Chapter 10

Chapter

Ten

TRESSYA

Tolum's sprawl reached down to the waterfront, its dock a lively place full of bustle and noise. The smells of dead fish, oil, and brine reminded me too much of home and the person I'd left behind. I clutched Carlin's necklace and tried hard to shut the vision of him out; mourning his loss wouldn't help me survive.

"I can't wait to show you the sights," Andriet said, snapping me out of my reverie. He was standing close beside me, closer than a married couple would stand in public; only in private and deeply in love.

He turned to face me, leaning his hip against the railing of the ship. "Tell me, what're your secret hobbies? Not stuffy pursuits such as needlework and weaving." He leaned down, bringing his dark eyes level with mine. "I mean the pursuits your father would frown upon." And he quirked a brow.

I couldn't help but look at Andriet on the voyage to Tolum. He was handsome in a classical way that would send the court ladies into a huddle of chatter at balls. However, my reason for staring had more to do with the shadows cast upon my soul. His bright manner, smile, and vivacious conversations filled me with joy, and I couldn't help feeling as though we were in a cheerful dance. The clouds vanished from my future when Andriet shone his dark-colored eyes on me.

"Tell me all, dear sister, and I'll see if I can match them with the delights Tolum offers." He swept his arm wide toward his city. "Every treasure is at your feet."

"I'm not interested in treasure."

He reared back, eyes flaring wide. "What?" he exclaimed in mock surprise. "A princess not interested in treasure? That cannot be. You jest."

I made to slip one of my daggers from my hip, only to remember they were now stowed below in a trunk, thanks to Radnisa. "My blades need sharpening."

"Oh, those. Yes, I saw those. That's not a very lady-like pursuit. Perhaps you should take up needlework."

"I doubt a needle through the enemy's heart would have much impact."

He lowered down, leaning an elbow on the railing. "You're quite the treat. A blade-throwing princess. Are all Merania's ladies taught to fight? If so, I would very much like to visit."

"Only a special few."

Andriet took my hand, winked at me before bending to kiss the back of my palm. "Then Tarragona is lucky one of those special few shall sit beside her husband on the throne."

A warm feeling bled through my chest as Andriet squeezed my hand. I pressed my lips tight to stem the smile, then strained against the fight. The lightness in my body made me want to dance.

I wanted to ask about Prince Juel, but the words seemed to ball up in my mouth. For days now, questions mounted, and my mouth felt fuller with every passing hour, but I couldn't bring myself to ask. Instead, I envisioned a man like his brother; I thought of sunshine and laughter and moments where no words needed to be spoken because we understood each other. That wasn't like me. I blamed Andriet and his infectious mood for weakening me to the point where I dared to dream.

There was, however, one thing that kept me firmly grounded. Radnisa stood within my periphery, eavesdropping on everything we said while sharpening her spite. Later tonight, when we were alone, she would get her chance to share her thoughts with me, whether I was interested or not. Andriet had stayed by my side these last few days, giving Radnisa no time to swoop in with her cruel taunts and douse the budding happiness I felt. For all the times she had sniped and snapped about my future marriage, now she had a slap on her face. Tarragona was my home, and I was welcome.

"This is us, dear sister," Andriet said, taking my hand and guiding me toward the plank, which was lowered across to the dock. "I shall walk beside you and hold your hand the entire time. Can't have that gorgeous dress or fancy swirl in your hair drowned."

Radnisa, whose glare could forge iron, had to stand aside or be run down by Andriet's stride. My arm woven through his, I allowed my silly smile to show, feeling for the first time like all those ladies at my father's court when noblemen fawned upon them.

When I was younger, I had never wanted to be like them, but I had desired to be with them. Lucky for me, I soon discovered they were little more than the fancy dolls that had lined my nursery shelves: hollow. I welcomed being ignored rather than forced to engage in their frivolous conversations and petty concerns.

And what about the court at Emberfell? I hadn't asked Andriet a thing about his home, instead staying under the spell of his fantastical stories. Only now, as I made my way onto the dock, did I understand why I had held my tongue. The queasiness in my stomach returned, and I pressed my fingers into Andriet's arm.

I glanced up at him, taking in the high cut of his cheekbone, the slight up-tilt of his nose, and the soft curve of his full lips in profile. He looked nothing like Carlin, but in many other ways, they were identical.

"Is...? Is your brother like you?"

"I'm much more handsome."

Finally, I pushed myself to ask the one question that concerned me. "Why did you come to meet me and not the crown prince?"

"Juel must bother himself with boring stately affairs. Whereas I, as the second-born, get to do what I damn well please. And if I grow sick of my idleness and decide I want to sail out and meet the treasure of Tarragona, then that is what I'll do."

Apparently, a passing fishing vessel alerted Emberfell to our plight, but once again, I loved his embellishments in that tale.

An exquisite, closed carriage, iron-wrought with intricate detail, waited for us on the dock. Behind that, a plainer open carriage.

Six black horses snorted by the carriage. Eight black-clad guards waited; their horses restless. There was no sign of Prince Juel or any other member of the royal family. Seeming to sense my thoughts, Andriet squeezed my hand. "Anticipation is best. Don't you think?"

"Of course." Not in my experience.

To my surprise, Andriet did not release my hand once we'd crossed the bridge. When I glanced up at him, I found his eyes fixed on the row of guards.

Like Aldorr, Emberfell rose above the city sprawl, perched atop a hill. Unlike Aldorr, heavy cloud cover and its dark stone walls tainted the castle a deep, morose gray. It stretched across the mount like an imposing lump of rock, carved by a giant's hand into spear-like spikes fashioned skyward into the clouds.

To the west rose another mighty edifice, black as night and just as imposing as Emberfell. A temple, perhaps.

"After you." Andriet distracted me, helping me into the covered carriage. "Father has planned a great many delights in celebration of your arrival and your impending marriage." He climbed in and sat opposite me. "Balls, street parades, and of course, the grand trials."

The footman closed the door behind us, shutting Radnisa out. She glared in at me, her expression a promise of repercussions, and all I could do was shrug as I smiled.

"Trials?" I asked, losing my concentration on what Andriet said because everything about what was unfolding was too delicious to miss.

"A Tarragonan tradition. Dates to the triumph of the Levenians over the unjust king. The Creed of Salmun have assured the tradition remains. No royal marriage is considered sanctified without one."

That drew my focus back. "Who competes?"

Andriet slid across the carriage to sit beside me, then slouched, stretching his legs out to rest his boots on the seat opposite. I inhaled the spicy florals of his scent, still fresh after days at sea. "The nobility. It's a chance for a man to show off his prowess and bravery. The courtiers get to swoon, we get to look good."

I peered out the window, disappointed to see Radnisa led to the plain carriage as our own moved away. Better if they forced her to walk the distance to Emberfell, but I couldn't have it all my way.

I turned back to Andriet, taking a moment to remember our conversation. "Is it dangerous?"

"Savagely so. There are deaths, to be sure. But the strongest and bravest always triumph, and receive great honors to their name, titles, lands, jewels, wealth, favors from the king, these are not trivial goals to strive for. Half the peerage in Tarragona won their privileges in the trials. Besides, it's hardly a trial if it doesn't involve great risk.

"The gentry ensure only one of their sons enters, so they don't lose all of their line. But if they only have the one, then, perhaps, most think it's worth the risk."

"If the trial takes place proceeding a royal marriage, then that would mean you've never witnessed one."

"Petty details, my sweet. I've read all the accounts on them. I could recite some of the gory details to you if you would like."

"It seems a senseless thing to do for honor and wealth."

"Spoken like a woman; the gentler sex, full of charms and graces and a far wiser brain on top their shoulders. Of course, it's a ridiculous way to gain a title, but my dear, if you're not born or married into peerage, then there is little chance of gaining it. Some will do anything."

"Will you enter?"

"Alas, no. It's Juel's wedding. All eyes must be on him."

"So he'll enter?"

"His will be the first name called. You needn't worry, he'll be well protected. The Creed of Salmun won't let a perfect hair on top of his head be damaged." I couldn't be sure, but I thought I detected a hint of spite in Andriet's tone. I'd not known him for long, but it seemed out of place. Before I could think on it, he continued. "He'll arrive to you on your wedding night very much alive and ready for…" He glanced at me and snorted a laugh.

"Don't be prudish, brother," I said with a grin.

He sat up, dropping his legs to the carriage floor. "Wonderful. A bride who wields blades and isn't afraid to fuck."

I chuckled. When I stopped, I found Andriet's dark eyes fixed on me, his expression caught between excitement and seriousness. "You're not what I expected. And I mean that from the depths of my heart."

"What did you expect?"

"Someone who would never be my friend."

"Is that what we are already?"

"Totally. I knew the moment I saw you. You're not…" His gaze flicked to my hair, my dress, then back to my face, and I knew what descriptive word he struggled to use. I was plain.

I had fought a successful war with Radnisa on my choice of dress for my first meeting with my future husband. I selected a simple one, or rather the simplest I could find in my trunk. Radnisa insisted on something elaborate until I reminded her Juel would bed me no matter how I appeared. An heir was his responsibility as the crown prince, after all. He'd seen Edilene's portrait, she'd argued. I countered by saying any account of me was bound to be accurate; there were few impressive features about me someone could embellish.

"As a princess should be," I finished for him.

But a royal guardsman, who had ridden up beside the window, caught his eye. I waited until I had his attention again, and when it wasn't forthcoming, I looked over my shoulder to the dusky-skinned guard keeping pace beside us. High cheekbones, powerful jaw, straight nose with a neatly cropped beard, a combination of features to capture any woman's attention. Or man. I turned back to Andriet. He shifted his eyes to me, then blinked.

"He's supposed to keep pace at the back of the carriage so as not to block your view during our procession to the palace. That he should know. I'll have a private word with him when we arrive. I don't want him to get into trouble."

"I don't suppose you do."

He sat back in his seat, obscuring his view of the guard outside the carriage. "What were we saying?"

"You were promising to teach me everything there is to know about Tarragona's politics, court intrigue, and history with the northern realm."

"I'd never promise that. How about I promise to show you the inside of all the reputable taverns in Tolum? Though the disreputable ones are more fun."

"Are they places for a lady to be seen?"

"Absolutely not. And that's why you'll love them more."

Everything about Andriet was pleasantly contagious.

"I guess as the crown prince, your brother doesn't get to sneak away to taverns."

"That's why you have me."

Andriet had drawn my focus away from the docks and into the narrow streets of the city, where the buildings seemed to lean against one another. The further from the sullen gray and grime of the docklands, its people moving with a listless edge that stooped their backs and aged their faces, past the heaving choke of the factories, Tolum transformed into a vibrant city full of many colors. I leaned my head out of the window and looked ahead to Emberfell, rising like a monstrous claw over the city, its dark walls an affront to the sprawling city below.

The wheels crunched the stones until we arrived at cobbles, then the horses' hooves clattered us into the grand sweeping gates of Emberfell castle.

Andriet rushed off to have a quick word with the striking guard while I took the time to smooth my clammy palms down the sides of my skirt. The castle loomed over me, its vast columns of dark stone standing like spears pointing to the sky, creating an aura of ominous power and ancient majesty. The colossal structure, seemingly carved from the darkest depths of the earth, absorbed all light around it, casting long, eerie shadows across the barren landscape. Menacing statues of weird creatures adorned the battlements, their eyes seemingly following every movement with a silent threat.

Radnisa's carriage hadn't shown by the time I disappeared inside Emberfell, much to my delight. It seemed my good fortune would continue for now. I fought with myself not to see this as a sign of hope that my life had finally shifted to one I could enjoy, rather than one I simply endured.

I arched a quizzical brow at the bounce in Andriet's step as he returned, pressing my lips hard to hide my smile. It seemed his talk went well.

"Shall we?" He crooked his arm in yet another shocking gesture of intimacy, and I slid my arm through, surrendering to my smile. Never had I smiled so much in one day. A funny fluttering feeling churned in my stomach when I thought of the man I was about to meet inside Emberfell. Please let him be like Andriet .

The dark stone of the interior walls, lack of sizable windows, and scant torch brackets along the walls dragged the night in early to Emberfell's corridors, as though it had left some of itself behind on passing. I hoped somewhere in my trunks of gowns I would find something fitting for Emberfell's chilly halls.

I pulled my travel cloak closer around me as I glanced at the long tapestry, intricately woven with miserable colors of dark reds, dirty oranges, tortured pinks, and differing shades of browns and grays.

Andriet slowed beside me to keep pace. "A history of Tarragona told by the hands of its skillful weavers."

"It looks like a violent history." More than half the tapestry depicted a bloody battle.

"Not as violent as you would think. The tapestry was commissioned centuries later in commemoration of the great war."

"I know very little of Tarragona's history. Even my knowledge of the near realms' history is poor. What was the great war?"

"To us, it's legend. A pivotal moment in our history, bringing monumental change. Our power and wealth are all thanks to the Levenians' success in defeating the unjust king, King Ricaud, who ruled in tyranny."

"Levenian was a name I'd heard whispered when I was young, though none of my studies have ever mentioned them. Unfortunately, none of my studies mentioned anything of interest."

"Oh really? Where did you learn to fight? I find that of great interest."

I gave him a coy smile—something I was sure I'd never done before, but it was difficult to stay detached in Andriet's presence. "It's a secret."

"Secrets are my favorite form of gossip. I do hope you'll tell me before long."

"Perhaps. For now, it's leverage."

Andriet laughed. "I love you already. You're wicked."

Forgetting the tapestry, I stared up into his dark eyes, following the tiny black lines moving out from the center of his eyes to the edges of the whites.

"What color eyes does your brother have?"

"Curiosity from the bride is a good thing. They are green, depending on the color of the day. Sometimes they may look closer to a sludge-like gray, and nowhere near as noticeable as mine."

"What about the color of his hair?"

"You'll find out soon enough." He gently pulled me along, but an unusual image on the tapestry caught my eye.

Slipping my arm from his, I moved closer. "Who are they?" I pointed to gray-hooded figures with their faces and bodies obscured under long flowing cloaks.

"Our strength. Thanks to them, Tarragona has rebuffed many attacks over the centuries. Our continual dominance within the near realms is all down to the Creed of Salmun, a wizard cast who arrived with the Levenian one thousand years ago, or so the legends say.

"When the great war was won, the people of Tarragona rejoiced at the end of King Ricaud's harsh rule and begged the Levenian to call Tarragona their home. They didn't. They returned to their realm across the sea, but placed a strong and fair ruler upon the Tarragonan throne and left their wizards to protect our lands."

"Did the war stretch as far as the north?"

"The north is inhospitable. Only fools and Huungardred would care to fill the place. They say the unjust king's daughter was taken into the north rather than face the same fate as her father. There she bred with those beast-men. Her offspring were an abomination and have remained as such ever since. You have suffered greatly by their hands. They are cowards with no remorse or honor to stay hidden in the north. But you don't want to hear any more of that tale. Come, Father will be waiting."

Andriet guided me deeper into Emberfell until we approached two large wood doors, guarded by two sentinels on either side, baldrics slung over their left shoulders and spears in their hands.

We were almost at the doors when three figures drifted out of a shadowy alcove. They kept their faces and bodies hidden under large hooded gray cloaks that reached as low as the stone floor. Their hands were the only part of their skin showing, which they kept clasped in front of their bodies.

"Your Highness." The one who spoke inclined his head. His voice was like a serpent's venom, poisonous after time had elapsed. "This is the woman?" The pungent smell of resin and burned herbal oils followed him as he stepped closer.

"Tressya," Andriet corrected him.

Dressed as they were, these three had to be the Levenian wizards Andriet praised for strengthening Tarragona's borders and keeping the kingdom safe.

"She seems adequate," came the serpentine voice of the tallest, standing before his brethren.

"Tressya's more than adequate. She's an indomitable fighter. And we're already good friends. I think she will add much-needed light into the darkened halls of Emberfell."

"I meant no disrespect, Sire." This time he bent forward into a stiff bow.

Andriet turned to me, dismissing him. "We shouldn't keep Father waiting."

He spun and faced the door, straightening himself and shifting his shoulders backward. In my periphery, the tall wizard moved in behind me, heating my neck with his crackling breath. My fingers itched for my daggers, hidden in my trunks, as a ripple of unease coursed across my shoulders. Since I couldn't fight, I released the shutter on my mind, smoothing away the sensory barrier between myself and the wizard.

A fast beat rushed inside, echoing through my body like a hammer at my back. I sneaked a look in my periphery at Andriet, head held high, staring at the closed doors. Feeling his wild, erratic heartbeat, I realized his outward display of gaiety was a facade. He was nervous.

He'd come into my body so easily, but his presence was not the essence I was looking for. I squinted my eyes in an effort to push Andriet's essence aside and instead focused on the cloaked man behind me, but my mind slammed against a shield. At that moment, the doors swung wide, snapping my awareness to the large room in front of me and the long stretch of polished stone leading to the foot of a wood dais and the king sitting upon his throne.

Andriet led me into the room. The wizard came on my heels, his robes whispering across the floor as he moved on silent feet. I couldn't help but stay focused on the unknown person at my back, but I needed to concentrate on the people before me: the king, sitting proud upon his iron throne, but more importantly, the man sitting upon an impressive seat of his own to the right of his father. Crown Prince Juel.

The similarities to Andriet I saw first, those parts of Andriet I had quickly learned to appreciate. Both had the fine features their father lacked: sloping foreheads, slim faces, aquiline noses, and skin the color of uncooked pastry. It was predominantly their eyes that linked them as brothers, but also drew them apart. Andriet's eyes shone with the light in his heart. Juel's eyes remained like stone, his expression the harsh edges of a cliff face. Here was my husband, staring down at me from his seat perched atop the dais like an eagle on a ledge.

I had been a fool to dream.

I shifted my attention to King Henricus. Unlike his son, the king sat heavy on his throne. An imposing man with strong features, broad shoulders, and a rounded middle. Except for the gray sprinkled through his hair and heavy beard, he looked too young for children so grown. He had the eyes of a hunter, shrewd and all-seeing. By the way he watched my approach, I could tell his mind was already writing an unsavory letter to my father, outlining his deceit in offloading his bastard daughter.

Andriet bent into a sweeping bow. "Father." His voice remained cheerful. If I'd not felt his racing heartbeat brush alongside my own, I would have believed his facade. "I wish to present Princess Tressya, who's arrived safely into our care."

The king rested his elbow on his chair, taking the time to walk his gaze over me. "So it would seem." His tone was flat, as if bored by his duties and wanting to be elsewhere.

"The reports were true. Northerners att?—"

"What do you think." King Henricus turned his head to Juel. Juel unfolded his legs and rose from his seat.

"Noble of you to rescue her, brother. You've done your bit." And he flicked his hand, dismissing Andriet. The boredom in his voice oozed over me like a slurry.

"Perhaps we should send scouts to the?—"

"Or you should leave the important decisions to us," Juel drawled, cocking his head to the side and eyeing Andriet as one would stare at a fool.

I flexed my fingers, then admonished my instinct to reach for my daggers as Juel swaggered down the steps toward me. He was taller and broader than Andriet, with a lush mouth that wore no hint of a welcoming smile. Instead, it was drawn into a line and drooped downward at the corners. Those hard staring eyes were the color of glass.

Juel paced around me, holding his head on a tilt as his eyes traveled across my body. Once behind me, he leaned close to breathe across the back of my neck, and a shiver ran along my spine, reminding me of spirit hands with its creeping chill. The sound of his inhale, the tacky warmth of his breath at the base of my neck, and I closed my eyes, imagining the exact position of his face behind me, seeing in my mind's eye the arc I would need to make so my elbow speared into his nose. He would stagger away, shocked by my bold, unladylike assault, during which time I would force him to his knees with a solid kick to his... Eyes closed, I struggled to find my discipline and those calming breaths.

"That is all, Andriet," Juel intoned. "Return to your playthings and leave me to inspect my bride."

I kept my eyes closed, needing more time with my calming breaths. Andriet's retreating steps echoed through the cavernous room in time with my breaths. The heavy clunk of the door closing left me alone in the darkness behind my eyelids, alone and falling into a deep void of...

"I was promised a beauty." Standing beside me, Juel yanked a strand of my hair free from its tie. I opened my eyes, lips twitching with the pain, but I kept my features smooth. "With hair spun like gold. Not ink." He lifted my arm, inspecting it as if studying something he found inside his horse's shoe. "And skin the color of milk. Not mud."

It doesn't matter . The Mother emboldened me, gave me strength to endure. That's what was inside of me, ice running through my veins. It's all I needed to survive.

The king remained slouched in his seat. "Harsh words, my son. True, there is no resemblance to her sister. But beauty leads to trouble. The plain are always best."

"Your Highness, an alliance with Merania is not without benefit." The wizard's voice was like a snake, slithering across the floor to entangle amongst our feet.

Juel dropped my arm. "Question is, do I want her in my bed?"

"Orphus is right, remember that. The alliance was signed. You have your bride. As Crown Prince, you will uphold your responsibility. In time you'll grow to appreciate her skills."

"What skills? Name me a skill." But Juel wasn't looking at me when he asked the question because he wasn't interested in hearing me speak for myself.

The king glanced around, appearing lost for words. "As with highborn ladies, the princess will be appropriately educated in the feminine arts." For the first time, one of them addressed me. "You have the rudiments of reading, science, and philosophy, I suspect?"

"Yes, Your Majesty."

It was my fate that Juel was the first born.

"There, see. She's not without skill."

"What am I going to do with the offspring? Keep them veiled?"

And what should I do with you once the heirs are born? Perhaps a blade to your prized jewels would change your attitude and give me some sport.

The king snorted. "You're unkind, son." He rose from his throne and descended the steps with powerful lumbering strides. "The princess is not a sow."

"Lucky for her, or the stalls is where she'd stay."

I exhaled slowly. Discipline .

Like his eldest son, King Henricus towered over me. He was broader, and slouched, pronouncing his rounded middle. "She has intelligent eyes."

"Dull, if you ask me."

"As for the rest of her, there's no requirement for beauty in the king's wife. What is your duty as wife to the king?" Henricus asked me.

I had the strength to endure, thanks to the Sistern's training.

"To remain in his shadow and to support him in all ways," My voice was clear, even if my fingers itched to throw a dagger.

He flashed me the barest smile, or was it a grimace of pain? "Excellent. There see. The perfect wife. I find myself quite pleased with the match."

Juel was sullen. "We're keeping her then?"

A gruesome death for him was not without merit. The Mother would care little if Juel survived for as long as I bore heirs. My blade in his heart could be my birth present to myself once the breeding was done.

"It took me far too long to arrange the alliance."

"Fine." Juel breathed heavy through his nose, then tugged on the strands of hair he'd worked free. "We're finished with you. You can go. Orphus, find someone to show her to her rooms."

I stepped back, then curtsied to them both, dipping my head to avoid looking at either. Acting as though cruel words never reached my heart was the thing I excelled at best. In my periphery, I caught the flutter of the wizard's robes. There were too many enemies within these walls. My best defense was silence; to listen, learn, and plan.

Still avoiding the eyes of both men, I spun on my heels and strode away with my back straight, head high. I was such a stupid, stupid woman to ever think my life would change.