Borji leaned down, his breath chilling against Somadina’s ear."All that pride, built on a lie—the throne you crave was never yours to begin with.You’re a cuckoo in the nest, screaming the loudest to hide the fact that your song is wrong."
Should word come out, then the future Somadina hinged his whole life on would perish.His faction had already taken a huge blow with the loss of his maternal grandfather; now this?
Borji released him with a shove.It sent Somadina sprawling onto the rich carpets.The First Prince straightened his robes, the light in his eyes fading back to a mundane darkness.He looked down at his half-brother, a crowned prince brought to his knees.
"The truce I offered," Borji said, "was a courtesy.A chance for you to walk away with something.Soon enough, you will have nothing.Not a name, not a father, and not even your family’s protection."
He turned and walked to the door, pausing only to glance once more at the painting of the Igbele forest."Ask her," he said, without looking back."Ask Iyom who your father really is."
Then he was gone, leaving behind silence and an overwhelming, spiralling dread.
Somadina pushed himself up, his movements jerky.He stared at the closed door, then at the painting of the forest that seemed to mock him, the forest where it all began.The wretched obsession that would lead to his downfall.
"Guards!"
Two men rushed in, their eyes widening at the state of the room and their prince.
"Find out!"Somadina commanded, his voice trembling with a barely contained frenzy."I don’t care who you bribe, what records you break into, or which midwife you drag from her grave.You find out everything about my birth.Who was present, and what was said?Bring me answers before sunrise, or I will have the skin flayed from your backs!"
Azul woke up, her body aching, her heart heavy.She was quickly reminded of her sorry state; raising her arm, she noted the fresh bandages.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.“I overreacted.I won’t lose myself again.”
It was the least she could promise herself; her body was a precious gift.Harming it was not something she wished to do, especially not because of a man like Somadina.
She walked into the cool morning breeze, enjoying the fresh air.
The path to the shrine was her sanctuary; she spent so much time alone it became a habit to walk there every morning.It gave her something to do rather than sit with her thoughts, for they were many, incessant, and all-consuming.A legion that plagued her in every waiting hour and at all times.
The stone steps were slick with moss and runoff.Azul moved carefully, her mind pleasantly empty of everything but the chill of the air and the sound of dripping leaves.
As she approached the shrine clearing, she paused.A figure knelt before the simple stone altar, head bowed.His back was bare, kissed with numerous scars she could recognise as stabs and slashes.His torso was wrapped with bandages different from the ones she had left him with, his sword to his right on the floor.
Her betrothed was a religious man, more so than she’d heard.The thought was unexpectedly disarming.She’d categorised him as pure force of nature, a creature of ambition and steel.This quiet piety didn’t fit the puzzle, and it intrigued her.She leaned against the entrance.His mask was off, set carefully beside him.From this angle, she could see the clean lines of his profile, the intensity of his focus turned inward.She had noticed the scars at the bottom of his face, but she wished one day to see them up close and marvel at the beauty of human creation when kissed with fire.
Meaning to leave him to his prayers, she turned; the hem of her robe caught on a wet root sticking out from between stone slabs.Her foot slid out from under her on the treacherous stone.
A gasp was halfway to her lips when an iron grip closed around her arm, yanking her back from the fall.She stumbled against a solid mass of muscle.
Time suspended.
She was caught, her back in his arms, his mask back on as though he had never taken it off.Azul burst out laughing.
The sound shattered the quiet, ringing off the shrine pillars.She laughed until her eyes watered, clutching at the front of his tunic for balance."Oh, by the gods," she wheezed, "how terribly cliché!The maiden slips, the hero catches!Did you plan this, my Lord?Should I swoon?"
Ragnar didn’t release her.A flicker of confusion crossed his features."Cliché?"he repeated, the unfamiliar word awkward on his tongue.
"Never mind," she chuckled, catching her breath.The laughter had stripped away her guard."It’s just very predictable.And yet, I am grateful.My dignity and my robes thank you."
He finally let her go, taking a slight step back.The early light softened the usual harshness around his mouth."The rocks are dangerous."
"So I discovered."She smoothed her robes, her laughter fading into a soft, easy smile.It was a strange peace, standing there with him: no swords between them, no veils, and no hairpins barring the one in her hair.
"Why are you out here so early?"she asked, genuinely curious.
"I couldn't sleep."His gaze travelled over the humble shrine, the offering of wildflowers she’d left the day before."This place is quiet."
"It is," she agreed.She walked past him back up the shrine steps."You came to pray, did you not?"
