to know a few things. Be as invisible as possible—”
“King Toma’s much more aware of the goings on of his castle than you think. He makes it a point to meet with me.”
“I see.”
As if reading my mind, she answered. “He seeks information on your whereabouts and also desires my help in soothing your irritation towards him.”
My jaw tensed. Siana started down the stairs and I followed close behind. My uncle had used my old lady’s maid, Pala to report on me and my interactions with others, and now Toma applied the same method to spy. Unfortunately for both Johan and Toma, Pala’s true devoted was to the Wraith Queen, while Siana’s devotion was to King Riaan and the Kingdom of Anolyn.
She continued. “I told him I didn’t know you well enough to pressure you into any intimate relationship with an unknown father, but I’d do my best.”
I bit back a nasty response as we exited on to the third floor and into the Hartsevain gallery. Empty chairs and a cold fireplace set the tone of the dark room where rows of portraits lined the walls. One rarely came to gaze upon the Drakara bloodline unless the king requested it, but those important enough to reside in the upper floors of the castle had to pass through it every day. Rich tapestries designed especially for each heir draped from vaulted ceilings. A gallery of marble effigies and pallid busts from famous Eirian artists watched our movements, their cold eyes condemning.
We passed the hallway that led to my father’s private suites, completely blocked by four heavily armored guards and I shivered, quickening my steps. The echo of footfalls caught my attention. From the opposite end of the gallery, and near the second set of stairs, General Lasso came forward.
He had recently trimmed his long gray beard, clipping it closer to his skin. The fresher look gave him a more youthful appearance even though he pressed headlong into his early seventies. The once retired General was spryer that I initially gave him credit for. I used to think him as kind but upon my first reception to my father, he had stood ready to kill me at the order of his king.
I lifted my head higher as we drew near. “General.”
He bowed low. “Your Highness. Just the person I was looking for. I was sent to fetch you for your father.”
“Indeed?”
He nodded, offering his arm. “Come, I will escort you.”
Obediently, Siana dropped back, allowing the General to take her place at my side. She followed close behind, her hands clasped—ever the perfect picture of humility.
I hesitantly took his proffered arm. “Apparently, I’m in high demand.”
As we passed more soldiers standing guard, General Lasso nodded to them.
“General, where are all my men?” I asked. “I’ve searched for them in every town I’ve entered.”
“Ah, yes. You’ve been a very busy woman. I must say that your aid in Kurreg has not been overlooked. Word of your charity is spreading like the frost from the north peaks to the oceans.” His gaze searched my face. “Your father has been impressed by your good deeds. Your stay in Anolyn did much for you.”
I looked away, not missing his attempt to influence this conversation, and heavens knew I would much rather talk of my Anolyn than Eira any day, but I would not be swayed.
“Anolyn does much for their people. I’d like to integrate some of their traditions into ours, if possible, but it’s a difficult task when I come home to strangers.”
He tsked. “Am I a stranger, child?”
“I have not seen you since I was a girl of eight. Where are my men General?”
He cleared his throat. “Princess Ilianna, everyone that had anything to do with your… training has been reassigned.
“Why?”
He paused before the next flight of stairs. “Do you really not know?” This stairwell was too narrow to walk up in pairs. Losso swept out his hand for me to take the lead.
I glided down quickly and came out onto the second floor. Losso and Siana emerged behind. This level was a network of hallways with more rooms for visiting guests, nobles and high-ranking elite. Its white paneled walls opened to the large upper deck of the great hall. Luxurious, gold-colored settees and couches lined the room for resting. The marble floors reflected one of the three sprawling candelabras. An immense set of marble white stairs opened wide, descending to the bottom floor and the remainder of the great hall where the usual show of simpering nobility and self-important military lounged and conversed one with another. Them I recognized. Their shocked voices, whispered behind gloved hands and delicate fans, traveled up to me.
I ignored them and their watchful gazes. “You were saying, General?”
Losso cleared his throat. “Your treatment by King Johan was not overlooked by many, but anyone who argued in your behalf was either put to death, reassigned, or retired by him.”
Weylan had said as much, but I didn’t believe him—still didn’t believe him. A chill flashed through my chest and the blood drained from my face.
“King Toma wished to make an example of all involved in your abuse by reassigning or retiring those that were once in your command.”
“You and your men attacked me on my first day here. How is that any different?”
“Your father had to see for himself how the daughter of the Wraith Queen would respond to an attack. He had no desire to actually hurt you, but he was Theia’s captive for all of your life. He had to see for himself.”
Sickness stole my breath, although I wasn’t sure why. I had never been intimate or even friendly with anyone I commanded. Johan would’ve never allowed it. But for them to be punished for things they had no control over…
I held to the rail and followed down the grand staircase. “This is ridiculous, General,” I said, my mouth suddenly dry. “They didn’t lift a finger to hurt me.”
“No, but they were cowards for not fighting the ones that did.”
“I didn’t need them to,” I said, barely recognizing my own voice.
He stopped so s
harply that I juddered to a halt. He lowered his head to stare me straight in the eyes. The emotion in his stole my breath. “Didn’t you?”
Without another word, the General pressed forward, leaving me to trail behind him. Siana reclaimed her place at my side as Losso called to two soldiers who stood at attention before the throne room. They quickly responded by throwing the doors wide.
My feet froze above the threshold but Losso marched down the long hall to his king. The two soldiers moved behind, and their presence pressed against me, blocking any escape.
Siana took two steps forward, then paused. Her questioning gaze turned to me. “Princess Ilianna?”
I ignored her.
Hartsevain’s throne room was twice the size of Meyrion’s. Two flights of stairs separated the king on his dais from those that dared to see him. Lancet windows and stained glass drew gazes upward to lofty pointed arches and snow-white vaulted ceilings with golden ribbing. Two additional candelabras hung here, matching the one above the second story hall. Golden beams from an afternoon sun shone through the windows, haloing the King of Eira in angelic light, but he was far from celestial.
Toma’s curly, dark brown hair had been tamed and pulled to a tail at the back of his head. Still much thinner than Johan, a month worth of Eirian food had diminished some of the shallowed lines of his face. He was only twenty when he left with his new bride, Theia, the Wraith Queen, which meant he was now thirty-eight or nine. Like his brother, he too wore the thick gold chain and royal medallion of the Drakara bloodline, and the heavy leathers and furs. The similarities did wonders for my anxiety, causing my heart pounded out an irregular rhythm.
Next to Toma stood General Weylan Laphel. He stared at me from his elevated position, his arms crossed over the expanse of his chest. The second son to the Duke of Vaneira, and third cousin to Johan and Toma Drakara, Weylan had raised to one of the ten Generals of his Majesty’s army, and the king’s trusted advisors, climbing the noble ladder with apparent ease. Eira’s star pupil finally had the pomp and prestige he’d always desired. He had recently cut his sandy blonde hair to match Castiel’s style—cropped short on the sides, longer at the top. Whether he did it to mimic the prince on purpose, or not, it still seemed pathetic. He would never come close to the man Castiel was, try as he may.
Of Blood and Deceit Page 36
