A Beast's Tale

Chapter 43

 "Your Highness."

I looked up as Lucien walked into the room. Ivetta knew about him now, so there was no reason for him to hide his presence from her, and afternoons in the library were ideal times for him to report to me. Those reports had been rather dull. If his post bored him, though, he hadn't complained. He knew he would see more activity soon enough.

"I found footprints in the forest overlooking the river last night. A man's tread. They had not been there in the morning, and I found no evidence of another person. The trail went west through the forest, near the road but out of its sightline."

Meaning one man had been scouting out Ivetta's home while she and Lucien were here at the palace. "And you saw no one last night."

"No. It's possible I missed spotting someone during the storm, but not last night."

"If you encounter someone suspicious, apprehend them for questioning using whatever force you deem necessary."

"Yes, Your Highness. And I may need an associate sooner rather than later. She's spending more time outside at night, and with the situation escalating, I'd prefer another set of eyes on her while I patrol."

"What is she doing?"

He hesitated. "She sits on the riverbank for a while and then goes back inside. Sometimes she cries. Sometimes she doesn't."

I sighed. There was nothing I could do about that, but I'd anticipated the need for more coverage and had already briefed another from my inner circle in preparation for this. "Cyril is in the training arena now. Notify him that he begins duty as of today."

"Yes, Your Highness. That is all."

"You're dismissed."

He bowed and left, a shadow slipping through the door, as he had been since the first night we met—and all the other nights we'd crossed blades until I'd offered him a position working for me. His natural talent had allowed him to escape each brief encounter, injured but alive. He remained the only assassin to survive an attempt on my life. Aside from my brothers or myself, he was the person best suited to protecting Ivetta from the shadows. Cyril's rise through the ranks and gradual gain of my trust was a less spectacular story; his skills, however, were almost as noteworthy as Lucien's and made him a close second.

Sitting on the riverbank at night and crying.

Nightmares.

I'd never suffered from nightmares, but they'd plagued the twins since their mother's death sixteen years ago. The incidence of the two brothers roaming the halls in the middle of the night tapered off as the traumatic event became a distant memory and picked up again every year as their birthday approached. I saw Nokto with greater frequency than Licht, although I felt certain Licht was the more afflicted brother. He stayed in his room. Nokto would wander, his crimson eyes distant and his sweat-slicked pajamas sticking to his skin. I'd never lingered to see how long it took for him to recover.

It didn't matter. I could do nothing about it, and there was no sense in allowing it to claim space in my mind any longer. And how many times had she told me her personal life was none of my business?

She knew Lucian could see her, didn't she?

The effort required to wrench my mind from the subject was almost physical. I forced myself to pay attention to the words on the pages before me instead of memorizing them without active thought, and the remainder of the afternoon passed with no further interruptions. The moment she knocked at my door, however, the concern returned in a rush. It was an unfamiliar and uncomfortable sensation.