If that woman made Nehelon uncomfortable enough to shrink, Gandrett decided she liked her.
“It’s not so much what I need help with but what you need help with.” Mckenzie approached her with appraising eyes, gaze lingering on her chest. “Not that there isn’t already enough that is gods-given…”
Nehelon coughed lowly.
“You are dismissed.” She waved her hand at Nehelon without heeding him a look, and Gandrett watched the male obediently rise and prowl from the room, not without a slight bow before he withdrew through the double doors.
Mckenzie reached out an arm, wrapped it around Gandrett, and squeezed her once, leaving her to wonder if she should be concerned or glad a stranger was this welcoming.
“I am so happy you’re here,” she whispered, all smiles dropping from her features as if she had taken off a mask. “I was wondering how much longer Father would let this go on—let men march into Eedwood and unnecessarily lose lives.” Her expression grew somber.
Gandrett didn’t speak. One thing she had learned at the order was that information was as crucial to defeating and enemy as a sharp blade—sometimes even more.
“As a member of the Order of Vala, you are sworn to secrecy, Gandrett, aren’t you?” Mckenzie asked and sat on the sofa by the gowns, examining the fabric.
Gandrett was aware that there was little common knowledge about the specifics of the order. Only the numbers of vessels and that they were sacrificed on behalf of the kingdoms to gain Vala’s favor. Later, the sword fighters went on missions for the order, and the Vala-blessed were installed as priests and priestesses throughout the territories—all but Ulfray.
“We all swear the oath to Vala when we enter the order.” My life I give to serve and love no other than the goddess. Each drop I drink, each drop I sweat shall be in her honor. My loyalty lies with my brothers and sisters of the order from now until my last breath. No secret will leave my lips, or I will gladly lose my voice, I will give my heart to no one but the goddess. Let this water cleanse my soul so I may be worthy of serving the goddess of life. To Vala, I belong, from now until eternity.
She remembered every word, for she renewed it every day at morning prayers with bitterness and the silent hope that, one day, her life would be her own.
Had renewed it… until that day Nehelon had practically dragged her from the priory. What did that make him, a slave-master or a savior? She fell silent, studying the gold embroidery on her sleeves until Mckenzie spoke again.
“You are our last hope,” Mckenzie admitted with a voice that didn’t compare to the bubbly woman who had entered her chambers only minutes ago. “If you can’t get Josh back…”
Gandrett didn’t know why she did it, but she reached out her hand, taking Mckenzie’s in her own. The woman’s emerald eyes told of the nights of crying over her lost brother, the days of hoping for his return, and the moments of disappointment, followed by those nights of crying again.
“I don’t know if it means anything to you when I promise I will do my best to get your brother back.”
Mckenzie’s lips tightened into a smile of gratitude as they looked at each other for a moment before she retrieved her hand and clapped. “Let’s get you in shape, then.”
After three days, the training with Nehelon every morning was getting boring. He hadn’t managed to show her anything new, provoke her in a way that let her lose control of her fighting calm. All he did was bark commands and study her every move as if he, himself, couldn’t believe the level of dexterity and stamina she had achieved at the age of seventeen. After a week, she had fought and defeated the most skilled warriors in Lord Tyrem’s guard, but Nehelon didn’t give her a day of rest. He was there every morning when she entered the training grounds, and he stayed there when she left after hours of sweat and strain. She never showed him when she got tired, and he never asked. Neither of them brought up the incident in her chambers even though his eyes followed her around the pit as if he was trying to solve some riddle.
Gandrett tried not to think about the meaning of it. She was there for one purpose only—her family. She would see them again if she did well enough to be unleashed on House Denderlain soon.
As for the lessons with Mckenzie, they were making the muscles in Gandrett’s jaw, and her head, ache as much as her limbs did from the training with Nehelon. First, she wasn’t used to smiling. Second, none of the reasons Mckenzie named for those pleasant—and fake—smiles seemed worthy of half a thought. Whether it was a list of topics men liked to ramble about that she was supposed to be impressed with, or the jokes they made at other men’s cost, Gandrett, for the first time in her life, saw the value of her oath to Vala, of remaining faithful to the goddess alone.
“And that is only the beginning,” Mckenzie informed her with authentic amusement. “You will spend some time with my brother to feel more at ease with what you learn with me.”
“Brax,” Gandrett remembered. The same emerald eyes, but while Mckenzie had taken after her mother—supple body and round, rosy cheeks—Brax’s features were sharper; pleasant, handsome, yet more angled and somehow more mature.
“My twin-brother likes to think of himself as the subject of the dreams of all ladies here at court…” she paused, giving Gandrett a knowing look, “and outside the palace.”
Gandrett heard his melodious chuckle in her mind and damned herself for having stepped out on the balcony in her underthings. Nobody could know.
“And… is he?” she cautiously asked.
“A gentleman never tells,” Brax’s chuckle, the real one, sounded from the door.
Gandrett felt her face turn pink and didn’t dare turn to face him.
“We really need to do something about the guards out there, Gandrett,” Mckenzie sharply said. “Wouldn’t you agree? They seem to let anyone in.”
“Otherwise, you wouldn’t be sitting here,” Brax countered, flashing a grin at his twin while he prowled to the table where he sat and examined the bowl with the remainders of the stew Eugina had snuck into her room earlier—the way she had every day since Gandrett’s arrival. His nose crinkled.
“Aren’t you supposed to be somewhere, impressing someone?” Mckenzie sighed and folded her hands in her lap. Gandrett mimicked her, memorizing the movements for the next time someone stormed into her room to disturb whatever conversation she was having. She had already copied most of Mckenzie’s standing and sitting positions even if walking like a dancer wasn’t working just yet.
Brax shrugged, the collar of his black jacket rising to his hairline. “Whoever wanted to be impressed will need to wait for another day.” He spoke as if whoever that was wouldn’t have any more regrets than he did. “There are more important matters to tend to.” He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his thighs as he took a good look at Gandrett and grinned. “As I can see, you have upgraded your attire,” he noted, dimples forming beside his curling lips. “Not that I minded the alternative.” He gave her a look that made color stain her cheeks anew.
Was there a lever she could pull to shut him up?
“How is our new lady faring?” he asked his twin with interest, his eyes not leaving Gandrett’s face.
Arrogant bastard. Gandrett wanted to yell, but clasped her hands together instead.
“I haven’t seen her fight, but—” Mckenzie started.
“I have,” Brax cut her off and winked. “Quite some skill.”
Gandrett wasn’t sure she imagined the hint of admiration in his emerald eyes.
“Good, but as for the foundation for her… other skills…” Mckenzie cocked her head at Brax. “Well then, if she continues at this pace, Josh will rot in Eedwood for the rest of his life.” The tone of her words was joking, but Gandrett noticed that that somberness had entered the emerald of her eyes.
Brax studied her for a moment, probably reading the same thing, and heaved himself up.” Good thing I came by then.” He prowled toward where Gandrett and Mckenzie were sitting on the couch and looked down
at Gandrett. “How would you feel about a walk in the gardens, Miss Brayton?”
Mckenzie gave him a warning look that made Gandrett reconsider her initial longing for a change of scenery.
“What? I’m sure I can teach her one or two other things you can’t, sister.” He said it with a sensuous smile that made Gandrett’s core tighten.
She lowered her gaze.
Cunning. That’s what he was. Insidious.
“See,” he commented, gesturing at Gandrett’s averted eyes, “she needs my help. Now. If we want Josh back any time soon.”
Something in his tone told Gandrett he wasn’t offering his help for his brother’s sake.
Mckenzie got to her feet with a sigh—“Fine.”—and left the room with her promise to be surveying the gardens from her balcony.
So, with a squeamish stomach, Gandrett returned her gaze to Brax and drew from her new arsenal, “Help me up, will you?”
Nehelon set down his pen and stared out the narrow window. All bedrooms in the palace faced south-east, and so did his. The window of his adjacent study overlooked the ocean of blossoms that the gardens were at this time of the year. Cherry blossoms amongst others. The memory of the scent—her scent—filled him for a weak second before he returned his thoughts to the letter he was writing.
It had been months since he had sent an update. Too long.
As he picked up his pen and dipped it into the crystal jar of cobalt ink before him, footsteps carried toward him from the garden.
Again, he found himself glancing out the window.
There, by the pear trees, Brax Brenheran’s familiar figure strode beside a lady in midnight-blue. He wouldn’t have heeded the woman a second look hadn’t he recognized the gown. With a hand so fast no human spectator could have seen, he pushed the window open a bit further and examined the scene.
He could only see their backs, but it was obvious, even from this angle, that Brax had sought her company for her alluring curves and her graceful movements. Familiar movements.
He held his breath and listened harder to their murmured conversation, finding his heart picking up pace as Gandrett’s voice filtered to him through the blossoms. “Do tell, Brax.” A quiet laugh escaped her lips—a sound he had never heard from her. With him, all she did was growl and scowl and avoid any conversation unless necessary. “I’d love to hear that story.”
Brax’s hand rested lightly on her back, just above the golden belt she had worn that first day he had found himself in her chambers. A belt-like shackles to a girl like Gandrett Brayton. Her wild nature, even if superficially tame, couldn’t be locked, couldn’t be shackled. He had learned that over those past days of sparring with her, of studying her. She was feline when she fought, graceful and deadly—even if the tip of her sword had never sliced into its aim. Nehelon already dreaded for anyone who put themselves in her path.
His eyes, still on her slim waist, strained to memorize her shape. So far, the most revealing thing he had seen her in was that burgundy gown from the first day. And that had been modest compared to the midnight-blue fabric that highlighted her curves with its silken shimmer.
When she was with him, she was wearing fighting leathers and weapons, and they suited her well. But this—
A growl rose in his throat as Brax’s fingers brushed over her back while he plunged deep into a meaningless story of court councils and debates.
Gandrett’s quiet laugh pierced him like a knife. What was it about Brax’s words that amused her so much?
Nehelon closed the window with so much force the glass vibrated in the frame. Then, he picked up his sword and fled to the training grounds.
A branch of white blossoms held Gandrett’s attention. At least that was what she told herself.
“You didn’t even notice I stopped talking a minute ago,” Brax commented, eyeing her with amusement.
Gandrett considered denying it. She had done so well playing along, implementing everything Mckenzie had taught her. She had nodded and smiled the way Mckenzie had instructed her. Listen, encourage the men to continue speaking. Let them lay their heart at your feet while you keep your back straight, your posture impeccable, your face interested.
She had stomached it for a long time, all the while wondering how society at any court worked if women were supposed to hold their tongue. At the order—even with all the horrible traditions—men and women were treated equally. They were expected to do the same chores whether it came to cleaning out the stables or fighting with a sword. Their words had the same weight, and they were punished the same way. They both had the same chances to climb in hierarchies.
“Am I really that boring?” he asked, a sly smile on his lips, emerald eyes sparkling.
Gandrett gave him a challenging look. “I am sure there are women who enjoy your company despite your talking.”
She started walking again, Brax at her side in an instant.
“You know, if you act like that with Armand Denderlain, you might lose your tongue,” he cautioned her, his tone still teasing despite the heavier note of his last words.
“What are the women that you normally spend time with like?” she asked, hoping for anything that would distract her from his face.
He shrugged and mentioned a list of traits that Gandrett deemed weak. Then he glanced at her from the side. “Jealous?”
“Like mad.” Her natural tone was the opposite of the pleasant chime Mckenzie was teaching her, and Brax noticed that she had switched to that real-self, too.
“They are boring, Gandrett. Something to make days pass faster, nights dreamless. Something to forget how lonely the heir to my father’s title truly is.” As Gandrett looked up at him, he put a grin back in place. “And they certainly don’t talk to me the way you do.” He winked and quickened his pace. “You do realize that you need to get used to the flirting,” he commented at her blush.
Gandrett touched her cheeks in embarrassment. “Mckenzie already told me that.”
“Of course she did,” he turned and walked backward, watching her as she set one foot after the other in a perfect copy of Mckenzie. “She is the better teacher.”
“Why am I spending my afternoon with you, then?” Gandrett inquired and wasn’t sure that was a good question to ask.
Brax chuckled. The same melodious sound that had been following her in her dreams. She smothered the nervousness that rose in her stomach.
“Because I want it that way.”
Entitled bastard. Gandrett collected herself. “Is that how you treat your women?” she asked, her tone as cunning as his. To Hel’s realm with everything Mckenzie had taught her. Brax struck a nerve, and she couldn’t help herself when she smirked at his hesitant response.
But he wasn’t hesitating from lack of something to say. “I have never respected a woman enough to treat her like that.” He turned around, leaving her with the view of his broad shoulders and straight back. The walk of a noble, no matter how much of a mischief maker he was.
“You respect me?” Gandrett clarified and earned a stomach-squirming chuckle. She knew what that laugh looked like on his lips and didn’t want to plunge into the sensation it instilled.
“You are a Child of Vala,” he explained with a glance over his shoulder and turned into the corridor of cherry trees. “No man should ever touch you.”
His words were like little daggers, especially when she knew they were true. And yet—
“What if all this training actually works? What if I do win Armand’s trust… and more?”
“You mean, if he falls for you?” he rephrased. He didn’t need to mention that what he was really saying was, What if he touches you?
“You are the best fighter Nehelon has ever seen. You’ll find a way to defend yourself.”
Gandrett didn’t know what to make of his words, but she followed him into the cherry trees through the falling night and let him lead her up the stairs to her chambers.
“You have no idea how much hope your presence at court ins
tills in my family.” Brax indicated a bow, not giving Gandrett a moment to respond before he fashioned a grin and reached for her fingers, sending an explosion of conflicting sensations through her body—“Goodnight, Miss Brayton.”—then bent down and blew a kiss on the back of her hand.
Chapter Eighteen
The guard escorting her to her daily training at dawn was as quiet as she was at that ungodly time of the day, which gave her a couple of minutes to erase the blush on her cheeks that surged up every time her mind wandered back to Brax’s lips brushing her skin. Thank the gods, when they arrived, Nehelon, for a change, wasn’t there before her, and the young guard turned to her and said, “Thank you for doing this.”
Gandrett pretended not to know what he was talking about. She wasn’t sure who exactly knew about her mission, how secret it truly was. On that first day, Lord Tyrem had only dismissed his court when they were to discuss the details of his plan. But he had let them watch how she defeated the giant of a guard by his table. So she remained quiet, waiting for the guard to reveal more.
“Joshua used to train with us every morning, Miss Brayton,” he said, his eyes scanning the sand-covered space where she would soon be going up against the Fae male. “It was a shock when he was taken. And we have lost too many men trying to retrieve him.”
Gandrett placed her hand on the hilt of her sword. “Is Denderlain really that dangerous?”
She couldn’t tell what it was that instilled enough trust to ask if she was truly going on an impossible mission.
The guard nodded. “Hamyn Denderlain is not only dangerous; he is ruthless. And his son…” He gave her a look that said enough. “It’s good you have Brax and Mckenzie to prepare you. It would be a shame if we lost you, too.”
Gandrett held his gaze. “What’s your name?” The tan, brown-eyed man blinked.
“Kyle.”
“Thank you, Kyle,” was all she could say to him before Nehelon appeared in the gate and came toward them in powerful strides, his sword already drawn as if today he wasn’t going to waste any time talking.
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