Page 17 of Vathia
“JESPER,” a booming voice yells.
He freezes and a small tremor goes through his form.
“Jespie, what’s wrong?” I ask, sliding down off his back.
He shakes his head and smiles but it doesn’t stop the fear in his eyes. “I think my father is done with his meeting. It’s probably time for us to leave now.”
My heart clenches. “Do you know when you’re coming back?”
“JESPER VERLICE! You ungrateful fledgling. You’ve assaulted the Queen’s consort! You will not see the outside of the box for a week!” his father growls, storming into the courtyard with a thunderous face.
Box? “I’m sorry Lord Verlice,” I state, standing slightly in front of my friend. “I asked him to help me prank my father. It’s not his fault.”
He sneers at me. “Young princesses shouldn’t be doing such things. You have two jobs and one of them is to remain silent,” he snaps, grabbing Jesper by the collar of his tunic.
“Don’t hurt him!” I yell at him. “I will tell my mother of this!” I narrow my eyes at him, much like I’ve seen my mother—the Queen—do.
The male ignores me as he pulls Jesper away, who looks at me with tears in his eyes as he mouths, “I’m sorry.”
MY BOOTS CRUNCH on the snow as I run through the field of snowdrops. My hand just brushes the sleeve of Aemon’s coat before I take off in the other direction giggling. “You’re it. Catch me if you can!” My breath visibly puffs out.
“That doesn’t count, Maeven. You didn’t actually touch me.” He uses the shadows and appears in front of me, startling me.
I gasp and throw a fistful of snow at him. “Stop doing that. It’s cheating. No magick during tag. At least until I can use my magick too, and then I’ll kick your behind.”
He laughs, brushing his white hair out of his eyes before helping me up. “I’m sure one day you’ll be able to take me. But for now, I have to keep you on your toes. You’ll be stronger than all of us one day. Let me have my fun,” he pouts.
I cross my arms and narrow my eyes at him. “Fine. But not during tag.” I hold my hand out. “Deal?”
He uses the shadow tendril and boops me on the nose. “Nope. No deal. You will thank me in the long run, Maeven. I’ll always do the hard things for you. Even if the others give in. Father says I have to protect you. That it’s part of my duty, and sometimes that means doing things you won’t like.” He stands proud as he recites what sounds like word-for-word what his father would say.
I groan. “I don’t need protection.” Before he can say another word about duty, I push him into the snow and yell, “You’re it!” And then run in the opposite direction.
A large white dragon gets up from his spot in the field with Aemon’s father on top. “Come on young ones. We have a long trip home if we want to make it in time for dinner!”
A KNOCK SOUNDS at my bedroom door and I smile jumping up to get it. Talyn is supposed to come today and he promised he would have a tea party with me since we did training last time. Mind you, we weren’t allowed to use real swords—much to Tal’s dismay—and were forced to use small wooden ones instead.
One of my fathers, a Vopn Fö warrior, was in the training yard giving us tips. Talyn loves training with him. Even though Talyn’s father doesn’t believe a female should learn to fight, that never stopped my father. He believes that females should have a right to bear arms. To be strong. To protect ourselves.
I fling the door open and throw myself at Talyn, pulling him in for a hug before dragging him into my room and sitting him at the table that is already set up with teas and small cakes.
He sits there quietly watching me run to where my crowns are and I grab him a tiara, matching the silver one that’s already placed on my head. I dart over and set it on his dark brown locks with a small smile.
He rolls his eyes. “Maeve. I’m not a prince. I don’t need a crown.”
I jut my chin out at him. “This is a royal tea party and I declare you a prince today. So you wear the crown.” I gesture at the few dolls I have sitting around the table with their crowns. “See, everyone else is wearing one. You’re my prince, joining me for tea,” I state firmly, narrowing my eyes so he understands this isn’t up for debate.
“But your mother’s mates aren’t princes. They’re consorts,” he argues back.
I place my tea cup gently down on the saucer. “They still wear crowns,” I sing. “Fine, if you won’t be my prince, you can be my consort. Now, pinkie up and drink your tea before it gets cold.”
He laughs, shaking his head at me. “I’ve missed you, Maeven. Father almost didn’t let me come today,” he says frowning down at the peppermint tea.
I swallow my sip. “Why not?” I ask, frowning.
He shrugs while taking a sip. “I don’t know. He’s been acting weird lately.”
My heart freezes. “Weirder than normal? Is he still hurting you? My mother told me she would handle it.”
