Painful coughs wracked the feeble form in the large bed. The royal chambers were dark except for the few lit candles. During his fits, the king preferred the darkness.
Outside, the celebrations for the first day of the Lantern Festival continued without care of its ailing monarch.
As the night continued, fireworks began to go off. Their bright colors and loud noise covered the sound of coughs and wheezing.
Slinking over to the window, the queen pulled the curtains down, blocking the festivities from view. Satisfied, Rewanna headed back to the king’s bedside. She took a limp hand.
“Why did you close the curtain?” King Arganus’ voice was raspy and weak.
The queen patted the hand gently. “I thought the noise might disturb you.”
“But you love the fireworks, Iliana,” muttered the king in confusion. He did not notice Rewanna’s frown nor the tightened grip on his hand. “No matter,” Arganus tried looking around. “Where are my sons?”
Biting back her resentment, Rewanna tried for a smile. “Our sons are enjoying the festivities, my king.” She tried for a laugh. “I am sure the younger ones are in the kitchen trying to cajole more sweets and toys out of the servants.”
The king’s brows furrowed and his glazed eyes narrowed. “Why would Nikolai be trying to get toys from the kitchen?” He tried to sit himself up. “And where is Malakai, the boy should be in his studies, not off in the city.”
With a sneer, Rewanna let go of the hand. “Malakai is in exile, my husband. You sent him there, do you not remember?”
The glassiness of the king’s eyes faded as a sudden clarity came to him. He sighed heavily. “Yes, I supposed I did.” He clutched his throbbing head. A sudden desperation overcame him. There was something important he had to do! “Bring me Nikolai, I must speak with him. Tell him to come to me. Nikolai!”
Rewanna crossed over the room to the incense hanging by the bed. She borrowed the flame from a candle and relit the incense. Once more, the scent of smoke began to fill the room.
“The Lord of Feldgrau is not here, husband,” said Rewanna. “Remember? He is married and within his own residence. Again, your decision.” Seeing the king’s eyes begin to droop, she continued, dropping the nicety in her tone. “In fact, your precious boy probably hates you as much as he does me now, I hear his marriage is quite tumultuous. Your perfect prince has even taken to the Street of Joy.”
Coming back to the king’s bedside, she wipe away the sweat from his brow as the sick man fell back into a deep slumber.
“Why do you never call for our son? Argan is your heir and still you ignore him.” Sharp nails clutched the king’s face. “I am the one who has been here with you and you still call that wretched woman’s name. Why?” Her frame quivered with anger. She let go of her husband’s face. Rewanna had everything she ever wanted. “But it is no matter. She is gone and soon her second son will be too. My blood will sit on the throne.” Rewanna glared at her husband. “Our son will be king.”
Weak coughs answered her.
Before she could say more, a knock interrupted her. There was only one person that it could be.
“Come in,” Rewanna snapped.
The door creaked open.
Lord Vellward bowed his head in respect as he entered. “How is he, Your Majesty?”
Rewanna sighed and dabbed at her dry eyes. Her voice became croaky and weak. “His condition seems to worsen by the day.” She sniffed, “The palace physicians tole me that are doing all they can.”
The head of the government sighed sadly. The minister kept by the door. It was painful to see his ruler in such a state.
“Do you bring an update?” asked Rewanna.
“Yes,” Lord Vellward crossed his arms. “But I must warn you, my lady, the policies you propose may be too taxing. You ask too much of the border villages. They will not be able to afford the taxes while successfully defending against the raids.”
But Rewanna waved the worries away. “You know I have my deal with the grasslands, the border will not be disturbed.”
For Argan to ascend the throne, many gatherings would have to be thrown to sway the nobles to their side. Although he was the official heir, a demonstration of power and gifts would be needed to ensure the nobility’s loyalty. That would require much coin. At the same time, Rewanna could not risk levying higher taxes on their future allies. In the end, it was decided it would be best for the gains to come from their citizens. After all, it was in their best interests to serve their future king.
“For the past two years, we have recieved fewer petitions from governors on the East and West. They no longer call for the need for aid,” added the minister with a frown.
Rewanna laughed, “Is that not good news?”
“If a stray dog no longer begs for scraps, it is either dead,” Lord Vellward’s face was stormy, “Or it has found another owner.”
But again the queen waved off his worries. “Times of famine and natural disasters come and go, I am sure they have merely found a better alternative. Do you not see, Minister? It is good that we did not send needless aid.”
Seeing that his words were going nowhere, the lord could only change onto another subject. “There are also whispers of your hand in the Lord of Feldgrau’s marriage.”
“What of it?” griped Rewanna. “Surely the rumors of his visits to the Street of Joy have diminished his popularity.” She knew when the rumors of her son visiting the same streets began Argan had fallen out of favor with many.
“You married him to a foreigner who holds no love for him,” said Lord Vellward. “They say she terrorizes his household and refuses to be in the same room as him. Many blame you for ruining the prince’s-“
“He is a lord not prince!” Rewanna glared at Vellward as if he had insulted her.
“Very well,” retorted Lord Vellward. “Prince or lord, they believe you have ruined the Lord of Feldgrau’s prospects. His distance from the palace and the court also put him in favor with the commoners. They see him more than they see Crown Prince Argan or yourself. Your ploy has gained him even more favor.”
“From those who do not matter,” huffed Rewanna, tone exasperated.
Lord Vellward’s lips pursed. It was clear he planned to continue arguing. His daughter was meant to marry the crown prince. In order for that to happen, the throne could not be usurped by the brat’s older brother. But if the queen continued as she did…
Another knock at the door halted their conversation.
“What is it?” Lord Vellward was not in the mood.
From the other side of the door, a messenger squeaked fearfully. “My lord, there is an urgent missive for you from the crown prince.” There was a pause. “He says it is about your daughter and urges you to come at once.”
Lord Vellward stilled.
Behind him, Queen Rewanna rose. “Before you counsel me on my household, it seems you should learn to have a better hold over your own.” The queen smiled with no mirth. “I will not have a daughter-in-law with a stained reputation. Remember, Lord Vellward, your family depends on my support, but should the need arise, I can easily replace your daughter with another.”
Lord Vellward bowed his proud head. “Yes, my queen.” Behind a mask of indifference he gritted out, “Please excuse this old man.”
With that, he stormed off with the messenger.
Once in the halls, outside of the cursed woman’s sight, he growled angrily. Snapping at the messenger, Lord Vellward commanded, “Fetch me a carriage and take me to Asinara.” The lord prayed that his daughter was all right. Do not do anything stupid, my girl, he thought.
If only Asynur had listened to his wife and stayed home for the festivities.
---
Faye reveled in the fresh wind blowing in her face. The night air was crisp and sharp. As it nipped at her skin, she thought she could try to forget the disaster of the previous hours. In the busy market, she was just one of a thousand people. None had eyes for her as they focused on their own lives and the sights before them.
She breathed in the heady aroma of the food stalls. Faye’s mouth watered. Her stomach grumbled in protest. Faye groaned. In her haste, she had forgotten to bring any coin. The young woman grumbled under her breath.
Around the square, the crowd began drifting towards the center. Loud cheers and gasps erupted. Approaching onlookers followed the commotion, eager for a good show. Was it drunkards fighting or scholars making fools of themselves?
Enamored by the atmosphere of it all, Faye found herself following the sea of people. The commotion seemed more serious than many had imagined. More and more people gathered by the second. The lovebirds and festival goers began to form a circle following the lead of those in front of them, curious but wary of getting too close.
Intrigued, Faye tried to look over tall shoulders and half-heartedly elbowed her way past the others. It was unlikely the commotion would truly be worth her attention.
When Faye caught sight of red molasses in fruit, she considered getting out of the crowd to try her haggling skills with the food vendor.
The crowd suddenly fell silent.
“Think of what you are doing, Argan,” warned a low voice from the center of the square.
Amber eyes widened in shock. That was Nikolai’s voice. At the realization, Faye turned swiftly, sweets forgotten. Her sharp hearing could recognize the sound of swords being drawn. Nikolai… although a master with words, could not fight.
With a new surge of determination, Faye fiercely fought through the crowd to get to the front. The young woman ignored the pained grunts and dirty looks. As she finally pushed through, she froze at the sight before her.
---
Lady Langard picked up her skirt and hurried. Most of the servants were out celebrating the festival or already working. As such she would have to fetch the extra wine pitcher herself.
The elegant woman rolled her eyes. Her husband’s friends were war-folk. There was nothing they loved more than good alcohol to celebrate… especially at their boss’ expense. Lady Langard thought that they might have finished off half of the family’s cellar in this night alone.
But there was no choice. With the general’s absence, alcohol was the only solution. Lady Langard had a feeling the lovely dancers she had hired would not hold their attention for long.
Lord Langard had cited a need to meet with a messenger in the city. He promised to be back soon, but until then, making sure their guests were fed and entertained was up to his wife.
The lady suddenly paused.
Turning her head slowly, she stared, baffled at the light in Rufus’ room. The boy was still here? Lady Langard pursed her lips. Rufus never missed the opportunity to celebrate the first day of the Lantern Festival. Although not displeased, she was amazed at the thought that her youngest son was sitting quietly in his room rather than wooing some unfortunate maiden.
The lady clasped her hands together and praised the gods. Her prayers had been answered. Their hard work was finally paying off! Perhaps it was time to begin truly finding a proper match for Rufus. What was she doing here again?
Right, the wine, Lady Langard thought. The woman placed her worries to the side and hurried on her way.
Although strange, Rufus would be fine. He always was.
—
Contrary to his mother’s relief, Rufus’ hand shook. Cold beads of sweat trickled down the back of his neck. He found it hard to breathe. The boy picked up the stolen letter. He had finally found a name. And that was the problem.
“Gods help me,” he begged quietly. Rufus wished he could go back to his ignorant self. Now, he finally understood what his father meant. Knowledge was power.
The plan for the Raven General’s surprise was supposed to take place tonight. She would come to him soon and ask for an answer. But the question was, would he give it to her?
Could he knowingly do so with the knowledge that his answer could put the entire kingdom at risk? The name could change everything. The boy was half-tempted to burn the letter, but fear stayed his hand.
Rufus dropped his head into his hands and exhaled shakily. “Damn it.”
The solitary candle flickered.
—
Egged on by the gathering crowd, Argan stalked forward head held high. Many were surprised to note that the crown prince was sober.
Nikolai tried to hide his unease. Argan had come prepared tonight. Whatever his plan was, it was worth not partaking in the festivities and his usual habits.
The boy sneered at his brother and fiancé. “It seems the lover birds just could not wait.” He approached his bride-to-be and lifted her pale hand as if to kiss it. “What would your father think of this, Lady Asinara?”
“Nothing.” In response, Asinara ripped her hand from his grip. “Because there is nothing improper going on, my prince.”
“That’s not how I see it!” Argan smirked sardonically. His eyes turned to gaze at Nikolai. “A married man and a betrothed woman out enjoying festivities in the lover's market. My, what would the Raven General think?” He gasped in fake delight at Nikolai’s frown. “Don’t tell me, she doesn’t know! Brother! The poor barbarian waits at home playing wife while you toy with other promised women? I almost feel bad for her.”
Nikolai’s blue eyes narrowed. It was clear now that he had fallen into a trap. The messages had been a ploy from the crown prince. “What are you planning, Argan?”
“It’s Your Highness to you!” snapped his younger brother. “All I wanted was to spend an evening with my bride, but guess my surprise when I learned she was with you.”
“My father sent a message,” interjected Asinara, eyes flashing angrily. “Your servants said you were out and unavailable.”
Her words were ignored.
Argan stared up at Nikolai. Their slight height difference only aggravated the boy even more, but he plastered on a dark smile. He whispered lowly. “Perhaps I will visit your lovely wife since you've enjoyed the company of mine."
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"I am not your wife!" snapped the lady.
Argan blocked out Asinara's protests. "You wouldn't object, would you, Lord of Feldgrau? I’ve heard you rarely visit her anyway.”
Cold blue eyes stared at him with no hint of emotion. “I do not believe the Raven General would welcome your advances.” Finally, his lips quirked, showing the first hint of a reaction. “But you are welcome to try." He towered over the other. "Do not blame me if lose a limb because of it.”
Argan reeled back. Even he was shocked at his brother’s answer. “Never mind, I hear she is already pregnant with Langard’s bastard. How gracious of you, brother, to take care of another’s child. Does it really not bother you?”
“Unlike you,” retorted Nikolai, crossing his arms. “I am not enough of an idiot to fall for baseless rumors.”
Asinara stared at the interaction, frozen.
“You!” Red rage exploded as Argan’s face tinged with fury. The crown prince pulled out his sword. “Fine then. If you want to fight and insult me, then let us do it the proper way.” The younger smiled as he pointed a sword at his brother’s heart. “Fight me, brother. If you win, I might even renounce the throne to you.” His eyes, dark like his mother, glared at the ice prince. “Fight me, coward.”
"No." The Lord of Feldgrau turned, facing his back towards the crown prince, and walked away. He would not engage in such a stupid game.
“Niko, watch out!” cried Asinara.
Blue eyes widened.
SLASH.
Nikolai gripped his shoulder. Blood soaked through his shirt from where the blade had cut him. He whipped around to face his brother. Argan faltered at the enraged look on the ice prince’s face, but his ego made him hold up his bloodied blade. Crimson droplets dripped from its tip. “That was merely a warning,” Argan taunted.
The Lord of Feldgrau gritted his teeth. The cut was deep, but not enough to be seriously damaging.
No one dared to breathe a word, but they all frowned at the dishonorable act. Still, if the crown prince was willing to do this while his opponent’s back was turned…
The crowd had fallen deathly silent.
“Think of what you are doing, Argan.” Nikolai’s blue eyes flashed dangerously. "I am unarmed."
But the younger was undeterred. He held up his blade and nodded towards the royal guards. “Give your blade to him.”
The royal guard seemed at a loss for what to do.
“What are you waiting for?” snapped the crown prince.
The guard ducked his head. He hurried forward and handed his own blade to the ice prince who took it with distaste.
Asinara hurried forward, grasping her betrothed’s arms. “Don’t do this, Argan.” She tried to pull him back but the crown prince pushed her away. She stumbled to the side. The crowd hurried to help her stand and pull her back. “No!” she cried. “Wait!”
“Lady Asinara,” one of the women watching warned, “This could turn dangerous. It is best not to intervene.”
The woman she was right. By her side, Elaina shook her head and held her lady back.
With a cry, Argan burst towards Nikolai and attacked.
Dodging to the right, the strike barely missed. Nikolai quickly raised his own blade to defend against the sudden onslaught of attacks. He gritted his teeth as the movement pulled at his shoulder.
The two exchanged a flurry of blows. Sparks flew in the air. Argan was relentless in his pursuit as he added more and more strength to each blow. The boy was out for blood.
With his injured shoulder, Nikolai played to the defensive.
The crowd watched with growing fear as the ice prince continued to lose ground and back away. Every few moments, he seemed one blow away from not blocking properly. It was well known that the Lord of Feldgrau was not a fighter. It was amazing enough that he had lasted this long. He could have bested a regular soldier. But the odds were against him. The ice prince was not a warrior while his younger brother was said to be quite proficient with the sword. Some even hailed him as a prodigy.
Nikolai grunted as Argan landed a lucky blow to his side. He did not initiate any attacks. Any injuries Nikolai inflicted on Argan could be used against him. Rewanna and her lackeys would not care that he was fighting for his life. They would use this as an example of his desire for the throne.
With another cry, Argan pressed forward. With both hands, Nikolai crossed blades with him. Metal pressing against metal, they pushed at each other with all their might. Sweat beaded down his forehead, but Nikolai breathed through the pain.
A rage like no other came into his heart. Argan for his silly delusions of revenge had dragged him and Asinara into this mess. The boy was crafty in his fake letter. He had known that by putting Asinara in danger, Nikolai was likely to come to her aid. Although he truly had no desire to marry her, the young woman had been in his life for a long time. And if not for himself, he would protect her for an old promise he made.
This dual was just another reminder of how the queen’s family loved to torment him, with no care for anyone other than themselves. It mattered little to them if people got hurt, only that they achieved their own goals.
Argan’s eyes widened slightly as he found his brother successfully pushing back against his attacks with a sudden ferocity.
Out of his peripherals, Nikolai caught sight of a flash of amber. The figure watched silently as their dark cloak blended with the crowd. There was only one person that could be. His jaws tensed as he turned to look again and met Faye’s serious expression. She was kneeling in the front of the crowd, watching the fight with rapt attention. He wondered if he was imagining the worried downturn of her lips.
Seeing that his brother was distracted, Argan fully pressed it to his advantage. He aimed a high kick at the older’s injury. When Nikolai winced and faltered back, Argan knocked the blade out of his hand.
The borrowed sword clattered to the ground. It slid out of reach into the feet of the crowd.
Argan shoved the ice prince to the ground. With a sick sort of glee, the crown prince raised the blade as if to kill the unarmed man.
Shouts and cries rose in the crowd.
With adrenaline pumping through him, Argan slashed down.
Nikolai closed his eyes, preparing for the inevitable.
---
In the carriage, Lord Vellward thought that his old heart might suddenly fail him with how fast it beat. He ran through the lectures he would give his daughter when they met, but it was not enough to keep away the worry and fear.
He was a seasoned politician who had dealt with national emergencies with a clear head and firm mind. However, when it came to his children and their problems, it was like something possessed his body and he was a different man.
The old minister unceremoniously stuck his head out of the window. "Hurry," he snapped at the driver. "We must make haste!"
The carriage master nodded and slapped his reins. "Come on, old girl," he urged his horse. The animal brayed loudly and broke into a canter startling the couples crossing the street.
Lord Vellward closed his eyes. His wife was the more religious one, but he prayed to the gods that he would arrive in time before anything bad could happen.
The carriage's speed was noticeably faster as the ride became bumpier. They would arrive soon. However, Lord Vellward could not shake off the foreboding feeling that he was already too late.
---
The sound of metal against metal rang throughout the square.
Jaws dropped. Asinara yelped and held a hand to her mouth.
Crouched in front of the Lord of Feldgrau, amber eyes glared up at the crown prince. In the young woman’s hands was the sword that had been swept into the crowd.
The Raven General deflected Argan’s blow with a flick of her wrists and scowled, “How dare you strike down a fallen man outside the battlefield? And your own brother!” In a swift motion, the woman got to her feet. Unclasping her cloak, she tossed it into the mass of people. The blade glinted as she held it out towards Argan and approached him like a predator would its prey.
The boy seemed to be in shock, not comprehending the sight before him. “What? Raven, Raven General?”
Without turning, Faye asked, “All you all right?”
Behind her, Nikolai nodded. He didn’t mention that she was supposed to be in the Prince’s Residence.
“I thought you had business to deal with,” grunted his wife.
On the other side of the crowd, they could both see Asinara and her maid, elbow and try to make their way over.
“I was delayed,” muttered the ice prince.
“Do not forget,” scowled the Raven General. “You may like any woman you like. But your marriage vow is to me.” Amber eyes flashed at Nikolai angrily.
Then, in a flash, they were back on Argan. Faye scowled, “Come now, boy, you want a fight? Let me teach you what that really means.”
As she stalked forward to engage with his brother, Nikolai stared at Faye’s back in confusion. Even when Asinara knelt by his side and checked over his wounds, he could only scratch his head. Why was Faye so upset? She wasn’t the one who got stabbed.
“You need to stop the fight,” said Asinara worriedly.
Nikolai could only wince as she applied pressure on his shoulder. “I don’t think I can.”
In the square, Faye and Argan were circling off. Both were intently studying their opponent. To Nikolai’s surprise, it was his wife that struck first. Faye was fast as a viper as she landed blow after blow on Argan who struggled to keep up. He was lucky she was using the blunt edge of the sword, otherwise he would already be littered with cuts instead of bruises. But to the boy’s credit, he matched her speed and was able to block most of her infuriated attacks.
Even in her duals against Darcy, Nikolai had never seen Faye put in as much effort as she did now into her offensive.
The Raven General parried each blow perfectly, but she played more to her agility and smaller size against Argan’s brute strength and strong core. Even Faye had to admit that the boy had true potential. She had underestimated him. Argan may be a coward, but he was not untalented.
Breathing hard and getting desperate, when Argan saw an opening, he took it.
Quickly dodging the incoming strike, the crown prince dropped his sword and rolled out of the way to land behind Faye. As she turned, he grasped her by the neck, attempting to choke her. His fingers dug into her flesh, blocking off her airways. Having the upper hand, his grip tightened.
Nikolai’s eyes widened. He struggled to get to his feet and started forward. The crowd erupted into outrage.
But Faye was even faster. The Raven General bit down on the fingers holding her captive. Any harder and she would have bit them off. Argan squealed. As the grip loosened, Faye changed sword grips and elbowed the crown prince in the face. As the boy stumbled back, she dropped to the ground and aimed a sharp kick to the back of his knees.
When he fell, she lunged forward. Glaring down at him, she kept a knee on his throat and punched him in the face.
The crown prince of Eburean saw stars.
You fought well and dirty, boy. " Breathing down on him, Faye pressed the point of her dagger at his heart, uncaring as the sharp tip pressed into flesh. No one knew where she had gotten the small blade from but it must have been concealed somewhere on her person. “But not enough to beat me. If you dishonor your opponent, do not be shocked to be disrespected as well.”
One of the crown prince’s eye was swollen shut. He groaned painfully.
“Be thankful I did not kick you in the balls,” Faye noted nonchalantly. But her next words were serious. “If I let you up and you do not go peacefully, I may change my mind.”
Still seeing stars, the boy nodded. His good eye gleamed with tears.
The Raven General backed off. She held out a hand but the boy did not take it. Instead, he scrambled to his own feet and picked up his blade. The crown prince sheathed the sword.
To everyone’s surprise, Argan bowed towards the Raven General. “Thank you for the lesson, sister-in-law.” Then, he added a disgusting smile. “You should come by the castle more often. Perhaps we can practice more than just with our swords next time. You are certainly more than a worthy opponent for me.”
The crowd gagged. Nikolai had an irritated frown on his face. In contrast, Faye looked undisturbed, if only a little confused. “You’re going to have to improve your footwork a lot more if you expect any lessons from me," she said.
Suddenly, a loud commanding voice came over the square. “What is going on here?” All eyes turned to stare.
Lord Vellward stepped off his carriage and stormed into the center of the recently finished fight. With his dominating presence, the crowd parted easily for him. The minister glared at the parties involved. He shot an especially hard look at his daughter who looked away guiltily.
Lord Vellward pointed at the guards. “You four! Escort the crown prince back to the castle and make sure he gets treated immediately.” The royal guards hurried to do as they were ordered. They grasped the prince and hauled him away before the foolish brat could get them into any more trouble.
With that done, the minister turned to the crowd. “Go back to your own families and troubles! Go on!” He waved them away. Luckily, they could see that the excitement was over and none were too eager to get tangled in official business or trouble. As fast as the crowd had formed it dissolved easily.
Those involved let out a short breath of relief.
As her father approached, Asinara grasped Nikolai by the arm, a detail not lost on Lord Vellward… or the glaring Raven General.
“You two,” Lord Vellward nodded towards Lady Asinara and the Lord of Feldgrau like they were schoolchildren. “Come with me. We must talk.”
Brows furrowing, Faye inserted herself in front of the minister. “What of me?”
The old minister shot her an unimpressed look. “Lady Feldgrau, you have just assaulted the crown prince." His voice was dull and to the point. "Whatever trouble that brings to your household is not my concern. When I am done with him, your husband can decide your punishment.”
The Raven General’s amber orbs flashed with anger at the insinuation.
“Bold of you to assume I hold any power over the Raven General,” called Nikolai. Hand still pressed over his wound, he hobbled over. “Please excuse us for a moment, Lord Vellward.”
Nikolai tugged a fuming Faye to the side before she could engage in another sword fight.
Seeing him, an important thought dawned on the Raven General. Nikolai was not supposed to see her. In fact, he was under the illusion that she was under lock and guard, waiting in her room. She worried her lip. Although not terribly worried about his reaction, Faye did not wish to fracture his trust even more.
Blue eyes searched over Faye’s person. “You were not supposed to leave the residence.” He murmured, “Cristin will think you have run away because of a guilty conscience.”
“He should be thanking me for saving your life,” retorted Faye, voice sharp from instinct. She stamped down the guilt when Nikolai’s expression dropped into a displeased frown.
“He is not wrong to be suspicious,” warned Nikolai, words sharp. “You should not have stepped in to fight.”
“If I hadn't stepped in, your brother would have sliced you open,” laughed Faye, insulted by his words. “But if that is what you prefer, I will keep it in mind for next time.”
“You need to go back,” Nikolai insisted as if he had not heard her. "Too many p
“Why?” snapped Faye, finally fed up. “You should be thanking me! I saved you. Why aren’t you at least grateful?”
She did not expect Nikolai to stare at her like she had grown a second head.
“What?” she demanded.
As the silence continued, Faye groaned loudly. “Are you still upset about the soup? I told you I had nothing to do with it!” She crossed her arms. "If we were in the grasslands, you would be groveling at my feet."
"Groveling at your feet?" Nikolai snapped, “Faye, do you realize what you’ve just done? You’ve given my enemy more to use against me.” Nikolai didn’t have to raise his voice for her to read the anger in those blue eyes. His hand shot out to grab her wrists. “Argan will report this to the queen and she will use this as an excuse against my house. If she decides to take revenge, what will you do?” He let go of Faye’s arm. “Will you fight your way out of Aimee or Frederick’s execution? Abby’s?”
“The queen would not go that far,” stated Faye, not one to back down so easily.
Nikolai stared at her, almost helpless in his frustration. “But what if she does?”
The Raven General frowned. She let his words sink in. Despite her time in Eburean, she was still a stranger to their ways. Who was she to say what the queen would do or not do?
Nikolai huffed and ran a hand through his messy hair. This was a waste of time. Faye would never-
“Fine, I may have acted slightly brashly,” Faye crossed her arms. “But at least admit it.”
The ice prince raised an eyebrow. What, he seemed to ask.
“You enjoyed watching me beat that whelp,” sniffed Faye. “You would have done it yourself if you could.”
Nikolai couldn’t stop the incredulous laugh that escaped him. “Did you give him a black eye for me too?”
“Yes.” Faye’s tone was serious.
The lord paused. He thought back to Argan's bruised face and swollen eye. The brat had threatened to execute Cristin and had gotten away with it. The boy's position made him arrogant, and none dared to reprimand him. Even Nikolai often had to play his cards right and tread carefully with the younger. But Faye had not cared. Faye had seen the injustice and stepped in, correcting it in the way she saw as most just. It was almost refreshing how rash her actions were. Argan most certainly had not expected to walk home with defeat written on his face.
“Fine. It was, satisfying,” Nikolai didn’t know why he was admitting such a thing. “You're right. I’ve been wanting to do it for years.”
Faye smirked knowingly. She patted his shoulder. “You can think of how to repay me during your stuffy meeting.” His wife nodded behind him, towards where Asinara and Lord Vellward were waiting. The older looked close to exploding with impatience.
When Nikolai turned back to Faye, she was gone, having disappeared into the wave of moving bodies. Part of him wondered if he had dreamt the entire encounter, but the stab wound still stung.
Nikolai paused. In his anger, he forgot to ask if Faye was hurt. The Lord of Feldgrau trudged over to the Vellwards.
If on the way to the Vellward Estate, he picked up an ornament that matched the ugly shade of the Raven General’s dress, no one was the wiser. In the carriage with supposedly one of the most powerful men and beautiful women in the kingdom, the lord pocketed the colorful keepsake and found his thoughts drifting back to black eyes and smirking wives.
---
Bian hid himself in the hallway leading to the general’s chambers. The boy held his dagger close to his chest. Something was going to happen tonight. An evil presence was lurking within the walls with nefarious intentions.
The silent boy stilled his breaths. He prepared himself for a restless night.
Whatever was coming for the general would have to go through him first.
A familiar face exited the hallway. It was the mysterious man Frederick had flagged.
Bian’s grip on the blade tightened, keeping his back to the shadowed walls, he began to silently follow.