Once the woman left the room, Elea glanced at the breakfast tray. It was a traditional Urkan breakfast: buttered toast, eggs, sausage, bacon, and beans. There was also a pot of tea and a fine porcelain cup with a saucer. But she had no stomach for it. For she knew what Mother Walsh did not. Nora had been captured by the Kauls, and without her, Elea couldn’t create a trigon of power.
She moved the food around on her plate with her fork. She needed to eat it. The serfs had kindly prepared it for her, and she did not wish to offend them. They were starving and it would be unconscionable of her to throw away food. Forcing herself to take a bite, Elea thought about her advantages: she had a castle, willing serfs to fight for her, and an illegitimate Kaulish prince, who owed her a debt of honor.
Maybe she could trade Gerard for Nora?
But King Pierre of Kaul had named his son Batard, Which meantillegitimatein Kaulish. Gerard had no title. No obvious wealth. No sign that he was beloved of his natural father. Perhaps the king would not care enough to save his son, especially since he already had a legitimate male heir: her cousin Alexandre, who had given his half brother poisoned wine. No doubt he’d meant to kill him and rid the world of the only other person with a claim to the Kaulish throne.
Grabbing her aching head, Elea exhaled. She needed to solve her most immediate problems before attempting to fulfill the prophecy. She had the serfs’ loyalty, but she was uncertain about the guards who were aristocrats. She did not wish to imprison or kill them, but she needed to know that she could trust them. Tracing the blood-oath scar on her palm, Elea knew that was the answer. She would make them swear an oath of loyalty to her or they would be put in the keep.
Climbing out of bed, she found that Mother Walsh had laid out a beautiful gown for her. After lacing up the front of the dress, she combed her hair. At court, it was fashionable to wear one’s hair up and intricately styled, with flowers tucked into it. But Elea didn’t have a maid to arrange it and she doubted that her own abilities would be presentable. Besides, the people needed to see her hair. It gave them hope and it gave her credibility. She would need both to succeed.
Elea slipped on a pair of leather boots that were a little too small and then set out to find Mother Walsh. She located her in the kitchens, ordering the other servants to their tasks and scrubbing the table like her life depended upon it. Elea was surprised they had stayed. Perhaps habits were hard to break.
“Mother Walsh,” Elea began. The older woman set down her scrub brush and curtsied to Elea. The other kitchen staff did the same. “I was hoping that you could assemble everyone in the castle and have the guards stand in the center of the green. I believe the men from the stables will prove helpful in this task. You’re welcome to recruit any villagers as needed. Our numbers should be vastly greater than the guards.”
The head cook nodded. “Are you going to kill them?”
Shaking her head, Elea smiled. “No, but I am going to have them give me a blood oath of loyalty.”
“I’ll have Father Munro, the blacksmith, prepare some sharp knives.”
“Excellent,” Elea said, feeling more assured every moment. “A blade small enough to cut, but not big enough to do any real damage in case any should try to escape.”
Mother Walsh curtsied to her once again.
Elea left the kitchen and wandered until she found the chapel. It was dimly lit, even in the bright light of day. There were only three narrow windows with pointed arches. She knelt down before the altar and prayed to Màthair. Elea had only been a part of a blood oath once before. Her grandmother had told her and Nora the word . . . a celestial word from the three Eternal Kingdoms, the realm of the goddess. One of only four words that was still known from the time of Queen Eleanora.
A word that could break their souls.
Bhòid.
When she and Nora were younger, Elea had said it and she’d felt cold all over, but her heart burned like a furnace. Then her soul had snapped. The pain was excruciating. She felt a piece of her soul leave her, and without it, she felt empty, broken. Sometimes Elea wondered if the best of her soul had left that day. It had joined with Nora’s soul. And all that Elea had left was a dark, shattered soul that could not love others and that others could not love.
On that same day, a sliver of Nora’s soul had entered Elea’s body. It itched against her heart and felt foreign, as if it didn’t match the rest of her. Over the years, she’d gotten used to the feeling of Nora’s soul inside of her. But it had never joined with the rest of her soul. Never became a part of her. Not really. And Elea had resented having any part of Nora inside her after her betrayal. She took the attention of their grandfather and then the affections of the prince, whom Elea was married to by proxy. The prince, who held her heart in his hands but whose eyes were always on her cousin.
The harder Elea tried to win Matteo’s affections, the more distant he became.
She winced.
Elea would not ask the guards to shear their souls. She did not want to house so many other spirits in her body. Their blood oath was enough. Besides, the guards did not know the sacred word or how to create the figure of the Holy Trigon. Their blood oath would hold them accountable to Màthair in this life and the next.
That was enough.
Touching her forehead and then each shoulder, Elea made the sign of the Holy Trigon before getting to her feet. She glanced at the statue of Màthair and prayed with all her soul, and with the piece of Nora’s, that she would be enough. That she could accomplish this impossible task.
A piece of her violet hair fell into her face. Elea knew it was a sign. She was goddess-marked and a gifted daughter, after all. The one who would fulfill the prophecy. The one who would cause Yakura to rise anew and be better than ever.
Gerard was waiting for her at the door of the castle’s chapel, still wearing the naval uniform of Kaul. His face was cleanly shaved, and he appeared strong and virile. A stirring of attraction flurried deep in her belly. She ignored it. He was just another pawn on her way to becoming queen, and caring for him would only complicate things.
Elea gave him her best smile. “Gerard, you look very handsome this morning, but perhaps a change of clothing is in order.”
He glanced down at his left side where the bars of a captain were on his uniform. Would it be against Kaulish naval rules for him to remove it?
Gerard cleared his throat. “I believe you are right, Princess.”
“Elea,” she insisted with another warm smile.
She could smell vanilla in the air—attraction. With a hint of musk. Yes, the captain would do exactly what she wanted him to.