Chapter 8

CHAPTEREIGHT

The scentsof molasses and honey-ham fill the air. The doors are spread open, and I enter at a leisurely pace, as if I wasn’t just running around the grounds a moment ago.

The irksome Stellari guard follows me in, sliding the doors shut behind us and standing guard beside the other few men and women already in place.

“Good of you to finally join us, dear,” Mother drawls from the head of the table. Her dark eyes flash like midnight storms.

I smile falsely at her. “Good of you to wake me so early for this thrilling occasion.”

“Show some respect, Astrid,” she snaps, shooting me a warning look. I glance away, taking in the breakfast table instead. Beyond the berry-cakes, sugar-rolls, and stacks of glazed meats, the king, queen, and prince of Stellaris sit around the table in an awkward silence, watching the exchange.

Sudden guilt creeps in. I’ve embarrassed Mother in front of the visiting royals, and I want nothing more than to make her look good in front of them.

I’m acting like a child.

“Please forgive me,” I say sincerely, addressing the Vannyks. “I’m not the most pleasant after a fitful sleep.” Looking at Mother, I add, “Apologies, Mother.”

Queen Joccelyn raises her eyebrows before looking down at her pancakes and slicing into them. I wonder if she ever speaks, if King Emman lets her. Maybe their country is oppressive after all.

“We began without you, not wanting to waste a perfectly fresh meal,” Mother says.

Pulling out the chair to Mother’s right, I sit next to Prince Zale, across from his parents. It’s almost humorous, the five of us sitting at a table that fits thirty people. So unnecessary.

The king offers me a soft wink, and his wife smiles warmly at me.

They seem nice enough.

Prince Zale and I exchange greetings, then proceed to ignore one another as he chews his food and I load up my plate with turmeric-saffron eggs and almond-poppyseed pancakes. Neither of us bother to make conversation.

Yep, the prince has the personality of a dead moth. Even worse, he’s using a knife and fork to eat his muffin. A muffin! That’s certainly a crime.

A snort comes from the door, before turning into a cough. My head swings around, and I meet Dashiel’s amused eyes. If I’m not mistaken, I’m pretty sure he’s laughing at my discomfort. The other guards are a few feet away from him, so clearly he wasn’t indulging in jokes with them.

Does he find this breakfast humorous?

He might have a better personality than his prince, but there’s something off about him. He’s too mouthy and arrogant. Then there’s the whole issue with me not being able to read his emotions. I don’t trust him.

For the next twenty or so minutes, the room fills with polite chatter and the clinking of silverware. I devour my food, giving silent thanks to our talented kitchen staff.

I really should visit Marnie and the others more often with Ilona and tell them myself.

“Astrid, dear,” Mother says once everyone’s satiated and we’re sipping espressos. “The Vannyks will be in Hakran until further notice. It seems there is a threat against the mainland. I have offered our protections in exchange for access to their resources and personnel. I rest assured you will help them adjust well. You will be nice.”

Ahhh, now things are starting to make sense. The threat wasn’t against Mother. She didn’t seek out help from Stellaris. It’s Stellaris that’s facing a threat, and they have sought out Mother for help, something she clearly used to her advantage while negotiating.

She had offered them help and protection in exchange for access to their army. They likely have no clue how strong her magic is. How would they? If she’s truly manipulating our entire village, she can easily manipulate the Stellaris army as well, and none would be the wiser. I didn’t know about it myself until Ilona brought it up and I witnessed Mother use her power on Cedrik. In fact, I don’t think I need to see Cedrik to know the truth anymore.

It’s all adding up, and it’s not looking good.

The Vannyks have made a massive mistake.

“Are we combining courts? What does this mean?” I blurt.

King Emman chuckles while his wife wears an amused expression. “The threats aren’t directed toward the people of Stellaris, only the royals. Which is why we’re taking refuge here while the remaining armies work to neutralize the threat. The agitators aim is to eradicate those in power—the royals who harness significant…abilities. Myndoxes, vygoras, and aethyns alike,” he says. He must consider etheryn extinct too, since he left them off his list.

Magic is rare on its own, and of those with magic in their blood, only few people are truly powerful. Those who are stronger than the rest, such as Mother or the Vannyks, have a tendency to rule. Magic is passed down through bloodlines, so it’s easy to keep within royal families. There are, of course, wealthy low-level myndoxes and vygoras within the nobility. Those who don’t come from prosperity, like Cedrik, work as healers or guards, among other things.

The power of the aethyns is often too weak to be useful in anything other than infusion. Instead, they find work as laborers or craftsmen, infusing products for anyone who can afford their services.

“Which class are you?” I ask the king and queen. Mother makes a tsk noise under her breath and takes a sip from her espresso. It’s not necessarily rude to ask what their powers are, but it could be viewed as gauche.

“We’re myndoxes, like your mother,” Queen Joccelyn says with a bashful look. “Though, not nearly as powerful.”

So the other queen does talk after all. And she’s a kiss-ass.

“All three of you?” I ask. She nods, smiling broadly, as if she’s proud. Although magic is passed down through families, there’s no guarantee a person’s descendants will inherit the same type of power as they themselves have. Take Mother and me, for instance. She’s a myndox who birthed a vygora. It’s likely I had an ancestor with similar abilities somewhere in my family tree.

It used to be frowned upon for those with magic to copulate with those without—for fear the magic would be diluted. Over time, the stigma faded. As those with magic began to couple with the normals, the bloodlines did in fact become weaker, which resulted in magic becoming the rarity it currently is. Considering the strength of my power, I’m willing to bet my father, whoever he is, has magic of his own.

“Our power is slightly different,” King Emman says. “We cannot influence the minds of others, but we also cannot be influenced by other myndoxes.” He flashes a blinding smile at my mother, and my brows rise to my hairline as her own lips tighten upward in a fake response.

Mother can’t manipulate the Vannyks.

Holy shit.

No wonder she’s been so off-kilter lately. She probably had no idea until they got here. Now she’s stuck with equal-level royals who are unaffected by her power.

They might not be susceptible to her magic, but their guards are. So far Dashiel is the only one I can’t get a read on. He seems to be the exception. So, if there were to be an altercation or power play, I imagine Mother would still win, as the numbers are on her side.

Luckily, royals cannot murder one another to assume their thrones. Lore says the original goddess put natural laws in place forbidding magic wielders from harming one another.

Though we can use our magic to kill regular humans, or we can kill magic wielders without magic.

Another law, according to lore, says that any royal who kills another royal forfeits their own throne and is forbidden from assuming another.

Apparently the original goddess ran into these issues when she dispersed her magic among humans, and she put the laws into place to protect the land and the people from further destruction. It was meant to keep peace throughout the lands and eliminate power plays. However, that doesn’t mean there aren’t loopholes. Mother could easily have one of her guards assassinate the Vannyks if her end goal was to steal their throne. Then they wouldn’t technically have died at her hand or by her power.

Is that what she wants though? Another country? For what? More bodies for more power?

Something uneasy stirs in my stomach as I grip my cup of espresso.

Hopefully the Vannyks watch their backs and are skilled in defense, because I’m trusting Mother less and less.

The prince leans across the arm of his chair toward me, lowering his voice so no one but me can hear him. “He makes us sound so pitiful.”

“Well, what else can you do that’s a little less…pitiful?” I whisper back with a chuckle.

“Some secrets aren’t to be revealed.” He grins at me, and I roll my eyes, polishing off the rest of my espresso in one big gulp.

Maybe I was quick to judge and he doesn’t have the personality of a dead moth after all.

No, the personality of a live moth, perhaps.

“Not to sound harsh, but why Hakran? What makes you think we can protect ourselves let alone you?” I ask him quietly.

Out of the corner of my eye, I watch Mother ball her hand into a fist on the table before sliding it out of sight onto her lap. She sucks her cheeks in tight, and I can tell the conversation she’s having with King Emman and Queen Joccelyn is bothering her. I’m relieved she’s too distracted by hosting our new guests to berate me for my hair or my disobedience.

Maybe I’ll like having them around after all.

The Stellari king and queen chuckle softly, their humor an antithesis to Mother’s uptight nature. Biting my lip to hide my amusement, I stay focused on Zale.

Good goddess, his cheekbones could cut glass.

“Hakran has nearly impenetrable coasts,” the prince says. “Only the coast near the south—South Sands I think you call it—is tolerable for ships, and only when the tide is high enough to maneuver around the largest of rocks. We have guards on the lookout, ready to alert us to any incoming ships, which gives us time to prepare. With both your guards and ours, we have the advantage.”

“You know an awful lot about our geography.”

“Why, we learned ourselves how difficult it was when we navigated our personnel in yesterday,” Queen Joccelyn says, apparently having overheard our conversation. Her eyes flash downward as she grips her husband’s hand and gives it a squeeze. Her voice gets quieter. “We lost one of our ships. Our mistake for overestimating our abilities. The Insipid Sea can be quite unforgiving at times, even to the most skilled of sailors. Luckily Queen Enira here came to our rescue in time before any lives were lost.”

“It could have been much worse without her help,” King Emman says, holding his espresso cup up toward Mother with a head nod.

So that explains why Mother was late to the bacchanal yesterday.

“I’m glad everyone made it safely,” I say. It’s an earnest statement. I’ve never been off the island myself, but I’ve heard about how treacherous the Insipid is. The idea of crossing the sea in the face of storms, sharks, and other obstacles stresses me out.

The storms are deadly enough on land, I can’t imagine how perilous they are out on the waters.

The three of them go back to chatting amongst themselves, and I look back to Zale, who’s eyeing me with open interest.

“Do you miss your guard?” I ask, tilting my head toward Dashiel, who stands by the door, staring at us with an unreadable expression.

“Dash?”

“I prefer arrogant ass, but yes. Him.”

Zale snorts into his coffee before recovering and smoothing his shirt down.

Interesting.

He has a sense of humor, but he tries to stifle it. I wonder if he’s more engaging away from his parents. I’ll have to find out.

“He’s good at what he does. He’s also a close friend of mine, so I might not be the best to confide in about him.”

“Why, Prince Zale, are you saying you’ll run and tell your little buddy I’m badmouthing him? The scandal.” I place the back of my hand against my forehead mockingly.

He shrugs as his eyes crinkle with humor. “I’m giving you fair warning.”

“You’re almost as banal as my mother.”

“Did you just imply I’m boring?” He frowns, brows scrunching together as if he can’t understand why I’d call him that.

“Join me and my friend on an adventure this week and we’ll try to rectify that.”

His eyes light up. “I’ve heard of a place called Paramour Falls. I’d love to see it in person. Do you know where that is?”

“Oh, I absolutely do.” I grin, shooting him a playful wink. He clears his throat before glancing away.

I make him uncomfortable. This is going to be fun.

“I’d prefer if you stay close to the palace, Astrid,” Mother says, invading my conversation with Prince Zale.

“What about the falls? Ilona and I had planned to visit soon for a swim.”

“The beach is bountiful. Perfect for a swim.”

“Mother, with all due respect, I understand where you’re coming from, but I am a grown woman and would appreciate my freedom to leave the grounds.” The water from the falls is much more refreshing, icy cool compared to the tepid beach water in summertime. Plus, there’s something marvelous about swimming in the middle of a green jungle; it’s like a private oasis.

“Zale’s trained in combat as well. They should be fine,” Emman says.

“I’d love to see the falls,” Zale adds eagerly.

Joccelyn nods in agreement. “Perhaps it could be an opportunity for him to learn the land, Enira.”

Mother flinches as if she’s been slapped. She’s not used to anyone bossing her around or referring to her as simply Enira. I’m amused by the Vannyks’ laidback nature, thrilled that they can’t be manipulated by her power. What a challenge it must be for her.

I glance at Zale, and he offers a shrug.

“Astrid can show him the grounds while she partakes on her adventures,” Mother grits out, as if it was her idea all along and she wasn’t strong-armed into agreeing. Venom laces her words, as if the idea of my explorations is something dirty and incomprehensible.

“Thank you, Mother.” Standing, I give her a kiss on the head, reveling in the way she flinches slightly at the public show of affection.

Oh I’m going to pay for this later.

But somehow, right now, having the Vannyks around gives me a strange boost of confidence—a feeling of security. It’s like Mother is a wild beast who’s finally been tamed and caged.

I hadn’t realized how much I feared her until they showed up and offered me a reprieve from her scrutiny.

Zale stands as well, pushing in his chair before rounding the table and bestowing a kiss upon his mother’s head in a sweet show of affection. Joccelyn smiles adoringly at him, and I experience a slight twinge of jealousy at their relationship.

I wonder what it’s like to have a normal, caring mother.

“Dashiel is the best to have around, Astrid. You’ll be perfectly safe with him at your side,” Queen Joccelyn says to me, standing to give me a hug.

Oh.

Her compassion catches me off guard, but I recover quickly, hugging her back.

Saying our goodbyes, Prince Zale and I walk side by side out of the dining room. The new bane of my existence opens the doors to let us pass before catching up with us.

“Dash, I hear you and Princess Astrid are getting along well,” the prince says, tugging obsessively on his sleeves to straighten them out.

Perfectionist.

“Ah, she told you how she pounced on me last night?”

“I did, and I mentioned it was a disappointing affair,” I retort. Dashiel’s brows rise, as if he had expected me to deny it or lash out rather than go along with it. Zale chuckles quietly before shaking his head.

“I’d be more than happy to make up for what my friend here lacks,” Prince Zale says. I don’t miss the way Dashiel shoots him a dark look, and I can’t help the laugh that escapes me. The prince has a little bite after all.

“You’re bound to put the princess to sleep with your banal personality, Zale.”

“I’d rather be perceived as vapid or boring than as a disappointing affair.”

It’s unsurprising that Dashiel was eavesdropping on our conversation at the table. Of course he was.

“Perhaps we could combine forces to please the princess?” Dash asks. “She seems like someone who might enjoy the challenge.”

My heart pounds furiously at his implication, and for a moment I wonder if it’s a legitimate offer. I wonder if I might accept the offer.

Ultimately, I decide he’s probably toying with me, purposely trying to unnerve me. I speed up to put some distance between us, trying to keep my head clear.

Dash calls after me, “Don’t worry, Princess, I want to be here as much as you want me here.”

“We might get along better if you keep your mouth shut,” I say, spinning around to face him. My eyes flash to his lips. Soft, kissable lips that would feel so good on my—

Nope. Not going there.

Shaking my head, I push the thoughts away. It doesn’t matter what he looks like. Not with such an utterly arrogant personality.

Goddess have mercy, this is going to be a long visit.

“If he’s with me, who’s with you?” I ask Zale as we continue heading through the main hallway toward the royal wing, with Dashiel behind us. I’m hoping to find Ilona in her room. “Don’t you want your best guard all to yourself?”

“My mother was wrong. Dash is only the best if you don’t count me,” he says. Dash makes a snorting noise.

“Is everyone from Stellaris so arrogant?” I ask, warranting a chuckle from Dash who’s now currently walking too close behind me. If I were to stop moving, he’d crash right into me. I look over my shoulder as I continue moving forward. “And you—give me some space, please!”

“Please? She has manners?” Dash asks mockingly as he slows his pace to put another foot of distance between us.

“She did say please.”

“You two are infuriating. I can’t believe I thought you were quiet and respectful,” I murmur to the prince.

“And banal, don’t forget,” Dash adds, instigatingly.

Zale’s lips quirk up in a grin. “Are all Hakranians this uptight?”

“I suppose we are.”

“Interesting, considering the activities you all enjoy participating in,” Dash says as he steps up to my left side, keeping pace with Zale and me now instead of trailing behind. “I imagined a much more contented island of people. Like I said, we can help with that.”

“I am perfectly content. Or I was before you showed up.” I rub my temples. “I thought I asked you to give me space?”

Dash grins, waving his hand within the scant space between us. “Plenty of space here, sweetheart.”

“And I’m not sure what you heard about us over in Stellaris, but not everything you hear is honest. It’s often easier to spill a lie than it is to spill a truth.”

“I’ve heard plenty, sure, but it doesn’t beat the amount of flesh I saw last night on the beach,” Dash says. “Or how you tried to devour me in your room.”

He was at the beach?

Surely I would’ve noticed him on the beach. Unless he wasn’t in sight.

That would explain why he was at the servants’ door randomly. He likely headed back moments prior to me coming across him

“Were you lurking at the bacchanal?”

“Lurking. Gathering intel.”

“Anything to add to this, Prince?” I ask, swinging my head toward Zale, who’s grinning with amusement.

“Lurking. Gathering intel.” He repeats Dash’s words while he scratches his chin. “Tomato, toh-mah-toe?”

“You two are quite inclined to get on my nerves today.”

Reaching Ilona’s door, I nod at another passing guard and lift my knuckles.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

“It’s me, Ilona.”

“Doors open, A! Come on in.”

I swing the door open but don’t immediately see her. The bathroom door is cracked open, and orange light spills out.

“Finally! I went to your room, but Gianna was packing up. Said Queen Enira requested you for breakfast with the Vannyks.” Her voice rings out from the bathroom. “Have you seen the abundance of scrumptious strength roaming around? Good goddess, I—”

“Ilona?” I call out, my voice a little higher than normal, but she doesn’t stop talking. The two men beside me shake with silent laughter.

“—wouldn’t mind letting one of them use their staff on me.” Zale balks as Dash continues to laugh quietly. “And there was this really tall woman with the perkiest buns I’ve ever seen—”

“Ilona.”

“Forget reading Her Warrior of Passion, we could be the main characters in our own version of Stellari guards of pa—” Stepping out of the bathroom, she immediately ceases speaking when she sees who stands with me in her room. Her face turns the deepest shade of red I’ve ever seen, and her mouth widens into an O. “Astrid…why didn’t you mention we have guests?” Her voice comes out as a squeak.

I shrug. “I tried to stop you.”

“Hello,” Dash says with a grin and a wave while Zale stares at anything but Ilona.

“Her Warrior of Passion?” he asks.

Ilona groans, burying her face in her hands. She’s dressed in loose pants almost identical to my own and an emerald blouse that brings out her green eyes and contrasts with her fiery hair. It’s her color.

The Stellari men look almost humorous next to our light, colorful clothing. Zale in his long-sleeve navy jacket and boots, Dash in his full-body leathers and head covering.

“What brings you here, Prince? To my room?” Ilona asks, trying to play it cool by changing the subject. Based on the way her eyes dart between the two men and she fans herself with her hand, I can tell she’s anything but.

“Yes, great question. Why are you two here?” I ask.

Dash stares at me. “I go where you go.”

Zale sheepishly rubs his neck. “I need a break from politics.”

“Are you familiar with riding?” I ask them.

Zale crosses his arms, challengingly. “I could outride you with my eyes closed.”

“Doubtful, but this is terrific news. Let’s go riding.” Fingering the sleeve of his jacket, I ask, “Are you sure you’ll be comfortable in this? I can have a servant grab you a change of clothing.”

“I’m fine in my own clothes, thank you.”

“You’ll overheat in that.”

“Not worried about me, Princess?” Dash interrupts, narrowing his eyes.

“Honestly, no. Even if I was, the leathers were made by aethyns, infused with ice and cooling winds to prevent our guards from overheating. You’ll be quite fine, unfortunately.”

Ilona snickers until her attention snaps to where we’re standing—in the center of the room, near the foot of her bed, on her beloved carpet. “Off my throw! How dare you soil it with your filthy boots!” She plants a hand on Dash and Zale, trying to push them off her carpet. They retreat, murmuring apologies.

“Today is off to a great start,” I mumble. “Ready?” Turning to Ilona, I open my eyes wide and mouth to her: goddess save me. She nods vigorously, sliding on her slippers and turning off the lamps.

Once we exit the room, she skips to my side and pulls me a few paces ahead of the men. Leaning in to whisper in my ear, she says, “This is going to be a long day unless we ditch these wieners.”

“Ilona Ellis Palmetto, did you call them wieners?” I double over in laughter before side-eying the curious men. “Let’s show them who this island belongs to.”

* * *

“Which one’s Aife, huh?” Dash asks, pointing at the lighter mare with a golden mane, then at the taller one with the coloring of a starless sky.

The stable hand chats with another guard by the entrance, eyeing us skeptically until I wave, assuring him we’re fine. Closing my eyes, I inhale deeply, relishing the scent of the stables. Hay and manure. Not exactly delightful, but it brings warm feelings to the surface. Soft whinnies and whimpers flit through the air, bringing a curve to my lips.

“This one,” I say. Stepping up to the tall, dark horse at the end of the row, I give her a kiss on the nose and talk quietly to her.

“Pretty thing.” Zale nods appraisingly before swiping his gaze to another horse.

“Ilona, don’t let them ride Pancake.” I point to where Zale’s eyes have wandered—to the ruddy horse across the way.

“Pancake?” he asks.

“Let me guess, you named her when you were two?” Dash asks.

“No. Actually I did, and I was seven.” Ilona crosses her arms in front of her chest.

“How did you decide on that name?” Zale asks, looking genuinely curious. I admit, he’s beginning to grow on me already. He might seem bland at first, but he’s actually composed and pragmatic with an ounce of humor. It’s a refreshing change of pace from his intense friend I’ve had the displeasure of getting to know.

“Obviously she’s the color of pancakes.” Ilona looks embarrassed as she nuzzles her horse’s neck with her nose. “And she really likes pancakes.”

“How did you figure tha—actually, never mind.” Dash shakes his head.

“Can we go to Paramour Falls?” Zale asks, but I deny his request, informing him that we need an earlier head start if we plan to spend the day there. It’s a hard ride.

His lips purse, but doesn’t put up a fight.

“Enough chatter. Let’s get to riding, boys!” I say with a devilish grin.

Ilona and I share a look before saddling up.

* * *

We lose the boys in the jungle, twisting and turning with ease through the familiar trails, before returning to the palace to read in the library alone. The thought of them riding around in search of us has us snickering sporadically over the next few hours.

It’s a peaceful afternoon until Mother barges in, eyeing the worn books with distaste.

“How you can find relaxation in this horrid place is beyond me, Astrid,” she says. She wears a long-sleeve gossamer dress in a deep ruby red that covers her chest and private areas but is entirely see-through around the midsection, legs, and arms.

Gritting my teeth, I hold back a snarky reply. The only thing horrid here is her.

“What brings you here, Mother?” I ask instead.

“We are organizing a soiree of sorts in honor of the Vannyks.”

I shut my eyes briefly so she can’t see me rolling them. She’ll use any opportunity she can to host a party. Unsurprising.

“This will be unlike our normal…affairs,” she continues. “Proper dress. A banquet. Appropriate dancing.”

“So, a ball?” I ask.

“Not at all.” Scoffing, she waves a hand at Ilona. “Ball sounds stuffy. You would agree, yes, Ilona?”

“Actually, a ball sounds grand! Gowns and dancing? It’s such a fabulous idea, and I’ve always—”

“A soiree,” Mother says through clenched teeth.

Ilona swallows, eyes shifting to the floor. “Yes, Queen Enira. A soiree sounds much lovelier than a ball would.”

“Wonderful. We shall host it the day prior to the weekly bacchanal. Two exhilarating events back to back. The people will be pleased. You two will work with the servants to ensure everything is set.”

“You want me to plan your ba—soiree? In the next five days?” My eyes widen.

“No. I have planned it. You are ensuring everything meets my standards. You will take care of it to my liking.” Her black eyes feel invasive as she stares unwaveringly at me. Swallowing, I nod in agreement, although it’s the last thing I want to do. Her lips curve upward in a feral grin as she claps her hands together.

“Splendid. You really should not dally, considering you have five days, dear.”

She spins on her heel, a tornado of floral perfume and gossamer, and blows toward the door. Pausing, she slowly turns toward us with her head tilted.

“You will allow Dashiel to do his job, Astrid. Do not make a fool of the poor boy.”

Seriously? Mother of all people is telling me to be nice to a guard?

* * *

It isn’t until Dashiel and Zale show up two hours later that I begin to feel bad about ditching them.

Ilona and I debate banquet meal options with Deidra and Lila—two of the kitchen servants—as the pair charge in out of breath, slick with sweat, and wearing identical expressions of rage.

“I hope you two got a nice laugh in,” Dash says, his eyes flaming. “We spent hours looking for you, thinking something had happened on our watch.”

“It’s your fault for losing us,” I say.

“ASTRID!” His voice booms through the kitchen and everyone goes silent.

Other than my mother, no one has ever dared talk to me like that before, especially not in front of others. My cheeks burn with embarrassment and I’m prepared to berate him for speaking to me with such condescension, but the words stick in my mouth.

“This is not a game to me,” Dash says after a beat. “This is my job and I take it seriously. I take protecting you seriously.”

A weird feeling—almost like guilt—creeps up on me. He’s not mad we ditched him; he was worried. He was afraid something happened to us out there. His concern is surprising, and I can’t help but find it oddly attractive.

Playing it off before he can notice, I shoot him a nonchalant smirk. “Worried about me, Dashiel Dargan? I’m a big girl.”

He rips off his headgear, tossing it aside, causing the two servants to gasp and scatter, leaving the four of us alone. Running a hand impulsively through his messy waves, he shakes his head as though he finds me unbelievable.

“I’m not laughing about this.” He steps close enough that I can see the sweat beading on his brow, the flush on his cheeks. I wonder how he got that small scar on his temple—or why I even care. “It’s not funny.”

“For the love of the goddess, Dashiel. You’re so hot and cold.” I’m downright pissed at his tone with me, but I no longer feel the urge to reprimand him. Instead, I want to challenge him. “I’ve known you for like two days and you’ve cracked jokes the entire time. But suddenly you don’t have a sense of humor anymore?”

He flinches almost imperceptibly. “This is different.”

“It was a joke.”

His face hardens before he steps back, out of my face. “Clearly we don’t have the same sense of humor. Forgive me for not finding your safety, or my job, very funny.”

“We’re all safe.” I roll my eyes, trying to downplay my building annoyance at his outburst. “Relax. I didn’t expect you to be so uptight about it, okay?”

“Uptight? I’m not—”

“You are. You’re being a killjoy.”

His brows shoot up to his hairline and his mouth drops open. “You are acting like a child!”

“Oh so now you want to throw insults?”

“No. I’m not actively trying to insult you. I’m simply stating it like it is.”

“I’m the princess. You’re only a guard, Dash, you have no right to talk to me in this manner.”

“Wow.” Disbelief crosses his face. He shakes his head. “I hear you, Astrid. Loud and clear.”

My hands vibrate with fury. This man is maddening! “You started this.”

“It doesn’t matter who started what! Will you just listen to me? You have no idea what—” He pauses and runs a hand over his face before lowering his voice. “It doesn’t matter. Forget it.” He storms out of the kitchen, and my stomach sinks.

For a few seconds all I can do is stand there and stare at the empty doorway he disappeared through.

Finally, I turn to Zale, trying to downplay how bothered I am by Dash. “Your guard has some serious issues.”

His nostrils flare. “He’s been through a lot. You really should cut him some slack.”

“We were only playing around. I survived fine on my own before you two showed up, and I’ll be fine long after you leave.”

“It’s not even about that. His only responsibility right now is to watch over you. It might seem absurd to you, but why can’t you at least let him do his job?”

“How am I supposed to know he takes his job so seriously? The guy doesn’t seem to take anything seriously!”

“I know Dash can be a jokester, a bit of a fool even, but that’s his way of trying to alleviate a potentially uncomfortable situation. He likes making people smile and laugh, but it doesn’t negate the seriousness of his duty.”

Ilona frowns at Zale sympathetically. “We truly didn’t mean to upset him.”

Zale stares at me, unwaveringly. There’s no admonishment in his expression, only true concern.

“We’re really, really sorry,” Ilona squeaks out. Her pale cheeks flare with color, and she nudges me with her bony elbow.

“All right, fine, I’m sorry too.”

Zale nods. “I appreciate that. And Dash will get over it.”

“It’s been a long day,” I say, slicing through the residual tension. “I’m going to my room to cool down.”

The three of us walk to the royal wing in awkward silence. As we draw close to our rooms, we run into Dash. His hair is wet from a fresh shower, and his eyes are red-rimmed.

My chest squeezes at the sight of him—this rugged, arrogant guard—and it’s hard to breathe. No one speaks for a moment, and I’m secretly grateful I’m not the only one who doesn’t know what to say. The dampened mood weighs down on me.

“I’m sorry,” I say, at the same time he says, “I shouldn’t have overreacted.”

He forces a smile. I see the lingering hurt in his eyes, but if he wants to play off the situation and pretend nothing happened, I’ll do the same.

Zale clears his throat, but when Dash keeps his attention locked on me, he mutters a goodbye, leaving with Ilona.

Once we’re alone, I eye Dash carefully, ignoring the weird energy between us.“Are we good?”

He leans in toward me. “We’re good, Princess.” His warm breath caresses my ear, sending a tickle up my spine and a flood of heat to my core.

Great.

Now I’m angry, confused, and turned on. I don’t know how Dash manages to affect me so greatly, but I hate it.

Based on his outburst and Zale’s words, I’m almost convinced that he only wants to do his job well. And if it wasn’t for the strange way my magic doesn’t work on him, I might believe it. But frankly, I do not trust him.

So why do I feel an extreme amount of guilt about upsetting him?

I shouldn’t care about him, yet I do, and that’s the most terrifying thing of all. Nothing good will come of this, especially since I’m uncertain of his true intentions.

He puts space between us again, gazing at me with a serious expression. Gone is his usually playful demeanor. “And you were right. You are the princess and I’m just a guard. I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that.”

I groan. “That’s not what I meant.”

“That doesn’t make it any less true.”

“Look, I’m sorry for… well, I’m sorry for making your job harder I guess.”

“It’s fine, really.”

“All right.” I’m skeptical, but I don’t press. “We’re going to be spending a lot of time together. I don’t want things to be weird.”

“Here’s an idea to make up for it—take us to the falls? We can all get away and relax for a day.”

“All right. But not until next week. Thanks to your prince and his family, we have pressing obligations this week.”

“Okay,” Dash says, with a stern expression. “And one more thing.”

“Yes?”

“No more ditching.” We lock eyes, and something intense passes between us.

“Fine. But only if you stay out of my way like a good little shadow. Let me live my life without your constant interference,” I say.

He smirks, much more authentically this time, and offers me a hand. I eye it warily before accepting and shaking. “Deal.”