Page 57 of Unseen Eye
Callon laughs. “Working on it, Ingrid, but we have to eat first. Couldn’t pass up one of your dinners,” he adds with a wink before taking the plate from her and setting it down on the table.
“About time,” Ingrid declares. “I thought I was going to have to do it myself,” she raises her arms. “You two enjoy yourselves, and Eva, let me know if this one causes you any trouble.”
“Thanks, Ingrid,” I reply with a laugh as she walks away.
Callon watches her retreating figure with a mix of affection and respect. “Ingrid’s been here longer than most of us. She practically runs the palace. If there’s something you need, she’s the one to ask.”
I glance back at Ingrid, now directing a few kitchen staff. “She seems nice.”
“She is. But she’s more than that,” Callon says, his tone softening. “She was my mother’s handmaid before… everything changed. After my mother passed, Ingrid quietly stepped in to look after me, though she’d never admit it. I think it’s her way ofkeeping my mother’s memory alive.”
There’s a depth to his words that makes me see Ingrid in a new light. “That’s really touching.”
“Touching, and also a bit overbearing,” Callon adds with a smirk.
I laugh. “She sounds like she has a lot of stories about you.”
“Oh, she does,” he replies, a hint of mock exasperation in his voice. “Just don’t let her corner you with them, or we’ll be here all night.”
I smile, realizing that the palace isn’t just a grand building filled with important people—it’s a home filled with relationships and history.
The dining hall is buzzing with activity as we fill our plates, soldiers and palace workers piling their plates high with food. The aromas of roasted turkey, mashed potatoes, and freshly baked bread fill the room, making my stomach rumble in anticipation. I stuff my plate with turkey, vegetables, and a slice of bread, trying not to overdo it, but it’s hard to resist. Callon follows suit, though his plate is notably more modest.
We eat in comfortable silence for a while, the simple act of sharing a meal together easing some of the tension I hadn’t realized I was holding. I glance around, noticing that most of the people here are dressed in plain, practical clothes, their uniforms bearing the insignia of Coire.
“You eat here with everyone else? There’s no special dining hall for you and your father?” I ask in between bites.
Callon pauses, looking up at me. “Of course, there’s a special dining hall. My father eats there every night. However, I prefer this one and eating with everyone else.”
“But you’re the prince,” I counter, trying to understand.
“So what?” Callon asks, his tone light but serious. “I’m just the same as everyone else. A title doesn’t change who I am.”
“Fair point,” I reply, going back to my turkey.
We resume eating until Callon comments, “Theo mentioned you did well today sparring with Izzy.”
“You had your doubts?” I chuckle. “What, did you think I was going to trip over my own sword and knock myself out?”
“Not at all,” Callon replies, looking oddly serious. He gestures toward my cheek, his fingers brushing the bruise lightly as he does. “I’ve seen you face hellhounds and darklings. I knew you were capable of sparring with Izzy. Looks like you let her land a few good hits, though.”
His touch lingers for just a moment longer than necessary, and I feel a heat flare up at the contact, though I try not to show it. My body tenses and my mind scrambles for control, but I keep my focus on the meal in front of me, forcing myself not to react too much.
“Yeah, yeah,” I say shrugging it off. “I need to work on my counters. It’s a work in progress.”
The conversation fades, giving way to the soft clinking of utensils, and soon enough the plates are empty.
As we leave the castle, several guards nod in Callon’s direction, their eyes briefly flicking to me, trying to place who I am. Callon returns each nod with easy familiarity, holding the door open as we step out into the village. A rush of fresh, cool air greets us, carrying the faint scent of pine and damp earth.
My immediate impression of Coire is its modesty—so different from Astermiri’s flamboyance. Stone walls surround the village, with the occasional soldier or archer patrolling atop them, their presence a quiet reminder of the vigilance that defines this place.
As we walk through the streets, villagers come up to greet Callon with a warmth that catches me off guard. They call him by name, no titles, just Callon. When I ask him about this, he gives me a casual shrug, but his eyes betray something more. “I’m a normal person, remember?” There’s something in his voice that suggests he’s said this a thousand times before, like it’s a mantrahe uses to remind himself as much as anyone else.
We reach the outer perimeter, where the guards swing open the gates for us, and we step out into the countryside. The scene that unfolds before me is nothing short of breathtaking. Mountain ranges stretch into the sky, their peaks gleaming with snow that glitters like diamonds. Countless waterfalls cascade from rugged cliffs, the water catching the light as it tumbles into shimmering pools below.
Callon watches me, a small smile playing on his lips, as if he knew I would react this way. “Come this way,” he says, his voice tinged with excitement. “There’s more.”
We follow the riverbed, its crystal-clear water so pristine that the fish appear to be floating effortlessly in midair. The river guides us to a series of cliffs, formed from towering basalt columns that seem to defy nature. These cliffs are crowned by the largest waterfall I’ve ever seen. The water thundering down with such force that the sound is deafening. A fine mist rises from where it crashes below, catching the light and scattering rainbows that shimmer across the landscape. The land around it is alive with greenery, vibrant flowers adding splashes of color to the rugged stone.
