Page 41 of Embers of Ruin

“I was there yesterday. Dead feels more accurate. And tell Thorin that I’m not in the mood for training today. Or any other day, for that matter.”

Briar looks down and I swear his mouth twitches, making me involuntarily smirk.

Mazelle notices that too. Poor man. I don’t know how she terrorizes the guards, but I’m sure it's nothing short of agonizing. Listening to her rant would be more than enough for me to plop down on a sword.

“You will dress,” she says, her voice clipped, “and you will accompany us to the gardens. It was an order from the king, and you will follow it. Being ‘special’ does not make you exempt from royal orders, Lyra Tarethyn.” She says my name with such disdain, I imagine she would like to punish me, too. Too bad that won’t be happening.

I stare at her for a moment, pursing my lips to keep from laughing. “That was an impressive speech.”

“Would you like more than a speech?” she challenges, narrowing her eyes as she flashes me a razor-sharp smile.

“Lyra,” Onyx growls impatiently, watching the exchange with boredom as he runs a hand down his face.

“Fine. I’ll get dressed. Please leave me. Though Onyx, you’re welcome to stay.”

Mazelle rolls her eyes so hard I’m surprised they don’t get stuck in the back of her head.

“I’ll escort you to the Sacred Gardens, Lyra.” Onyx says, stepping forward. “I’ll be outside if you need me.” With that he leaves the room with Briar trailing behind him, leaving me to deal with better-than-thou Mazelle.

I narrow my eyes at her and she stares back, unbothered.

“Get out of my chambers, please. You’ve delivered your message, and your services are no longer needed. You can relay that to Thorin, if you’d like.” I smile sweetly, watching hatred flash in her eyes at the way I mentioned Thorin’s name so casually. I bet I crawl under her skin. I hope I do.

I am starting to think Mazelle might have been carved from the same stone as the palace and simply taught to walk and, unfortunately, talk.

“You're King Thorin's responsibility today, which is rather fortunate for you. I have considerably less patience than His Majesty. Do enjoy your gardening lesson.”

Her eyes flick briefly to my hand before returning to my face. Something unreadable passes through them before her expression smooths once more.

“You have fifteen minutes.” A venomous smile curves her lips, making my blood boil. If she gives me a countdown one more time…

I return her smile just as sweetly. “I'll try to make your countdown. You enjoy whatever it is you do besides glare at people professionally.”

She fixes me with one last venomous glare before turning on her heel and striding from the room. The door closes behind her with a click and I smile, knowing Onyx and Briar are outside and could hear every word. I’m sure Onyx is ready to strangle me by now.

* * *

I dress because refusing would accomplish nothing except giving Mazelle the satisfaction of dragging me through the palace in a nightdress, and I refuse to let that woman see more of my humiliation than necessary.

The gown fits perfectly. Of course it does. I glance into the tall mirror. The dark green catches the silver in my hair, making the strands seem brighter, almost luminous. My curls refuse to behave despite my best attempts, falling in wild waves around my shoulders.

When I open the door, Onyx’s eyes sweep over me. He nods his head in approval, gesturing for me to follow him. He says nothing, only gives me a knowing look.

I lift a brow. “What? She provoked me first.”

“Do not start, Lyra. Mazelle is not a woman you want as your enemy.”

I gasp, placing a hand against my heart. “I would never! I thought we were getting along just fine.”

He smirks at me, but I catch it—the glint in his eye that was there in Lycar. It’s nice having someone around who doesn’t make me want to attack them like a feral animal.

I fall into step behind Onyx and Briar as they lead me down the corridor. The palace seems quieter this morning. Servants move along the edges of the halls with their heads lowered, though their eyes flick to me when they think I am not looking. Some look curious. It brings my mind back to Tilda and Grace. I haven’t seen them since my first night at the palace, and wonder what happened to them.

I wonder if the servants gossip about the ‘new woman’ in the palace, brought specifically for King Thorin. No speculation needed, because there is nothing going on. And nothing will ever go on.

One young maid carrying a stack of folded linens stares at my hair until she nearly walks into a pillar. I almost laugh. I don't, though. I know what it feels like to have people stare, and it’s not a good feeling. Besides, I am an exceptionally compassionate person… to those who deserve it. Also because if I react every time someone stares, I will exhaust myself before reaching breakfast. Not that I was offered breakfast. Unless the tea counts—which it does not.

The Sacred Gardens wait behind the same silver gates as yesterday. They open at our approach with a soft chime that raises the hairs along my arms. I tell myself it’s the cold. I’m lying, but I am becoming quite talented at that.