Shadowguard

The only true blessing in the realm was a warm bath.

For the first time in weeks, her body relaxed; even the stinging cuts that littered the side of her face couldn’t stem the blissful relief that washed over her as she dunked her head beneath the heated water. The bath itself was nothing to write home about — it was a far cry from the stone baths in the capital’s bathing houses or the marbled shared bath at the academy. It was simply a well-crafted wooden tub with coals burning beneath, but it was comfortable. More than that, it was familiar; familiarity was in short supply these days.

As all good things, however, the bath ended far too soon. The coals burnt out and not long after the water chilled. Her fingers were raisins and her hair half dry by the time she finally hauled herself out of the tub and swaddled her body in the towel hung on the rack near the door. Foregoing her usual habit of lazing on her bed until she dried completely, she pulled on one of her warmer dresses. The wool was soft on her skin, recently washed and smelling of roses. It was her mother’s favorite flower, and while she hated the smell as a child, it now brought her solace in the way no other scent could.

It was home.

Tossing her towel aside, she stepped into her room. It remained untouched in her absence, all of her keepsakes and trinkets exactly where she’d left them. The painting she’d made with Marea hung above her bed, which was shoved into the far corner of the room. Pallets of face-paints, purchased during her years in the capital, cluttered her vanity. She was never one to fret over her appearance, but there were times she felt the need to sit in front of the mirror and prod at her face with an array of brushes in hand. That need usually accompanied the first signs of the blood moon and often came with an infuriating inability to decide which dress to wear.

Lisette hovered by her bookcase, a dainty finger trailing over the spines as she read the titles. Where she expected a flurry of pointed questions, silence greeted her. The collection of books seemed innocent at first glance, but many of them belonged to her mother; her father would surely faint if he realized what sort of material they contained.

Sighing, she plopped down in front of the vanity and took a moment to examine her reflection as she pulled her brush through her hair. She’d grown accustomed to the length, but with the dirt and grime thoroughly stripped, the vibrancy returned. Most wouldn’t know it, as he had none left to speak of, but she’d inherited the bright copper color and half-coiled waves from her father. When it was longer, her hair waved until it curled at the ends; now, it sat atop her head in a messy, but not unkempt, mop of loose waves.

“Who cut my hair?” she asked.

“Vina. Said it looked so bad it made her physically ill,” Lisette said. She pulled a book off the shelf and squinted at the cover. “Did not think you were the type to read bawdy novels.”

“I’m twenty-three and unmarried,” Everna snorted. “What did you think I’d read? Children’s tales of princesses and knights in shining armor?”

“Most girls do.”

“Most girls also don’t realize that a man in shining armor has accomplished nothing in his life,” Everna countered. “I was never one for fairy tales, anyway. Too dramatic and too unrealistic. I grew up with the people who lived those ‘fairy tails’.”

“Never wanted to be a princess?”

“And live my life bogged down by duties, expectations, and at the behest of others? A life where the sole purpose of my existence is to be bartered off to whomever offers the highest bid? Absolutely not,” Everna said, scrunching her nose. “I am perfectly content being a relatively normal woman, thank you.”

“Not even if a certain someone were to stop pretending he’s not into you?” she prodded.

“I find it very difficult to imagine Wil in a castle, of all places, with a crown on his head,” Everna huffed. “He acts like less of a prince and more of a petulant boy.”

Lisette shoved the book back into its spot and moved onto the shelf below. “Considering how many children King Keeland had, it wouldn’t surprise me if he was a street rat before the castle tracked him down. I’ve heard there’s a couple they still haven’t found yet.”

That seemed more likely. She sincerely doubted anyone raised in the castle would act as he did; the family would never allow it. There were books — rather thick ones at that — dedicated to detailing the proper conduct for the royal family. The academy’s library had copies of them available for the scholars. She tried to read one once, for curiosity’s sake, and put it down not a minute later.

No, he acted very much like some of the older street urchins that tried to con her out of her coin with flimsy charm and mocking flattery.

Despite his attitude, it wasn’t surprising. He admitted to having influence over the courts, limited as it was, and only the High Nobility had that power. She assumed he came from one of the Three Houses — a bastard son perhaps — but she hadn’t expected royalty. Though, with the state of the throne, the royal family may as well be elevated nobility.

“I’m surprised you don’t seem to care that much,” Lisette noted. “I can’t say I wasn’t shocked. Least now I know why Vina’s crazy about him; he’s a prince.”

If not for Windmore’s reaction — the flicker of horrified realization that crossed his features before he fled with his tail between his legs — she might have thought Corden was pulling a fast one on him. The more she thought of it, however, the more obvious it became. Sir Swiftbrook knew who he was. The Inquisitor made several odd remarks about the ordeal as well.

“Because, if I’m honest, I don’t care,” she said, pulling the brush through the last of her hair. “Why should I?”

“Uh, because if you stop tap dancing around him like an empty-headed milkmaid and started being a little more, you know, obvious, you could have a crown on your head too,” Lisette said. “Eventually. And don’t tell me you wouldn’t want that; half the books on your shelf say otherwise. Seems to be the main theme here.”

Everna groaned and tossed her brush onto the vanity. “You and Leah are seeing things that aren’t there.”

Lisette turned to her and promptly snapped one of her books shut. “I’ve known him for a couple of years, now, and let me tell you: while he is an idiot with a flare for helping damsels in distress, that’s usually as far as it goes. He drops them off and moves onto the next.”

“That’s probably what’s going to happen when all of this is over.”

“You’re dense as a rock or willfully ignorant. Gods, no wonder you two get along.”

If she were completely honest with herself, the latter was on the mark. After Leah pointed it out, it became more apparent and many of nuances she’d initially misinterpreted were drawn into perspective. There was an obvious difference between the way he acted when they were alone and when there were others present. That difference started shortly after she arrived at the safe house and only became more pronounced as the days passed. The feeling wasn’t entirely unrequited, but she hadn’t given it much thought. More important matters demanded her attention.

“Now is not the best time,” she said after a moment.

Lisette grinned, her eyes alight with mischievous glee. “Oh? And if it was the time?”

“We’ll have to see if that time comes.”

“How disgustingly mature,” Lisette said, scrunching her nose. “If I were you, I’d take the chance while you have it. Soon as this mess is fixed, he’ll be on his way back to the capital, and who knows when you’ll see him again. Who knows, you convince him to stay. Gods know Osain could use the help.”

“I’ll cross that bridge when, and if, I get to it,” Everna bit out.

“Your loss.”

Pointedly ignoring her last comment, Everna pulled her boots on — her own boots, for once — and stepped into the hall, which separated the bedrooms from the rest of the house. Soft conversation drifted from the kitchen, her mother and Leah’s voices barely audible above the clanging of pots and pans. Corden hovered by the archway, his face flushed with discomfort. Everna raised a brow, and he vaguely motioned to the kitchen.

“I need words, Corden,” Everna said. “I’m not a mind-reader.”

“She’s being Mom,” he grumbled, running a hand through his dark hair.

Their mother leaned through the archway and shot him a significant look. “You’ve been engaged for months and didn’t tell me. You deserve to be embarrassed!”

“Engaged?”

“I know!” her mother cried. “Shocking, isn’t it? The whole world’s gone mad! My bonehead son found himself a woman! And a beauty at that.”

Putting two and two together, Everna glanced past her mother to find Leah standing in the corner of the kitchen, her shoulders shaking as she struggled to stifle her laughter. She should be more shocked, but after the events of the last few hours, Everna could only muster enough of a thought to utter a single, “Oh.”

“Oh? Gods, you are Ronan’s daughter,” her mother huffed, throwing her towel over her shoulder. “You want to know how they met? He was naked-”

“Mom!” Corden groaned.

“Piss drunk and thought trying to ride a wyvern was a good idea,” her mother said with a roguish grin. “Then he stumbled into the lovely Miss Leah’s clergy, still buck naked, mind you, and she had to fix the result of his stupidity.”

Everna snorted. “Sounds exactly like something he’d do.”

Corden flung his hands up in exasperation.

Her mother pinned her with a significant look and said, “Now if we just get you settled down — ”

“You know what? I don’t think I’ve seen Dad since I got back. I’m going downstairs, bye!” Everna said as she hurried towards the door, the sound of her mother’s cackling following her.

She was not having another conversation about her romantic affairs, or lack thereof.