Page 17 of The Princess Knight
“But I will—I always do.” He gave her a melancholic smile before turning back into his rooms and leaving Clía to write to General Kordislaen.
It took three attempts before she was happy with the letter. After sealing the envelope with her family crest and adding a touch of gold dust to the cooling emerald wax, she began the task of planning her travels. But with each step, she could hear everyone’s doubts clamoring in her ears.
By the time she finally retired to her rooms, her brain was alight with energy and determination. Sleep would not come easy to her tonight.
Instead, she focused on her secret project.
For the past month, she had been working on the design of a new dress. One that feltright.Too often, her dresses itched and rubbed against her skin in the worst possible ways—a constant irritation at best, or the thing to break her after a long day at worst. Years ago, she had begun modifying and designing her own clothing. And this dress had become her latest obsession.
With every stitch, her mind eased. She could understand everything better when wielding a needle.
This pattern was a loose-fitting day dress, ending at her calves to allow range of motion for dancing and riding. The dress was simple: a basic bodice with a square neckline and boning for support, laced sleeves to allow for an adjustable fit, and a draped skirt. Where it would shine would be in the fabric she chose. She could layer silk and organza and make it shimmer as she moved or choose a soft linen to let the summer air flow through.
Murphy was warm on her lap as she worked, his brown fur shining a rusty red in the flickering candlelight.
Soon, they would be at Caisleán Cósta, and she would have the chance to prove herself in front of Domhnall and save their kingdoms’ alliance.
And he would learn how wrong he was to underestimate her.
Chapter Six
The dark spires of the north tower were the first things Clía saw of Caisleán Cósta.
Ó Connor had smoothed everything over with General Kordislaen without trouble, for as soon as Clía sent her letter, an acceptance was quick to follow. Kordislaen’s fast response allowed her to finalize her travel plans in perfect time to arrive on the same day as every other new student. However, it didn’t seem real until she felt the slight jolt of her carriage as they crossed the gates and entered the domain of the old castle.
She was here.
The building’s ancient gray stones were covered in crawling ivy and twisting vines. In the distance, she could hear the faint sound of waves crashing against the Whispering Cliffs and smell the salt of the ocean on the breeze. They stopped in front of the large entryway, where two guards stood. As she waited for one of them to open her door, she prepared herself to exit, collecting her belongings that had scattered across the seat during the long journey and sculpting her face to hide the eager smile that was growing.
Outside of the carriage window, neither guard moved toward her. Was she expected to exit the car herself?
Apparently, yes.
You’re a dalta now, Clía reminded herself.A warrior in training.
The guards didn’t care she was a princess. She wasn’t the first royal to walk through the gates.
She straightened her spine and forced the door open. Gently, she slid down from the elevated cabin and onto the cobblestone road, knocking her tiara askew in the process.
Straightening her skirts, she sent the guards one of her more dazzling smiles and made her way toward the building. She left the rest of her trunks for her driver to bring in. Murphy sloshed out of the bucket of water she had brought for him and leaped from the carriage to follow behind.
Clía adjusted her crown with confidence she didn’t have before opening the doors to the esteemed castle. The quickest way to hide a mistake was to pretend as if it was all a part of her plan.
***
THE LIGHT FLOWED THROUGH THE WINDOWS OF THE MAINhall in a study of contrasts. Guards were stationed against the walls, their dark uniforms blending into the shadow-coated stone. Pillars carved with vines and trees held up the raised ceiling. Everything seemed to lead to the far wall, where an elaborate engraving decorated marble stone. Fierce Otherworld creatures with talons and claws raised were interwoven in swirling knots, all surrounding a familiar figure.
The god of battle and war, death and sleep. Ríoghain.
They stood tall, with their sword drawn and their expression resolute, as if staring down an army. The jewel embedded in thecrown that rested on their head almost seemed to glow in the filtered sunlight. Ríoghain’s Jewel, one of the Gifts of the Treibh Anam.
Draoi, in their knee-length white tunics, and warriors with swords by their sides strode into the room from two corridors branching out from each side of the main hall. The walls held banners and tapestries, and there were doors leading to places Clía wanted to explore.
But for now, she needed to focus on her goal.
Domhnall was here somewhere.
“Excuse me, where might I find my rooms?” she asked the nearest guard.
