36

The Reyngal castle gardens were entirely indoors. Enclosed by delicate glass walls that let in the brilliant sunlight, it was a sanctuary of lush green foliage and bright exotic birds that made it their home. Fully grown trees reached up for the highest corners of the transparent ceiling, and the walking paths were bordered by flowering bushes. Butterflies were everywhere, though Ainsley couldn't imagine how they had gotten here. Perhaps the queen bred them, or collected the chrysalises.

Either way, it was a sight to behold, and it proved to be exactly the thing Ainsley and Gael needed. After saying goodbye to the pirates, who would dock the Finch at a coastal town nearly a hundred miles away, they had spent the night and the next morning trying to relax despite the imminent threat on the horizon. Ainsley could barely unwind—at any moment, she expected to see a messenger or guard bringing news of the battle ships that would surely appear on the horizon before long.

Gael, however, seemed determined to calm Ainsley down.

The two sat hand-in-hand in the gardens, warm sunlight brushing their faces and shoulders. They were in clean clothes given to them by Mirali, and after bathing and spending the night under clean bedsheets, it was hard not to relax at least a little bit. Nathe had spent the morning entertaining young Mavis with stories of the titans, giving Ainsley and Gael a chance to be alone.

Ainsley looked down at their interlocked hands, admiring the way they seemed to fit together perfectly, like maybe they had been made to hold each other. The sound of birdsong filled the air. Gael used her free hand to lay her brilliantly-coloured quill pen against the surface of the white stone table they sat at. Greenery crept around the legs of the carved benches.

She was writing to her family. Ainsley knew that much.

She had spent the last two hours here in the garden with Gael, watching her compose the letter, script shaky in some places. Occasionally, she would release her pen and press the knuckles of her hand into her opposite palm, soothing the tremble of her fingers, or stare up at the tangling branches above them and leave her sentence trailing and unfinished on the paper. Finally, though, she passed the sheet to Ainsley.

"Can you read this for me before I have it sent?"

Ainsley dropped Gael's hand to take the paper, blinking against the way the sunlight glared off of it. She read the words slowly, pausing at certain phrases to brush her fingers against the drying ink. The letter was long, but certain sentences seemed to jump at her and wrap their fingers around her throat.

"Please forgive me" and "I wish I could promise I'll see you again."

Her eyes filled with tears and she blinked them away so she could continue reading.

"A bigger cause than me" and "something worth dying for" and "this may be where it all ends, one way or another."

And "I love you even if this is my only goodbye."

She took Gael's hand once more and squeezed it. Gael was crying, quiet tears rolling down her cheeks and splattering dark against the rough stone.

"They'll be proud," was all Ainsley could say.

—

The clatter of metal against metal filled the near-empty courtyard.

It had been over a month since Ainsley had wielded a sword rather than a cutlass, or, on rare occasions, Gael's pistol, and her skill—or lack of it—showed. She and Luca had taken on sparring with standard arming swords they had borrowed from the soldiers, who were the only people left in the city. All of the civilians had been evacuated, and the queen was planning to take her daughter and son and leave the next day. It wouldn't do to let Ackerley get his hands on the country's monarch and heirs.

Though Ainsley had still been learning to use a cutlass properly, the sword already felt strange and unfamiliar in her hand. It felt lighter, with less bulk around her hand, and her balanace was off enough to be noticeable. Her knuckles and wrist felt bare and unprotected, with only the cross guard to stop a wayward slash. Still, she and Luca fought the way they always had—with un-blunted, double-edged blades. They trusted themselves, and they trusted each other. Sparring with the young knight again felt like coming home.

Sweat stung her left eye, blinding her for a moment. Ainsley paused, stumbling back and raising a hand for pause before using it to push damp strands of hair out of her eyes. The tip of her sword dragged against the stone floor.

Luca held out a leather hair tie, and she took it with a grateful smile, pulling back her hair until she could tie the locks in a short ponytail that barely brushed the nape of her neck. It was better than nothing.

"I need to cut it again," she said, a crooked smile on her face as she switched her sword to her left hand and shook out her right.

"Your father was not pleased when you cut it so short," Luca replied, grinning back. "Do you remember that?"

"Of course I do. He said it was unseemly for nobility."

She readjusted her grip, gave Luca a nod of warning, and then attacked him, going low only to be met with her blade scraping off of the edge of his. He pushed it aside and swept at her torso in a cutting motion, which she grappled away as if it were an afterthought, barely managing to catch his blade with hers and direct it back upwards. They exchanged blows twice more before he had her pressed against the wall, breathless but smiling.

"You've lost your touch."

She laughed, tipping her head against the cool stone, cast in shadow, and looked up. "I know. I need to practice more. I'll guarantee I'm a better shot than you, though."

"Would you like to find Gael and ask to borrow her pistol to test that theory?"

Luca was smiling too, moving to stand against the wall with her. It felt so much like old times that Ainsley's chest ached hollowly.

"No, I'd better not. I think she wanted to be alone for a while."

"Even as close as the two of you are?"

Ainsley swallowed, sinking down to sit on the stone, cold through her trousers. Luca followed suit, their shoulders brushing.

"It's only because we're so close that I know when she needs a moment to herself."

He nodded wordlessly, laying his sword on the ground between them. Ainsley added hers so the blades crossed, reflecting a brilliant line of sunlight against the clean metal.

"What do you think will happen after this?"

Ainsley glanced over at him. "What does that mean?"

"Things won't go back to normal no matter how this ends. You and I both know it. I suppose I was wondering if you had a plan of any sort."

Ainsley smiled bitterly. "No. Not really. I have no idea what I'm doing. I suppose he'll come by sea, but his dragons will reach the city long before his troops ever reach land. A thousand cities couldn't be prepared. Even if the soldiers we asked for from the outlying cities came in time to help, it would be useless."

Luca was quiet, so she kept talking.

"I suppose I'm just relying on being able to take back control of the dragons. If I can do that, everything will be alright.

"And then?"

"What do you mean?"

Luca rolled his shoulders, then rubbed at one of them. "You know better than anyone the state of things in Ellay. You may beat him here, but he can't be left to conquer other countries that don't have you there to protect them. He's too dangerous now—you know that, right?"

The lump of hatred that always burned in her throat returned. "Yes," she replied, jaw set, voice firm. She clenched and unclenched the fingers on her left hand, feeling the muscles and tendons move beneath the skin. Her knuckles were scarred, like her face and the rest of her. Scarred in some places that would never heal. She rubbed her thumb over the warm wooden ring on her finger. "Yes. I—I need to kill him."

All the conviction in her voice collapsed into rubble and her voice cracked. She buried her face in her hands, calloused palms pressing against teary eyes and the raw, ugly gash. Luca's warm hand found her shoulder and she leaned in to him, allowing herself a moment of vulnerability.

"He's still my father," she finally managed, voice whispery and breaking. She felt Luca nod his understanding. "I wish it didn't have to be this way."

"Are you ready?"

"No." She paused, swiping at the tears on her cheeks, and reconsidered. "Well... for you and Gael and the crew and... and everyone else in the world, I suppose, I can be."

"You'll do us all proud."

"I hope so."

He leaned away again, leaving her a few inches of space.

"So, again—what comes after?"

"I'm not sure. I don't mind either way. As long as I can be with Gael."

"I suppose it's always best for a ruler to have a spouse by their side."

Ainsley's face burned hot, but she found herself smiling through the embarrassment. "Luca! Don't say things like that!" He laughed, and she smiled, folding her arms and leaning against the wall, face up to let the sunlight dry the tears that lingered on her cheeks. "Either way, I'm not sure I can be the queen. I'm not ready."

"Well, we'll all help you. You can learn as you go along."

Ainsley smiled and looked back down at her crossed arms. "I suppose." A shaky sigh left her lips. "I do love her, Luca. At least, I think I do."

"I know. I'm glad."

"We're going to sail to the end of the world together."

She wasn't sure why those particular words, soft and barely audible, left her mouth at all. They were the fantasies of a child. Luca, however, just smiled and tipped his head back to squint at the sun.

thanks for reading chapter 36! got a nice soft one here for you all before things go to shit. there's not very many chapters left either so i hope to hear your theories! have a lovely day/night and please drop a vote on your way out <3