by J. D. Monroe
“You’ll stay here,” she said, as much an order as a question.
“I will. I’m sorry your dinner was interrupted.” He released Shadiah’s hair, and she turned back to give him an incredulous look. “My goodness, I’m so sorry,” he said in Kadirai, sectioning off more of her hair to braid. She gave him a satisfied smile that she could have only learned from his sister, leaning back into his chest. That was in the Moltenheart blood; every one of them was a fiend for having their hair touched.
“You spoil her,” Tarim said in Edra.
“That’s hilarious coming from you,” he replied.
The smile evaporated from her face as she glanced across the room to Ohrena. “I thought the wedding would put an end to this.”
“I did not marry a princess of the Thorn,” he said mildly. “My wedding ensures only that her people side with us and not them.”
“Is she connected to this? Kaldir said she had spies in my castle,” Tarim said, arching one thin brow.
“She is not. We have spoken about her…friends, and it’s no longer an issue,” Zayir replied. He desperately hoped she wasn’t going to make a liar of him.
“I’m hungry, kuthra,” Shadiah said. “I didn’t get to eat my dinner.”
“I know, dear,” Tarim said. “We will be done here very soon, and you can have all the dinner you like.”
“With cakes?” Izarel asked.
She raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know about that. Now, why don’t you tell me what you learned in your lessons this morning?”
Watching his sister with the girls filled him with fierce devotion. It also made him angry that he couldn’t be out with Kaldir, fighting against whoever was stupid enough to try to cause trouble for his family. He would incinerate anyone who came near them.
As the twins began recounting the story of Asha that they’d learned earlier, Zayir carefully extricated himself from Shadiah and left her with Tarim. He walked to the door and listened, closing his eyes to focus on his hearing. There was nothing except the rapid heartbeats of the room’s inhabitants.
With a sigh, he returned to Ohrena, who sat on a narrow couch. He had to squeeze in next to her, pressing his thigh to hers. “Are you all right?”
“Yes,” she said. “Does it bother you to be locked up in here?”
“Gods, yes,” he said. “For years, I snuck out with Kaldir to join in his fun. I mostly got away with it until a skirmish with the Shadowflight left me wounded, and one of the healers reported to Tarim that I was recovering quite nicely.”
She smirked. “I take it she was displeased.”
“Displeased is an understatement. I think she would have put both Kaldir and me in the dungeon if she could have,” he said. He laced his fingers through hers and squeezed her hand. “I’m sorry. I had rather looked forward to our evening.”
“Had? Assuming we don’t meet a bloody end, I’m sure it could be salvaged,” she said quietly.
“Then I should hope we leave here quite soon.”
But they did not leave very soon. Judging by the way both his nieces began to complain, and even his own stomach began to growl, it had been hours when the silver bell over the door sounded. It jingled for a few seconds, then gave four staccato peals, signaling that it was safe.
Ohrena had dozed off with her head on his shoulder. Zayir gently shook her awake and rose to his feet, preparing an orb of flame in each hand to be ready. But when the door slid open, two of the Ironblade were on the other side. “All clear, my lord,” one of them said. “Kaldir asked that we escort you all back to your chambers.”
“What about dinner?” Shadiah piped up.
“We’ll call for something to be brought up,” Tarim said. “Come, dear.”
The castle was abuzz as they left the safe room. Soldiers in full regalia patrolled the halls, checking each room. Some of the queen’s other guests had been secured in the temple and had begun pouring out into the great hall as Zayir passed through.
He knew his mind should have been on affairs of state, getting a briefing from Kaldir on whatever had transpired and helping devise a plan of action. But he could smell Ohrena’s earthy scent in the air around him, could still feel the phantom caress of her lips on his skin. His mind just kept veering back to her. He’d not been so foolishly enrapt with a woman in ages.
“Not until she says so!” a female voice bellowed. “Put me down!”
His heart thumped as they climbed the final spiral of stairs to the fourth floor, bringing his and Ohrena’s chambers into sight. Inrada was in the hall, restrained by an Ironblade guard and struggling fiercely. Kaldir stood in front of her, the right side of his face bruised and streaked with dirt.
“What’s going on?” Zayir asked.
Kaldir turned to him, and instead of the familiar expression of recognition, his eyes narrowed in anger. But his gaze wasn’t fixed on Zayir; it was over his shoulder, to Ohrena. There was sheer murder in that expression. It was one Zayir had seen often and one he had hoped never to see directed his way. “I told you they had to go.”
“What?” she said. “What are you talking about?”
“We were attacked by the Thorn. They had gained access to one of our secret passageways that would have brought them to the palace if we hadn’t interrupted them,” Kaldir said, stalking toward him. Zayir blocked his path, but his friend towered over him, glaring at Ohrena as if Zayir wasn’t there. He was no fool. If Kaldir wanted to get through him, he could do it without breaking a sweat. “Where might they have gotten information on the city’s tunnels?”
“How should I know?” Zayir said.
Kaldir let out a sound of frustration that lengthened into a growl, as if the dragon had awakened in him and just hadn’t shown itself yet. “They are no longer permitted in this castle. They are to leave the city immediately.”
“You can’t do that,” Ohrena murmured.
“I answer only to the queen,” Kaldir said. “I certainly can. And I am.”
“Zayir, please,” Ohrena said.
“Kaldir, let us discuss this,” he said. “Her attendants have been in the palace as we requested. Not spying.”
“And what were they doing before you gave them your little reprimand?” Kaldir fixed a stare on him. “If you wish to protect your people and your family, then this must be done.”
He had made a promise to his sister. Ohrena’s happiness was important to him, but it was nothing compared to the safety of his family. If something happened to Tarim or his nieces…
“Send them away,” he said without looking back at Ohrena. Her hands grasped for his arms, but he ignored her. “Escort them out of the city and see that they are paid appropriately for serving my wife.”
“I’ll talk to my people,” Ohrena said. Her gentle tone took on a pleading edge. “I’ve done what you asked. Please don’t take them away.”
He turned to see her looking stricken, eyes wide and fearful. “I’m sorry. I cannot take the risk. He’s right.” Hurt flickered across her expression.
Kaldir gestured to the other soldier holding Inrada, who was still kicking furiously but getting nowhere with the broad-framed man. “This is my mercy to you. Go quietly. Take the payment and return home to Firlanyn. If you fight my soldiers or show up here again, I will kill you on sight. This is your only warning.”
“Fuck you,” the red-haired woman spat. Kaldir’s hand drifted back to his blade.
“Inrada,” Ohrena said quietly. “Just do as he says. We will clear this up, but until then, please don’t provoke him.”
Guilt stabbed through Zayir’s belly like a hot blade. He watched silently as the woman stilled, then shook off the restraining grasp of the soldier. “Where are the others?”
“The dark-haired one is already on her way out of the city. I haven’t seen the blonde one since I returned,” Kaldir said. “If she returns, you will send her out.”
Ohrena just shook her head, eyes brimming with tears. She brushed past Zayir to embrace Inrada and
whispered in her ear. Then she pulled away, watching sadly as the woman was escorted down the stairs. “If you hurt her…”
“I gave you my word,” Kaldir said, unfazed by her implied threat. “If anything happens, it will only be because they force my hand. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a mess to clean up. My prince, I will give my report to the queen in one hour if you wish to be there.”
Ohrena watched blankly as he brushed past and headed for the stairs. Then she turned to Zayir, fixing him with a baleful stare. “You could have spoken for me.”
“Ohrena, I cannot let them stay if they are a risk.”
“They wouldn’t harm anyone,” she retorted. “That is my only connection to my own people.”
“Your people are the ones who started this!” he snapped. “If the bloody Thorn would respect our territory and quit trying to steal what is ours, then this would be no issue.”
“They are not my people!” she said. “Do you take responsibility for the lunatics of the Shadowflight?”
“No, but—”
Her voice trembled. “If I find that your brute harmed my friends, I will have his head on a platter.”
A tendril of anger broke through his guilt. “Careful, dear. That’s a bold threat.”
“One that I will see through. Mark my words, Zayir,” she replied. She stormed toward her door in a flurry of skirts.
“Ohrena.” She slammed the door, leaving him staring at ornate carved wood. “Vazredakh,” he cursed. He knocked quietly, but she did not respond. Inside, her slippers scuffed across the stone floor, and she spoke quietly under her breath, probably cursing his name.
With a heavy sigh, he rested his head against the ridged surface of the door. Just this morning, he’d thought everything had turned around. At least before, she’d been ambivalent toward him. Now she hated him, and there was nothing he could do to fix it.
It was not in Ohrena al-Katiri’s nature to be vindictive or petty, but she wished it was. When she rose for breakfast the morning after Zayir upheld his brutish bodyguard’s orders to banish the Flock from the city, it occurred to her that there were a dozen ways she might gain a silent, unimpeachable revenge. Inrada would have encouraged it, in fact. While lying awake and nursing a grudge, she considered pretending all was forgiven, seducing the admittedly desirable prince, then bringing him to the cusp of pleasure before abandoning him to deal with his own needs, alone.
However, logic outweighed her need for petty revenge. She was now alone in Ironhold. Without her Flock bringing her news and information, she felt disconnected and unmoored. And while she was still viscerally angry at Zayir and Kaldir, she knew it would not aid her to throw a tantrum or carry out a protracted revenge upon them.
She wasn’t sure if the prince bore any genuine affection toward her or simply appreciated the notion of her lips on his manhood, like any male with a heartbeat. But even if there was a spark of genuine feeling there, his loyalties would always be to his people before her. Provoking him for her own fleeting satisfaction was foolish and potentially dangerous.
So when the morning came, she rose and prepared for her day as usual. She was not as skilled as Inrada or Pamin, but she was more than capable of bathing and dressing herself. With steely resolve in her spine, she left her chambers with Teviri and Ahbin in tow.
She was at breakfast before Zayir and was sitting patiently with her plate prepared when he swept into the room, rubbing his eyes. He froze when he walked in, looking as if he’d been caught doing something naughty. “G-good morning,” he stammered, bowing deeply. “I did not expect you.”
“Has the schedule for breakfast changed?”
“No.”
“Then why did you not expect me?” she asked mildly. Perhaps she had a vindictive streak after all.
His brow furrowed for a split second before he pasted on a fake smile. “I am pleased to see you. Your beauty is a welcome sight in the morning, as always.” Without meeting her gaze, he prepared a plate, rather sparse compared to his usual hearty meals, and sank into the seat across from her. “Did you sleep well?”
“I did,” she said. He gave her an expectant look, and she nodded to him. “Spirits above and spirits below, we give gratitude for the air in our lungs, the grain of the ground, and the water in the sea. We give gratitude for those who are loyal to us and keep us safe in times of trouble. May we never forget our duty.” His amber eyes skated over her. Then she pulled apart a piece of sweet bread and bit into it without acknowledging him. She ate in silence, glancing up occasionally to see him frowning, not touching his food. As surely as she had sensed his mounting pleasure yesterday, she could see the frustration and tension mounting in him now. She had just finished eating a slice of fruit when he bubbled over like a boiling pot.
“Are we pretending last night didn’t happen?” he blurted.
“Are we?”
“I thought we agreed that we would speak openly,” Zayir said. “Or was that a pleasant dream?”
She raised her eyebrows. “Feel free to speak. I will listen.”
“I know you’re upset, but you have to understand. Do you know of the Veins?”
“I’ve heard of them, but not much,” she said. She knew more than a little, but she was curious what else he might impart.
“A labyrinth of tunnels runs beneath this city. Someone with the right intelligence could enter the castle unseen and endanger the royal family. This attack was much closer to the palace than I am comfortable with.”
“What does this have to do with our discussion?”
“Ohrena, you are not a fool,” he said. “Nor am I. Your servants were not just obtaining bits of gossip to entertain you. I cannot and will not take the risk that they could be corrupted by the Thorn.”
“Since we are speaking openly, I’ll tell you again what I told you before. They were simply gathering information for me. I did not have and still do not have any intent to harm you, and I certainly want nothing to do with the Thorn.”
“I believe you,” he said. “But you can’t vouch for the intent of your servants. And even if they are utterly loyal to you, the people of Ironhold are concerned about an attack. Rumors spread like wildfire in this city. How can my people trust that we will protect them when we allow spies to roam freely through our halls?”
She sighed. “Your façade is not my problem.”
“You live here, and whether you like it or not, we are now bound together. That makes this our problem,” he said. “I told you that I want you to be happy and comfortable. But that will not come at the expense of my family.”
“I understand,” she said.
His gaze faltered. “But you are still unhappy.”
“I am,” she said. He looked crestfallen. “I do not expect you to sacrifice your family’s safety for me. And in return, you should not expect me to be pleased about this.” She dabbed her mouth with a napkin and stood. “I wish you a good day.”
“I had thought we would—”
“I have work to do in my workshop,” she replied. “I was interrupted yesterday.” At the mention of yesterday, he flinched. That beautiful, wild moment seemed as if it was a year ago. She had been a fool to be so brazen, to play her hand without considering the risks.
His eyes narrowed, but he nodded. “Then I wish you a good day.”
For the next week, Ohrena spent much of her time in quiet solitude. She continued her work on the intricate carving of the dagger’s hilt, scraping away thin slivers of wax to reveal a graceful shape beneath. With each passing day, she used progressively tinier tools to chip away hair-thin bits of material, smoothing the contour of the hilt until it looked just right. It had become an exercise in patience, to help still her turbulent thoughts. Even with resentment still stewing in her mind, she found herself imagining Zayir’s pleasure at receiving the gift.
Though she was not ready to admit it to him, he had made a valid point. She herself had been notorious for slinking and spying around their home in Val Legarra.
Once, her father had caught her listening to a private trade discussion when she should have been in her lessons. His silver eyes had flitted to her, where she thought she was completely invisible atop a shelf in her shifted form. He shook his head, and she had hastily retreated, hoping he hadn’t truly noticed.
But he had come to her door several hours later to question her. She didn’t bother denying that she’d been there. “I was just curious about how you conducted your meetings,” she said. “Everyone says you can deal with difficult people, and Lord el-Fahrin is notoriously difficult.”
Dressed in his simpler clothing he favored for home, her father leaned against her desk and folded his arms. “I believe you,” he said. “But your curiosity leads you into some poor decisions. You could just ask me.”
“I have asked you. And you did quite well at explaining,” she said. “But sometimes I learn more by watching.”
He nodded. “If Lord el-Fahrin had seen you, that deal would have been lost. It would have spurred a conflict that spilled over into the council.”
“But I wasn’t doing anything. I was just learning.”
“Do you think that the notoriously difficult Lord el-Fahrin would believe my daughter was spying just for her own education, and not because I sent her to ensure he didn’t twist things? Or worse?” He raised an eyebrow.
“But you know why I was there.”
“It doesn’t matter, venhi-Ohrena,” he said, using the affectionate term that still made her smile even as an adult. “I adore your inquisitive mind, I truly do. But in this world, you cannot always leverage your intentions to explain your actions. Sometimes, the truth matters less than one’s perception of it.”
She nodded. “I’m sorry. I won’t do it again.”
He sighed. “At the very least, don’t hide on the shelf. I saw your eyes gleaming in the light.” He chuckled and kissed her forehead. “My clever girl.”
The lesson was one she needed to learn, but clearly not one she had thoroughly absorbed. It didn’t matter what she or her Flock intended. She’d wisely kept it to herself, but she had heard quite a lot of the winding Veins of the city and had hoped her Flock would find one of the palace entrances. She had no intention of using it for nefarious purposes, but her curiosity demanded it. But to a city of dragons already made wary by the Thorn and rumors of war to the south, it would look suspicious no matter how benign her intent was.
