The Nechi's Wife

✣ chapter fifteen ✣

I kind of like this chapter a lot. ^_^

...

"Warning?" What did he mean? Had I done something wrong? Again?

"I'm one of King Renyld's 'spies' if you will. And my job is to listen to the nobles. Things they say, off-hand comments they make."

"Alright...?" I couldn't tell what direction this conversation was leading.

"It's why I was so outwardly negative towards you. Part of it was my own preconceived notions, but part of it was a façade. If I hadn't been given this job, I never would have been so rude to you. Unfortunately, I needed to build trust among them."

I was still very confused, until Sir Declan began to explain the things he'd heard. Remarks by the nobility about getting rid of me, making sure I never bore an heir. "They're often disguised as jokes, but we all know better. I fear for your safety, Princess."

As he continued telling me information not even the King had told me, I didn't feel fear, only anger. Why did everyone feel the need to keep me in the dark? Unbeknownst and unaware? My parents, the King, Flynd—everyone who I held a remote trust in refused to enlighten me on issues that affected my life.

"Thank you for your honesty Sir Declan." Again.

"Of course, Your Highness."

When we returned to the same spot we'd met, I realized the trail had been shaped in a circle. I was about to leave, perhaps rant to Ailis and Blanyr, but Sir Declan stopped me. "I know I already told you this, but you play the piano beautifully."

I laughed. "Thank you, Sir Declan."

"I hope my son can play as well someday. He didn't start too long ago."

"Your son plays? How old is he?" It was so interesting to imagine Sir Declan with a life outside the palace. With a son, perhaps a wife. People he kept separate from the castle, tucked away in a special corner of his heart.

"He's twelve," Sir Declan said with a large smile. "He's very intelligent for his age."

"You must be proud of him."

"Indeed."

"I'm sure he is very proud of you."

"I don't flatter myself that way," Sir Declan chuckled. "But you know, even though Eora got all the credit, you deserved some as well."

"You're too kind."

"Your Highness, while the topic has arisen, could I ask you something?" His eyes brightened when I nodded in response. "Would you mind teaching my son piano? He currently has a teacher but I feel you would be better suited to the job. Especially with your talent."

"Oh...my..." After hearing his request, I wasn't sure if I was qualified. Until I saw his expression, his eyes filled with a great faith. Perhaps it would be alright, even if I'm not a teacher. I didn't have very many duties in the castle and it would be an entertaining and beneficial use of my time. "Yes, I'd love to. Free of charge."

"I ought to pay you twice over to teach my son," Sir Declan laughed. "But I'm grateful for your altruism."

"Where would the lessons be?" I asked.

"How about the piano room of the castle?"

"Where is it again?" I vaguely remembered Eora showing me to the room, but it had been long ago. As Eora became further along in her pregnancy, she didn't the time or energy to spend showing me around the castle.

"There are two. But it's the one closest to the Banquet Hall."

I was able to imagine the room. It was a faint outline in my memory, but I'd figure it out. The first time I'd seen the room, Eora had wanted to play her latest score, a flowing lullaby in B major. The light colors and high ceilings gave the impression it was large, though it really wasn't. It wasn't suffocating, or scary, or dreadful, the way my piano lessons had been.

The perfect place.

...

Blanyr's POV

My heart fluttered around my chest as excitement washed over me. It was a nervous excitement, the kind that overwhelmed your other senses and whirled in your mind and made you dizzy.

Sir Lorcan.

I should have known. Should have known he was too good to be true. And yet, I couldn't stop thinking about the way he called me "lady" and the way amusement danced in his eyes at my reaction.

Everyone said he was dangerous: Ailis said he was unnerving and the princess said he was a vulture. And yet—I wanted to see him. Once more. Only to talk. See what he had to say. My curiosity was innocent.

I repeated that in my head, like a mantra, in the hopes that I would believe it.

He'd said we could meet in the library. It seemed to be where everyone met these days. It was quiet. Clandestine. Private. Just the two of us. Alone.

He's a vulture.

I tried to laugh away the memory of the princess' comment. But it wouldn't leave me, like tar stuck to my mind.

He's a vulture.

My steps began to slow, logic and reason beginning to take over. What was I doing? I was going to meet a stranger in the library whose name I hadn't even known when I'd agreed! What was wrong with me? I was a maidservant, a lady-in-waiting. I was supposed to be chaste; I was not allowed to have relations.

Unless I wanted to be sent back into the streets, trying to find a way to survive that didn't include going back home.

With a heady sigh, I turned around and made my way in the opposite direction. All of this is ridiculous. He must think you're a gullible fool. I thought about what Ailis would say when I returned. I hadn't even told her where I was going. As soon as I got back to the maid's quarters, she would ask where I'd been.

And I would have no answer.

I couldn't let myself get fired for something this silly. I was Blanyr here. Blanyr. And I wanted it to remain that way.

I didn't want to go home. Never again did I want to be Blanyr, daughter of Lord Cormac, daughter of the Ó Ceallaigh family. A family of landowning nobility from the rolling countryside. Wealthy and envied.

But not happy.

We were never happy.

Not when Father made me travel hours to the city to attend every ball held by a rich fop. Not when Mother insulted my girth, called me a fat harlot, and ordered the cooks to only let me eat one meal a day. Not when my sister had run away from our chaos, and been whisked away by a charming bandit who never returned her.

I knew then. I knew that outward appearances—beautiful gowns, fake smiles, and an abundance of servants—meant nothing.

That a woman with long, brown hair and a warm laugh could just as easily be searing her soft, pallid skin with lit matches. That a servant with a good salary supporting his wife and three children could just as easily have killed himself from the stress and agony of his job. That a man with sparkling brown eyes and a handsome smile could just as easily be an abusive sadist.

I had run away for a reason—I knew better than to fall for appearances. And unless I wanted to be that Blanyr, the empty shell withering in the wind, I would never fall for them again.