Chapter 2 -Avianna-

-Avianna-

The thought stays with me as the cheering below grows louder. Every face in Caelthar seems lifted toward the Veylan procession as if beauty and polished armor might save us all.

Caylix.

No answer comes. Wonderful, very comforting. The man who hears nearly every inconvenient thought I have has apparently chosen now, of all moments, to ignore me.

Below, Rhydon dismounts smoothly and turns to the crowd with an easy smile.

The people adore him instantly. My future husband looks like an answer to every question my kingdom has ever whispered, and all I can think is that his armor must take an appalling amount of polishing.

Behind him, King Erik dismounts, and the courtyard changes. While Rhydon draws attention, King Erik commands it.

He is not golden like his son. He is darker, older, steadier. Silver threads mark his hair, and power settles around him without effort. Also unlike his son, he does not smile for the crowd. My father begins moving toward the stairs, which means I follow.

Because princesses do not get to say, Actually, Father, my shadow guard feels something deeply unsettling, so perhaps we should call off the wedding.

A shame, really. It would be a sensible policy.

We leave the balcony and descend through the palace corridors. The cheers dull behind stone walls, but the tension through the tether doesn't ease.

Caylix follows close behind.

“Are you going to tell me what that was?” I ask under my breath.

“No.”

I glance over my shoulder. 

Was that no because you don’t know, or no because you won't tell me?

His eyes meet mine, dark and entirely unhelpful.

“Yes.”

That was not one of the options.

“It was the most accurate answer, because it’s both.”

The corner of my mouth twitches. Smart ass. 

Then the tether pulls again, tighter this time, and the almost-smile disappears. Caylix feels it too. His steps do not change, but something in him sharpens. I do not need to see his hand to know it has moved closer to his sword.

The doors open, and then we are in the courtyard. My father moves forward first. I follow one step behind him, every inch the princess everyone expects.

Caylix settles at my back.

King Erik meets my father in the center of the courtyard.

“Alexander,” he says, clasping my father’s forearm.

“Erik.”

Then Rhydon steps forward. Up close, he is somehow even more handsome. I immediately understand why women sigh in his presence. When he bows to my father, it is with perfect respect.

“Your Majesty,” he says. “It is an honor to stand in Caelthar.”

“You are most welcome here, Prince Rhydon.”

Then his gaze turns to me. The courtyard seems to hold its breath.

I lower into a curtsy. “Prince Rhydon. Caelthar welcomes you.”

When I rise, his smile softens.

“I was told you were beautiful,” he says, voice warm enough for me and polished enough for everyone else. “I was not told they had understated it.”

Several ladies nearby look ready to faint. Charlotte may be one of them.

I smile because I have been trained for this. “You flatter me, my prince.”

“I only speak the truth.”

Liar, I think. Rhydon's gaze flicks briefly to Caylix but Caylix gives him nothing in return. King Erik turns to me next.

“Princess Avianna.”

I curtsy again. “Your Majesty.”

His gaze holds mine a beat too long.

“Your father speaks highly of you,” he says.

“Then I am grateful he was feeling generous.”

My father’s eyes cut toward me as I smile pleasantly.

Erik’s mouth curves slightly. “Perhaps merely honest.”

I feel no lie in the words and my smile widens. Charlotte appears at my side in a sweep of gold silk and crimson lips.

“Your Majesty,” she says sweetly, curtsying to Erik before turning toward Rhydon. “Prince Rhydon.”

Rhydon’s attention moves to her and lingers. Charlotte smiles as if she has just been handed a kingdom.

Oh, wonderful, I actually think she is drooling. 

“Princess Charlotte,” Rhydon says. “Your reputation does not do you justice either.”

Charlotte tilts her head. “I do hope that is a compliment.”

“It was intended as one.”

“Then I accept.”

Of course she does. We begin moving toward the palace doors, the courts shifting around us. Rhydon falls into step beside me. Charlotte remains close enough to be included without technically intruding, which is one of her more dangerous talents.

“I have heard you spend a good deal of time among your people,” Rhydon says to me. “That you know their names and concerns.”

“I try to.”

“It shows. They look at you with trust.”

Then the tether snaps tight.

Move.

The thought is not mine. Caylix’s arm closes around my waist and pulls me back before I can inhale.

My feet slide against the stone as he turns me behind him. Caylix is now between me and the courtyard, his body solid against mine for one stolen heartbeat.

His arm is locked around my waist as protection floods through the tether.

Then someone screams as a man bursts from the crowd. He moves… wrong… Not trained… Not steady… But his direction is unmistakable.

Me.

A knife flashes in his hand. Caylix’s sword is out before the first guard reaches for his own. King Erik moves at the same time, blade drawn, fast enough to make several Caelthar guards look foolish.

But Caylix is already there. The attacker lunges and Caylix spins around him, catches his wrist, twists, and the knife clatters across the stone. Caylix uses the motion to drive the man to the ground all in one move. Caylix follows him down, pinning the man and locking his arms behind his back.

It is over in three seconds.

The courtyard erupts. Guards rush in and then Rhydon steps in front of me, one arm lifting as if to shield me now that the danger is already on the ground.

“Princess,” he says quickly. “Are you hurt?”

“No, I’m fine.”

My voice sounds calm. That is impressive, considering my heart is attempting to escape my body. The man beneath Caylix goes still. Then he laughs. The sound is wrong enough to silence the nearest guards.

His laugh crawls over the stone like it has been dragged from somewhere it should have stayed buried. He turns his head as much as Caylix’s grip allows, and his eyes find mine.

He smiles.

A chill slides down my spine. Caylix feels it too as the tether goes cold.

“Take him,” Caylix orders.

Two guards seize the man. Caylix rises only when they have him secured, but he does not step away from me. His sword remains in his hand, angled low, controlled and lethal. The attacker laughs as they drag him back.

Everyone watches the guards, well, everyone except for King Erik. His attention never leaves Caylix.

The realization settles uneasily in my stomach.

Stories about the Shadow Commander of Caelthar have spread far beyond our borders. Victories... Impossible odds... Battles won without surrendering ground... Most of them are exaggerated. But standing here now, watching the King of Veylan watch my commander, I am suddenly not so sure they came here for me.