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Cut and braid my own cursed hair.
Because even though my demands of them are fair and honest and I pay them generously, making sure they are well clothed and fed and have comfortable lodgings, they fear me.
But considering what I’ve become, I can hardly blame them for that.
I stop at a large window, admiring the new glasswork. The artisans have followed my instructions to the letter. So they should, because they charged me to the point of bloody extortion, but I appreciate good craftsmanship, and Tyron has enough wealth to go around these days.
Set into the thick wall above the inner entrance gates, this window allows a view into the outer courtyard, where all visitors and newcomers must pass.
It’s where my soldiers do their drills.
Its frame is forged from iron steel, as is the grille, with each square around two handspans in width and set with thick and clear sapphire crystal glass.
The previous window was smashed and rusted, haphazardly patched over with planks of wood, the miserable contraption allowing the bitter cold to seep in during winter.
Even I prefer warmth to the cold,still.
A familiar sound—boots crunching on snow—steals my attention.
Moments later, someone stumbles across the courtyard; a big, hulking figure dressed in furs and leathers.
Someone familiar.
An amused snort escapes me.You idiot.
I reach the tower and quickly make my way down the stairs, reaching the bottom before said idiot can take another step.
In the blink of an eye, I’m out the door and standing beside him with my arm around his shoulders.
“You look like you need a shoulder to steady you, Commander,” I say amicably, unable to keep the amusement from my voice.
His entire body goes stiff. He slowly turns his head to glare at me. “Goddess-damn-you, you bastard. Your Highness,” he says, slurring his words. “You know I hate it when you sneak up on me like that.”
“A screaming toddler could have snuck up on you in your current state, Kaithar. Do yourself a favor and get into bed and sleep for at least ten hours. That’s an order. I can’t have you looking like death warmed up at drills tomorrow.” My nose wrinkles. “There are at least three different layers of perfume on you, Kaith. I take it you had a worthwhile evening, then?”
Kaithar shrugs. “Tch.That cursed nose of yours. You know what? I think so. Can’t remember.” His grey eyes narrow as he looks me up and down. “Where areyougoing at this ungodly hour, Van? You’re not going to fool anyone in that getup, you know.”
“I have no desire to fool anyone,” I say quietly, allowing Kaithar to lean on me as he walks across the snow-covered flagstones. He’s a heavy bastard, but as I am now, I can shoulder his weight effortlessly. “Just being practical, is all.”
I let Kaithar’s drunken observation slide, but I know very well what he’s going on about.
I’m wearing what might be described as the simple garb of a woodsman. Loose woollen trousers and a simple grey tunic. Sturdy leather boots and a hooded cloak.
In the capital, someone of my station would never dress so humbly. The Rahavan Court would be outraged.
But living in Tyron allows me such freedoms.
Especially with the way I amnow.
“So, you didn’t tell me where you’re going,” Kaithar growls as we enter the stairwell. “Got a lover’s tryst or something?”
“I do not. Don’t be ridiculous.”
“There’s only so long you can prevent all womankind from entering the castle.”
“You know my reasons,” I growl. “The hunger is…unpredictable.”
The few women that I have encountered since my revival... their blood-scent was so tempting that I immediately sent them away. I fear what I might become if I were to ever succumb to such temptation.
