Lady Irevya, the red-haired serpent in silk, stiffened. Her eyes, usually so calculating, flared with open hostility as she glared at Caldan. For a moment, it seemed she might lash out, not with words, but with a raw, visceral anger. Her mouth worked, but no sound came.
Queen Armyra, ever the master of the courtly game, stepped in, her voice like ice splintering. "Enough, Irevya. Caldan. This is not the time for familial squabbles." Her silver hair seemed to shimmer in the weak dawn light as she turned her formidable gaze on her son. "You are wounded, my son. And the Royal Hunt will begin within the hour."
Caldan's jaw tightened. "I am aware, Mother."
"Then you will be taken to your chambers immediately," Queen Armyra commanded, her voice brooking no argument. "A healer will attend to your wound. You will need rest, Prince, if you are to participate in today's events." She gestured to the guards, their faces impassive beneath their helmets. "Escort the Prince to his wing."
Then, her cold, intelligent eyes fixed on Arin. "As for you, girl," the Queen continued, her voice softening just enough to be even more menacing, "you have rendered a service to the Crown. A service that, despite its… unorthodox nature, will be recognized." She looked at one of her attendants. "See that she is rewarded. A generous purse of silver, perhaps a bolt of fine Velhessan wool. Then, ensure she is returned to her village. Quietly. Discreetly."
Arin's heart lurched. Returned to Vel Asryn? Back to the hunger and the dirt, back to the whispers of her mother's past, but now tainted by her own brush with royal intrigue? It was a polite dismissal, cloaked as a reward. She opened her mouth to protest, to demand more, to refuse the meager offerings. She was no charity case.
But Caldan spoke over her, his voice firm, unwavering. "No, Mother. She will not be returned to her village." His gaze, sharp and unyielding, met Armyra's. "Arin is now my personal attendant."
The words landed like a physical blow. Irevya let out a soft, incredulous gasp. Even Prince Auren, with his storm-blue eyes, lifted a brow in surprise. Princess Elyra, the auburn-haired woman, simply stared, her icy composure momentarily fractured by disbelief.
Queen Armyra's silver head tilted, a dangerous stillness settling over her. Her voice, though still calm, held an edge that could cut diamonds. "Your personal attendant, Caldan? Without my knowledge? Without my approval? You appointed a commoner, a girl found in your private chambers, barely clothed, with no training, no test of loyalty, no understanding of courtly conduct?"
"Indeed, Mother," Caldan replied, his voice unyielding. "My personal attendant. My choice. I require someone resourceful, quick-witted, and discreet. Someone who can think on their feet, rather than merely recite courtly platitudes. She has proven herself more than capable in a crisis, a trait I find sorely lacking in most of your trained servants." He shot a pointed look at Irevya.
Lady Irevya scoffed, her face a mask of outrage. "Capable? She is rude! She bared her teeth at me, at a Princess of the Kaerythene Dynasty! She clearly has no concept of proper deference. She would be an embarrassment, Caldan. A scandal." Her red hair seemed to bristle with indignation. "She is a peasant, with peasant manners. How could such a creature possibly serve a prince?"
"Perhaps because I prefer honesty to flattery, Aunt," Caldan retorted, his voice laced with acid. "And a sharp mind to a bowing head. She has already proven her loyalty by saving my life, which is more than can be said for some who claim royal blood." His gaze flickered meaningfully towards Irevya and then to the guards standing impassively nearby.
Queen Armyra's eyes narrowed, her gaze flicking between her son and Arin. "Caldan, this is highly irregular. A personal attendant must be vetted. They must be educated in the intricacies of palace life, the whispers, the unspoken rules. They must be above reproach. This girl, by her own admission, is a thief from the borderlands. How can you expect her to navigate this court without bringing further dishonor to your name?"
"I will educate her, Mother," Caldan stated, his jaw set. "I will teach her everything she needs to know. She learns quickly. And I will not hear another argument about this. My decision is made." His voice was low, but it held the unshakeable authority of a prince who rarely backed down, even from his own mother. He was Caldan the Fallen, yes, but the fire still burned.
Prince Auren, who had been observing the tense standoff, finally spoke, his voice calm and measured. "Perhaps, Aunt, Mother, it would be wise to allow Caldan this small eccentricity. He has just survived an assassination attempt. His judgment may be clouded by the adrenaline of the moment, or perhaps, by a newfound appreciation for… unconventional loyalty." His storm-blue eyes met Caldan's, a flicker of amusement in their depths. "Let him have his new shadow. For now. It will either prove its worth, or its foolishness, soon enough."
Queen Armyra studied Auren for a moment, then Caldan, her expression unreadable. She seemed to weigh the cost of continued argument against the spectacle they were already creating. Finally, she gave a curt nod. "Very well, Caldan. For now. But understand, her actions will reflect directly upon you. And should she prove unsuitable, or worse, a liability, you will bear the consequences." Her gaze, sharp and final, rested on Arin for a chilling moment before sweeping away. "Guards, attend to the Prince. We have matters to prepare for. The Royal Hunt awaits."
Lady Irevya gave Arin one last, furious glare, a promise of future retribution in her dark eyes, before turning on her heel and following the Queen and the others out of the chamber. Princess Elyra, the auburn-haired woman, cast a quick, curious glance at Arin before she, too, departed, her emerald gown swirling.
The chamber emptied quickly, leaving Arin and Caldan alone once more, save for two silent guards who now approached the Prince, their faces impassive.
"Your Highness," one of the guards said, his voice respectful, "allow us to escort you to your wing. A healer is on standby." He moved to offer Caldan support.
Caldan waved him off, a grimace tightening his lips as he shifted his weight. "That won't be necessary. Arin will assist me." His gaze, heavy and possessive, settled on her. "Won't you, my attendant?"
Arin's stomach churned. He had just condemned her to a viper's nest, and now he was demanding she help him limp through it. "Reluctantly, Prince," she retorted, stepping forward to offer him her shoulder, though her touch was stiff, formal. "After all, wouldn't want you to bleed out and deprive me of my… reward." The sarcasm was thick enough to chew.
Caldan chuckled, a low, dry sound. "Indeed. Such a shame that would be." He leaned on her, his weight significant but manageable. His arm, draped over her shoulder, felt warm against her skin. "Come, attendant. The hunt begins soon, and I have no time to dawdle."
They began the slow journey back through the hidden passage, his body pressed close to hers. The guards followed at a discreet distance, their heavy footsteps echoing. The silence was punctuated only by Caldan's labored breathing and the occasional brush of his arm against her. Arin gritted her teeth, hating the forced intimacy, hating that he had pulled her deeper into his dangerous world.
"So," Arin began, breaking the tense quiet, her voice laced with mockery, "this 'Royal Hunt' your illustrious family is so excited about. What, pray tell, is it? A glorified game of chase with some poor, terrified deer? Or do you nobles actually go out and, dare I say it, work for your entertainment?"
Caldan's head, resting near her shoulder, tilted slightly. "You seem remarkably curious, given your disdain for our 'noble' pursuits." His voice was a low rumble, betraying nothing.
"Curiosity is a survival instinct," Arin retorted, shrugging, trying to make it seem casual. "Knowing what ridiculous rituals the royals perform might save my neck one day. Or at least give me something interesting to steal."
"You want to steal from the Royal Hunt?" he murmured, a hint of amusement in his tone. "Bold. Or foolish. Perhaps both."
"Depends on the prize, doesn't it?" she countered, trying to keep her voice light, though her mind was racing. What was this hunt? Why did the queen seem so intent on it? "Is it a grand spectacle? Full of pomp and circumstance? Or is it genuinely… dangerous?" She pressed him, hoping to glean some information, anything to give her an advantage in this gilded cage.
He was silent for a long moment, the only sound the steady rhythm of their footsteps and his ragged breath. "It is a tradition older than the crown itself," Caldan finally said, his voice flat, devoid of his usual dry humor. "And yes, little rat. It is dangerous. Many have died in it. Many more will." His tone held a rare solemnity, a darkness that surprised her.
"Died? Hunting deer?" Arin scoffed, though a shiver ran down her spine. His tone had changed. He wasn't bantering now.
"Not deer," he corrected, his voice low, almost a whisper. "Something far older. Far more… monstrous." He kept his gaze fixed ahead, offering no further detail, despite her pressing questions. He was a stone wall, unyielding.
They reached his personal wing, a suite of rooms more opulent than anything Arin had ever imagined. Velvet hangings, heavy tapestries depicting ancient battles, and a massive bed carved from dark, gleaming wood dominated the main chamber. Two servants, alerted by the guards, scurried forward.
A healer, a quiet man with kind eyes and hands smelling of herbs, was already waiting. He bowed low, then immediately set about tending to Caldan's wound, his movements practiced and efficient. Arin stood awkwardly by, feeling suddenly useless, an outsider in this opulent, fragile world.
"Bring food for Arin," Caldan commanded, his voice clear, despite the healer's ministrations. "She hasn't eaten since… well, since her arrival." He cast a glance at her, a hint of something unreadable in his gaze. "And prepare a bath for her. Fresh water. And find clothes suitable for a personal attendant. Something practical, but befitting her new station."
Arin's head snapped up. Clothes? A bath? He was serious. He truly intended to keep her here, to drag her into the very heart of this treacherous court.
"She will be attending the hunt with me," Caldan added, his voice firm, leaving no room for argument. "Ensure she is presentable. And ready by dawn."
Arin felt a cold dread bloom in her stomach. Attending the hunt? With him? The one he called "monstrous"? The one where people died? Her mind raced, a thousand questions screaming. What was he planning? What was he dragging her into? She glanced at him, but his eyes were closed, his face pale with exhaustion. She was trapped. And the sun was rising.