Chapter 12

CHAPTERTWELVE

The library is expectedlyempty when I return a short while later, no sign of Dash or the Vannyks anywhere. Then again, I did take precautions by ducking behind pillars and peeking around corners as I made my way through the corridors. A few guards peered my way with open curiosity but didn’t interfere. Hopefully they don’t tell Dash where I went if he asks.

I pull the doors closed behind me and make my way through the blissful silence toward the romance section. Row after row of stories greet me, the soft orange flicker of the lamps guiding me. As I trail my finger along the shelves, I revel in the textures of the various worn leather bindings. The scent of ink and paper calms my overactive mind.

As I traverse deeper into the library, deeper into the shadows, a rustic yet spicy scent fills my nostrils; it’s one I’m quickly becoming familiar with, and it can only mean one thing.

Dash.

No, no, no!

Sure enough, when I turn the corner, I find him with his back to me, idly flipping the pages of a book.

“Hello, sweetheart,” he says without looking up.

Calmly, I begin retreating with small, backward steps, unwilling to turn my back on him. He turns to face me, and there’s a flicker of concern in his golden-brown eyes.

“Wait,” he says softly, reaching out a hand toward me. “We need to talk.” He snaps the book shut, tucking it under his arm as he moves toward me cautiously, as if I’ll turn and flee at any moment, which, quite frankly, isn’t entirely out of the question.

The only thing keeping me in place, subduing the innate desire to chuck a hardcover at his head, is the look in his eyes. He’s acting nothing like the man I saw at the falls, and that alone gives me pause.

What if Mother had him under her manipulation?

These webs are becoming too tangled, more difficult to unravel, but I allow my gut instinct to hold me to the spot without fleeing.

“Stay where you are, Dashiel,” I say, spitting his name out with disgust and putting my palms up in his direction. “Don’t you dare come any closer.”

He’s not wearing the guard leathers and has no face covering. Plain brown pants cling to his shapely thighs, a white long-sleeve shirt fits the ridges of his muscles, and a pair of worn brown-leather boots cover his feet. His hair is tousled—still drying from the bath he must’ve taken when we returned—and curling slightly at the edges. The bit of sun he got today has deepened his bronze coloring. Despite cleaning up, he still hasn’t touched the scruff on his jaw, and I like it.

I like it?

No. No. No.

How can someone so vile be so handsome?

And why must my body react?

Despite my hormonal reaction to Dash, I’m able to keep my wits about me. That pretty face hides a manipulative personality and abusive tendencies. Nothing he can say will make what he did to me okay. Unless, of course, he can prove my mother had control of his mind. That is the only way I could forgive him.

I find myself hoping that’s the case. Maybe Mother is somehow behind this and he didn’t steal my magic for some master plan where he uses it against me and my people.

“Please, just listen to me Astrid.” Hearing my name on his lips, the way he begs, is like music to my ears. I hate that I like the way it sounds. He puts his hands up in a submissive gesture. Something about his warm eyes pulls at me. I nod, waiting for him to speak.

Running a hand through his hair, he smooths it back away from his forehead and then scratches at his jaw. If I could read his emotions right now, I’m sure I’d be getting wave after wave of anxiety and unease.

Without the hardness in his eyes, he seems more vulnerable, more like the lighthearted yet arrogant guard I initially met. It’s almost like he wears two different masks–the one I saw the night we met and the one I saw behind the falls.

I wonder how many other people have seen that scarier side of him? Which side is really him?

“It isn’t what you think,” he says. “You have no reason to trust me, but—”

“Absolutely not,” I say, shaking my head vigorously. I ball my hands into fists at my sides, swallowing down my anger and fear. “You do not get to stand here and try to apologize for your behavior today.”

He exhales and looks at me pleadingly. “I’m not trying to apologize. I don’t regret what I did today. It was—”

Scoffing, I say, “You are the most vile man I have ever met, Dash. Stay away from me, or I will tell your precious prince what you did.” I’m hung up on his words. He doesn’t regret what he did to me? So not only did he choose to harm me, he enjoyed it?

There’s something seriously wrong with this guy.

“I’m trying to tell you, it wasn’t what you think.”

“Make no mistake, Dashiel Dargan, I ache to kill you for this.”

Hurt flashes across his handsome features, irritating me further. He has no right to be upset.

No longer able to look him in the face—a face my traitorous body felt an attraction to–I turn and flee.

“Be careful, Astrid. You can’t trust your mother,” he yells after me. His voice shakes with ferocity, his words vibrating down to my core. “You can’t trust them.”

“I know,” I whisper, clenching my fists at my side. “I know.”

* * *

As the next few days blur by, Dash is always nearby, like a shadow cast from the morning sun, impossible to separate from. I spend most of the time in my room, and at least he has the common sense to linger in the hallway and not to enter my space. Just in case, I wear a dagger strapped to my waist, beneath the waistband of my pants.

Of course he’s the only person I can’t kill with a simple touch. An infuriating fact.

As daunting as his presence is, I can’t turn him in yet. If I turn him in prematurely, I’ll show my hand, and I won’t receive any answers to the questions that are piling up. I can’t risk alienating the Stellari royal family, not when their guards are blended so seamlessly with our own.

Plus, I refuse to appear weak in front of Mother. I need to play the game how she would.

Dash is up to something, and I need to know what that is. That makes him my enemy. What’s even worse is he’s back to his calculated, cool, and controlled demeanor, as if nothing happened.

And that makes him dangerous.

Dash isn’t the only reason I’m holed up in my room either. The palace is filled with raging emotions, exploding with no bounds from every direction.

They’re muddling my own feelings. Choking me.

Holding me back from doing anything other than existing and going through the motions of everyday life.

It’s as if I’m drawing them out unintentionally from whomever is nearby.

Dash did this to me. He broke my magic, and it’s unbearable.

Ilona’s worried. I feel it palpitating from her when she stands at my door, knocking and calling to me. I inform her I need time alone, only allowing my handmaiden in to feed me.

Each morning, Gianna gives me a contemplative look, as if she’s deciding whether we’re close enough for her to ask me what’s wrong. I’m relieved when she doesn’t.

Today she brings me a coffee on ice—preferable in the summer heat—with an egg frittata to perk me up. She rips my curtains apart to let in the morning sun.

“Will you be training today, Princess?” Gianna asks, as she does every day.

“Yes,” I say quietly. Maybe that’s what I need to quiet my mind. I’ve spent plenty of days sheltered away in my room. It’s time to face my problems head on and figure out a way to manage my erratic magic and emotions.

Jolts of surprise and gratitude rush toward me, and I battle to keep her feelings at bay. Whatever Dash did to my powers, I need to learn how to manage it.

“Oh,” she says, clearly surprised I didn’t say no again today, “should I wait to prepare your bath then?”

“Yes.”As much as I crave a eucalyptus bath with which to relax and reinvigorate myself, it’ll have to wait.

Gianna tries to hide her smile as she searches my armoire for an outfit.

“Your favorite pants.” She lays out a pair of loose silk pants and a matching form-fitting shirt on the edge of my bed. Both are black with silver stitching. Easy to maneuver in. Lightweight and non-restricting.

“Thanks, Gia.” I smile, but my heart isn’t in it. Dressing, I conceal the dagger beneath my waistband.

Bouncing lightly on her feet, my handmaiden stares at me with a grimace, as if she wants to say something but is holding it in. A sharp stab of eagerness spills from her, hitting me from the inside out.

Finally, with a sigh, I ask her to spit it out.

“There’s talk among the staff,” she starts, “that the reason Queen Enira brought the Vannyks here is to merge forces.”

“Yes, well I’m sure you’ve seen the extra guards around,” I say. “She’s succeeded.”

“It’s not only that.” She hesitates, wringing her hands. “They’re saying it’s a marriage of political convenience. The Hakranian princess and Stellari prince.”

I widen my eyes in feigned surprise, but can’t stop myself from letting a laugh escape.

“I’m the one who started that rumor, Gia,” I say. “I’m not marrying anyone. Certainly not a prudish, uptight prince with the personality of a doornail.” To think he started growing on me that day at Paramour Falls too, before his friend betrayed me.

Gianna brings her hands to her mouth, covering her own laugh. “But he surely is handsome.”

“Looks don’t compensate for a shitty personality.” Even though we’re talking about Zale, it’s Dash’s face that flashes through my mind.

“You wouldn’t give the poor prince a chance even if it was for political convenience between countries?”

“Goddess save me,” I mumble to the ceiling. “Absolutely not.”

It wasn’t the prince I was interested in but his guard.

And he tricked me.

Now I want nothing to do with either of them.

Closing her lips tightly, she dips her chin in a show of respect. An awkward silence fills the air as I finish getting ready and walk out into the hallway.

Sure enough, Dash stays on my heels throughout the walk to the servants’ wing and down to the training area below. Since he’s dressed in Hakranian leathers, complete with face covering, I can almost pretend he’s someone else. Almost.

The only consolation is the fact that I can’t read his emotions. After the last few days, it offers a small but welcome reprieve.

When we enter the combat room. Jamell gives Dash a grim look.

“I got ’er. Go wait out there, kid.”

Dash scowls at Jamell, clearly wanting to say something. A beat passes before he retreats, heading out the door into the main training area. The heat of his gaze lingers as he peers at me through the window separating the spaces.

“How ya doin’, Princess?” Jamell asks, offering up a charming, gap-toothed smile he reserves just for me.

As I smile back, Dash’s words flit through my mind.

“You have pretty poor moves for a warrior.”

“Most of Hakran’s guards don’t know how to fight, but you do?”

The smile melts off my face, and I bite my lip, looking away.

“Doin’ okay?” he asks, concern lacing his voice. I also pick up on the impatience and annoyance flowing from him. It’s impossible to block out, and it fires up my anger.

“Fine,” I snap. How dare he be annoyed with me? I’m the princess, which means he works for me. “We’re working on breaking out of holds today.”

He smacks his lips, studying me. “Yah, sure thing. Whatever ya’d like.”

“Yes, Jamell, it is what I’d like. I don’t want any attitude or holding back on your end.”

His brows are drawn upward at my words, and I try to block out his emotions. I force myself to focus on the squishy mat beneath my feet, the pungent scents of rubber and sweat lingering in the air, anything but his unwelcome reaction in response to my words.

After composing myself, we start with some basic warm-up movements. He adjusts my stance and has me throw a few different kicks and punches. We work at a steady pace until I feel a trickle of sweat beading down my spine and my breath comes in short pants.

“All right, if ya wanna pin someone larger, ya gotta—”

“No. You’ve misunderstood me. I want to learn how to break out of a hold, nothow to pin someone down.” The words come out harsher than I intend, a side effect of the blossoming rage in my chest.

He scratches his neck, eyes shooting downward.

“You never know what might happen with the current threats. It doesn’t hurt to work on self-defense.” Each word is like a blade, cutting through the air between us.

A small hmph comes from his throat as he slowly nods and scratches his cropped hair. “I s’pose. Ya feelin’ ok, Princess?”

“If one more person asks me that, I will slit their throat. You included.” I don’t recognize the angry voice that spoke but realize all of a sudden that it was me. Jamell stares at me like I’m a stranger.

His lips purse, and his anger crashes into my own, fanning my fire.

“Is there a problem, Commander?” I ask, so venomously that I could be mistaken for Mother.

Dash has made me paranoid. If it wasn’t for what he said about my poor training, I wouldn’t feel the need to test Jamell, a man I’ve known for years. I was hoping to prove Dash wrong, to shut down his theory that Mother and Jamell have purposely held me back from training properly.

But, I’m starting to notice how hesitant Jamell is, how unwilling he is to expand my training or oblige my requests. We’ve done the same few things throughout the years: strength training and light sparring, with the occasional staff or a complicated move thrown in. I’ve always felt tough and strong after our sessions, so much so that I have never given much thought to learning true defense.

I never thought I needed to. I definitely never thought Jamell would purposely be holding back from teaching me proper fighting skills.

But Dash’s words have gotten to me, and I’m starting to fear he might be right. My stomach sinks with disappointment.

After a few preparatory instructions, Jamell stalks toward me. He looks hesitant before he jolts forward, using his leg to swipe my feet out from underneath me. My back hits the rubber mat flooring, my breath exiting with an oomph.

That was the slowest takedown ever, and I still couldn’t stop him.

Straddling me with a knee on either side, he gently pins my hands down by my sides, careful not to put his weight on me. It’s a lot less intimate than it was with Dash—thankfully—but also a lot less serious. Wiggling to loosen his hold, I’m able to bring a knee up to his groin, causing him to loosen his grip. I use that opening to twist free, jumping to my feet. He has a protection cup in place, and I barely put any power behind that strike. There’s no way he should’ve recoiled so quickly.

He’s faking. He has to be.

“Great job, Princess,” he says with a gap-toothed grin. Squinting at him, I don’t return the smile. Glancing out the window, I find Dash still observing us, an odd expression clouding his features. He’s not gloating like I expected.

I whirl on Jamell. “That was utter shit! Did Mother tell you to go easy on me during these sessions?”

“Wha—of course not. I’m not takin’ it easy for fear of hurtin’ ya.”

“So you are holding back?”

One.

Two.

Three.

I count my inhales and exhales to keep my burning desire to stab him in check.

His eyes dart around the empty training space, to the door, then back to my face. He pops his lips nervously, and I can tell there’s something he wants to say.

“You’re one of Mother’s best commanders. It’s obvious you’re holding back. Why are you purposely sabotaging my training?”

His mouth parts like he wants to speak, but nothing comes out.

“She told you to.” It’s not a question, but his heavy sigh is answer enough. “She also prevented you from telling me—from talking about it. Didn’t she?”

The flicker of apology in his eyes tells me I’m onto something. Jamell, a man who is fearless in the face of confrontation, is rarely speechless. He isn’t easily spooked, so there’s only one possible explanation: Mother manipulated him into staying quiet about her request to sabotage my training.

“Queen Enira is a damn good ruler, and she’s ya mother. She knows best.” The conviction in his voice tells me he believes his words—that he believes in my mother. The pride radiating from him confirms it.

“Why, Jamell? Why doesn’t she want me to be able to fight? Able to protect myself?” My voice cracks, my anger giving way to self-pity. He’s right. I might not agree with Mother’s tactics, but I’ve always trusted her to do what’s right. Training is the one thing that felt like mine—that felt like freedom—and she’s snatched that from me.

“It’s easier. Safer this way,” he says quietly.

Because if I can’t fight, if I can’t protect myself, she can control me without even using her myndox powers. She must fear me leaving, or worse, challenging her one day, and doesn’t want me to have any kind of advantage. She’s not doing this to control me as a princess or her daughter, she’s exerting control over her vessel. Her subordinate. Her tool.

My eyes flit past the window to the pit’s door. I desperately wish I could get Mother down there, beyond the silenxstone. If I could do that, I could mute her powers and keep her contained while I figure out what to do with this new information.

The information that confirms I can’t trust her.

“You blame me,” I say matter-of-factly to Jamell, and confusion contorts his face. “You’re angry with me because you’re forced to appease me with this false training everyday. You think I hold you back, don’t you?”

“I—never. That ain’t fact.” Guilt and fear swarm me, pushing me back toward the edge of anger.

One.

Two.

Three.

My breathing accelerates, and I work hard to steady my heart rate. My eyes flutter shut as I try to push the infuriating realizations away.

Jamell is not my ally. He’s Mother’s.

We’re all pawns in her game.

I can’t trust anyone.

“Ya doin’ ok?” Jamell asks.

The dam breaks, spewing my rage like hot lava across the room.

My own words echo from the hollows of my mind: If one more person asks me that, I will slit their throat. Yours included.

Reaching into my waistband, I pull out the dagger hidden away there, lunging at Jamell like a wild jaguar.

Right before my blade reaches the pulsing vein on his throat, a strong hand wraps around my wrist. It squeezes so hard that I drop the dagger with a cry of pain.

“Not a good idea, sweetheart,” Dash whispers in my ear before scooping the dagger up and sheathing it in one of the many pockets of his leathers.

“I WILL KILL YOU, TOO!” I bellow at him.

Anger blurs my vision, white-hot with bursting flames of red. I scream and scream until my throat is raw. Even as Dash shifts me over his shoulder like a sack of flour and carries me up to Cedrik’s room. Even as he holds me down and Cedrik forces a sweet liquid down my throat.

I scream until everything around me is finally silent and my body relaxes into a forced slumber.