“Welcome to the life of a royal guard.” Hector concluded, seeing my dismayed expression and clearly thinking of some courtier in particular.
I could see myself falling in with this group of soldiers—wearing the pewter tunics and chest plates that suited Sadie and Hector equally. They seemed easier friends than the ones Briar was bound to attract.
“That is a gorgeous dagger.” Hector tipped over the edge of the table to examine the silver scabbard.
“Vellia made it for me,” I replied, resting my hand on the gilded hilt.
“It must’ve been wild to grow up here with a princess,” he mused. “You two must be like sisters.”
I bobbed my chin. “Something like that.”
“But can you use it?” Hector asked, mirroring my pose with his own sword. I cut him a sideways look, my expression saying everything, and the guard snorted. “Aye, she can,” he said to his sister. “You should come train with us in Highwick. I want to see that dagger in action.”
“I’d like that,” I said, giving him a nod of thanks. Vellia’s conjured monsters and foes were all of her own design. They made fine training partners, but they only moved one way, thought one way. They were all controlled by Vellia’s mind, and she wasn’t of the martial spirit. I needed new opponents with minds of their own if I were to improve my skills.
“I still can’t believe it,” Sadie said, swiping her short braid over her shoulder. Leaning in, she looked down the table at Briar. “The Crimson Princess is alive after all these years. When the King told us, we were all stunned. We thought the rumors were just that . . . and Grae knew the entire time.” She snorted as she lifted her goblet. “Explains why he’s kept all the swooning ladies at arm’s length. He had a princess waiting for him.”
I glanced up from the table, leaning past the tall stem of the candelabra to see Grae talking with Briar and Maez.
“Do you think they’re fated mates?” Sadie asked, snapping my attention back to her.
“It’s said that the King and Queen Marriel were fated mates,” Hector said, swirling his goblet.
It was a good question—and strangely one I hadn’t ever really thought about. Lots of Wolves took a mate. Some married, others had many lovers over their lifetime, but fated mates were something special. There was a magic to their bond that existed beyond this realm, weaving through time. That magic superseded all others, a most rare and respected gift from the Moon Goddess herself.
Some said it was like two bodies existing with one soul. Most thought it was beautiful, but I only thought it was tragic. When my father died, my mother died, too, so strong was their fated bond. The bards wrote ballads about their love, but all I felt was their absence. Tying two souls together didn’t seem like a gift . . . it seemed like cruelty.
Probably why I never considered it for Briar.
“Maybe Grae and Briar are, too,” Sadie mused, shaking her head so that her bangs moved out of her eyes. “Maybe it was the Goddess who made their parents arrange their marriage.”
“All royals arrange these alliances if they have daughters instead of sons,” I said.
“But why Damrienn?” Sadie asked. “Why not one of the other kingdoms?”
I shook my head, setting down my glass. “Taigos has no male heir and Valta’s male royals are either too old or too young.”
Of the four kingdoms of Aotreas, each was ruled by a different pack, protectors of their human kingdoms. The Gold, Ice, Silver, and Onyx Wolf packs ruled over the continent, with my kingdom at the very north and the floating islands of Valta at the southernmost tip.
“It would explain why Grae’s been keeping this secret,” Hector replied. “Didn’t want one of the Valtan princes to swoop in and propose to her, too old or not.”
Sadie twirled her knife. “I can’t image the Onyx Wolves attempting to rule a kingdom so far from their own. They’d need to cross Damrienn and Taigos to even oversee it.”
“It needed to be a secret.” My goblet refilled, the candlelight flickering at the magical act. “To protect her from Sawyn.” Even whispering the sorceress’s name felt wrong. Her magic seemed to darken every room.
Sadie rolled her eyes. “Sawyn is probably a withered old crone by now.”
“Sorcerers are immortal, as is the gift of their dark magic,” Hector countered. “Everyone knows that.”
“Maybe she’s not a very good one, then,” Sadie snapped back. “No one has seen her in a decade. Olmdere might be flooded with her Rooks, but any fool with a sword could take that throne.”