After the meeting, Iona hustled back out to the stables to ensure Tower was settled into his regular stall, soothing her own frustrations through their evening routine. Heston used to tease her for picking him as a colt from the pack, accusing her of compensating for her below average height. Whether she’d admit it aloud or not, it was true- that’s precisely why she chose him. Whenever she rode atop him, a sense of superiority swelled within her, like she was looking out over the entirety of Chrysos from the kingdom’s highest tower; he was her most reliable partner to this day. She brushed his lustrous, charcoal main, humming a mindless tune. By the time she’d finished checking Tower’s hooves after the long ride, cleaning his stall, getting fresh water and food, and rambling to him about Theron’s plan, the remaining daylight had come and gone.
With dirty hands and a sweaty brow, Iona trudged home from the stalls to the palace. Crossing the threshold into her old bedroom, everything in sight pulled her back in time. The solid mahogany desk was still shoved in a corner where it didn’t fit quite right, covered in notes and scrolls she stayed up night after night poring over, the fireplace sat empty, remnants of ash scattered along the bottom. A lump formed in Iona’s throat; this room, the whole palace- it was filled with the difficult memories she had kept locked in the back of her mind for a long time. The rebuilding work throughout the kingdom had given her plenty of reason to stay away for such an extended period, but she couldn’t avoid it any longer. A bath, that’s what she needed. Oh my god, a bath. The thought of it made Iona’s skin tingle, and her heart lightened a notch. But her first hot bath in far too long was an occasion and should be treated as such.
The rush of searing water out of the faucet was music to Iona’s ears, a personal waterfall for her enjoyment alone. She made quick work of unpacking, folding clothes and shoving them in her creaky dresser, hanging her riding cloak, and tossing her sole pair of boots in the closet. Meanwhile, she compiled a list in her head of every single snack she planned to nick from the pantry. Iona glanced at the bed; the luring comfort of a fluffy mattress, on a four post frame rather than hard ground, made up with fresh, white, clean scented sheets called to her like a siren’s song, but she fought the urge to lie down- she would be out like a light, and she was determined to enjoy some of the finer things home had to offer first.
Once the bath was drawn, Iona pulled on a floor-length, silky green robe she found tucked in the linen closet, her hair piled atop her head, and made her way down to the kitchens. Unlike when they were children, it wasn’t against any rules to take food outside of dining hours, but for some reason it still felt that way as an adult. She tiptoed down several halls and a few floors until she reached the empty dining room, passing through to the main kitchen and at last, the pantry. The shelves reached floor to ceiling, chock full of every fruit and vegetable grown in Chrysos, jams, jellies, sauces, breads, grains, and spices. Her eyes narrowed, scanning for the treasures she was there for above all. A cheer of excitement escaped from under her breath as Iona located the shelves of pastries and desserts. Her eyes darted from the platters of tiny cakes drizzled with icing to fruit-studded scones to chocolate bonbons shipped all the way from Ávine, the kingdom across the west ocean.
Iona grabbed an empty plate, lifting off the domed glass cover of one tray at a time, and piling it up with every sweet that caught her attention. Once she was satisfied with her choices, it was time to get back to her bath, which would now be at the perfect heat. Gripping the sides of the weighty platter, a twitch of guilt jumped into Iona’s thoughts. Here she was enjoying a night of luxury, when her men were still scattered throughout the kingdom, doing the work she should be doing. I should put this all back. But what would that do? Theron made it clear he wanted her here. A resigned breath filled her lungs, as she tried letting go of the thought. Even if she didn’t think this was anywhere close to the best use of her time, there was no reason to beat herself up for doing her duty.
Walking into her bathroom, Iona was swallowed by the steam that gathered while she was away, droplets built up on every surface. The thick, wet air filled her nose and every ache lurking in her muscles made themselves known, ready to be felt in their entirety. She set the platter of goodies on the floor next to the tub, ensuring they were exactly in arm’s reach while she soaked. Iona untied her robe, shrugging it off as it pooled at her feet. Ready to relax, she lowered into the still-scorching bath, and sunk in as deep as she could, the beads of sweat that gathered on her skin rolling into the water. The grime of long rides through the forest, pop up canvas tents, and back-breaking construction melted off her bit by bit.
Eyes closed, Iona reached over the edge of the porcelain tub, wiggling her hand from side to side in search of a sweet treat. Her fingers closed around something soft, and she popped it in her mouth without hesitation. Tart lemony cake and juicy blackberry jam coated her tongue. She wanted to cling to this moment as long as she possibly could. Iona cleared her mind, focusing only on the medleys of sweetness provided by the next cake and the next.
But all too soon, memories she’d been pushing away began creeping in. Flashes of the War, from the very beginning, when rumblings of attacks cropped up from the south, to pleading with Theron to let her travel to the border and being refused, to seeing entire villages razed to the ground in mere minutes by the Ladrons’ dark magic. She pressed her eyes even tighter, a sour flavor now filling her mouth while the rush of painful thoughts played out faster and faster. Fighting with Heston and the King about how and when to engage, debating the worth of human lives, the first time she killed another person and the way the light faded from their eyes, Elia’s face…
Iona lurched out of the water, unable to lie still any longer. Overcome with frustration, she gripped the sides of the bathtub, pushed herself up, and stepped onto the floor, only to feel something smush underfoot. Of course, this is just perfect. She reached down and scraped a smashed bonbon off her sole, rinsing off the chocolate before the tub drained completely. Disappointment washed over her as she dried off and wrapped up the rest of the uneaten, still intact, treats. They would be tucked into her nightstand drawer for another night.
Lifting back the sheets, Iona climbed into bed, exhausted to the bone. Hopeful, but not optimistic, about getting a good night’s sleep, she wrapped her arms around her pillow and settled in.
+++
The next few days were spent getting her bearings. Iona began by scrawling out a detailed list of everything that needed to be done over the next three months to get them across the finish line with reconstruction efforts, and sending it out to Desmond and her second in command, Espo. They can definitely handle it all, she told herself, whether she believed it or not considering she didn’t have much of a choice. Sooner than she liked, the time had come for Iona’s first meeting with Leo to start planning the ball. Heston may not want to get married, but a party thrown in his honor filled with women chasing his attention was probably the one way he would be open to the royal requirement. Leo was to handle all the logistics and details, while Iona was in charge of travel and security measures. There was no chance an attack would be launched by anyone there in the capital city, as it was protected by the power of the North Forest along the uppermost border, but they would be shepherding in hundreds of visitors who needed reliable escorts there and back. Plus, it was never a bad thing to be thorough and prepared in case of any emergency.
The High Commander gathered her things from her bedroom, and swung by the dining hall for a mug of coffee before making her way to one of the many planning rooms in the east wing. She was the first to arrive, as expected. Leo was diseased with chronic tardiness. Massive pine shelves lined every wall, full of aging books about Chrysos’ history, combat planning, almanacs, and more. Over the years, Iona had read almost every single one. Her favorite was the journal that detailed the discovery of the North Forest by their ancestors. They were a group of wayfaring humans who had settled at the edge of the North Forest and built a township over several hundred years. The Forest, brimming with old, ancient magic, had imbued the land around it with its power. As the humans tilled the earth, grew crops, and raised families, the magic was imparted upon them, allowing them to live longer and longer, and transform into stronger, sharper versions of who they once were. Now, most of her people lived to see five hundred years of age, if not more. Grateful for the care the people of Chrysos had shown to the land, the North Forest extended them the protective magic of the forest itself. Actively practicing magic, however, as the Ladrons did, was strictly forbidden in every kingdom and territory.
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She wandered over to one of the shelves, and ran her fingers over the crinkled, soft leather bindings until she landed on a large portfolio filled with comprehensive maps of the palace. It was wedged in tight, necessitating a sharp tug to free it from the shelf. A collection of dust spewed everywhere, launching Iona into a coughing fit.
“Sheesh, don’t choke to death. I’d really prefer not to plan this whole thing myself,” Leo’s voice came from where he was leaning against the doorway. He strolled into the room and sat down, stacking his feet on the table in front of him.
“Get your shoes off the table,” Iona scolded, shoving his boots back down to the floor, “I still don’t understand what the point is of me being here to begin with. I’m sure you could plan a passable party on your own,” she griped.
“Was that a compliment?” Leo gasped, batting his eyelashes, and evoking a severe eye roll from his co-party planner. He chuckled, returning to his regular tone, “He told me this morning he wants to spend some ‘quality time’ with all of us since, as he announced so candidly, he’ll be dead soon. Quality time… but he stays holed up in the throne room most every day.” Leo had been acting as an emissary and legion captain for the last ten years, traveling ahead of Iona and her troops to do reconnaissance at various towns and villages. His men reported back to hers on the specific conditions of each domain, which allowed her to plan for reparations. She’d never say it aloud but they actually worked in tandem well- from afar. But all that time away from home meant time away from his father, as well, plus all the travel leading the deployed legions during the War. Maybe he was hoping Theron called him back in earnest, just that he was missing his son; Iona could feel the irritation in his words, but she didn’t quite know what to say in return. She swallowed her thoughts and moved on.
“I don’t think we’ll need to meet more than a few times over the next three months to nail down the plan. Send out notices to every domain over the next week, and call back the King’s advisors so we can have a sit down with them. They will know everyone who should receive an invite to the ball,” she outlined while she refamiliarized herself with the dingy palace maps.
When her words were met with silence, she pulled her eyes from the maps to see Leo staring back with a distinct bitterness. “What is that look for?” she asked, throwing her hands on her hips.
His face remained unmoved as he responded, “I don’t think we’ll be meeting at all if your preferred method of planning is barking orders at me.”
“Barking orders? Don’t be so dramatic, I’m doing my job.”
“No, you’re doing my job. Your job is safeguarding the palace and our guests.” Technically, he was right, but Iona’s instructions were still correct so she brushed off his complaint and went back to the maps.
“How is it that after ten years of working my ass off for you, you still have the nerve to boss me around?” he groused, standing up from his chair and crossing his arms over chest like a defiant child.
“Boss you around? Seriously?” she snapped, “And don’t even start about your ‘work ethic,’ Leo, I know about all the galavanting you did in other kingdoms while you were supposed to be focused on your actual job prepping towns for rebuilding!”
“Hey, I did my job, and I did it exceptionally. Just because you’re an uptight killjoy, doesn’t mean everyone else has to be.” Iona slammed her palms onto the table, her concentration broken. Her mind replayed the numerous occasions she had to wait an extra day for word on reconnaissance because Leo let his men off to get drunk or sleep in too late. Wasted hours that could have been spent getting Chrysos back to working order. It was not the first time this exact argument had reared its head between the two of them.
“We could be nearing completion of ALL construction if you weren’t so frivolous.”
“I actually allow my men to have some freedom every so often. I don’t run them ragged like you,” he shot at Iona, standing from his chair.
“Run them ragged?! How dare you. I always take care of my people,” Iona was beginning to fume. Meeting number one was imploding quicker than she had expected it to. Her intention to get it back on track was dissipating before it even formed. “Now quit arguing with me, Leonon, you’re starting to piss me off.”
“This pompous attitude, right here, is why you haven’t been able to make a single friend since-”
“-Stop,” Iona commanded before he could finish. Anyone walking by could have heard Iona’s teeth grinding together from where she stood. While the Prince and High Commander held each other’s flaming glare, Iona’s eyes flickered with hurt. “I’m going for a ride,” Iona snarled, shoving past Leo.
The heels of Iona’s boots cracked against the stone underneath her as she charged her way down the halls of the east wing heading straight outside for the stables. She reached Tower’s stall, and yanked open the gate to release him. He trotted out, blissfully unaware of his owner’s wretched mood. With a crack of his reins, off they went. The palace sat on the north end of Chrysos, an hour ride from the edge of the North Forest. The land surrounding it was evergreen, filled with massive fields of clovers so soft that you could fall asleep on them for half a day in perfect comfort. Underneath was the richest soil in the kingdom, a perpetual gift from the gods of the Forest.
Tower dashed over the clearing, and Iona released his reins, standing up straight in the stirrups. Fresh air surrounded her, the wind’s tendrils caressing her skin with its chill. She needed to get her mind right. Three months was just enough time to properly plan the ball, but only if her and Leo avoided the bickering that occurred earlier. They had a way of picking at each other which never led to anything productive. This was her charged duty to the crown, whether she enjoyed it or not, and Iona was determined to tackle it with the same dedication she gave the rest of her obligations.
Which may mean that an apology was in order. But the thought of choking out the words “I’m sorry” to Leo, and meaning them, made her blood boil. It was unfair of her to characterize the last decade of restorations as anything but a resounding success, in which he played a significant role. Leo knew how to push Iona’s buttons, but she knew how to dig at him, too. Implying he didn’t care enough about righting the kingdom’s lands after the war was a cheap provocation on her part.
Pulling on Tower’s reins, he slowed and Iona took in the sights around her. The very edges of the North Forest, teeming with magic, were visible in the distance, a sense of peace saturating the breeze. A peace that was earned through harrowing battles…a peace that cost countless lives. Chrysos deserved the stability that Heston’s marriage would offer, along with a Queen that cared about her people. Turning Tower back towards the palace, Iona weighed if it was worth it to apologize for starting the argument earlier or if she should just move past it and hope Leo let it go, too. Likely the latter. Definitely the latter.
She couldn’t remember a time when either of them had apologized for their behavior towards each other, and she wasn’t going to be the first to do so. Plus, Leo’s last dig was lousy.
But he wasn’t wrong, exactly. She only had one great friend in her life- Elia.
After their first meeting at the palace as children, Elia and Iona quickly grew inseparable. The girls brought out the best in each other; Elia’s forgiving, sensitive nature was a boon to Iona’s tenacity and vice versa. They were sisters in every way except blood. And then, one day, she was gone.
It had been thirty two years, almost to the day, since the first rumblings came from Chrysos’ border villages that rural farms and outposts were being attacked by rogue soldiers coming from the south. The advisors to Maselle, the young prince of Siminy, a kingdom across the southern river from Chrysos, had been squandering their land’s resources under his nose. They began accessing dark magic to replenish them before he discovered the truth. When the efforts proved fruitless, the advisors turned on the Prince, putting him under a deep enchantment before killing him altogether. They co-opted his armies to begin taking larger and larger villages by force. The Prince’s advisors came to be known as the Ladrons.
And Iona let it all happen. Once Elia reached adulthood, she moved to Siminy to marry Maselle. Iona begged Theron for permission to retrieve her chosen sister from across the river the moment she was briefed on the first attacks, but the King forbade it. Siminy was an ally to Chrysos, and it would have been deceitful to abscond with their Princess, even if she was Theron’s daughter. The Ladrons increased their strikes, trying to draw Theron’s armies away from the protections of the North Forest, but he refused to engage fully, still believing the attacks were the work of renegades. Finally, to force war and pick Chrysos apart, they assassinated Elia in her sleep. Iona had never forgiven herself for obeying the King’s orders.
Sitting atop Tower, meandering back to the palace, Iona’s eyes burned with salty tears. These were the thoughts and memories she’d tried to ignore for so long. But back at the palace, the home she shared with Elia for most of her life, she was going to be suffocated by them.