2. Chapter 2

two

N evander wore the finest riding boots Dracian coin could buy, and as riding boots, they were flawless, but as walking boots, they were abysmal.

Each squelching step through the muddy ruts of the road had him questioning the sanity of this trip. His fine woolen socks, soaked through an hour ago, chafed relentlessly against his ankles. He grimaced, fighting the urge to curse aloud.

A plaintive mew drew his attention. Atop Sunu’s saddle, Akeela’s damp fur shimmered in the fading light, her golden eyes accusing.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Nevander muttered. “You’re the one who decided to stow away.” He should have known his cat wouldn’t let him make this journey alone. “At least you’ve got the saddle. Consider yourself fortunate.”

Sunu limped beside him, favoring the ankle she’d twisted in a pothole five miles back. Nevander’s jaw clenched. The Dracian roads, once impeccably maintained, had fallen into disrepair since the Birazahian war. Another reminder of how much had changed.

Memories of the war threatened to surface, but Nevander shoved them away. Not now. He couldn’t think of it now.

Instead, he focused on Castien’s letter, the reason for this muddy trek. The news of Queen Lyra hosting the Axan Moon Festival had caught him off guard. No one had celebrated in two years, not since Dane’s death and Castien’s poisoning.

Castien’s words echoed in his mind. His parents believed the poisoners had been killed, but Castien wasn’t convinced. He’d begged Nevander to join him at the festival and aid in uncovering the truth while fending off his mother’s relentless efforts to marry him off.

Poor Castien. With Dane’s death, he was now the heir to the Krithadean throne, thrust into the role he never wanted. Nevander didn't envy him in the least. As a third son, he was grateful for the buffer between himself and the Dracian crown.

They slogged up one final hill. As they crested it, the lights of the inn twinkled with an inviting glow in the distance, and Nevander sagged in relief.

The sun had already set, the sky turning violet as darkness descended on the landscape. Akeela stretched her paw toward him, letting out a soft mew. He gathered her into his arms, her watchful gaze darting at every rustle in the underbrush.

“I suppose there’s a warm bowl of milk for you too, little stowaway,” he murmured, scratching under her chin as she kneaded his cloak. “Though you were supposed to guard the others for me.”

She flicked her hooded eyes to his as if to say, “I’m your cat, remember?”

Yes, he remembered. He tucked her into his arms and kept walking.

In less than a mile, he would soak his aching body in a hot bath and put some good food in his belly. Everything would be fine.

Everything was not fine.

Kallessa persevered all the way to the inn, but the moment her feet hit solid ground, her stomach rebelled. Stumbling over hidden pebbles, she dashed behind the inn, the rotten odors from picked over scraps and spoiled beer assaulting her nose. Leaning against a tree, she desperately tried to calm her breathing.

It did no good. Hours of swaying and that horridly constricting corset swelled up her throat, and she doubled over and vomited onto the embankment. Through the misery, she begrudgingly appreciated her cousin’s insistence on putting her hair up in a respectable fashion. At least it stayed out of the way of her retching.

As her heaves settled, exhaustion seeped into her limbs. Her entire body ached in ways she didn’t know was possible. If the new moon hadn’t left the surroundings pitch black, she’d have been tempted to just collapse into the grass. It was a wonder she hadn’t tripped over anything in her mad dash as it was. She shivered as cool breezes chilled the sweat on her neck. Please let Dovina have their room by now. Oh, to lie down and be still!

With trembling hands, she lifted her sodden hem and picked her way across the damp grass. At the well beside the entrance, she rinsed her mouth and splashed her face before trudging to the entrance.

But before both feet crossed the threshold, she knew something was wrong. Her cousin was yelling. Kallessa dashed inside, only to come to an abrupt halt at the scene before her .

Dovina’s angry words echoed off the wood-beamed ceiling as she stood nose-to-nose with a mountain of a man, heedless of his dangerous scowl. Bronze braids fell to his broad shoulders, and his worn leathers and mud-caked boots marked him as a traveler. In his muscular arms he cradled... a cat? The poor gray feline looked as annoyed as the man holding it. Kallessa knew exactly how the cat felt, having been on the receiving end of Dovina’s screeching on many occasions.

Kallessa sighed, pressing her fingertips to her throbbing temple. Of course, Dovina would pick a fight with the first person she saw. She steeled herself and stepped farther into the inn.

Caught in the middle, the innkeeper’s shiny bald head swung back and forth, his eyes darting nervously between the two opponents.

“He gave the room to me because you didn’t show up,” Dovina yelled, jabbing a finger at the innkeeper.

“Yet here I stand.” The large man’s free hand gestured broadly. Despite his rough appearance, his resonant voice carried a commanding air that made Kallessa’s toes curl in her damp slippers. He was breathtaking, all male prowess and power. “You can get another room.”

“I’m sorry, sir, that was the last room,” the innkeeper’s quavering voice came from behind the thick wooden counter that hosted multiple statues of owls. If only Kallessa could hide behind the counter with him.

“It seems,” the man said cooly, “that you should have made a reservation as I did.”

Dovina’s eyes bulged. “My father is Lord Wynlar of Teansong! I don’t have to make a reservation. ”

Kallessa’s stomach dropped. Oh, Dovina. Had she really not made a reservation? She held back a groan, holding onto the doorway for support. What a perfect way to end this horrible day.

But they had to give the man his room, even though the thought made her want to cry. And she fully intended to tell Dovina that, but exhaustion stole her voice. She was so tired she couldn’t muster up the energy to fight against her cousin, and the thought of not lying down soon made her head spin.

Then Dovina’s gaze landed on Kallessa, a calculating gleam entering her eyes. She stalked over, grasped Kallessa’s arm, and dragged her forward, her grip lancing pain through Kallessa’s skin as she stumbled across the wooden planks. Not until Dovina faced the imposing man did she finally let her go. Kallessa rubbed her arm before raising her eyes to him. Up close, he seemed even taller, his braids in disarray and a wild beard framing piercing green eyes that sparked with irritation.

Dovina thrust her hands towards Kallessa. “Surely you can see that my companion is ill! Would you be so despicable as to make her sleep with the horses? We can’t possibly travel any further tonight.”

Nevander’s jaw clenched as he counted to ten, then twenty in his head. Years at court had honed his control, but this flaxen-haired banshee threatened to unravel it with each pompous word that spewed from her lips .

She was beautiful in an over-bred way that spoke of too much pampering and even though she was young, her waist was corseted tightly, as if to force curves onto a body that had yet to form them.

The urge to put her in her place burned in his throat, but he swallowed it down. Here, he was just another traveler, and that’s how he needed to remain.

His gaze shifted to the woman beside her. Even wan and wilted, she was alluring. Black lashes, adorned with droplets of water, framed exotic dark eyes that mirrored the flickering fire in the hearth. Damp mahogany curls escaping her coiffure framed a face as pale as alabaster, her full lips quivering faintly. Her gown, although well-fitted to her curvy body, was damp and rumpled.

He gazed at her face again. He’d seen that look before, on the faces of seasick sailors he’d once commanded, brave men that were now mere shadows in his past. Her eyelids were threatening to flutter shut right before him and she swayed slightly. She met his eyes, and a shock of awareness ran through him.

He couldn’t take the room from her.

Nevander’s body ached with the decision he was about to make, but if he didn’t, those dark eyes would haunt him. Those plump, kissable lips would whisper guilty pleas to him in his sleep. His jaw clenched.

Then he bid farewell to the luxury of his bath, the smoothness of his sheets, and the comfort of his soft bed.

Forcing evenness into his voice, Nevander flicked his gaze back to the insufferable blond. “Fine. You take the room.” The words tasted bitter on his tongue, but it was all he could manage without unleashing a barrage of naval profanities that would make even hardened sailors blush .

Then he strode away, leaving a muddy trail behind him, his feet aching and blisters rubbing.

“You entered the lobby at the perfect time, looking so pale and ill.” Dovina’s grin glinted in the mirror as she unbraided her hair. “By the way, you do look terrible.”

“So happy I could accommodate you,” Kallessa mumbled under her breath as she slumped in front of the small table that held their dinner. Its wooden surface had a fat face of an owl carved into it.

The rich aroma of the stew the innkeeper had brought up twisted her stomach. Any other time, such a meal would’ve been a treat. Now, guilt gnawed at her insides.

She placed the lid over the plate, the clink of metal on ceramic echoing her unease. “Why didn’t you have Uncle Talos reserve a room for us?”

“Oh, why bother him with such petty things?” Dovina’s fingers massaged her scalp, working through her curls. “It worked out, didn’t it? Who did that vagabond think he was, anyway?”

Kallessa rubbed her aching eyes. “Did it matter? This room was his.” That was no vagabond. She might not have spent her whole life in society, but she recognized authority when she saw it. Yet, she’d also seen that look of resignation in his eyes when he’d gazed at her. If she hadn’t stumbled into the lobby when she had...

A shiver ran through her. They could’ve spent a sleepless night in the carriage, cold seeping through their clothes. Instead, the crackling fire filled the room with warmth, lanterns casting a cozy glow. In one corner sat a sizable copper tub, and the bed was a luxurious cloud, overstuffed with feathers, adorned with wool blankets and downy pillows. This room promised a blissful night’s sleep. But not for the man who had reserved it.

Dovina continued. “You just don’t understand how things work. My father is very powerful, you know. He could crush this little inn with a letter to the crown.”

Her father. The words struck like a blow.

Five years. Father, Mother, and her little brother, Blain, gone for five years. Kallessa understood that power perfectly. Once, her father had been Lord Wynlar. But he would’ve never used his influence to ruin an honest business over a slight to his daughter. He would’ve slept in his own carriage before putting a man out of his room.

Why was she even on this ill-fated journey? What was Aunt Gevene doing right now without her? Did she even know how to live by herself anymore? This was a stupid idea. To think that some prince in another kingdom would listen to her was absurd. She couldn’t even get the people of Teansong to acknowledge her.

Dovina was seventeen now, the same age Kallessa had been when she’d lost everything. Had she ever been so careless of others’ feelings?

“Help me with these buttons,” Dovina interrupted her thoughts, gesturing toward the back of her gown. Kallessa had stripped out of her own gown and corset as soon as they had gotten settled and she relished every breath she inhaled. Corsets were undeniably instruments of torture, and each dress from Dovina was a reminder, because they wouldn’t fit without one .

Now Kallessa stood in her dressing gown, a blue robe tied about her waist. She deftly unhooked the cloth-covered buttons down the back of Dovina’s gown and quickly unlaced her corset.

Dovina sighed in relief. “It does feel good to breathe, doesn’t it?”

Kallessa held Dovina’s skirts as she stepped out of them. “Why do we wear these awful things?”

“For fashion, of course.” Dovina’s blithe response hung in the air. Kallessa couldn’t have disagreed more.