Chapter Eighteen

CHAPTER

EIGHTEEN

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I DON'T REMEMBER WHEN FINNIAN AND I FELL ASLEEP, BUT I remember holding his hand while dozing off. We used to have sleepovers like that when we were younger, when one of us woke up screaming, but last night we climbed into bed right after Cayden and Ryder left because reality felt like a nightmare. He stayed in my room while I got ready for breakfast with Ailliard. It's early, and most people in the castle aren't awake, but I want to get to Ailliard before he hears about the assassin from someone else.

I bring the steaming cup of coffee to my lips and take a sip, glancing at Finnian over the rim. He still doesn't look fully present, and I hate the fact that I must leave him today. The advisor meetings commencing this week exclude the monarchs, and Saskia informed me they'll take hours, so I suppose we wouldn't be seeing much of each other anyway.

My limbs stiffen as the sound of boots against tile grows in volume. Drinking coffee probably isn't the best idea considering my nerves are bouncing off the walls, but nothing starts a morning off quite like self-destructive habits. Finnian bites his nails while pushing eggs around his plate; it's a nervous tic he's always had. The door creaks open, and Ailliard slips into the room.

"Morning." He looks the both of us over with curiosity and skepticism. Finnian is dressed for politics in a freshly pressed tunic, but I'm in a new set of leathers, and Ailliard regards the two dragons burned above the diamond-shaped cutout on my chest distastefully. My attire is a mixture of deep purple fabric and harnesses on my thighs for knives, a waist belt with extra blades strapped along it, and buckles all made of dark brown leather with pants to match.

"Morning." I force my voice to stay even.

"How did you sleep?" Finnian asks, even though it's muffled by his hand.

"Fine." Ailliard draws the small word out as he takes a seat. "Someone tell me what's going on." Finnian's eyes flash to me. Is there even a right way to say this?

I place my cup back on its saucer. "An assassin made it into my chambers last night."

Ailliard's hands shoot forward to grip the edge of the table. "Do they not have guards outside your room?"

"They do, but the assassin dressed as a servant. General Neredras thinks he came in during the banquet," I state. Ailliard shakes his head while looking down at the table, disbelief coating his features, which soon morphs into anger.

"We should go home." He starts to get up from the table. "We'll leave today. We can cross the border before they realize we're gone." He needs to stop using running as a solution. My father knows I'm alive; it doesn't make sense for me to leave when the damage is done.

"Sit," I command, and he falls into his chair. "Take a breath. Commander Veles killed him before any real damage was done."

"What was Veles doing in your chambers?"

My hands tighten on the arms of my chair. "We're sharing a suite for my protection."

"That is entirely inappropriate," he snarls. "For the love of the gods, you're a princess! You assured me nothing was happening between you."

"Nothing is happening. We spend time together because we're allies, and he's the most skilled fighter in the entire kingdom."

He slams his hands against the table, rattling the dishes and making me flinch. "His skill matters little when he can't be trusted. You share the same blood as his enemy."

And yet he's never looked at me as my father's daughter. "I didn't arrange this meeting to discuss my living arrangements."

"Elowen, I told you I won't lose you like I lost your mother. Garrick is no threat to be taken lightly."

"Stop trying to derail me from the path I've chosen for myself." My temper rises with every word that falls from my lips. "You speak of my abuse as if it's a mere slight to be overlooked and never thought of again, but I'm the one who must live with it every day."

"This path is destructive," he says, trying to reason.

"Only if I lose."

"Have some sense, Elowen. An assassin got into your chambers!"

"I do not fear violence considering my life has been a series of survival." I get to my feet and toss my napkin on the table. The only reason I forced myself to stay alive, even after I left Imirath, was because of my dragons. They're still in the castle, and I will free them because life as a prisoner is no life at all.

"You may think I'm a monster, but I am the product of what was dealt to me." I shove my chair back, grab my satchel, and step toward the door. I don't want to be in here anymore. I want him to understand my choices, even if he disagrees. "I haven't mastered the art of turning away quite like you have."

How many nights did Ailliard fall asleep with a full belly on a feathered mattress while I screamed for someone to help? A god, a guard, my dragons, my own parents—it didn't matter. Finnian and Ailliard can't see the pained expression on my face while the memories surge into the forefront of my mind. The only thing that kept me alive all those years was feeling the bond in my chest, almost like my dragons were reaching out to me despite the walls separating us, telling me to hang on a bit longer.

"Elowen," Ailliard starts, sounding remorseful.

"No." My tone is final. He may have gotten me out of the castle, but he didn't save me. I saved myself. I fought every day, through every panic attack, through every nightmare, and through every person who tried to kill me because I realized I was worth fighting for.

The door slams shut behind me, and I walk aimlessly down the hall. Not caring where I end up, I just want to run. My boots slap against the tile. My lungs crave air, and my senses long to be outside with no walls confining me. I round the corner and collide with a hard chest. Hands reach out to steady me while I stumble back.

"Eager to see me?" Cayden's voice surrounds me.

"Excuse me," I mutter while slipping out of his hold and stepping around him. I'm not in the mood for his teasing.

I make it one step before he grabs my hand and spins me back around to face him. "What's wrong? What happened?"

"Nothing." I pull my hand from his hold again. I know he's mentally logging that I'm shying away from his touch. "We should leave now."

"Where were you running to?"

"Outside." I can't stop myself from pulling on my collar.

"There's an exit up ahead."

I follow his long strides and feel the pressure being lifted from my body when the sky is high above me and no walls surround me. My heart steadies as the cool breeze washes over my face. The black spots clear from my vision, and I can think properly again. My clothes no longer feel like a cage.

I turn my head to find Cayden glaring at me. "Why were you looking for me? I thought I had another hour before we left."

"You almost died last night. I was coming to check on your bruises before you caked all that on." He gestures to my neck.

"Did you expect me to waltz around with them on full display?"

"No, which is why I wanted to see you before you left your chambers." He crosses his arms over his chest. "You should wipe it off."

I bite my tongue and mirror his stance. The bruises were too tender for me to fully cover them. The sitting room was dimly lit, so Ailliard didn't notice them, but natural light exposes everything.

"I'll make sure to consult you on my brushstrokes next time I apply coverage." I'm glad to see we're back to normal. I press my hand against my sore neck and begin wiping the makeup off.

He sighs while taking a step forward. "Let me help you."

My body jolts when he makes contact with my skin. His throat muscles flex as his hand softly coils around the back of my neck. The gentleness of his touch will never fail to shock me.

"Tell me if I'm using too much pressure." His voice is low and soft. He covers his thumb with his black cloak and softly drags it down the column of my neck. The thumb at the base of my hair begins rubbing soothing circles that make me want to melt. I hate that he can affect me like this, and I hate that he's so close he can both see and feel my physical reaction to him. The only bonus is that I can also see his response to me—dilated pupils, parted lips, and the pulse in his neck beats just as rapidly as mine, if not more so. The wind carries a few dark brown curls across my face, which Cayden brushes away.

"Give me the name," he says, tone raspy. "All I need is a name, and I'll take care of it."

His fingers glide down my cheekbone, and I blame the chill that travels up my spine on me not wearing a cloak. I need him to take his hands off me, and yet . . . I can't bring myself to push him away. But then footsteps bounding down the hall pop our bubble. He slowly removes his hands, gliding his fingers against my skin like he's trying to savor the feel of me.

"Elowen!" Finnian's voice echoes against the stone. A second figure swiftly walks toward us, much farther back than Finnian. Not as tall, and more on the stocky side.

"I'll meet you in the suite. You should go," I mutter to Cayden, but he does the opposite by taking a step closer to me.

"He's an ass when he's upset," Finnian says once he gets close enough and hands me the cloak I forgot in the room. "Do you want to get out of the castle today? I'll blow off the meeting." I know this is his way of saying If you need to find a place to scream, I'll find it with you.

"Don't skip the meeting. I'm fine; I just needed some air." He doesn't look completely convinced, but he doesn't push me. It'll be good for him to have a normal day here, even if it's away from me. "I'll actually be tracking down those involved in the assassination attempt with Cayden the next few days."

Finnian eyes Cayden with suspicion. "You and Ryder didn't take care of that last night?"

Cayden's expression remains emotionless. "Not all of them. Those slippery little bastards are proving to be quite the challenge."

He smirks at my annoyance but doesn't have time to say anything further once Ailliard steps through the exit.

"Please, Elowen, let's talk," Ailliard pleads. Finnian's jaw clenches, but he doesn't say anything.

"You two should get to the meeting." My smile is forced; it's the one I use every day that nobody other than Finnian can see past. That is, until I met Cayden.

"It doesn't start for two hours." Ailliard takes another step forward. I want to melt into the earth. Cayden places his hand on my lower back, and I'm shocked that it comforts rather than unnerves me. Nevertheless, I lean into his hold, silently telling him it's okay to touch me, and his fingers begin trailing a line up and down my spine.

"Princess Elowen has promised her morning to me, and I imagine you'll be seeing very little of her the next few days," Cayden states. "Perhaps longer."

Ailliard's eyes roam over Cayden, and his face contorts into a distasteful grimace. My body subconsciously gravitates toward Cayden, wanting to protect him from Ailliard.

"You two seem to be spending a lot of time together," Ailliard observes.

"Yes. She's like my own personal plague—very hard to get rid of." Cayden's tone is humorous, but one glance at him, and I can tell he's riled.

"It doesn't seem like you wish to get rid of her considering you placed yourself in her private chambers," Ailliard sneers.

"Oh, I see. This is the part where you remind me of my station." Cayden drops his hand from my back and takes a step between Ailliard and me, staring him down like he wants to grind Ailliard into dust. His display of protectiveness ties my tongue, quite like it did mere hours ago. "Elowen is far more than a title, and I don't need you to remind me who she is."

"Elowen—" Ailliard flicks his eyes away from Cayden and tries again.

"Elowen is coming with me." Cayden cuts him off. "Do I make myself clear, or would you prefer me to write it down so you can comprehend it?"

"Ailliard, leave them. Commander Veles won't let any harm befall Elowen, of that I'm sure," Finnian says before leaning forward to hug me quickly. "Be safe." He turns his eyes to Cayden. "Don't make me into a liar."

Cayden nods, and Finnian escorts Ailliard into the castle. "Did you find the man who spilled the drink on me last night?" I ask.

"Yes. It didn't take much to make him talk." He takes the cloak from my hands and drapes it around my shoulders.

"So he was involved in the attempt?" My toes curl in my boots while he fastens the tie around my neck.

"The pair of them worked together. Nobody else was in on the plot," Cayden confirms. The bounty on my head is still there, but at least this assassination attempt is a closed case.

"Thank you for lying to Finnian. Will Ryder complicate the story since he was with you?"

He shakes his head. "I gave him an assignment to keep him at the border while we're gone."

"I'm also sorry about—"

He cuts me off and tilts my chin up with his finger. "You have nothing to be sorry for. We're starting our journey early." He points to the tree line.

"In a very dark forest with no horses?" I skeptically ask.

"The adventure lies beyond the forest," he answers. My eyes wander over his body. He's wearing black leathers with silver accents, accompanied by a broadsword on his back, two short swords at his waist, and throwing knives along his thighs.

"This feels a lot like the second time we met," I note as he grips my shoulders from behind and urges me forward.

He smirks down at me. "That was the start of our friendship."