Page 72 of Nightingale

There were no words for that, nothing that could enter her head and mouth that would make sense, that would soothe the desperate ache of understanding that shot through her like a hurdling spear.

His face broke out into a brilliant grin that held her captive. “Thank you, Vre.”

“Of course.” She tried to bob her throat, to remove her mouth of the dreadful taste of horror that she began tolovethe fifthPrince of Carylim, and her supposed enemy. Vrea knew that this would not end well, but she couldn’t help it.

She’d fallen for him.

Thirty Five

When they arrived at the gates of Vasthold, the towers seemed far larger than she ever remembered them being. Perhaps it was the belly flips that ceased to stop like a child doing flips within a lily-coated pond, or the war-drum beat of her nervous heart that sounded like a herd of wild horses. It might have been the winter chill that slank down her small spine as they rode through the massive archway that led into the capital of Niroula, where her mother and brothers were stationed. It could have been the cruel ice that frosted her blood over until it felt like sludges of glaciers, or the way her skin was undeniably clammy to the touch.

The castle was mighty and proud, rising from the rich town like a raised mountain. Tufts of trees and green surrounded the stronghold, sand as far as the eye could see. Even between the buildings that staggered around the tall building, it all sank into her heart. She passed her people who watched her with nervous eyes and it made her wonder if they remembered her. If she’d changed so much in the missing time that even her brothers wouldn’t recognise her.

Vrea hadn’t seen them in three years.

Any of them.

She couldn’t decide who she was more anxious to see, her mother or Teminos.

She rode at the front with Amir, who held himself pridefullywith one hand on his hip on his broadsword, as if he’d been the one to rescue and retrieve her. She supposed he’d been the one to escort her over the border, to ensure that she survived past the Blacklegs, and made sure she reached home in the end. There was still pride to be found there. If anyone was to ride at her side, she was glad it was him.

The streets became more filled with Niroulians as they came to see the small parade, the way the soldiers wrapped around her and Rian once more. But Rian had been shoved to the very back, in between two men that separated her and Amir from him. She didn’t dare to look back at him, didn’t dare to sneak a peek when all eyes were on her at the moment.

On their missing Princess, home at long last.

Vrea’s lungs tightened, her breath shortening to something that felt nearly impossible as she commanded herself to exhale, then inhale. It didn’t matter. It all fell away like leaves on the wind as soon as she lifted her head. Because there, on the first floor of Vasthold where they entered, was Teminos.

His long, hazel braid was carefully tossed over one of his lean shoulders, a red tie at the end. He held an unopened scroll, as if he’d heard the commotion in the streets on his way to the library and raced to the ramparts to see if it was true.

Vrea didn’t miss anyone,anythingbut her knives.

But there, in the very center of her heart, may have been a sliver of relief to see her closest sibling once more. To see that he was still alive and that nothing had happened to move her up the line of ascension. A warm sensation that filled her veins, ignited her soul, blossomed a new sort of comfort at the sight of him.

He smiled as she neared, a wary one that didn’t reach his blue eyes but one for her nonetheless. The party stopped as they reached the rounded courtyard that held two sets of stairs on either side, meeting in a middle platform where Teminos remained. He didn’t descend down either, nor did she think hewould as his sight landed on Rian. He folded his thin, plucked brows together in confusion, then shot his gaze back to her with a silent question lingering within.

She didn’t answer.

Vrea dismounted, handing the reins over to a nearby servant that rushed forward to take them from her grasp and straightened her spine. There wasn’t much she could do to return her appearance to that of the Princess of Niroula. Not when she reeked of ten days on horseback without a proper bath, or a comb to fix her short, messy hair. Her joints were sore, her clothes were beyond stiff and she longed for a goodnight sleep in a real bed instead of along the ground or a bedroll on raised wooden slats.

But she lifted herself back up to her full height, cracking her spine and shoulders as she went and made her way towards the closest staircase. He watched her every step of the way as she strode up them, occasionally taking two at a time in order to hurry her ascension along.

Amir ordered the men behind her, and she blocked them out as she came face to face with her brother for the first time in three years. There was a faint buzz in her head as she took him in. He hadn’t changed, looked every bit the same as she last remembered.

He still wore clothes fabulously and still held a shine to his hair that she’d always been envious of. His upturned eyes were intelligent and his nose was still perfectly sloped, something that had caused jealousy inside of her for the sake of the bump on her own. One that he’d always teased her on, told her that she should have been proud to bear as a sign of their heritage.

“You look like a woman.” Teminos commented with a reminiscent fog within his sight. “I feel as though you were barely a girl the last time you left this place.”

Her tough facade cracked.

“I’ll remind you that I’m not that much younger than you, Tem.” She huffed lightly. “Just because it took longer for myfemalebody to develop, doesn’t mean my mind paired alongside it. I was grown up therefarbefore I ever left Vasthold, the first time.”

His lips curled up, straight teeth showing. “Considering our minds have to be the first thing to sharpen around here, I can’t argue with your logic, little sand-serpent.”

Her old nickname.

Granted to her after she’d slayed three in the span of four minutes; a test from her mother to prove her agility and reflexes that she’d passed with flying colours. Only Teminos dared to show a hint of affection with the nickname and it brought familiar warmth into her system that she’d missed sorely.

They did not share in tender embraces or teary reunions. It was not how it was done between siblings, not when a tight hug could result in a knife between your third and fourth ribs. Eamin had tried at one point, only to end up with a scar of his own on his right thigh as she’d averted the blade away from her torso and shoved it into his leg, deep.

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