Chapter 7

CHAPTERSEVEN

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Cracking my eyes open, I groan internally.

Streams of pale pink light peek around the edges of my curtains. It’s at least past dawn, but barely. Last night was the longest night ever, and I hardly slept.

“Yes?” I groan. The servants know not to bother the royal family—Mother, Ilona, or me—the day after transference. It’s the one day of the week the handmaidens are supposed to be off duty. More importantly, it’s the one day a week I catch up on sleep. Not even Jamell expects me for our training session until late afternoon.

Gianna, my favorite handmaiden, calls through the door, “So sorry to wake you, Princess, but you need to get up.” Despite the unexpected intrusion, it’s a welcome voice. One of the many reasons I adore her is because she doesn’t treat me as awkwardly as the other servants do.

Stretching my arms overhead, I reluctantly pull myself from the silky sheets and patter to the door. Unbolting the locks, I swing it open to let her in.

“Good morning!” Her wavy amber hair is piled high on her head, her face painted with impeccable taste. The uniform black slacks and maroon tunic can’t hide her ample curves. She always looks so composed and dignified, even in the mornings, and she’s quite talented at drawing me out of my morning moodiness.

“Morning. I wasn’t expecting you today.” Yesterday was such a long day. On top of it all, Ilona and I practically pulled an all-nighter reading. Drawing her in for a quick hug, I stifle a yawn. Once we release, I peer out into the hallway. Dashiel stands there, staring straight ahead and ignoring me. Does he not sleep? “Go ahead and get set up. I’ll be right there, Gia.”

Moving past me with a nod, she hustles to the connected bathroom, probably drawing me a bath with scented oils, just the way I like. Gia is probably here today because Mother sent for me so she can parade me around like a show horse in front of the Vannyks.

“Have you been out here all night?” I ask Dashiel.

“You ask like you actually care,” he deadpans, his gaze flashing to mine. “I could’ve shared your bed, but alas, here we are instead.”

“Don’t be dim. I never would’ve let you stay the night.”

“Annnnnd you’ve just reminded me of how much cozier it is out here. Alone. No great loss after all.”

“I was trying to be pleasant this morning.”

He shifts his weight, eyeing me like I’m a skittish cat that might bolt or sink my claws in at any second. Good. Let him be wary.

“I traded off for a few hours rest, Your Highness. So be assured I am primed and ready to trail you like a shadow, watching helplessly while you harass today’s poor victims.”

“Ass,” I mutter.

Closing the door, I pad to the bathroom, unsurprised to see Gia lining the counters with my facial products and paints while water runs in the clawfoot bathtub in the center of the room. The aromas of eucalyptus and mint fill the air—an invigorating blend that I enjoy in my morning baths.

Groaning, I bury my face in my hands. “Mother is relentless.”

Gianna only smiles, giving me a sympathizing look. As kind as she is to me, she doesn’t dare speak ill of Mother.

“I really don’t need all that, Gia.” Waving a hand toward the small jars of powders and colors. “There’s nothing wrong with my natural face.”

“Queen Enira ordered it. Sorry, Princess.” I can tell she’s genuinely remorseful, stuck in an awkward place, and I don’t want to make her feel worse. She might be my handmaiden, but Mother is the one who employs her. It doesn’t much matter what I want.

In another life, one where Gia didn’t feel like my inferior, we’d be good friends.

“Did she at least say why?” Dropping my robe and stepping out of my nightdress, I enter the scalding water with a yelp. She laughs, knowing I enjoy being practically burnt to death during my baths.

“Breakfast with the visiting royals of Stellaris,” she says.

I’d wanted to visit Paramour Falls with Ilona today, for an isolated swim in the middle of the jungle, but that doesn’t seem plausible anymore. At the least, I’d still like to seek out Jamell for a quick training session before getting glamorized.

“I suppose you won’t need my help washing your hair now.” She gestures toward her own head, referring to my new cut. “Not that my opinion matters, but I prefer this style on you. It emphasizes your facial structure.”

“Of course your opinion matters. Thank you.” That’s a big compliment coming from Gianna. She’s skilled at the art of appearance, a true whiz with hairstyling and makeup. The only reason I hadn’t asked her to fix my hair initially is because I didn’t want to intrude on her personal time after hours. Plus, Ilona is plenty skilled in her own right.

I’m surprised the two of them haven’t become better friends. They seem to have a lot in common. Then again, I don’t think their paths cross often.

“You’re probably used to people telling you what they think you want to hear, but I do mean it.” She chuckles.

“I had no doubts.”

Sinking deeper, I accidentally move too quickly, and a small wave of water splashes over the side onto the marble. My skin is glowing red, but already I’m adjusting to the bathwater’s temperature. The irony isn’t lost on me that I complain about the island’s heat yet prefer a hot bath even during the summer.

Most of our luxuries—such as running, heated water—come at the hand of aethyns. It’s the most common type of magic, and the aethyns are the hardest-working people on the island.

Normally, each aethyn can harness or manipulate one of the four elements: fire, water, earth, air. I’ve even heard of some aethyns wielding multiple elements, but I’ve never met one myself.

Higher-level aethyns can disperse their magic into items. Those individuals are often employed by royals, but even if they aren’t, their powers afford them a higher quality of life than ordinary citizens.

Here at the palace, we have a few aethyns controlling each element. I don’t engage with them, but they’re around. Water aethyns keep the palace cool by infusing ice into the stone, the same way they keep our food fresh with an ice-room. Fire aethyns keep our chandeliers lit and our water heated. Earth aethyns tend our gardens. Air aethyns work as couriers and use their magic to lift items with ease, moving about the palace completing odd tasks.

They’re all responsible for the various elemental staff weaponry as well. Of course, their power isn’t endless. It’s limited and used sparingly. When their magic runs low, they need to spend time around their element to recharge.

There are also etheryn, though there aren’t any on the island currently. Myndoxes have mental magic, vygoras have emotional magic, and the aethyn have elemental magic. However, the etheryn have spatial magic. The abilities they work with are the most obscure of all, as they manipulate space, time, or light. Many think them nearly extinct—the theory being their extreme brand of magic is too taxing, took too much of a toll and has wiped most of them out. Others say they exist in hiding. Altering space and time is a dangerous thing, and it makes many people uncomfortable. Persecution is a real concern.

We had our own light etheryn who worked as a seamstress before she passed a few years ago. She spun the material for the tent and my veyl, manipulating light in such a way that one could see out but not in.

Mother hasn’t found a replacement.

After a few minutes of scrubbing my body, Gianna finishes setting up the vanity and turns to me with her brows raised and her lips pursed. A telltale sign she’s about to divulge some gossip. She might not speak ill of Mother, but she has her fair share of palace whispers to share with me. It’s not as useful as the information Ilona gets from the kitchen staff, but it’s still entertaining.

“So,” she begins, “Have you seen the prince of Stellaris?”

“I have.”

“By the goddess.” She places a hand on her chest. “Isn’t he absolutely gorgeous?”

It’s Dashiel’s face that crosses my mind—his knowing eyes, smirking lips, and artfully messy hair. Pushing the image away, I picture the prince. Equally handsome but in a more composed and ultimately less intriguing way. He seems fine, just boring. Predictable.

“Yes,” I agree. “He is.”

“And the guards!” She giggles. “Both the men and women are so fit, so built.”

Quickly, I sit up in the bath. My breasts are exposed, but I’m comfortable in my body and pay no mind. Gia has been with me for long enough that she’s likely as familiar with my body as she is her own. And I was just as comfortable with the handmaiden who attended me before her. Growing up privy to Mother’s extracurriculars, and amidst her weekly bacchanals, I’m not shy.

“So there really are female guards?”

“Yes! And they’re all so beautiful and strong,” she says. “Well, from what I can see underneath their leathers. It is rather strange they’re dressed in Hakranian gear though, no?”

I make a sound under my breath, neither confirming nor denying her question, before pulling myself out of the bath.

Gia wraps me in an oversized towel, chatting away as she prepares my face and hair, but I’m consumed about my thoughts of the female guards. It’s a great thing Stellaris isn’t as oppressive as I thought. But then why does Mother look down on other countries, claiming they’re barbaric and backwards?

She hosts enough long-term diplomats to know the truth, so has she purposely been lying to make herself look better in comparison?

Gia finishes preparing me much sooner than usual—thanks to the shorter hair. She fishes around my armoire, pulling out a pair of loose, billowy black pants made of a wonderfully thin material. To match it, she picks out a gold top with thin straps that connect to my wrists in an open-sleeve style, revealing my midsection while fully covering my chest. Then she slips gold sandals on my feet. Finally, I snag a pair of gold sun-shaped earrings and a matching gold choker to finish off the look. I now embody the gilded color of island sunshine on a clear day.

“Ta-da!” Gia says proudly. “What would you do without me?”

“Allow my face to breathe,” I say, rolling my eyes. My eyes are dramatically darkened with kohl, my cheeks rosy, lips nude. It’s not the worst appearance, but I’m still deeply annoyed about Mother’s disruption. I don’t appreciate the way she micromanages my life.

Gianna laughs, knowing my displeasure isn’t aimed at her.

“Thanks for making this more tolerable, at least. You’re good at what you do.”

“Don’t get all mushy on me now, Princess.”

At least now I can converse with the Vannyks and learn more about Stellaris. Plus, if Ilona and I are staying at the palace today, that means we can find Cedrik and see if he truly doesn’t remember anything about me being the vessel. If that’s the case, Mother’s power has transformed and strengthened. If she can alter memories and erase minds, that’s truly terrifying.

After so many bland days of listening to Mother drone about island politics, it’s almost exciting to have two ongoing mysteries—Mother’s agenda with her heightened abilities, and the visiting royals.

A nagging feeling tells me the two might be connected—wrapped around each other like jungle vines—and I’m determined to chop them down.

Instead of heading to the main dining room where Mother waits, I exit the palace, cutting across the courtyard to the servants’ wing. It’s quicker than roaming through the corridors. I’d rather not risk passing the dining space and being spotted by Mother.

A blanket of morning heat wraps around me, and I mourn the loss of my visit to the falls today. The freshwater swimming hole would’ve been such a delight; the day is practically made for a swim. It’s still early, the sun barely beginning its ascent, the skies clear and azure.

“It’s hotter than the devil’s balls,” Dashiel says from behind me.

“Classy.”

“I’m pretty sure this isn’t the way to breakfast.” I speed up, trying to ignore the bulk of a man who is, indeed, trailing me like a shadow today. “You can’t outpace me either, sweetheart.”

“Stop calling me that.”

Pushing through the servants’ door, I take a sharp left toward the winding staircase that leads down to the training space.

Sure enough, as soon as my feet hit the training level, I spot Jamell. Although I don’t typically meet with him until later in the day, I was certain he’d be here. He’s Mother’s favorite commander, so if he’s not meeting with her, he’s usually here training the other guards.

It’s a nonstop job considering how often the guards are rotated out of the palace.

Maybe Dashiel is right and Mother’s guard is a facade. Nothing more than the illusion of power. Perhaps if she actually kept her guards in permanent roles instead of rotating them around the island, she’d have a more indomitable group.

The training space has one large room with a bunch of smaller rooms branching off of it. Padded floors and walls cover the whole space, and a section of thick, unbreakable glass windows offers a glimpse inside some of the other training spaces.

On the wall opposite the stairs, a heavily locked and secured door blocks access to the pit. The door, infused with a blend of aethyn and etheryn powers, is soundproof and can only be opened if Mother or one of the commanders touches a palm to its surface. I’ve never been down there. I don’t even think it’s in use anymore.

The pit is made of silenxstone—a rare material that mutes magic entirely. Right off the coast sits another empty husk constructed from the same material—the old prison.

There hasn’t been crime on the island in a long time, hence no prisoners to keep.

Here in the training room, the dress code is more lenient, and guards are allowed to train without their head coverings. Spotting a few familiar faces, I nod politely. Everyone I pass lowers their head in a show of respect.

I wonder which ones I’ve taken to my bed.

“How many of these poor saps have you ruined?” Dash whispers in my ear, as if he knows what I’m thinking. He sounds amused, but his jaw is tense, as if he’s annoyed.

“You know, you make it really hard to forget you’re here,” I say. “Jealousy isn’t becoming.”

“I’m not jealous,” he whispers, his warm breath caressing my bare neck. “You couldn’t ruin me if you tried, Princess. I’m the one who’d be doing the ruining.”

Warmth pools in my stomach, my body aroused by his proximity and words. I step away, putting space between us, and he flashes a dimpled smile.

Jamell’s attention finally shifts to me, and he says something to the man he’s sparring with before jogging across the room to me. Dashiel backs up, allowing me to speak to the commander without him looming.

Jamell’s quite a bit older than me, but it doesn’t slow him down. Known for his agility and endurance, he could outlast anyone in battle. I admit, he’s a great choice for commander. Mother did well.

“How ya doin’, Princess?” His bald head glistens with sweat as he gives me a charming, gap-toothed grin. The age lines, crooked nose—broken more than a few times—and missing front tooth make him appear more menacing than he really is, but I know him to be an endearing man. “I wasn’t expectin’ ya till later.”

I glance around the space to ensure everyone else is out of earshot.

“What’s the deal with the new guards?” I ask, cutting right to the point. Mother is still expecting me for breakfast, and I’m already late, so I’d like to make this quick.

His smile fades. “Ya know I ain’t s’posed to talk ’bout these things.”

“Oh come on, Jamell. I’m your princess,” I say with a hint of authority, using an angle I typically try to avoid.

“Ya know I can get in trouble with Queen Enira fer my loose lips.”

“I won’t tell if you don’t.” I shoot him a playful wink, and he chuckles, loosening up a bit.

“Fine. Only ’cause yer my favorite princess on the island.”

“I’m the only princess on the island.”

“There’s been…new threats against Hakran, the queen, and, well, I ’spose that means you too.” His eyes dart away guiltily. “Look, I dunno much yet. There’s a meetin’ this afternoon ’bout it.”

Nodding, I thank him for sharing what little information he has. It explains why Mother sought additional guards. Now I need to find out what this threat is and what she traded to acquire an entire army.

Another thought hits me: What if she didn’t trade anything at all? What if the threat’s a lie, and she’s using her myndox power to assume control of the Stellari guard? But why?

The problem with my theories is they just don’t make sense. I’m fully in agreement with Ilona that Mother’s powers are more dangerous than we thought, but I’m not fully sold on the idea that she’s some evil entity manipulating everyone within her reach…

We say goodbye, and I hustle back up the stairs, across the yard, and into the main wing, not caring about whether or not Dash is keeping up. Even though I’m quite in shape from all the physical training and outdoorsy adventures, I’m still a little winded from the quick pace and heat. Leaning against the cool palace stone, I close my eyes and focus on controlling the airflow into my lungs.

“Don’t hurt yourself.”

“For fuck’s sake, Dashiel.” My eyes flash open. I was hoping I lost him.

He smirks, and for some reason, it enrages me.

Who the hell does he think he is?

“I don’t trust that guy,” he says, his voice adopting a stern tone.

“Commander Jamell?” I snort. He’s literally one of Mother’s—and Hakran’s—most-trusted soldiers. “Of course you don’t. You have some baffling contempt against Hakranians.”

“Be careful,” he warns.

Ignoring him, I cross the corridor and head into the dining room, already over today and not wanting to face Mother.