Chapter Nine

Luna killed fifty-seven more doves.

She even stopped sculpting in order to train longer and harder with Adrianna. Her mentor forced her to train under all sorts of conditions, from extreme cold or heat to utter exhaustion. At the top of the stronghold’s tallest tower. In the darkest, smelliest cellar she could find. From dawn until dusk she exercised her magic, twisting and bending it until something snapped. Some days, that something snapped into place.

Most days, unfortunately, that something snapped wings. And necks.

It appeared that her illusion-affinity had a violent streak.

At first, Luna buried every fallen dove in the courtyard near the little gazebo where Adrianna liked to have tea with courtiers on sunny afternoons. By the dozenth dead bird or so, however, her aunt convinced her to start giving them up to the kitchens.

And when the cooks served up dove pot pie at dinner, she swallowed down every last bite without the slightest remorse.

Or maybe she was just too tired for remorse.

Finally, Luna came up with the idea to combine the air affinity she had inherited from her father along with her illusion affinity by creating tiny pores in the layer of illusion to allow air through, thus preventing the birds’ suffocation.

“You know,” her aunt remarked as Luna stroked the head of her very first, very much alive dove and bit her lip until it bled to keep the tears at bay, “suffocating someone and concealing them at the same time could prove to be quite the handy little trick.”

Luna balked. “Why in the world would I suffocate anyone?”

“Not just anyone,” her mentor replied. “An attacker, a rival, an enemy in combat. If used under the right circumstances, it could turn the tide of battle. Change an entire outcome.”

Luna thought of the fifty-seven white feathers hanging in her room. She sure as hell wouldn’t be adding human bones to that collection. “No thank you,” she said politely.

Adrianna tilted her head. “Luna—”

Fury swept through her. “Do not make me repeat myself,” she spoke, cold ire lacing her voice. “I am no murderer.” She stepped closer to her aunt, her fists trembling at her sides. “I am no fool, nor am I ignorant. I am no weapon to be forged by anyone’s hand.”

“But surely,” Adrianna murmured gently, “if you had no choice, wouldn’t you wish to eliminate an enemy to save a loved one?”

Luna stopped short. Hadn’t she been prepared to take down her own mother to save Asterin?

“That’s different,” she denied after a too-long hesitation.

Her aunt only gave her a half smile. A knowing smile. “Of course, sweetheart.”

And though Luna had achieved a milestone victory, she left the training session feeling as though she had lost her most important battle yet.

“Lovely weather, isn’t it?” said Adrianna as she poured herself another cup of tea, sitting on the settee with one leg hooked over the other. Intertwining gold branches dotted with tiny silk flowers crept up her russet skirts, the fabric gathered at her waist to show off her slender figure. Few could pull off a brown dress, but with her sparkling eyes and full smile, Adrianna was nothing short of mesmerizing in the glow of the afternoon sun.

The juxtaposition from mentor to . . . this was jarring, to say the least.

Luna broke apart a lemon shortbread cookie and dipped it into her tea, gazing out of the gazebo and into the courtyard. Mist floated low in the air, cooling her skin, flush from the afternoon heat. Every now and then they could hear the splish of vibrant fish darting about the little stone pools that were scattered among the azalea bushes, along with the droning hiss of cicadas. She shielded her eyes as dazzling sun rays pierced the clouds above to shimmer in the air as rainbows. “Mm-hmm.”

“I love it when the stones soak up the sunlight,” her aunt went on. They watched a squirrel dart through the grass, its bushy brown-and-white wisp of a tail bobbing as it uprooted a flower in search of a nut. “The whole castle feels warm and cozy.”

“Cozy,” Luna echoed distantly. Nothing about the stronghold struck her as cozy, except for her chambers, with their handsome hardwood flooring and rich tapestries that looked so expensive she hadn’t dared even examine them too closely. Most of the rooms she’d explored had but a single window, though her bedchamber had three—a luxury, if the others could serve as an example.

Adrianna leaned forward and placed a soft hand on Luna’s cheek. She smelled of spice and sugar. “You seem tired, sweetheart. Am I working you too hard?”

For her aunt’s sake, Luna smiled. “No, not at all. I’m fine. A little . . . homesick, I suppose.” The word tasted bitter on her lips. Could she even consider Axaria to be home anymore?

“Haven’t you thought of returning to Axaris?” Adrianna asked casually. “I’m sure Jakob would be happy to arrange an escort for you.”

Luna squirmed in her chair. “I’m not sure if I want to.”

Adrianna’s eyebrows raised. “You don’t miss Eadric?”

“I . . .” Luna stared into the bottom of her empty teacup, shrinking beneath her aunt’s assessing gaze. “I did. I-I mean, I do.” She cringed. “I’ve had a lot on my mind lately.” Of course he crossed her mind, but it seemed that other things were taking precedence these days—training and strengthening her magic, namely. And . . . one memory of the captain often jostled past the others to the forefront of her mind. The day of Fairfest Eve, before all of them had infiltrated the palace. After Luna had reclaimed her suppressed powers, she had woven illusions to disguise her friends in order to pass beneath Priscilla’s notice. Though the task had pushed her to the brink of exhaustion, Luna’s work had been a resounding success—and yet, afterward, Eadric couldn’t stand to even look at her. He’d always thought her a helpless lamb among wolves, and himself her fearless defender. Even in his letters, he wrote of protecting her, of sheltering her from whatever storms lie ahead. Once, such words might have made her swoon. Now they filled her with resentment. He wanted her to rely on his protection. But she was a dragon, not a lamb, and her belly was full of fire.

Footsteps shuffled through the grass, and a moment later two guards rounded a hedge and approached the gazebo. Luna recognized one as her own and the other as Adrianna’s. They bowed deeply.

“Good afternoon, Your Grace,” Adrianna’s guard greeted.

“Ah,” Adrianna said, sweeping some crumbs onto an empty plate. “That must be your cue.” She gathered the tea set on a tray and rose from her seat after tidying the table. “Have you two been properly introduced? Luna, this is Milli. Milli, this is Princess Luna, my niece.”

“A pleasure, Your Highness,” said the guard, and Luna actually believed her.

“Nice to meet you,” Luna replied as they all followed Adrianna back into the castle. “This is . . . er . . .” She glanced at her own guard. “Geoffrey?”

The guard’s eye twitched. “Greg, actually,” he responded curtly. A pause. “Your Highness.”

Luna winced, ears flushing with heat. “That was my second guess.”

Adrianna, still carrying the tea tray, watched the exchange with a rueful smile on her lips. “Oh, Luna. Try to get to know your actual guards a little better than that, hm? Firstly, for your own protection, but more importantly . . . while we may have been born royal, we are all human, and thus deserve to be treated with the same level of respect.”

Luna’s reply bubbled to her lips—obviously, she wanted to say, but ultimately wavered. The old Luna had prided herself in remembering the names of every cook, maid, servant, and palace guard she ever spoke with. Yet . . . this Luna had failed to pay attention to even the names of her own guards.

Immortals, what was happening to her?

“Anyway, good luck with the meeting!” Adrianna called as she ambled off with Milli. Her voice echoed off the stone walls. “And don’t forget what I said!”

Luna glanced at Greg. Well, this is awkward, she thought. “In my defense, you do look a bit like a Geoffrey.”

Greg stared at her. “Okay.”

Luna practically sprinted for Throne Hall.

“I’ll be fine from here,” she told Greg when they arrived. “Thank you.” He bowed and departed. She heard him muttering Geoffrey under his breath, and cringed.

Once his footsteps receded, Luna exhaled through pursed lips and looked up at the colossal double doors. In Axaria, Lord Conrye and his wolf form greeted visitors entering Throne Hall. Here reared a three-headed viper instead, its thick, scaly body coiled around the limbs of its mistress, Lady Ilma—the Goddess of Air. She stood over Luna in billowing robes of purple, her gaze frigid and her neck circled by a choker of a thousand fangs.

Luna set her shoulders back and grabbed the door handles square in the middle. With a majestic flourish, she hauled them open and entered.

“—for the last time,” a man exclaimed, his voice heavy with exasperation. Ahead, three individuals of varying heights—one female and two males—had gathered at the foot of the dais. “It would take at least two hundred apple seeds to kill someone.”

“But what if they were big apple seeds?” demanded the female, the shortest of the group.

The first speaker threw his hands into the air. “That doesn’t make any sense!”

“She has a point,” the tallest figure murmured as he examined his nails.

They were so preoccupied with their quarreling that they didn’t even notice Luna approaching until she cleared her throat.

At once, they went silent and turned to her, their sharp eyes raking over her, calculating, assessing. Thick purple cloaks rested on their shoulders, shadowing the startlingly white uniforms beneath.

“Oh my,” the female finally whispered. She strode toward Luna, light as air, her shiny high-heeled leather boots not sounding so much as a click against the gleaming marble tiles. Luna froze, averting her gaze, but two fingers pinched her chin and forced her eyes up. Her pulse quickened at the other girl’s proximity, the touch setting her nerves abuzz. Tousled black curls and a bold fringe framed the girl’s petite face. Luna drank in her dark brown complexion. The amber glow of her irises. Lips painted midnight black, curling up in impish amusement. “What a sweetheart.”

Heat rushed to Luna’s cheeks. “E-excuse me?” she stammered, any semblance of confidence ripped to tatters beneath that luminous gaze.

The first male voice she’d heard interrupted them. “Ignore her, Your Highness.”

The windswept frost-white hair caught her attention first, and then the quicksilver eyes. Luna frowned. Why does he look so familiar? she wondered.

“I’m Kane,” he went on. “Kane Callaghan. That’s Lady Eirene Killian, and that’s—”

Recognition jolted through her. Her eyes widened. “Kane? Like . . . Rose’s Kane?”

Eirene threw her head back in an explosion of laughter, which earned her a death glare from Kane. She didn’t seem to care in the least. “Oh,” she hooted. “Immortals have mercy.” After her laughter receded, she wiped her eyes and grinned. “Yes, Your Highness. Rose’s Kane.”

“Damn you, Killian,” Kane growled.

It was all Luna could do to leap out of the way when Eirene pounced three feet into the air and landed upon Kane’s back. She knuckled his hair into a disheveled disaster. While he hollered and tried to fight her off, she simply hooked her knees tighter around his waist and cackled louder than ever before.

A pang of nostalgia struck Luna. Somehow, they reminded her of Asterin and Orion, albeit a lot more . . . savage.

Luna turned to the last member of the trio. “All right, then.” He looked young, she supposed, though the oldest of the three. A sleek tail of blond hair as pale as her own fell to his waist, brushing against the leather chest strap of the sword sheathed at his back. Its pommel rose over his broad shoulders. His face was set in what seemed to be permanent disdain, reminiscent enough to Eadric’s scowl that it tugged at her heart.

He bowed to her, his gloved hands clasped in front of him. “Your Royal Highness.” His voice seeped through the air like smoky incense, a deep, sultry tenor. “My name is Rivaille Valle. Please pardon the behavior of my . . . associates.” His nose wrinkled slightly. “We’re hirelings in King Jakob’s employ.”

“He pays me enough to kill, but not enough to behave!” Killian called out.

Rivaille merely sighed. “They don’t usually—”

“Act like this?” Luna cut in with a timid smile.

The corner of his mouth twitched. “Quite the opposite, actually. Lady Killian is the personification of trouble.”

“I can hear you, you know!” Eirene sprung off Kane’s back and dropped to the floor in a nimble crouch. In a flash, she had pulled out two wickedly curved daggers with glowing blue hilts from the sheathes at her waist. She grinned when Luna nearly tripped over herself in her rush to back away. “How’s this for trouble?”

Rivaille didn’t so much as blink. “Lady Killian, please—”

A cruel clang vibrated through the hall as metal met metal. Luna’s mouth parted at the enormous sword that had appeared in Rivaille’s hands. She hadn’t even seen him draw it. Had he really been so fast?

“This is most unnecessary,” said Rivaille, his gaze bored.

“Does it look like I care?” said Eirene, her knives braced in a cross above her head. At his unimpressed stare, she sighed. “Fine.” She seemed to withdraw, but at the last second, she kneed him in the crotch. Hard. Luna thought Rivaille was done for, but he only let out a quiet oomph and staggered back one step before grabbing Eirene’s collar and hoisting her high into the air, leaving her to claw and kick and curse uselessly.

“Damn,” Eirene said in resignation, her feet dangling. “I swore I had it that time.”

Rivaille released her and tugged at his cuffs. “You’ve wrinkled my shirt.”

Luna buried her face in her hands in disbelief. She wondered if she had been transported into some alternate reality. I want to go home, she thought, but then she remembered that this was her home now. And these . . . these ruffians were to be her new guards, her new friends.

This uncivilized behavior simply won’t do, she meant to scold. It was something her mother might say, with her brow pinched and her chin tipped loftily. Instead, what came out was, “What in hell is wrong with you people?”

Their eyes snapped to her. At least they had the grace to look slightly contrite.

Adrianna’s words suddenly echoed in her mind. While we may have been born royal, her aunt had said, we are all human, and thus deserve to be treated with the same level of respect.

Luna took a deep breath. “A-apologies. I didn’t mean to sound so harsh. The three of you took me by surprise, that’s all. I’m grateful for your service and look forward to getting to know each of you better.”

“We must be a little different to your usual crowd,” Kane said quietly.

“Yes,” Luna murmured. “But perhaps that’s not such a bad thing.” She cocked her head, an idea popping up as she watched Rivaille and Eirene tuck away their weapons. “Actually . . .” My crowd didn’t let me do much fighting. “I know my father hired you to guard me, but what would you say to teaching me a thing or two about combat? I’d hate to be defenseless if you had to leave me behind on another errand for the king.”

Kane hesitated, but Eirene only shrugged. “Sounds like fun,” she said. “But fighting—and fighting well—is no easy thing, Princess. So you can’t complain when we work you too hard.” Eirene shot her a devilish wink. “Deal?”

That brought a smile to Luna’s face. “I would expect nothing less.”