A Vow So Bold and Deadly (Cursebreakers, #3)(49)

When the curse took over and the entire castle staff fled—or died—I was left with no one but Grey. For weeks, I felt helpless. I had no idea where my valets stored my underthings. Or socks! I wore boots without them for days, simply because I could not find them. I had never once shaved my own face, and when I tried, I nearly cut my throat.

I remember finding Grey outside my chambers, standing at attention in the deserted, silent hallway.

“Commander,” I said sharply. “You will show me how to shave.”

He stared at me for the longest moment, and I felt like such a spoiled fool, especially when confronted with the clean-shaven face that he’d clearly accomplished himself, while I was standing there pressing a silk handkerchief to my neck to stop the bleeding.

I waited for his expression to shift into scorn or disdain. For him to inwardly sigh. We were the only two people left in the castle, and there wouldn’t have been much I could have done about it. He could have turned the moment into something humiliating.

He didn’t. “Yes, my lord,” he said equably. “Do you have a kit?”

I expect the memory to sting, but for some reason, this one doesn’t.

Since the curse was broken, I’ve hired servants to fill most of the roles in the castle, but I haven’t bothered to replace the attendants in my own chambers. Something that seemed like a necessity now feels like a frivolity.

Today, though, I wish for an advisor to help me decide how to dress. When I visit my cities, I usually wear tailored jackets and polished boots, silk and brocade trimmed in silver or gold. Never as ostentatious as my father would have been, but enough to signify who I am. Not a subject, not a soldier. A prince—their future king.

For this visit to Silvermoon, however, I need to look ready to command an army.

I tie the laces of a thick linen shirt, then buckle rich leather armor into place over top. Red fabric lines the breastplate, matching the crimson rose paired with a golden lion on the insignia in the center of my chest, and a gold crown has been hammered into the leather directly over my heart. I thread my sword belt into place and add a dagger, then add laced bracers to my forearms that reach all the way to my knuckles. The weight feels solid, secure, and it’s surprisingly reassuring. Maybe I’m the one who needs the reminder of who I am, not my people.

I catch a glimpse of myself in my long mirror, and my eyes shy away. I haven’t worn this armor in months, not since Grey and I were forced to venture off the grounds of Ironrose to chase after Harper, when threats of Syhl Shallow first made themselves known. I have no desire to get lost in those memories right now. I seize a cloak from a hook and buckle it into place along my shoulders.

When I emerge from my chambers, Dustan and Copper are waiting in the hallway.

“Call for horses,” I say as I stride into the hallway. “I will see to Princess Harper.”

Copper gives me a nod and heads toward the stairs, but Dustan falls into step behind me. “My lord,” he says to my back. His voice is low.

“Commander.” I don’t see Zo in the hallway yet, but Harper’s door is open. Light spills across the carpeting in the hallway.

“I must speak with you before you see the princess.”

I don’t stop. “If you have further concerns about Zo—”

“The enchantress has been in the castle.”

There’s very little he could stay that would yank me to a halt, but that achieves it. I round on him. “What?”

“The enchantress visited Princess Harper. She—”

“When?” I demand. “Why did you not tell me at once?” Panic wraps around my heart, and I stride down the hallway. “Was she harmed? Was she—”

“My lord. Stop.” He all but grabs my arm. “Please!” he says. “Allow me to finish.”

I stop. My breathing feels too quick. I cast a glance at her doorway again.

“It was not long ago,” he says quickly, his voice a quiet rush. “The princess was unharmed. The enchantress only issued threats.” He pauses. “But Princess Harper asked that I keep this information from you.”

My pulse is still thundering in my ears. Lilith went to Harper? She issued threats? I know how the enchantress gets her point across, and I have to suppress a shudder.

But then my thoughts seize on Dustan’s final words.

Princess Harper asked that I keep this information from you.

I can’t move. For days, I’ve been terrified of the enchantress returning.

Now it has happened, and Harper sought to keep this from me.

This feels like betrayal. It shouldn’t, but it does. It’s no different from the many times I kept information from her, but fury and fear still spin through my gut to wind together.

Then I have another thought. My eyes snap to Dustan’s. “Has this happened at other times?”

“Not to my knowledge.”

A moment ago, the weight of this armor felt reassuring, but now it feels like a fabrication. Like I am only feigning competence. I kept the truth from Harper because I wanted to keep her safe. I did not want her to recklessly risk her life on my behalf.

She keeps the truth from me because she does not think I can handle it.

I have to draw a steadying breath. I want to confront her. I want to hide. I’m resentful. Humiliated. Afraid.

Angry.