Chapter 16

16

D awn comes faster than I could have possibly imagined.

Jace drags me from my room, still half-asleep. I mutter profanities under my breath as he ushers me through the castle and into a small arena-like space. A private training ring, he tells me. It's empty except for a rack of weapons and some training equipment.

I follow Jace to the center of the ring and stand watching him with my arms crossed, half listening as he says things my brain can't even begin to comprehend at this ungodly hour.

"Are you listening to me at all?"

His words finally crack through my morning stupor.

"I am, but all I'm hearing is blah blah blah swords, blah blah blah daggers, fee fi fo fum."

"You're not getting within ten paces of a sword until I deem you ready."

I scoff. "I've dealt with plenty of swords in my lifetime. Plenty of tools, too. "

"You have experience with swordplay?" He crosses his cut arms over his chest and eyes me doubtfully.

"I do," I boast, stifling a yawn. "Just probably not the kind you're referring to."

He moves over to the rack of weapons and picks up two wooden longswords, handing one to me by the hilt.

Without warning or direction, he says, "Block me."

He twirls the sword in one hand, creating an arc over my head before drawing a path downwards. I drop to the ground to avoid the wood splitting me in two. Jace halts its trajectory an inch from my head.

"Are you nuts?!" I screech.

"Been a while since you handled a sword?" he taunts, flipping the practice blade over in an impressive maneuver and driving it into the ground. It sticks straight up.

I scowl at him, suddenly very awake. "A little warning would have been nice."

"I was moving at a quarter of my natural speed. That was pathetic." He extends a hand down to me, and I grip it, allowing him to haul me to my feet.

"There's no need to be rude," I tell him, dusting myself off.

"I'm just trying to gauge where we should start," he says with false naiveté.

"Well, I may not be an expert at swinging these things around, but I've taken a couple of self-defense classes. I work out, I'm in good shape, and I live a healthy lifestyle, for the most part."

"I'm not interested in your lifestyle. You're here because you need to learn how to fight. Do you believe your enemy will warn you before they strike on the battlefield?"

"Who says I'm going to be on a battlefield?"

He looks at me, dumbfounded and gestures around the empty arena. "What do you think you're doing here? "

"Training to be a Dragon Rider," I say simply, crossing my arms.

"It's a little more intricate than that." He eyes me. "You do need to learn how to ride. But first, you need to learn how to fight. You have to master hand-to-hand combat. And weaponry."

"Why do I need all of that?"

"Because you can't be a Dragon Rider without being a warrior. The two are synonymous." He exhales loudly through his nose.

"I'll phrase it this way. The only reason we would have need of a Blackblood on dragon-back would be to obliterate enemy forces. Which would mean we're already at war. It isn't enough to know how to defend yourself. You need to make yourself into a weapon—to think like one. So I need you to wake up and pay attention," he says a touch more gently.

"I'm listening," I assure him as he begins to circle me. My eyes follow his trail.

"Fae are ten times as fast and as strong as humans. Plus, many have the advantage of magic. Until we can figure out how to free yours, you are as good as mortal. And just as easily killed. You need to get strong. Learn to balance. Build muscle. Here," he says, crouching to grip my inner thigh.

"Here," he continues, rising to fist my bicep.

"And here." His hand flattens against my stomach as he disappears behind me. I suppress a shudder as his breath coasts over my ear teasingly. He drops his hand, and I immediately crave his touch again.

"You won't be able to stay seated if you're weak in those areas. Especially your core. We'll start by stretching you out and then going for a run. It will help with endurance and breath control. "

"My endurance is good," I inform him. "I run pretty regularly."

"We'll see," he says doubtfully, earning an eye roll from me.

He has me mirror a series of stretches, and when my limbs feel loose, we set off into a run around the castle grounds. Keeping up with Jace's fae speed proves to be an immediate and impossible challenge. He zips back and forth like a bolt of lightning, running literal circles around me. He's so quick I can barely detect his movements.

"Is speed your superpower?" I brace my hands on my knees and breathe hard—in through the nose and out through the mouth. He laughs, not even having broken a sweat. I pant and wipe at my slick brow, feeling pathetic.

"All fae are this fast. Faster, actually. I slowed my pace so you could keep up."

"Are you serious? I'm screwed! You expect me to take on a species that is by nature ten times as fast and strong as me? I don't stand a chance."

"You need to change your mentality," he tells me. "This is day one. This is a jumping-off point. You cannot get worse. You cannot get more unprepared. The only way this can go is up. And I will make sure you know what to expect in battle and how to defend yourself."

I nod my head.

"Let's go. No more breaks," he says, breaking into a jog. I suck in a breath and chase after him.

Tea with the princess is nothing like I expected.

I figured I would sit across from Sorscha and her ladies, sipping tea out of pretty porcelain, gossiping about court members in a lavishly decorated setting .

The lavishly decorated setting part I got right. Sorscha's chambers are double the size of mine, with sparkling marble floors and pillars. A polished silver partition with swirling patterns sections off the space from the giant bed. The arching, curtained windows reveal only the faintest sliver of daylight through the gaps in material.

Upon entering, I find a group of lifeless fae in various states of undress. My eyes land on a disheveled, silk-robed princess sprawled out on a salmon-colored settee, waving a tasseled fan with one hand and clutching her head in the other. Her feet dangle over Cece's lap, whose pretty jade eyes are bloodshot and drooping. The top of her bodice is unlaced, showing ample amounts of cleavage.

Ilsa is seated on the floor beneath the princess, sleeping lightly, head lolling against the settee. The white blonde poker straight hair that skimmed her waist last night is shorn in jagged lines just below her delicately pointed ears. I notice a long lock strewn across the small coffee table among a mess of playing cards, spilled ale, gold coins, and uncut gems.

Sprawled across from the ladies in a high-backed chair is a worse-for-wear Kai. He dangles from his seat, a hand clutched over his mouth and chin as if fighting back nausea. His hair is mussed like someone ran their fingers through it, and his white shirt hangs fully unbuttoned, revealing a taut stomach stretched over a rippling six-pack. It's hard to pry my eyes from that sight. Seated beside him is another male I don't recognize. He tries to lift a teacup to his lips, but his hand trembles so badly that some of it spills over the side.

Oh my god. They're hungover.

I press my lips together to keep from laughing. No one has noticed me enter the room.

"Good morning!" I crow.

The room gives a collective groan of agony. Ilsa's doe eyes fly open. The male in the chair beside me jolts forward, the entire contents of the tea spilling onto the likely priceless carpet.

"Fuck, Dover," Kai moans, his eyes still closed. The princess makes an effort to sit up, then gives up, collapsing back into the cushions.

"Please don't yell," Cece whines, rubbing her temples.

"Oh, cousin." The princess turns her head to offer me a small smile, her honey-colored curls spilling over the armrest. "Hello."

Her voice lacks the musicality it had last night, but that's no surprise, given the state I found them in.

"Come and sit." She points to the plush ottoman nestled in between the settee and the male whose name I don't know.

"Dover, move over," the princess softly urges the stranger to my left.

"That rhymed," says Ilsa, her voice dainty and deadpan.

Dover scoots his chair closer to Kai so that I have a bit more room in the circle.

I notice we're short a female—Lady Marideth. As if reading my thoughts, Sorscha says, "She's still asleep."

"How was the rest of your evening?" I ask the princess knowingly.

As if in answer, a small white creature waddles through the cracked door to the adjoining suite and skitters across the floor, between the settee and chairs. Its top half is a chicken with wings, and its bottom half looks like that of a Pomeranian. But the oddest thing about it is that its neck is bedecked in freshwater pearls and ribbons. It squawks loudly, earning a bout of disgruntled moans from the group.

"Don't drink and spell," Kai says, abs flexing as he stretches his long legs. "Nothing good comes of it."

"Veruca," the princess breathes, lifting a hand over the back of the armrest to signal the fae maid standing in the corner. " Ask Gnorr for one of her special brews and have it brought up," she directs, eyes closed.

The maid nods and disappears.

"I'm sorry you have to see us in such an unbecoming state," she glances at me. "What a terrible first impression we must make. I promise we're not always this dull. Our gatherings can sometimes get rather…spirited."

"Especially when I'm in town," Kai pipes, fixing his cool gaze on me. "Morning, gorgeous."

I ignore him, turning back to the princess. "It sounds like I missed a rather eventful evening."

"Oh, it was legendary. I'm sad you had to miss it." She pulls the tie of her blush-colored robe tighter over her corset. I wonder if it's considered appropriate here for the males and females to be dressed down like this in front of one another. If it is, none of them seem to care. They look utterly unfazed, as if this is an everyday occurrence. The princess manages to sit up, planting her bare feet on the carpet.

"We snuck out," she whispers conspiratorially.

"Where did you go?"

"The princess wanted to see what a pleasure hall was like after hours," Kai interjects lazily.

"I had never been. Kai and Dover are always telling such wild stories. I just had to experience one for myself."

"We're never wrong, are we, Princess?" Kai drawls, his temple balancing on the tip of his pointer finger.

"We were wrong about that last line of Stardust," Dover mutters from beside me. "I've never crashed this hard."

"I'm fully depleted." Cece sighs, tucking her long legs beneath her. "I can't even feel my magic."

"I can't feel my face," says little Ilsa grimly.

"Tell me, cousin, did you enjoy the ball last night? The dancing?" asks the princess. "It must have been so different from your life at the temple."

"Vastly different." I nod and force a pleasant smile onto my lips. Lying has never been a strength of mine.

"It must have been tragically dull. Raised by a handful of priestesses," Cece drawls languidly, her wide green eyes surveying me. "How did you end up there?"

You got this.

"I was born there," I lie reflexively. I should have spent more time working on a believable backstory. For this to work, it needs to be tight. I chew my bottom lip as Cece continues to dig.

"Was your mother a refugee, or were you just a bastard?" she asks nonchalantly.

"Cece!" Sorscha berates, her mouth agape as she tosses an appalled look at the gorgeous fae. Cece gazes at me unflinchingly, her delicate chin balancing on the tip of her pointer finger.

She's got some nerve.

"You don't have to answer that." Sorscha pats my knee apologetically.

Before I can say another word, a loud thud sounds from the adjoining suite, followed by a curse. I turn to see Marideth practically fall through the door, wearing nothing but a flimsy white nightgown and a diamond choker. Her auburn hair lies in disarray as she clutches the door handle to regain her balance. She stares at Ilsa in horror.

"What in hell happened to you ?" She gapes, gray eyes wide.

"I don't remember," Ilsa says blandly, reaching up to finger the uneven ends. She doesn't seem to have any feelings about it, just remains perfectly blasé.

"She lost a round of do or die," Cece says, lifting a jagged-edged lock and dropping it in disdain .

"What is do or die?" I ask.

"Oh, it's loads of fun. We'll teach you at the next soiree." The princess pats my hand emphatically.

Marideth trudges over ungracefully and bellies down on the carpet, throwing her face in Ilsa's lap.

"I'm never drinking Poison again." Her voice is muffled in her friend's underskirt.

"You tapped out early, Mar," Kai tuts. "I'm surprised at you."

She lifts herself onto her elbows to glare at him.

"Forgive me for not being able to hold my own next to two males who drink themselves stupid on any given night."

"He's right, Mar, you usually make it to sunrise," Dover pipes up.

"I made it long enough to win this from you." She wiggles her eyebrows and strokes her collar seductively.

"That was supposed to be a gift for Wyneth." Kai breaks into laughter. "Wait until she sees it on Mar. You're done for, Dove."

"His betrothed," the princess provides graciously. I nod.

"Who here is really going to tattle?" Mar counters, unruffled.

"Your betrothed doesn't mind you partying in your underwear with a bunch of beautiful females?" I ask the handsome male beside me.

Kai breaks into a brilliant smile. Dover looks at me like a toddler caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

"Wyneth knows she's always invited to our debauched little gatherings. She just declines, declines, declines." Marideth stands, answering for him. She plops down in Dover's lap and lays a big kiss on his lips. I gawk at them. When she pulls back and wipes a thumb over her lips, his eyes are glazed.

"It suits you." He reaches up to run his fingers over the dazzling necklace. They stare at each other like they're the only two in the room.

The maid returns with a tray of tea and a slew of servants in tow, wheeling in carts of delicious-smelling food.

"Oh, thank the gods." Marideth leaps up, dashing over to the trays of miniature quiches, finger sandwiches, and colorful parfaits. Dover chuckles, shaking his head, some color returning to his previously pale face.

The maid places a steaming cup of tea in the princess's hands and sets the pot down on the small coffee table between us.

"I need to guzzle a whole pot of that before I can even stand," Cece murmurs in her silky voice. As she leans forward to pour herself a cup, her breasts nearly spill out of her dress, coming dangerously close to showing nip. Even in her hungover state, she's beautiful.

"So what happened after I passed out?" Marideth says, around a mouthful of food. She plops down onto the cushioned window nook.

Kai and Dover take turns recounting the night for both Marideth and me. I listen, one detail more shocking than the next. I hadn't expected fae lords and ladies to party like rebel teenagers, sneaking booze and drugs into the basement for a co-ed all-nighter. They sip their hangover cure, launching into fits of laughter every so often, as they recall the hazy details of the evening. I smile in silence, listening to their comfortable banter.

"Shall we picnic later?" the princess asks the group after some time.

"How about tomorrow?" Kai suggests. "Dove and I are going riding with your father."

"Of course." She exhales loudly. "You already know what this is about." Setting her teacup down, she props her head on her hand and looks at him. His smile fades, replaced by something more somber.

"What do you plan to say?" she asks.

"Nothing unless he brings it up first." Kai stands, moving toward the tray of food to pop a raspberry in his mouth. He stuffs his hands in his pocket, stomach muscles illuminated by the sunlight peeking through the half-drawn curtains. Sorscha twists in her seat to look at him.

" Kai ," she cautions, a hint of annoyance lacing her tone.

" Sorscha ," he mimics. "There's no point in worrying about what hasn't happened. He may say nothing. Besides, he thinks I'm a bad influence on you."

"You are," Marideth chimes from her nook, chewing loudly. They both shoot her a look.

When Kai speaks, his voice is reassuring. "We don't have to discuss this right now. I give you my word that I won't commit to anything before we talk it over, alright?"

She nods, the concern fading from her expression as she faces us again.

"So tomorrow? You'll come, won't you, cousin?" Her hopeful, wide eyes land on me. I can't help but answer with a smile.

"I'll be there."

I get to my feet and excuse myself, telling them that Zadyn is giving me lessons on how to be a proper courtier. I'm almost to the door when Cece's voice makes me turn.

"Bring your little lord friend tomorrow," she says evenly, her green eyes unreadable.

I nod and then immediately try to shut out the intrusive thoughts that pop up following her request.