“Only because you helped me,” she pointed out, her eyes falling over the woman, looking for any signs of deceit. “Thank you, by the way. For saving my life.”
She waved her gratitude away. “Don’t even worry about it. And that may be so, but I’ve never seen anyone last that long either.” She came across honest enough. But a noble was a noble. “My name is Lilyria. Lilyria Lockridge. But you can call me Lily.”
Ambrose studied her before reaching a hand out, “Ambrose. Just Ambrose.”
“That’s right!” Lily’s gaze swept over her neck as though seeing her mark for the first time. “You’re the servant turned Trial Champion.”
Ambrose pulled her hand back. “Yeah. That’s me.”
“Is it true you murdered a guard?” Lily’s eyes danced with intrigue.
“In self-defense,” Ambrose countered.
Lily placed a hand over her mouth. “Interesting…”
“I’m getting real tired of people saying that.”
Lily beamed, unfazed by her abruptness. “Of course you are.”
“Are you a Trial Champion?” Ambrose asked, eager to change the subject.
“Oh, no.” Lily shook her head. “I just enjoy the challenge that comes with fighting them. I find it keeps my skills sharp, you never know when you’re going to need them.”
“Remind me never to challenge you,” Ambrose joked sincerely as she thought back to the warrior Lily had carved like a smoked bird.
Lily’s smile spread to her eyes. “I think I like you.”
“You say that now,” Ambrose told her sheepishly.
Lily giggled and linked her arm with hers and Ambrose couldn’t stop the smile that tugged at the corners of her own lips as she wondered if she’d found a friend in all of this.
Chapter 12
It was finally the official end of the harvest months. The tree leaves all over the city were turning vibrant shades of reds, golds and purples, signifying the end of a good season. The kingdom eagerly prepared for the Harvest Festival, a week of festivities to celebrate the mages and a good reap. This year, they had a lot to celebrate as the kingdoms would stay well fed through the next year with the bountiful crop they’d grown. Having been blessed by the gods with the most fertile land, Eltoria was responsible for raising the crops and game that would feed the kingdoms for an entire cycle until the harvest next year. For one week, the nature mages got to rest in hibernation to replenish their mana while the rest of the kingdom had little responsibilities, and on the last day, everyone would come together for one of the biggest celebrations of the year.
Ambrose loved the Harvest Festival.
Throughout the halls servants in the palace were hard at work decorating for the festivities to come. Each passing white gown a silent tug on her heart as she knew none of them would speak to—or even acknowledge her. She didn’t blame them. The threat of Casimir had been looming over everyone since his arrival. Even the king had taken to sulking around the palace, avoiding any room Casimir found himself to be in.
Servants who once felt free enough to whisper among themselves now marched on in stone silence. Nobles, who usually found pleasure in tormenting the servants whenever they could exert that authority had become docile, gossiping shells. Even Akadian appeared grumpier as the weeks passed. If that was even possible.
However, with the coming celebrations, spirits in the palace were raising again and everyone was a little happier with one of the most anticipated weeks of the year almost upon them. This was the one time of the year servants were given a little more leeway than usual. When the nobility and royals got so drunk they hardly seemed to even notice the servant class was enjoying themselves too. It was a time for all to celebrate.
“I’m going to the Harvest Festival,” Ambrose told Akadian as they walked through a hall and passed servants hanging flowers from the ceiling like a waterfall of lavender droplets.
Akadian glanced at her sideways, his eyes roaming over her. “What if I decide not to let you?” He stopped to smell and admire a floral arrangement a servant carried.
She turned towards him and squared her shoulders. “You can’t stop me.”
“What makes you think I can’t find a way?” he asked through a snaking smile as he nodded to the servant who ran away with the flowers. “It would be all too easy to deliver you hissing and screaming to our bed chambers.” His mouth twitched as he slowly looked up her body, lingering with his gaze and back down. “It might even be fun.”
“Our bed chambers?” Her nose crinkled.
“Ourbed chambers.” His cold stare burned into her as he gave her a sharp grin.
“I’d love to see you try.” she glared at him. “Besides, didn’t Casimir say you weren’t to interfere? Simply ‘watch and report’?”
“Yes, he did,” Akadian mused and crossed his arms. Ambrose defiantly kept her eyes trained on his face to keep them from lingering on the way his muscles flexed under the movement. She hated the prince, but she wasn’t dead. Or blind. “I suppose I could order someone else to do it, but seeing another noble drag you kicking to your chambers would take most of the fun out of it for me. So thatisa dilemma.”
