“They are very kind.”
“They have awaited your coming for a long time.”
“As did the House of Song.”
“I’m sure.” He glanced in her direction. “I’m not sure your father has told you, but as a young boy I fought at his side.”
Valoria perked up. Any mention of her father—her home—raised her spirits. “No, he did not say.”
Nathaniel smiled as if remembering a joke. “We barely escaped a battle with kobolds in the red woods. From there, we entered the caves of Darkenbite and met the albinos.”
“Sounds like quite an adventure.” Why had her father failed to tell her of it? “Who else was on this quest?”
“The king and queen. This happened before they were married, back when Bronford Thoridian was her bodyguard.”
Valoria nodded. There was her answer. Her father stayed away from that time in his life as if it were poison. Yet, he could never bring himself to forget.
“It was the greatest adventure of my life.” The hall ended in a corridor that parted both ways. Nathaniel gestured toward the right.
At least some good had come of it. “So far.”
Nathaniel turned toward her with a question in his eyes.
She smiled for the first time that day. “You have many years left to have more.” Even though the story aged him about ten years older than her, for her mother had birthed her two years after the queen had stolen her father’s heart.
A smile slipped through his lips before he turned back and showed her to an oaken door. “Your room, my lady.”
Nathaniel opened the door to bright sunlight filtering through three large triangular windows. A four-poster canopy bed draped in light blue satin sat at the room’s center before a grand fireplace. Threaded rugs from Jamal spread across the marble floor in vibrant azure and vermillion hues. A porcelain tub and wash basin sat beside a mirror as large as the wall. On the other side hung a tapestry of Helena and Horred on their wedding day.
Valoria swallowed hard, trying to remind herself this was not a prison. Or at least, not meant to be. Her trunks had been placed at the foot of the bed, and next to them sat her harp. She knelt beside it, feeling the strings under her fingertips.
“Is it to your liking, Princess?” Nathaniel stood at the doorway, awaiting her approval.
“It is more than enough.” She stood, remembering her place. If she was to be queen someday, she couldn’t throw herself at the floor whenever she saw her harp. “Thank you, Commander Blueborough.”
“Lieutenant. But please”—he took her hand—“call me Nathaniel.”
His fingers lingered on hers, and she gave him a questioning look. What did he desire? Her trust? Or was it something more? Would he tempt his own brother’s intended?
Nathaniel pulled away. “I’m the second in command of the army. The name does not suit me.”
As if that was the reason. Valoria inhaled sharply. “So be it.”
He bowed before her. “I must take my leave. I’ll see you tonight at the dinner festival.”
Yes, he would. But Brax would be there, and she doubted he’d talk to her while she sat next to that warhorse of a man. “See you tonight.”
He left, closing the door behind him. Valoria surveyed her room again. The main room led to a smaller antechamber for her handmaidens. Although Cadence’s trunk was there, and her embroidery slung across the bed, the room lay empty.
She probably looked after the wounded, which was where Valoria would rather be. But, future queens did not run around without bodyguards, tending to wounded soldiers. Her future was a lonely, secluded one. No matter, Valoria had her harp. She could play soothing arpeggios until dinner. She opened her trunk, choosing a plain red velvet dress and laid the fabric upon the bed. Better not wear the blood-stained monstrosity her betrothal gown had become.
How befitting.
Her intended was a monstrosity in himself. Had he looked at her for more than a few heartbeats, maybe he would have noticed the blood. Then, she might have earned a measure of his respect.
Taking her harp in her hands, she strummed a chord and breathed deeply. Thoughts of the day disappeared as her music echoed through the room. She played an old reverie Echo had taught her as a child. One by one, the chords built upon themselves to reveal a lilting melody. The song never failed to warm her hands and calm her.
Outside, the wind picked up, howling through the towers of the upper battlements. Her triangular windows snapped open, and the curtains flew over her. Valoria stopped playing and swiped the fabric away. She approached the window, dread eating her stomach away.
Beyond the city walls and the blooming orchards lay the dark mountains of Sill. Lightning struck the highest peak as gray storm clouds clustered around the valley separating the foothills from the meadows. A storm brewed.
She moved to shut the window. A voice chanting a strange language rode the wind, holding her still. Valoria leaned over the balcony, the wind whipping her hair from its braids. The stone turned her fingers to ice. For a moment, the voice became clear, and she could have sworn she heard her name.
Chapter 4
Simmering Meat
Valoria’s velvet gown weighed her down as she hustled across the corridor. She dared not wear anything more revealing. Any show of skin would only make her more vulnerable, more pitiful in Brax’s cold eyes. She was not desperate for his attention.
“It’s not my fault you’re late.” Cadence shouted after her.
“No. But coming back soaked in blood did not help.” Valoria struggled to remember the path Nathaniel had taken her down earlier. Was it a right or a left at the large painting of King Thoridian cutting the head off the necromancer?
“I told you not to wait for me.” Cadence caught up and tripped on her hem, tumbling forward.
Valoria caught her and hefted her upright. “I’m not attending this alone.”
“Very well. But, I’m not following you on your wedding night. Sooner or later you’ll have to face him without my company.”
Valoria preferred later. After witnessing an arrow pierce a minstrel’s back, Echo’s bloody shoulder, a man’s decapitated head bounce on the floor, and a spine-chilling voice call her name on the wind, she’d had enough unpleasantness to last a fortnight. “All I want to do is get through this dinner.”
The stench of roasting meat hit her nose, and she coughed, covering her mouth with her sleeve. Unlike the minstrels’ plant-based fare, Ebonvale’s people savored their animal flesh. Just one more aspect of castle life she had to accommodate. “This way. I hope they have some roasted turnips or squash.”
Cadence smoothed down her dress. “I wouldn’t count your wyvern’s eggs before they hatch.”
They turned the corner into a room lit by flaming chandeliers. Two guards stood at duty, ushering them forward into a room filled with guests drowned in gowns and finery. As she entered, the people bowed before her, lowering their faces toward the floor. The royal family sat at a long table along the back wall below three stained glass windows.
At the center of the table, a roasted hog sat on a silver tray. Brax sat above the snout, gorging on a piece of the hog’s leg. He glanced up, and put the leg down, chewing hungrily as he laid his uninterested eyes on her.
Disgust sickened her stomach. Could anyone else be so ill-suited for her? Might as well deliver her to the undead. She could not expect them to wait for her to eat.