8.
Thalia didn’t sleep that night.
Not because she’d yielded to impulse, but because there was so much to prepare for the wedding service. First, she stopped in the kitchens to see how the food for the feast was coming along. The staff was too busy chopping to spare more than a moment.
“Do you need anything?” she asked.
“Please don’t trouble yourself,” the head cook said.
Which translated roughly to, ‘please get out of my kitchen’. Thalia was familiar with such code and didn’t dally among the boiling pots. She met Lileth in the back corridor, and it seemed as if the older woman was looking for her. Lil wore a grave expression, one that heralded nothing good.
“Problem?” she asked.
“Gavriel wants a word.”
Thalia swallowed a sigh. “Can it wait?”
“I don’t think it can.”
If he deemed it important enough to interrupt her work, she’d better make time. “Is he in the strategy room?”
“He was when I left.”
“On my way. Why didn’t he call me?”
Lil’s expression darkened. “The connection may not be secure.”
As she headed to hear Gavriel’s grim tidings—which could be the name of a particularly gloomy children’s tale—it occurred to her that this was a hell of a way to spend the night before her wedding. While Thalia had never fantasized about what it would be like, she had never imagined that she’d be forced to such a strategy by threats from all sides. There would be no tender words or floral bouquets, no time spent putting scented lotion on her skin in hopes that her chosen mate found her beautiful.
Thalia didn’t have close friendships, either, nobody to gather in her room and giggle over how wonderful or terrible her first night might be. For her, such relationships constituted vulnerability. She had supporters, not confidants, and while she didn’t regret the choices that had kept her safe, sometimes security was lonely.
Gavriel stood before the window, staring out the narrow opening into the dark. He turned as she entered, a shadow with red-hot coals for eyes. Sometimes his intensity gave her the shivers, for devotion like his could turn dark under the right circumstances. He executed a brief bow, waiting for her to reach the grouping of chairs arranged on a worn antique rug.
“Sit down,” she invited.
“I’ll be brief. I know that you’re busy.”
“Go ahead.”
“I would like to be discharged from your direct service,” he said quietly.
Of all the words she could’ve pictured Gavriel speaking, those never came to mind. She covered her surprise with a question. “Will you tell me why?”
“Magda Versai is pursuing an investigation related to the disappearance of the Ash Valley second. I believe the trail could lead us to an insurgent stronghold, where your father’s followers are hiding.”
“So it’s likely that the jaguar cut a deal with my father and is now working for the traitors and the Golgoth?”
Gavriel lifted a shoulder, never one to make judgments before all facts were available. “She picked up a hint of him from one of our patrols, but everything was in such disarray that we can’t be certain if he was a captive or actively cooperating.”
“What I’m gathering is that you would like the freedom to pursue this on your own?”
She didn’t say what else she knew to be true—that this was likely an excuse to get out of Daruvar before the wedding. Sometimes it was so hard pretending to be oblivious, but she’d thought it best to salve his pride this way. Otherwise, she would’ve had a candid conversation with Gavriel long ago. Thalia suspected he loved the idea of her more anyway, a sort of knightly devotion.
“Exactly so. Will you release me from your service?”
A pang of regret went through her. Through the years, there had been nobody more dedicated or loyal than Gavriel. If she released him, she didn’t doubt that he would keep working for her benefit, but he would no longer take orders directly from her. Replacing him would take some doing, as she’d been counting on him to lead the Noxblades and train replacements in the future.
She let out a soft sigh and then nodded. “Follow your own path from here. Send word if you learn anything important.”
“Thank you, Your Highness.”
“When are you leaving?”
“As soon as the tiger woman is ready.” The descriptors sounded vaguely pejorative spoken in that tone.
“Then be safe.” She didn’t say she would miss him, though that was true, it might also foster false hope.
“You as well.” He hesitated, but in the end, he chose to swallow whatever words hovered at the tip of his tongue.
Just as well.
“Could you do me one last favor?”
“What is it?” He looked wary, wisely enough.
“Recommend your successor of the two who returned with you from Hallowell.”
“Ferith, definitely. She has the most experience. Tirael is too young and is impulsive in the bargain. Was that all?”
“Yes, thank you. Take care, Gavriel.”
With a bow, he excused himself and Thalia didn’t watch him go. End of an era. Once, she’d taken for granted that he would be the silent sword behind her throne. Their roads had diverged unexpectedly and might not join again.
Wearily she went to the hall to check on the decorations. They seldom used this room, as it was large and cold, but apart from the courtyard, there was no space large enough for everyone at Daruvar to bear witness. The staff had dug out some truly archaic decorations and were bedecking the halls with them, no time to order anything or wait for supplies. If this wedding seemed rustic and rushed, so be it.
“How are things going?” she asked.
A young page dipped at the waist in a nervous obeisance, twisting her hands before her. “Well, Your Highness, there aren’t enough chairs, not anywhere in the fortress, and we don’t have a red carpet anywhere. I’m sorry—”
“Don’t worry about it.” Thalia cut into the apology with a careless gesture and a reassuring smile. “You can only do what’s possible with the resources available and the time allowed.”
“Understood, Your Highness.”
Her eyes burned, dry and sore, but she had one more stop before she could snatch a few hours of rest. At this hour, the chapel was deserted, moonlight streaming in the etched silver stained glass. The mosaics were so old here that she could scarcely make out the pictures, and the candles had been dark for decades. It seemed a minor miracle that the sparker allowed her to light the tapers, one by one. They were melted, ancient, and misshapen, but lucky for Thalia, they still kindled to flame.
In the best of all possible worlds, she wouldn’t be doing this alone. Her family should be beside her, gathered to pray for her happiness and prosperity, but their numbers had never been great, and now she was alone, the last of her line. At this point, Ruark Gilbraith was her closest living relative, and he wanted to marry her to unite their bloodlines, so he wouldn’t be lighting any candles. Still, while she had abandoned some of the old ways, she wouldn’t omit this quiet vigil.
“Mother, guide me as I take my first steps to my new life. Help me remember that truth is not always wisdom and that compassion is always required. I will do my best to be worthy of the task you have entrusted to me. Watch over me and keep me from harm.” She whispered a few more words in Old Eldritch, her pronunciation rough and slow.
Traditionally, she ought to pray to her father as well, but she couldn’t bring herself to ask for his aid, not when their ideology had diverged so completely. He’d probably hex me if he has any power in the afterlife. Thalia knelt on the cold stones for a long time, until her knees went from sore to stiff to numb and she had to use her hands to pull herself upright.
That should be enough reverence.
Carefully, she blew each candle out and sat in the darkness, unable to move. In the morning, everything would change.
Sleep was impossible.
Magda had just left, after offering a cryptic, ‘I have a trail to follow’. If Raff had any illusions that they had formed a bond, her casual departure would’ve dispelled them. His body hurt with a low-grade ache, but the wound was healed, at least. It looked like it would scar, making him unique among Animari.
In the middle of the night, they had only a skeleton crew on watch, which permitted him to wander the hallways unimpeded. A few guards bowed or asked if he needed directions. Raff only shook his head. He didn’t even know what he was looking for, but he was too restless to sleep. The days he’d spent laid up took a toll since he was used to grueling physical activity. As he rounded a corner, he smelled the distinctive odor of burning tallow and the sharp scent of a flame recently extinguished.
That was how he found her, kneeling in a stripe of moonlight. He’d seen relatively few expressions from Princess Thalia, so her naked loneliness hit him hard. She had her face upturned to the window, eyes closed, and he could imagine what might be running through her head. He hesitated, as interrupting her might make her feel worse. There must be some attachment between her and Gavriel and Raff had just watched the Noxblade leave the fortress with Mags.
Well, he’d never been known for prudence or caution. Raff strolled into the chapel and sat beside her. A mark of her absolute introspection, she didn’t notice his arrival for a couple of minutes. Then she started, her breath coming in a sharp inhalation. In such a restrained person, that qualified as a shocked scream.
“I’d apologize for intruding, but I’m not sorry, so let’s bypass the part where I feign remorse, as I’m not very good at it. I rarely regret yielding to my various impulses.”
“Good evening to you as well,” Thalia said.
“Does it bother you that I’ve omitted a traditional greeting? Then how about, ‘Hello, fair princess, why do you tarry in this desolate place?’”
“I might tell you if you truly wished to know and were not just mocking my preference for good manners.”
“That’s unfair. I was teasing, Lady Silver. Mockery has unkindness at its heart while teasing springs from affection.”
“A spurious claim. You scarcely know me. Therefore, it can only be the former.”
“Is that so? Well, my curiosity was sincere at any rate. What are you doing here?”
“I was praying,” Thalia said. “And now, I’m sitting.”
“Alone, in the dark?”
“Not anymore, though it is still dark. We have a couple of hours yet before sunrise.”
“How should we spend them?”
Thalia tilted her head. Even in this light, he could see her clearly. “You should get some sleep before the festivities start.” Impossible to miss the faint tinge of bitterness, the emphasis on the word ‘festivities’.
“If you have doubts, it’s not too late to stop this. You could marry up with the Gilbraith wad who issued such a lavish ultimatum.”
“I’d rather die,” she said softly.
“No need to be dramatic, ‘no’ is good. Works for so many unpleasant occasions.”
“I’ll remember that. Even if you can’t sleep, we should go. Except I’m not sure if I can. My legs seem to be asleep.”
That was easily enough solved. Raff rose first and pulled her upright; she hadn’t exaggerated, though, and Thalia stumbled against him. He supported her, noting the way her heart sped up. That might be simple nerves, however. There was no reason to read it immediately as attraction.
“Better?” he asked, after a long moment. “Can you walk now?”
“I think so.” To prove her assertion, she took a step, then another, steadying herself on the cool stone wall.
“Then I’ll see you to your room.”
“You offer as if I’m in danger,” she said lightly.
“I’d rather not test it. It’s not like I expected to get shot with anti-Animari rounds while we were out hunting.”
Her shoulders rounded slightly, as if he’d added to her burden with that reminder. “Fair point. I’ll welcome your escort.”
Great, they weren’t even past the wedding night, and he was already making shit worse. Raff had seldom felt more useless. While the Eldritch princess might need his troops and his technology, the odds didn’t seem promising that she’d welcome anything he had to offer personally. That shouldn’t even bother him.
Being purposeful wasn’t his strength anyway. Life of the party? Yes. Leading the way out in the wild? Certainly. He could also drink most people under the table and beat nine out of ten challengers in a bar dust-up. None of those skills would keep his people safe like the Pax Protocols.
“My pleasure,” he mumbled.
She sighed audibly. “Do you mind if we detour? I’d like to get some air and see the stars before I turn in.”
That would be the perfect atmosphere to make a move, flirt a bit and see if he could thaw her out. Only it seemed…wrong to look on her that way, but he didn’t know how else to be. People fell into two categories: those he could charm and those who saw him as a nuisance. Thalia didn’t seem willing to join either camp, currently.
“It’s cold. Do you have a coat?”
“I’m already numb from crouching on the chapel floor and I’m used to discomfort. Indulge me for five minutes, won’t you?”
“Easily done.”
In silence, she led the way to the stairs that wound upward through the west tower, closest to the chapel. There was nobody stationed on the wall, but she likely had motion detection drones deployed that would sound the alarm in the security room. Too dark to see the sloping hills, and above, it was all blackness and stars. Even in Pine Ridge, they didn’t shine so sharp and clear, too much light pollution.
“It’s breathtaking,” she whispered. “But at the same time, it makes me feel so small…and I need that, so I don’t get lost in my own nonsense.”
“What do you mean?”
“Perspective. I can’t believe my own propaganda, or I’ll become a queen people fear, not the leader they need.”
Maybe it was the late hour, but that just seemed so wise and profound that he couldn’t figure out what to say. So he offered, “I didn’t mean to upset you, before. With what I said about needing protection here.”
“You didn’t say anything that was untrue. I let you come to harm after I promised safe shelter.” Her lips compressed on more words before she shaped them into a smile.
“Sod that noise. I’m alive and I’ve got another pretty scar to show off. You know how rare that is?”
“Is it? I didn’t realize. If I’m honest, I haven’t spent much time among your people.”
“Or your own for that matter, if stories can be believed.”
“Pardon me?”
“I understood that you weren’t allowed to leave Riverwind for quite some time, after you openly opposed your father.”
“That story is circulating everywhere, I suppose. Damn Gavriel. He thinks I’m a martyr to the cause.” She whirled away from the wall and headed down.
Just as well, she must be chilled to the bone.
“Princesses locked in towers always suffer,” Raff said. “It’s enough torment to have your freedom stripped away. I’d rather have a whipping.”
“I’d rather not talk about my time at Riverwind, if you don’t mind. Those are not good memories, hardly anything I should have in my mind the night before our wedding.” Thalia marched down the hall, her shoulders set.
“Hearing you say that, it almost sounds…real.” One day, he’d lose the dratted habit of blurting things out. Maybe.
“Instead of an affair of state?”
Her tone made him wish he could eat his words. This must be hard for her as well, and he was making it worse. Raff tried to find something to say that would make it better, but they were already at her door.
She opened it without hesitation. “Thanks for seeing me in. Until tomorrow, Lord Wolf.”