41. Chapter 38

Chapter 38

The prince let Brenna escape. I know he did it on purpose. She was the reason we attacked the House of Shadows in the first place. Now she is in the wind, and I must wait for Casimir to pass the Crown before I can return him to the darkness. I hate that I must do this, but there aren't any other options. The Thrones are failing, and I am the only one who can fix this.

~King Gethin, personal journals

After the assassination attempt, training becomes the focus of Cole and my lives. Darian and Lee flit in and out of our days, but I can tell that they're trying not to interfere. Every moment from sunrise until sunset seems filled with Cole trying to teach me how to succeed in some new environment that I'm unprepared for.

We start each day by flying far into the forest and training with spear and shadow against his sword and flames and body reshaping skills. Immolation still seems to be the bane of my existence, but Cole explains that simply surviving long enough for it to exhaust my opponent is one of the best ways to deal with it. Most House of Flame members can only hold on to immolation for a few minutes.

And always, I'm reminded that regardless of how much more powerful I am now compared to when I started, I'm not nearly strong enough yet. I can't relax. I can't waste even a single moment of practice.

Then we head back to the Keep of Flames, and we meet with Nevan. Nevan is the only person on his father's staff that Cole trusts completely. He teaches me to dance with Cole because I'm required to dance at the ball the night before I sneak in to see Calyr. Dancing at a ball. Something that I had never imagined in a thousand years.

That was Hazel's dream, not mine. And every moment that I stand here under Nevan's eye is another moment that makes me want to scream. Burn me; cut me. I can handle pain. But dancing? Dancing is the truest form of torture.

Nevan sits at a grand piano in an empty ballroom. Silk sheets hang from the ceiling almost twenty feet above us, gently swaying in the stale air. The air is so still here, a ballroom that seems to have been completely forgotten about as a separate one is being prepared for the dance in two days. Only the three of us are here, the ivory sounds of the piano playing in three-fourth's time.

I have to admit that the music is beautiful and Nevan is an incredible musician. Haunting and entrancing, it seems to take root inside me, and I have a hard time focusing on the steps. Which may be why I can't stop stepping on Cole's feet.

I grit my teeth as my toes land on Cole's for the umpteenth time this song. His hand pulls me, unflinching, as he spins me in the Virelle. And I step on his toes again.

"That's it!" I shout and pull away. "I cannot dance. That's all there is to it."

Cole chuckles, but Nevan just blinks. "Maeve," Cole says softly. "You just need to practice. No different from training to fight. You're trying to do something difficult in a very short time."

I shake my head. "No. This is stupid. Why do I need to dance at all?"

Cole's look tells me the same thing that he's told me many times already. Yes. You must dance. Yes. You must dance well.

"Just break my legs and say that I was clumsy. It'll be worth it to never stand on a dance floor again."

"No. Now do it again," Cole says. I snarl at him, but he ignores me. I clasp his hand and wrap my arm around his shoulder, just like I'm supposed to. This is the way we deal with training elsewhere. He's stern. I snarl. He's uncompromising. I eventually do as he says. It works just fine.

But for dancing, I don't know how many more times I can fail at the simplest thing. I thought that being weak was frustrating, but that was because it was like being a child in a world of adults. This… I feel like there's no way to improve. Like I'm built wrong. Like a fish trying to fly.

Nevan's fingers dance along the keys as lightly as I should dance along the polished marble floor. Even the simplest beginning steps are terrible. I'm counting in my head as Cole stares at me, just like he'd stared into the fire the entire trip to Draenyth. He's doing his absolute best to make no reaction.

Solemn. He acts like this is life or death. It's just dancing. Why is Cole making it seem like it's the most important thing I've ever done? Just let me step on a few random nobles' toes, and they'll stop asking me to dance. Maybe that can be our secret weapon. I can break all the nobles' toes and then they won't be able to fight us.

But when I suggested that, both Cole and Nevan looked at me like that was crazier than setting all the guests on fire. Which, maybe it is in the Keep of Flames…

The song isn't anything like the traveling musicians that came through Blackgrove. Then again, the sound of a piano is unusual in itself. Maybe that's the issue. I don't feel like the music makes sense.

I'm supposed to be counting. The music weaves its way into me, caressing me and making me want to add another half step. One, two, three. One, two, three. But the music doesn't feel like that. It's as bad as when Cole was trying to teach me to use daggers. They just didn't make sense to me.

Like writing with my left hand.

I step on his toes again, and I see the flicker of anger on Cole's lips before it's gone. Just the slightest change from that cold, emotionless mask he'd put on.

I pull away and close my eyes. "Just wait a minute." There's no sound as I stand there, my eyes closed, and I remember the other times I've danced. Even as children, we'd gone to Midsummer festivals in Blackgrove. It was the one festival that I'd always been allowed to go to because it was a celebration of wildness. The music had played, and we'd danced, and it had been fun.

Vesta had taught Hazel and me. It differed from when Aunt Prudence had taught Hazel the court dances. It was free and frantic and fun, and the Virelle is nothing like that. Maybe that's the problem. Like why daggers were so difficult. They weren't the spear.

"Cole, I have a strange thought." He looks at me, not sure if I'm going to have yet another unacceptable outburst or if I have an actual solution to this dancing problem.

I bite my lip for a second before saying, "I know how to dance. It's just not this kind."

He frowns. "What kind of dance do you know? Maybe you're right. Maybe we can show you how to translate that knowledge to this."

I purse my lips as I try to think about what Vesta had taught us. It was so long ago that she showed us and explained the steps. "I don't know the name. How about I show you?"

He nods, a look of excitement on his face. "Go for it. It's always easier to teach someone the sword after they know how to use another weapon as long as I can frame it in the language of the other weapon. I'm sure it's the same for dancing."

The movements flash through my mind, steps I've done so many times at the Midsummer Festivals, but thinking about the exact steps without music is strange. My body doesn't seem to know how to move without music to go along with it. I try humming one of the songs they play at all the festivals, but it's not enough.

When I look at Cole with hopeful eyes, he's staring at me and shaking his head. Nevan has a similar expression on his face. That's not going to work. It was a good idea, but..

Then I know what to do. "Can you have Sia come here and put an image in your head from my memory? I'm sure you'd know the dance if you saw someone do it with music."

He nods. "That's clever, Maeve. I'll go get her. We're running out of time, and the best way to go unnoticed—something we desperately need to do—is to dance well."

I'm not entirely sure why it's so important that we don't make a scene, but Cole seems intent on it.

When he walks away, I'm left with Nevan, who is ever the silent watcher. This time, though, he speaks. "Master Cole seems… relieved, Lady Maeve. I don't know if you've recognized it yet, but you should. He is not known to be so patient."

I can't disguise the frown on my face. It's something else that I have to work on. "He's relieved? I feel like he's constantly on edge, like there's always something he's worried about."

"That's just who Cole Cyrus is," Nevan intones in that reptilian voice, each "s" sound coming out as a hiss. "I've watched him since he was a boy, Lady. He was raised to focus entirely on his goals. It's partly who he was born to be and partly who he was trained to be. There's no pulling him away from his focus, but he has smiled because of you, Lady Maeve. While at home in the one place in the world where he is not the most powerful person. His father may not believe that his betrothal to you is a good thing, but I am here to say that it is the best thing that's happened to him in many, many years."

This conversation is the most I've heard Nevan speak since we came to Draenyth almost three weeks ago. "I didn't know," I say softly. Then there are the soft sounds of two sets of footsteps in the hallway. I don't know how Cole could have moved that quickly. And… neither set of those footsteps moves with Cole's normal rhythm.

I turn to look, not sure what to expect, but it certainly isn't what I see. Rhion and a collared slave. A short and stocky female with a long beard that's been braided with feathers and beads. She's a dwarf. They're the House of Steel's servants, like the sylphs served the House of Shadows and the salamanders serve the House of Flame. She stands proudly at Rhion's side, even though her eyes are barely higher than waist level on the Prince of Steel. The steel ring around her neck marks her as a "slave", yet she looks just as proud as Nevan.

"Prince Rhion," Nevan says, standing up straight and bowing to the man that I've only seen once. A mountain of a man that I'm barely chest high to. Wearing a silver riding coat that shines like metal in the chandelier's light and a pair of black pants, he looks like he's come for a business meeting.

I'm wearing something very similar to my traveling clothes, a white linen shirt and pants. They're clothes that are comfortable to train in, just like every day. They're not clothes that are meant for going out in public.

Rhion completely ignores Nevan as he walks toward me, a curled smile on his lips. "Lady Maeve. The courts are absolutely buzzing about you and Prince Cole's betrothal. The first truly insane thing that he's done. Promising himself to a Wyrdling barely more powerful than a human. A waste of an alliance."

He looks down at me like he's appraising me, like a man would look at a horse his neighbor had just bought. "What are you doing here, Rhion?" I ask. "You know Cole won't be happy with you talking to me without him present."

"My father is meeting with King Casimir. I've spent many afternoons in the Keep of Flames over the centuries, so when I caught an unusual scent, I followed it. Here you are, just as I'd hoped."

He reaches out, his movements faster than I'd expected, and he grips my chin between his thumb and index finger. I react instinctively when I can't pull back, his fingers acting like a vise. My hand goes to the belt knife that I carry everywhere. It's out of its sheath and moving through the air faster than Rhion expects.

The blade cuts across his wrist, and he doesn't move. His eyes sharpen just a little as a river of blood runs down his forearm to his elbow, where it drips to the floor. "The little kitty has claws," he murmurs. "It's a good thing that I like it when they struggle."

Inside me, the lightning flares to life in a way that I can't remember it moving before. It's almost painful not taking my ring off. My knife flashes again and again, turning Rhion's thick arm bright red, but he only smiles, his fingers not moving or releasing me.

Then every cut heals in an instant and only the blood that coats his arm is left to tell the tale of what happened. "I see your betrothed hasn't explained what the House of Steel is capable of."

Those steel-gray eyes flash with excitement as he releases me and whirls around in a single moment. His arm raises as a wickedly curved dark steel blade comes down where his neck had just been. The blade clangs against stone covered skin, and Cole growls in rage.

Rhion's attention is completely focused on Cole, and that lightning inside me yearns to come out. I could take that ring off. I could let the shadows crawl up Rhion's body and no amount of stone skin could protect him from becoming nothing.

Do not do that. Sia's voice is in my mind. You will die. Anyone from the House of Shadows is wanted and will be executed.

Fine. I won't kill him like that. Instead, I'll kill him another way. Cole swings his blade around, but Rhion's skin along his neck turns into stone right where Cole's blade is going to hit. As the black steel bounces off, the skin turns back to normal flesh.

Then Rhion lashes out, a stone-covered fist moves through the air toward Cole's face, but Cole dances out of the way.

That's when I act. The belt knife in my hand is just as fast as Cole and Rhion, except that neither of them expects me to do anything. When that knife slides through his spine, his legs give out, sending him sprawling onto the marble. Even Cole gapes at me.

The blade is lodged directly in his spine, and the steel keeps him from healing the wound. Rhion screams in pain and tries to reach around to remove the knife from his back, but those bulky muscles won't let him bend enough.

"Stop moving," Cole says as he presses his sword against Rhion's back right below the knife. Rhion stops. Tension fills the room as Cole stands over the Prince of Steel. "You found yourself in the same room as my betrothed without me present. Then you touched her, and when she obviously tried to make you stop, you continued. I have every right in the world to kill you right now, Rhion."

When I look at Cole, there's no confusing the fury in that face. If flames were powered by anger, this entire building would be destroyed. Yet, his voice is calm.

He's more angry and more focused than the night the harpies were sent to assassinate me. Maybe it's because Rhion could have done the job had he tried to, and the harpies never had a chance.

"I wouldn't have done anything. I was just playing with your little Wyrdling pet." The words that slip from his mouth make me want to stab him again, but if anyone's going to decide what to do with Rhion, it'll be Cole. I have no idea what the consequences would be for killing or even hurting the Prince of Steel.

"It's a good thing that you hadn't. Otherwise, I'd be honor-bound to kill you and start a war that neither of our family wants or needs." Well, that explains what those repercussions would be. "Rhion, I don't know why you would think to come here, in my home, and try to play with my betrothed. Do you have a death wish?"

"No. I…" He grimaces, and I can see the knife slowly beginning to be pushed out of his spine. I consider pulling it out, but Cole shakes his head at me. "I was trying to find you. I found your pet instead, and I was just playing. Your servant will tell you I didn't hurt her."

Cole bends down and pulls the dagger from Rhion's back, wipes the blood on Rhion's tunic, and then hands it to me. Only a few seconds later, Rhion's climbing to his feet, a wide smile on his lips.

It's not leveled at Cole, though. "For a Wyrdling, you're quick with that little thing." I don't return the smile, and he looks back at Cole. "We should talk. Soon. Things are happening, and… and I think that there are going to be a lot of debts called in."

He holds up his wrist, and I catch sight of a thin black tally mark. Not daring to say the name of who he owes that debt to, he says, "Be ready because I've heard my father in his study. War is coming, and if there was ever a time to call in debts, it'll be now. I don't know whose side he'll choose, but the possibility of him swaying the tides of this war is very likely."

Cole holds Rhion's gaze for a moment and then nods to him. Rhion's seriousness turns into another wide smile as he looks down at me. "Good seeing you again, Wyrdling. You might want a bigger blade next time."

"I don't see why. You were the one who was looking death in the eye for a few moments there. I think my blade worked just fine."

He grins again and gives Cole a nod before walking out of the ballroom with his slave in tow.

The entire conversation catches up with me all at once. I blink and look at Cole for a moment before I grab his hand and turn it over. Right there, somehow unseen this entire time, there's a thin black tally mark. Cole Cyrus owes the Shade a debt. I look into his eyes. "You don't trust me? Yet you owe him too?"

He stares back at me, his eyes growing harder. "Have I let anything bad happen to you, Maeve?"

"No. But," I say, but he stops me.

"No. I haven't. I won't let anything happen to you. It would break me. Do you understand what that means? If someone, anyone, were to force me to do something that would hurt you, I simply wouldn't do it. And I'd probably kill that person."

Cole shifts, his hand moving to his wrist, and for the first time, I see him rub the tally mark, just as I do so often. A movement that seems strange on him.

I stare at him. The punishment for breaking an agreement with the Shade is death. Even if you kill the Shade, if you break the agreement, you die as well. That's how magical oaths work. Everyone, including humans, knows that.

"You can trust me, Maeve. But can I trust you?"

I stare down at the proof of my own oaths. The little marks on my wrist that I'd almost forgotten about. Would I die instead of let him get hurt? The question hangs over me like a shroud. That is the reason he doesn't trust me. Because I don't know if I'd die to keep him safe.

Instead of answering him, I ask him a different question. "You know what I received in return for my debts. What was so valuable that you offered your life in exchange?"

He looks past me. "I was given purpose. I was given a chance to heal the wounds that I created." Purpose? That doesn't sound like something you'd ask the Shade for.

While I'm still trying to puzzle it out, Sia says, Did you wish for me to show Master Cole what dance you remembered?

Oh. Right. That's what we were doing. I nod to her, and it's only a few seconds later that Cole laughs. Yes, he bursts out laughing. After all the serious talk about debts and a bucket of Rhion's blood on the floor, Cole feels as light as a feather.

"Of course you can't dance the Virelle. You learned the Brandle when you were still a child. How many times have you danced like that?"

I shrug. "Every Midsummer ceremony. Just like Vesta taught me and Hazel." That's when it clicks. It's Midsummer. The day after the ball. "Wait. Cole, is the event you have to go to a Midsummer ceremony? Is that what this is all about?"

He looks at me, and I notice everyone in the room turn to me, as though my question is a surprise. Now that I think about it, it's a little strange that I haven't wondered about what the event was.

"Yes," Cole says solemnly after a moment's hesitation. "The event I'm going to is only for nobles, though. It's supposed to be an honor to be invited to it, but I'd prefer if I could skip it. Luckily for you, no one will expect you to attend."

The chance to meet with Calyr. The reason we've been practicing so much with shadows the past few days. Cole thinks that I may have to use them to get through the Keep's guards.

"Anyway," Cole says, breaking the tension, "the Brandle is in four-four time. If that's the only dance you've ever done, then that's the issue. Your head just needs to spend more time moving. It's not that you can't dance; it's that you can't dance in three-fourths time. And that's just a matter of practice. Let me go get some sticks…"

And he runs off, leaving me with Sia and Nevan, both of whom are grinning. When they're away from the rest of the nobility, with only Cole and me, it seems like they don't worry so much about the expected cold masks.

It can only be explained by how they both seem to trust Cole. They don't trust the rest of the nobility, though.

"This is Master Cole's way," Nevan says. "Even as a child, he would find something to focus on, some solution to a child's problem, and there was no way to pull him away. Food and drink and his studies didn't matter until he'd finished what he'd set out to do. You should have been there the day that he decided he was going to teach Lady Ainslee how to climb a tree. They'd spent two entire days hunting for the perfect tree for her to learn on. You couldn't have found a more serious and excited Immortal in all of Draenyth."

And for the first time, I see a smile on Nevan's face. The scaled face that has been so cold and emotionless every time that I've spoken to him. Even more than the other Immortals in Draenyth. But as soon as he started talking about children, especially Cole, it's like the handcuffs were removed from his emotions.

I ask the question that I haven't had the courage to talk to anyone about except Cole. "Nevan, when the Houses of Shadows and Earth were broken, and then no more Immortal children were born, people knew the cause, didn't they?"

Nevan nods slowly but doesn't respond with any words. The smile fades immediately now that we're on a more serious topic. "Why didn't anyone try to fix it? People try to become stronger. It's an innate need in a world as dangerous as the one we live in, so I understand why they attacked. At a certain point, you have to accept that you messed up, and you have to fix things, don't you? Even people who crave that power should know that killing the world in pursuit of it is the wrong decision. Right?"

Nevan blinks but doesn't answer. Lord Casimir Cyrus does not care what happens to the world. He only cares for what happens to his House, and if he had not allied himself with King Gethin, then he would have been targeted first. The House of Flame is weakest against the House of Steel, and King Gethin was going to war whether Lord Casimir had joined him or not. Lord Casimir doesn't know how to get out of the situation he's in. For an Immortal who has lived for many thousands of years, thirty years with no children in Draenyth barely concerns him.

Sia has learned how to be forgotten almost immediately, but when her words flow through my head, they make sense. And are honest. She must have told Nevan the same things because I see what can only be the shimmer of a tear in those reptilian eyes. Then it's gone, and he's acting like the excellent butler that he is.

"That is a question that only a noble such as your betrothed would have appropriate answers for. I don't pretend to know the effects of things such as war." He spreads his hands and gives a bow of the head. "I'm simply a butler."

The correct answer. The one that Casimir would approve of. More importantly, the one that wouldn't have him killed or brutalized. These two had lived within this world where pain and death were always just one mistaken comment away.

"I'll have to ask Cole then," I say, understanding the need to brush the discussion away. And as if saying his name had summoned him, he walks into the room with two thin wooden sticks in his hands and a wide smile on his face.

"Now, let's try this again," he says with more enthusiasm than I've seen since we started attempting to dance. I take a deep breath and give him a nod, even though I have no idea what he expects to do with those sticks.

"Nevan is going to play the song. You're going to move to the rhythm as if we were dancing, but I want you to listen to me instead of Nevan. I'm going to be beating the rhythm much louder than the piano. Does that make sense?"

I can't help but look at the man that has changed everything in my world and give him a wide grin. He wasn't there when my life originally changed, but he's been there every step of the way afterward. And now he's going to force me to learn to dance in a ballroom, something that I'd never imagined possible.

I've seen him do terrible things. Murder means nothing to him. Ruining the harpy's life rather than killing her was far crueler than I would have been. He is just as much a High Fae as his father, but there is so much kindness in him. And he's trying to carry the very world on his shoulders.

Yet, when I close my eyes at night, it's not always him I see. Even when he softly snores beside me. Sometimes, it's the Shade and the dark power he wields. The way he's tempted me and touched me in ways that terrify and excite me.

I'm betrothed to Cole and indebted to the Shade, and I know that at some point, I'm going to have to choose a side. And I don't know which one I'll follow.

One day, the Shade is going to force my hand, and Rhion's words only bring the issue to the forefront of my mind. But it's not today, and today, I'm going to enjoy being tortured by dancing.

"It won't ever make sense, but let's do it anyway," I say with a grin.

I glance down at the blood that's still wet on the floor from Rhion. Something that none of us have even bothered to address. The Prince of Steel was almost killed right here only a few minutes ago, and we're going right back to dancing lessons. That's what my life has become.

One where dancing takes priority over the emotions of having been in a life or death fight with an Immortal. We completely brushed over the fact that Cole owes a debt to the Shade. And that the Shade will probably begin calling in debts. That a war is coming and Rhion wanted to warn Cole.

Everything that's been building is about to come crashing down in a crescendo, and while Cole seems to have it all under control, I can see things slipping. I can see that he's just a little late. That he doesn't have as much knowledge as he needs. We're moving in the right direction, but can we move fast enough?

And what exactly is causing it all to build so quickly?

Cole will only have one answer: trust him. And I do trust him. More than anyone.