The Archshade

Fifteen

Slowly, Prince Daynar's thrashing settles into mild squirming then dwindles to occasional spasms. Sinking into the bed, his bellows of pain fade as his breathing slows. His chest steadily rises and falls as his eyes slide closed.

The ambassador releases him and sits back. I let go as well, recoiling from the bedside while wiping my sweaty palms on the hem of my kurti.

"Wha—" My voice fails me, forcing me to swallow the lump in my throat. I try again. "What did you do to him?!"

The ambassador looks over his shoulder at me. "Calm yourself. These are things you cannot understand." With weariness casting shadows on his face, he seems twice his age. "Now, either lower your voice, or I will ask you to leave."

My fear turns to simmering anger in my stomach. I bite back all of my protests, suddenly remembering it was the ambassador who forced me into this role and brought me into this mess. I owe these men nothing.

"My apologies, ambassador." The formality in my voice is biting as I bow with an overdramatic flourish. "You need not ask me to leave. I can do so of my own accord." I walk toward the bedchamber door.

"Wait..."

I have a hand on the doorframe when Prince Daynar's voice stops me.

"Please... stay..."

I lock my jaw against the sudden flicker in my chest, willing myself to hold onto my anger even as his voice chases it away. I look back over my shoulder. Seeing Prince Daynar's figure lying crumpled against the disheveled bedsheets is such a contrast to the dignified man I met this morning that I can almost convince myself it's not the same person. I can almost convince myself he's not the shadowed prince of a thrall-trading nation. Almost...

I flick my eyes to the ambassador.

With a conceding nod, he says, "I have no authority to ignore an order from my prince."

Letting out a long breath, I turn and walk back into the room. The ambassador watches me intently as I kneel at the prince's bedside and lean my elbows against the soft sheets.

With visible effort, Prince Daynar turns his head to look at me. "Syris is... just a little... harsh..."

I muster a small, dismissive smile. "Think nothing of it, Your Highness."

"He has... compassion... beneath it all..."

"Humph." The ambassador crosses his arms and grumbles, "My compassion has a limit, and your brother is testing it."

"It had... to be done..."

Uninhibited by his courtly manners, the ambassador gestures forcefully with his hands. "Can you not see he is using you, Daynar?" he growls. "You allow him to order you about like one of his hunting hounds! Please, for your sake, stop this. If you continue before you have healed..."

The prince lifts a hand to the ambassador's shoulder. "You worry... too much... my friend..."

"Perhaps I do." With a solemn expression affixed to his features, the ambassador opens his mouth to say something more but settles for just a resigned shake of his head. "We will speak of these things later. For now, you need your rest." Rising to his feet, the ambassador turns to leave but hesitates. "Will you watch over him?"

The poorly suppressed concern in his voice chases away any of my previous anger. I nod and quietly promise, "I'll send for you if need be."

"Do not hesitate to do so."

Without another word, the ambassador exits the room, leaving only the soft thump of the chamber door in his wake. In the silence that follows, I rise from my knees and sit on the edge of the bed, smoothing out my kurti just to give my hands something to do. Prince Daynar leans back, closing his eyes.

"You stayed..." he whispers.

"Of course, Your Highness."

"...just ...Daynar."

A smile pulls against my lips. "Ah, yes... I mean... of course, Daynar." I hide behind my smile, not wanting to show the prince my unease when omitting his title. And yet, there's something about the way his name alone feels on my lips. I tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear. A strange warmth gathers in my cheeks and at the base of my spine, growing into an even stranger source of courage.

"Um...Daynar?"

"Hmm?"

"Can I ask you something?"

Prince Daynar opens his eyes, and I'm faced once again with his green glass stare, deep as a bubbling oasis spring. The tangled coil of bitterness lodged in my chest loosens only a tiny bit, but the force of the change steals my breath.

"Ask me..."

At the sound of his voice, my question burns within me more than ever before. In that moment, the prince is just the man beneath a mask, not the mysterious figure wearing one. The black cloth winding around his face covers all his skin, but soft tuffs of unruly black hair poke out from beneath. Under his black silk shirt, his muscles are set onto a sturdy frame. He doesn't have the sculpt of a warrior like his brother, but from the solid shape of his legs to the broad slope of his shoulders, it's a body unbroken beneath a crippling burden.

"Why do you cover yourself?"

Daynar stares at me with such yearning in his eyes—a longing so intense it's harrowing to see. Then, he turns his face away, grimacing from a pain deeper than the flesh. "I wish... you could... understand... could see..."

Moved by something unnamed, I place my hand on top of his. "Maybe I can. I might—"

"No."

He pulls his hand from mine.

Biting my lip, I stare down at my empty palm. The coil in my chest tightens again. It was simpleminded foolishness to believe, even for an instant, that I could change the immovable barrier between us—a foolishness that only served to crash me back into the truth. There's nothing I can do.

"I do not... want you... afraid of me..." Daynar's eyelids quiver as he begins to fade. "...but ...maybe... you..." With a long sigh, he closes his eyes, sinking into the pillow.

"Daynar?"

I'm answered only by his shallow breaths.

The warmth that had spread through me, urging me to question the Archshade, now dissipates in an unceremonious puff, replaced by a disquieting unease—an awareness in the back of my mind of unknown events set in motion. I watch Prince Daynar's chest rise and fall, my mind reeling. At this same time yesterday, this prince stopped me from killing him and, by extension, myself. Why the life of his new courtesan should matter more to him than the punishment for her attempted crimes is still beyond my reasoning.

Then again, the prince himself is beyond my reasoning.

***

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! Any support or feedback is greatly appreciated.

If you enjoyed this chapter, please vote, comment, share, or add the story to your libraries and reading lists. ♥