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The question is odd, considering I’m already outside the window.
See, there are two versions of me. One of them is giddy with excitement, willing to do whatever it takes to go on this trip, while the other is horrified, facepalming and shaking her head. I’m both of them, so I have the awful experience of being stupid and aware of my stupidity at the same time.
But then, I don’t hear the Almighty Mother censoring me, so my conclusion is that I’m on the right path. A very crooked, immoral path, but right nonetheless.
For a trip. For a chance. Perhaps a foolish chance, but I’d rather seize it and see what happens than bemoan what could have been.
I’m leaning on his chest again, tracing my fingers over that strange star. His voice is a low, comforting rumble in my ear, while he caresses my hair with gentle strokes. The movement is so soft, so soothing?—
The bells ring outside, jolting me back to my bed, where I’m alone, and yet they can’t erase the feeling of his hands holding me. A phantom touch, still there, still protecting me.
These dreams have been my solace for a while now.
When my heart was broken—which was my own fault, but that’s beside the point—the priestess told me about this trick of faith to see my kindred soul. I knew it wasn’t dark magic, and indeed I felt the Almighty Mother’s presence as I lit a candle on my windowsill and burned a strand of my hair, visualizing the sacred cords connecting souls.
Since then, he’s been in my dreams. Not always, but often enough that I can close my eyes and recall his comforting presence, his warm touch.
I’ve never told anyone.
Master Otavio would freak out. He insists that I, more than anyone, need to show that I praise the Almighty Mother, need to show that I’m not a heathen, and yet he doesn’t want me talking to the priestess. My sisters… I know they would say I’m foolish, and plus, Otavio always told me to hide my tricks of faith.
But I don’t need to tell anyone. My kindred soul brings me peace at night when I sleep. Brings me joy, even when I do something so irresponsible. If anything, I felt him closer than ever tonight, almost as if he had been truly lying beside me.
Perhaps it’s a sign.
I don’t want to think he’s Quin, I don’t want to raise that hope, but I can’t help but wonder.
I just… I can still feel that love, a cocoon of protective light surrounding me, and there’s no way to ignore that calling.
Our training grounds are on the roof of our tower, since so much of what we do has to remain a secret. A canopy covers part of it. Under it, there’s a long table for our masters, and a small open area for training. I should consider myself lucky that on a hot summer day like today, I have to remain in the shade. It’s not that I have some special privilege, but that my skin can go from beige to brown in the blink of an eye. Princess Driziely is only moderately tanned, so her substitutes have to be about the same color. I’m not going to complain that I get to train in the shade.
Neither Quin nor Sayanne are here. There’s nothing unusual about that, as we are sometimes taken aside for individual training and advising, but I know they are being briefed on their trip. I also know that my plan is despicable, but I’ve gone too far to step back now. Step back. I’m doing quite a lot of that now. Dodge, dodge, step back, try to attack, dodge again, and dodge some more.
I need to focus on my movements because my partner is Fachin and I have to bury my memory of what I saw last night.
I’m wearing a heavy dress and wielding a training dagger, while he’s mock-attacking me with a training sword. It might seem odd, but we need to mimic a real-life scenario, and Princess Driziely is not going to carry a sword or wear trousers. The idea is just to find an opening to attack, or at least get good at dodging.
I try to bury my anxiety, but it’s like an itch, reminding me that I might be caught. And then, perhaps some of the anxiety is because I might not get caught and then I’ll spend time away from the castle walls, away from this tower, close to Quin. I have absolutely no idea what’s going to happen, and this lack of control is unnerving.
When the noon bell rings, I walk to the dining hall, mindful not to show any anxiety or anticipation. People tend to give themselves away, as they don’t know what it means to act natural because they never bothered learning. I had a lot of training on that, so it shouldn’t be a problem for me—at least in theory.
The dining hall occupies the entire top floor of the tower and has vaulted ceilings and tall windows. I wonder if one day this room held extravagant parties and balls, despite our isolation from the rest of the castle.
Nowadays it has some ten small round wooden tables, and it’s where the Elite Guard eats, always at the same time, and if we’re even ten seconds late, we’ll just have to skip a meal. Our instructors and masters sit at a larger round table, from where Otavio and Andrezza are always watching us. They’re already there, in fact, but I don’t pay attention to them because it’s not something I’d usually do.
The three princes and the princess have a table here too, even though most of them never come. Princess Driziely used to eat some meals and study with us, but she hasn’t been around much lately. I feel that she doesn’t like us, which is unfortunate, since our job is to protect her. But then, I don’t think I would appreciate my parents training other girls to replace me in public ceremonies and even in a potential marriage, as if I were an incompetent idiot. Well, I would like to have known my family. Would like to find out who they were, at least. No point in stirring this pain.
I sit at the table reserved for the three female substitutes, where Sayanne and Tarlia are already sitting in silence. Between them, an invisible wall I can’t manage to break.
From the corner of my eye, I glimpse Quin entering. I turn and give him a friendly nod, even if my natural impulse would be to ignore him, but then I wouldn’t be acting natural and it would be even more suspicious. He gives me that gorgeous smile that warms my heart. I’m not crazy; it is for me.
And he told me he’d been assigned to Lord Stratson’s wedding. Isn’t that a subtle hint? Perhaps not even that subtle.
My life’s already too complicated, considering I might have to replace the princess in a marriage alliance. It’s something I try not to think about, even if I yearn for an opportunity to prove my value. And then there’s that other complication about hiding who I am. I can’t forget it, obviously.
Still… Do I have to look that far ahead? I should, but perhaps I can’t help being foolish.
The kitchen staff comes in, pushing trays of food on metal carts. There’s a chance they never made the custard, but I have a workaround for that, too. A little more complicated, but it should work.
