We arrived at the stronghold with Shara landing heavily in the courtyard now bare of statues. Shara waited for us to dismount before returning to the air, making the flight back towards the camp. I wondered what she had made of our conversation – she would have heard every word that Aien and I had said, and yet she had remained silent, allowing us to speak with the illusion of privacy.We were immediately surrounded by concerned servants. Much had changed at the stronghold I saw as we were hastened up into the hall. It was clean, the shutters open to admit the light, and the fires and torches lit. There were vases heavy with greenery, bright tapestries on the walls and rugs beneath our feet. The scent of food cooking made my stomach rumble.The stronghold had come alive, like the statues from the courtyard.It was not to Aien’s mother’s chamber that I was led but another, less grand, but only just, and it was more than ample for my needs. In the busyness of the maids who hastened to t
“No,” Ecaeris looked at me in surprise. “No Daethie, I don’t believe you are meant to die. I didn’t believe that Tarragon was destined for death, either. Do you think so little of us all – the Fae royal family, your own parents – to think that we would send Tarragon, your brothers, yourself, and Aien blithely off to die? No,” she reached out and gripped my shoulder. “If that had been in our thoughts, we would have come on the campaign and done all that we could to protect you all.” “Oh,” I crumpled, weeping. “Oh, Daethie,” Ecaeris shook me slightly. “Foolish children,” she tsked. “You never told Tarragon,” I pointed out. “She has thought all this time that the lamb would die to end the slaughter, but there is no end...” Ecaeris winced and blew out a breath. “We did not anticipate that she would interpret the prophecy in such a way, and the intention behind keeping that part to ourselves was to keep the population hopeful whilst we trained her to fulfill her role. She never spoke to
Story is the lifeblood of our people. Story teaches. Story cautions. But sometimes stories are just stories, and life takes another, unexpected path. The wily Fae may have honor, the fearsome dragon a tender heart, the dainty princess the bravery of a King, and an unfaithful lover might love most of all… Stories teach us, but they also mislead us. Not all heroes carry swords, and not all villains have evil intentions. Story is, after all, just words. And words do not have the weight of action. - “Concentrate,” I whispered the words. “Concentration and focus are key.” On the walkways around the walls, King Akyran’s dark elf guards did their rounds, their footfalls armour-heavy, and the plumes of their helmets casting dramatic shadows over the courtyard. The sky overhead was greying with cloud, and the heady perfume of the petrichor released by the earth in promise of rain was sweeter than the other scents of the courtyard – the sweat of the knights in training, the leather, the ho
I slept late into the morning, waking to a bath gone cold and my maidservant, Hen, napping by the fire with the mending on her lap. My head no longer hurt, but I possessed an impressive array of bruises from where I had landed, falling from the gauntlet, and bathing was a painful affair. Hen woke just as I was struggling to dress myself and tsked over the bruises as she finished lacing me.“It’s not right for a princess,” she told me in disapproval. “Jumping and fighting and running around. It’s one thing for a hero like Princess Tarragon, but surely there is no need to put you through this my lady. The prophecy is not about you, after all.”“To end the slaughter,Not dragon son, but daughter,In the right hand,Rivyn’s sword will save the land,If the lamb chosen is wrong,Love’s sacrifice will not be strong,” I quoted. “It’s the second to last line that’s responsible for me being here,” I grimaced as she braided my hair. “Just in case it’s not Tarragon all of her sisters get to suff
All the newer students lined up in the courtyard for drills. As I took my place, I saw Aien in the row ahead of me. He glanced around, looking for someone or something, perhaps a friendly face amongst the crowd, and his eyes fell on me. He stepped backwards, to stand at my side.“What is this?” He asked me. “Is this meant to be a sword?” He looked at the wooden practise sword that he held in one hand.“Drills,” I told him. “As training goes, this one isn’t so bad, as long as you stick to the middle and try not to stand out. The sword master will lead us through the poses and postures,” I nodded up to the raised platform. “We just copy her.”“Why do I suspect that it’s not as easy as you make it sound?” He wondered.“Because…” I lifted my chin to the wall where the dark elf guards had gathered to watch. “And…” I inclined my head to the base of the wall, where the senior knights were gathering. “They’re meant to be practicing hand to hand combat, but… They mostly watch. And mock us.”“G
“Reckless foolishness,” Hen grumbled under her breath as she helped me dress. “In a tourney maze is no place for a princess.”“Val and Cara will watch out today,” I told her. “And my father is in the audience.”“Should not be required,” she cinched my ties tighter than necessary in her irritation. “Princesses should not be put in such danger.”“It is good training for the real world, Akyran says,” I replied. “And keeps the knight’s keen and sharp.”Nerith castle cupped the inner courtyards, and during the tourney, Akyran and Ecaeris transformed the neat gardens and lower balconies into a maze of obstacles. The courtyards were large, but in an impressive feat of magic, Akyran and Ecaeris multiplied the dimensions to an impossible scale, creating a true labyrinth for the competition, and once you stepped into it, the maze seemed to spread for miles in every direction.As I joined the line up of competitors between Rue and Val, I saw a couple of knight errants spot me, and laugh, wonderi
“My father wasn’t always this way,” Aien said as we walked through the maze following the trail of debris, blood, and broken weaponry. “A villain I mean. Things were different when my mother was alive. She was…” He paused where someone had smashed a statue, the stone rubble scattered across the path and offered me his hand. “Be careful where you step. My mother was beautiful,” he did not immediately release my hand when I had picked my way through the debris and stood looking down at me thoughtfully.“She was kind,” he said softly. My eyes fell to the softness of his lips and wondered what they would feel against my own. “And she looked after others. She would have liked you. You remind me of her.” He released my hand and continued along the walkway. “An illness came to the village, and my mother went to help the sick. She caught it from them, and… I was eleven,” he swallowed hard. “Old enough that I remember very well what it was like before she died.”“I’m sorry,” I said reaching ou
The hallways immediately around the main hall were busy as servants scurried in and out with wine and platters and in the shadows, knights from the academy flirted drunkenly with maids and minor noble ladies who had managed to escape their protective families. Aien put his arm around my shoulders, draping me in the folds of his cloak, and walked with me nearest the wall. From behind, tucked tightly against Aien’s body, I would have been all but invisible.It was cosily warm within Aien’s cloak and very pleasant to feel his body move against mine. Boldly, I slid my arm around his waist, and was relieved when he did not object. In fact, he tightened his hold on me, encouraging me closer to him.I was almost entirely sure that I was not mistaken and that Aien… Well, that Aien felt about me the same as I felt about him. I felt the flush heating my skin. I had seen the knights and the maids kissing in any semi-private place they could find so many times, breathless, moaning exchanges frant