Page 93 of The Shadowed Oracle
“My sweet, tortured, young master Dean,” Callinora said, slumping in her seat.
“Young master?” Raidinn placed a hand on Dean’s back and pounded it like a drum. “I like that,” he said, looking to the princess. “Is that an official rank here?”
“No, I don’t think so.” Callinora finished the last sip of her drink and immediately fetched more from the decanter. “But it should be! Maybe that’ll be the first thing my husband and I change. Install a new title. Young Master. Or I supposeMasterwould do fine. I’ll take counsel with him when he’s home.”
She said it with such certainty that Dean couldn’t help himself. “Or you could…” He softened his voice. “Just do it yourself.”
The others grunted as if he’d shut down the party entirely.
“Sorry! Sorry. I warned you.” Dean pressed a palm to his temple. “It won’t stop.”
“Perfectly fine,” Callinora said. “You are diligent! And you are passionate! Do not apologize for that. My husband is similar in his pursuits. It’s one of the reasons I married him.”
Ingrid stirred at that, putting her elbows on the table and leaning toward the Princess. “I just realized… I never asked how you two met.”
“Yes, do tell.” Tyla inched closer.
“Subtle,” Raidinn said, then cupped his hand over his mouth to speak directly to Callinora. “Tyla’s been dying to ask.”
“No I haven’t!”
“Oh yes you have!” He looked directly at the princes again. “She’sobsessedwith those dreary Victorian romance novels. And your story, or what she’s heard of it, it’s like seeing one in real time. No offense.”
“None taken.”
“Callinora, I swear—” Tyla had gone nearly pale, pressing her hand over her heart. “I wasn’t… I’m not?—”
“Oh shush. Do you want to hear the story or not?”
All four nodded, settling in.
“Right. To start, I should mention that when I was younger, the thought of marrying a sailor from a low-born family was absurd. I probably would’ve laughed you right out of the throne room.” She turned her nose up and put on a snooty voice. “A poncy little princess, my mother used to call me. And I suppose I was, after all. That’s why she assigned me the duty of overseeing the docks in the first place. Thought I’d sympathize with the working class.”
Callinora flashed a debonair grin. “But instead, I fell in love with a male that challenged me so often I had to look at myself, for the first time, and ask what in Mother’s name I wanted out of life.” The princess scoffed. “It was awful. At first, at least. Arryn and I practically loathed each other. He teased me like a schoolboy until I finally snapped. I actually hit him, if you can believe it.”
Dean slyly nodded at Ingrid, as if to say,I’m surprised she only hit him.
“The mark was still fresh on his face when Arryn first asked to court me. Or, well—he didn’t actually ask, he demanded I meet him for dinner later that night. I was appalled. Didn’t speak to him for days.” She took a moment to recall in detail, keeping the private parts to herself. “But soon after that, as you’ve probably guessed, I gave in. It only took two short encounters and a stolen night in a shabby inn to convince me to marry him. That’s the kind of man he was. Too charming for his own good.”
Dean leaned forward, listening intently.
“That’s the kind of King these people will rally behind. A man who knows what he wants and will stop at nothing to get it. He has gained a reputation in this court. Only he has the true loyalty of the council. The real council, that is. Not those rat advisors. They fear him, love him, admire him.” She put her drinking glassdown for the first time in hours, looking to Ingrid. “You were right when you said that a king and queen united was an easier sell than an ambitious princess on her own. But it goes beyond that, my friend. This city has had many great rulers, many great kings and queens, but that throne has also seen many ambitious Viator swallowed whole by the weight of it. Some say it is Ido’s ghost, terrorizing those he doesn’t see fit to follow in his footsteps. Others say it is Izadora guiding the way. But those of us who don’t put faith in spirits… we know better. This kingdom, these walls, the very bones of Maradenn, they all have a way of weeding out the weak, of elevating the strong. And Arryn, he is the purest example. He was chosen. It was no coincidence I fell in love with him. It wasn’t luck that put him in this castle. No. He is the key. He’s our last hope of salvaging this city.”
As they filed out of Callinora’s chambers that night, Ingrid stopped Dean to ask if he wanted to talk privately. The signs of stress in him were clearly evident, but she could sense there was something more. Something he wasn’t sharing with the group.
“I’m just tired,” he said. He threw a glance over his shoulder, like someone familiar had brushed past him too quickly.
“You promise?” Ingrid asked.
“I promise.”
She hesitated to say more, staring sympathetically at the bags under his eyes. For a moment, she considered forcing him to go back to her room with her. If they could be alone, she thought, maybe she could help him, could soothe his mind, make sure he was at his best when the time came to sail off to the Isles. If it was sleep that he needed, then he could rest on the daybed in herroom. That way, if a fit of restlessness stuck him, they could talk and talk until he finally felt like lying his head down again.
Before anything else could be said, however, Dean wrapped his arm around her, whispered a soft, “Goodnight, Ingrid,” and walked off toward his room.
She stood there a moment, shocked or maybe even hurt—she didn’t know. She didn’t want to think about it any longer. Watching him disappear into the darkness, she broke off in the opposite direction in a semi-haze.
At that late hour, she’d be free to walk where she wanted, and without fear of bumping into anyone who might take issue with her snooping.
