A Bloody Crown

Chapter 18: Moonlight

I woke the next morning at dawn, the sunlight slipping in through the parted curtains I left open from the night before. I sat in a pool of moonlight for an hour, just bathing in the light. Moving my hands across the puddle, creating shadows.

Slipping out of bed, I donned my fighting leathers, equipped my gear, and tied my hair back with a black ribbon.

Marlia was already awake and eating at the breakfast table, likely still awake from the night before. She tended to do night work, saying it allowed her to dance and dream down the corridors when nobody else could see her.

"I made your breakfast," she said quietly, pointing to a made plate beside her now empty one.

With only a nod of thanks, I sat down, and began eating slowly. I had a full day of endurance training ahead, with all my meetings pushed back until tomorrow.

Not that I had more than one.

Sighing, I stared at the food in front of me, pushing it around lazily. "Marlia," I mumbled, not even looking up to see if she heard me, "How am I going to do this? Play Hybern's Queen and Feyre's ally?"

She hummed, the worry clearly already on her mind. "My dear," she started, putting her tea down. "You'll do what you always have done." I finally looked at her, puzzlement on my face. "Diplomacy."

I shook my head, not understanding.

"Talking with the King, strategizing, negotiating, lying through your teeth if you must. But with Feyre, you're truthful, calm, prepared. I do not believe this is something beyond your capabilities." 

Rubbing my forehead against my palm, I shook my head again. "I don't know, Marlia."

"Just give yourself a chance, Ally."

* * *

Seven miles, I wheezed. I was on lap five, running the mile, pushing my body.

Ahead of me, the last few soldiers training late were on laps six and seven, some of them vomiting as they ran.

Over the course of the day, we had run twenty-five miles, done strength training with various weights of iron, and fought on horseback. 

As a leader, I'd begrudgingly done the extra work of getting every horse out of the stable, putting me behind everyone else.

I'd shot at least one-hundred ash arrows while in motion, attempting to control my horse and aim. Needless to say, my average wasn't the bullseye anymore. Throwing knives in motion was even harder with how unpredictable the flipping could be.

I passed through the flower garden, smelling the various scents for the fifth time, lungs screaming at the effort, and kept running. Above me, the moon beamed down, blessing me with what little strength she could give. Stars twinkled and shined, urging me forward.

My feet hit the dirt of the training ground, and I curved to begin lap six. Apple orchard, flowers, ring. Apple orchard, flowers, ring.

Like a mantra, I repeated it as I practically threw one foot in front of the other, ignoring my screaming and tired muscles.

Apple orchard. It was so sweet, so intoxicating. I heard the squirrels bouncing around the treebranches, cackling and knocking their acorns against the bark. Rabbits burrowed under roots, feeding their babies and protecting their homes. An apple fell from one of the trees, it hit the ground with a gentle thunk.

Flower garden. The moonlight gave the flowers a new sense of beauty, one of deathly intoxication instead of joyful love. I ran through them, smelling the lilacs, roses, lilies, tulips, peonies, and petunias in that order. Looking and smelling, observing and tasting. One foot. Then the other.