I cut this scene, which originally occured after Nirel healed King Leonardin's gout and before Jase was whipped for Daiyu. I decided to move any mention of Trestainian fire to later in the story, and I also didn't like how childish this scene made the king. I wanted him to maintain more dignity. When I cut scenes from Nirel, I ended up taking a lot of Anthony out, which is so sad. But I had beta readers wanting him to be end game, and I didn't want that to even be an option in readers' minds.
During our afternoon speech session, Anthony had insisted on teaching me a few dances for the upcoming winter festival party. I wanted him to practice speaking certain phrases until they rolled off his tongue smoothly. We reached a compromise. He had to practice fluently speaking dance directions while my awkward feet attempted to follow.
“One, two, three, four,” Anthony led me through the steps.
I stepped on his toes again. “I’m afraid I’m hopeless with dancing, your highness.”
He stared at his bruised toes, and signed. Devika translated, “If I can learn to speak, then you can learn to dance.”
Without signing, he said, "Try again."
I smiled. We would work on stringing together long sentences soon, I hoped. "Yes, your highness," I said, taking his offered hand and getting into the beginning position.
King Leonardin barged into the prince’s room without being announced.
I jumped in surprise.
Anthony twitched, then stepped away from me.
King Leonardin staggered to the middle of the room, reeking of spilled wine. He glanced around, face flushed, until his gaze rested on me. He leaned closer.
“Did you know?” He asked.
My heart raced. “Know what, your majesty?”
“You must have known!”
I held up my hands in surrender as a chill crawled up my spine and made my skin prickle into gooseflesh. “Please, your majesty. I don’t know what you’re asking of me.”
His face twisted. “The fire weapons! We broke through their walls and their torches blew fire into my men’s faces. How could you not know of such weapons? How could you not warn us?”
I could not breathe. Last I heard, my province was falling.
“I was a village apothecary. I knew nothing of any weapons.”
“We have ways to find out.” Leonardin’s eyes glinted with drunken rage.
“She’s… telling… truth,” said Anthony softly.
Leonardin turned, eyes wide.
Anthony signed something to Devika. She nodded. Anthony then signed vehemently at his father.
Leonardin signed back, punctuated with quick breaths. Devika did not translate.
“Corvin,” said Anthony with a brief moment of eye contact to his father, then me.
Leonardin shook himself and seemed to have found some calm. He turned toward the guard at the door.
“Fetch Corvin, now.” The guard bowed then scrambled away, his armor clinking as he ran down the corridor.
I wrapped my fingers around my necklace and squeezed until the points threatened to break skin. Anthony glanced at me again. He stood awkwardly with his thin arms hanging limply.
Corvin arrived within minutes.
“Your majesty.” He bowed. “How may I be of service?”
King Leonardin pointed at me and Corvin followed with his gaze. One eyebrow rose slightly.
“Search her mind for information on the city’s defenses,” said the king.
“Of course, your majesty. What am I looking for?”
"Any information on Trestaine."
Corvin pursed his lips, but did not argue. He approached me. “Are you recovered from this morning, mae lumina?” he asked gently.
“Mostly.” I stared up at him. What if he found something that made me a traitor?
He placed his hand on my face. “Show me everything you know,” he whispered as his eyes filled with blood.
I cleared my mind and thought of home. Maybe he wouldn’t see anything.
He entered my head with a rush. Images whirled as he dug through my memories of the village and city.
A grunt sounded in my throat as he invaded memories and conversations with my father. His ability to sift through my mind was eerily uncomfortable. No one should be able to do this.
“Is she resisting you?” asked Leonardin.
“No,” said Corvin, his deep voice echoing in my head as he spoke.
But I was. A shuddering breath tore through my lungs. These memories were mine. I wanted him out.
You aren’t a traitor.
His voice spoke into my head without his mouth moving.
Try to relax.
I stifled the sob in my throat.
Then he found them. My memories of the tunnels and provisions under the city. The conversation with father about how strongly fortified Tressia was in every way. Corvin scoured every detail, then removed his mind and released my face.
I leaned over, retching. Corvin grabbed my shoulders and helped me stand straight, concern lining his usually unreadable expression.
“You are still overextended. You need rest.”
I exhaled a puff of air, and even though I'd hated him in my head, I needed him too. I rested my face against his chest, letting the tingles from our magic intertwine.
“What did you see?” asked King Leonardin.
Corvin frowned, a flash of disdain the only hint of his genuine thoughts before a calm demeanor plastered over his expression again.
“There was nothing in her mind that I haven’t seen a hundred times in the sight,” said Corvin.
“And the weapons?”
“She knew nothing, your majesty.”
King Leonardin’s face softened.
“She is loyal, your majesty, and deserves our trust. I bet my life on it,” said Corvin.
My jaw almost dropped. He defended me. He… cared.
The king looked at me. “Go rest in your rooms. You’ve proved yourself enough for one day.”
I curtsied. “Yes, your majesty.”
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