seemed to speak to its royalty. Having a conversation in the castle was as good as sharing it with the Hillsidian Blood. Was it the same here in Ayavel?
The hair on the back of his neck stood on end, as if a dozen eyes watched the two of them walk through the corridor. He cleared his throat and suppressed a shudder.
“Have you decided?” Gurien eventually asked.
Braeden just nodded.
“And?”
“I’ll do it.”
Gurien smiled wide. “Thank you, my friend. I will get everything ready.”
Braeden nodded, too nervous to return the smile. “When should we begin?”
“Tomorrow. I need time to prepare,” Gurien replied, his tone neutral.
From his lack of detail, the general must have sensed the same discomfort scorching Braeden’s nerves. Braeden glanced around, looking for the source of his anxiety, but could find only paintings and the occasional closed door. Light spilled in from the many windows, illuminating the hallway. Dust floated in the beams of sunlight, peaceful and still until the two men passed.
Someone had to tell Aurora about his decision, but he didn’t know how to word the statement without being obvious. “Should I—?”
“Yes,” Gurien replied.
Braeden nodded. Good enough. To distract whomever may or may not be listening to their conversation, he launched into a discussion about Gurien’s lessons with his soldiers. He didn’t really listen to himself talk, nor did he really hear Gurien’s answers.
His mind raced ahead to his new mission: school an obstinate princess whom he didn’t really like. He would push her. Whereas he admittedly went easy on Kara during her training, he would not be kind to the Kirelm princess. Aurora would have to prove herself, and he would test her dedication by seeing to it she bled.
That evening, Braeden found Aurora in the Ayavelian gardens under a cherry blossom tree. He whispered instructions regarding where to meet him the next day and told her to find trousers. She would eventually need to learn to fight in a gown, since that’s what she always wore, but for now a dress would hinder movement. After he delivered his orders, she didn’t answer. Instead, she nodded and bit her lip to hide the smile.
She wouldn’t be smiling for long.
After Braeden fell asleep, he tossed and turned with nightmares of being discovered. In each dream, Ithone stumbled upon their sparring arena. The Kirelm Blood went into a rage and set the trees on fire, all before snapping Braeden’s neck.
Braeden shot up in bed after the last nightmare. Unable to endure yet another, he went to his study and read through Conversations with a Drenowith until the sun rose.
The day sped by. Braeden began work on his Stelian attack plan, but his quill seemed to write his thoughts for him. His hand swept over page after page of maps and battle notes, sketching troop movements and areas of risk without his knowledge. He’d memorized the maps, and his subconscious simply filled in the gaps after his last trip to the Stele.
He would have to go again, of course. Several times. Troop movements changed. New battlements could go up at any moment. He had to keep an eye on his father for fear the attack plans would unravel at the last minute. Only the element of surprise could win this final fight.
Braeden only ate once, around noon. His mind wandered, half of it focused on the maps while the other half lost itself to thoughts about where he would begin his lessons with Aurora.
Eventually, daylight faded into dusk. The last traces of sun trickled in through his windows, the burning light casting a red glow on his papers. He sat back and stared into the growing shadows of his study, not yet willing to light candles to keep working.
In an hour, he would have to go meet Aurora for the first time. By then, the arena would be ready. Gurien would distract Ithone, and Aurora would finally learn what it meant to be a Blood.
Braeden leaned against a tree in the clearing Gurien mentioned
The hair on the back of his neck stood on end, as if a dozen eyes watched the two of them walk through the corridor. He cleared his throat and suppressed a shudder.
“Have you decided?” Gurien eventually asked.
Braeden just nodded.
“And?”
“I’ll do it.”
Gurien smiled wide. “Thank you, my friend. I will get everything ready.”
Braeden nodded, too nervous to return the smile. “When should we begin?”
“Tomorrow. I need time to prepare,” Gurien replied, his tone neutral.
From his lack of detail, the general must have sensed the same discomfort scorching Braeden’s nerves. Braeden glanced around, looking for the source of his anxiety, but could find only paintings and the occasional closed door. Light spilled in from the many windows, illuminating the hallway. Dust floated in the beams of sunlight, peaceful and still until the two men passed.
Someone had to tell Aurora about his decision, but he didn’t know how to word the statement without being obvious. “Should I—?”
“Yes,” Gurien replied.
Braeden nodded. Good enough. To distract whomever may or may not be listening to their conversation, he launched into a discussion about Gurien’s lessons with his soldiers. He didn’t really listen to himself talk, nor did he really hear Gurien’s answers.
His mind raced ahead to his new mission: school an obstinate princess whom he didn’t really like. He would push her. Whereas he admittedly went easy on Kara during her training, he would not be kind to the Kirelm princess. Aurora would have to prove herself, and he would test her dedication by seeing to it she bled.
That evening, Braeden found Aurora in the Ayavelian gardens under a cherry blossom tree. He whispered instructions regarding where to meet him the next day and told her to find trousers. She would eventually need to learn to fight in a gown, since that’s what she always wore, but for now a dress would hinder movement. After he delivered his orders, she didn’t answer. Instead, she nodded and bit her lip to hide the smile.
She wouldn’t be smiling for long.
After Braeden fell asleep, he tossed and turned with nightmares of being discovered. In each dream, Ithone stumbled upon their sparring arena. The Kirelm Blood went into a rage and set the trees on fire, all before snapping Braeden’s neck.
Braeden shot up in bed after the last nightmare. Unable to endure yet another, he went to his study and read through Conversations with a Drenowith until the sun rose.
The day sped by. Braeden began work on his Stelian attack plan, but his quill seemed to write his thoughts for him. His hand swept over page after page of maps and battle notes, sketching troop movements and areas of risk without his knowledge. He’d memorized the maps, and his subconscious simply filled in the gaps after his last trip to the Stele.
He would have to go again, of course. Several times. Troop movements changed. New battlements could go up at any moment. He had to keep an eye on his father for fear the attack plans would unravel at the last minute. Only the element of surprise could win this final fight.
Braeden only ate once, around noon. His mind wandered, half of it focused on the maps while the other half lost itself to thoughts about where he would begin his lessons with Aurora.
Eventually, daylight faded into dusk. The last traces of sun trickled in through his windows, the burning light casting a red glow on his papers. He sat back and stared into the growing shadows of his study, not yet willing to light candles to keep working.
In an hour, he would have to go meet Aurora for the first time. By then, the arena would be ready. Gurien would distract Ithone, and Aurora would finally learn what it meant to be a Blood.
Braeden leaned against a tree in the clearing Gurien mentioned
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