The Crowned Captive

Chapter 23 - Rewards Reaped

Morana

Having been woken by yet another nightmare, Morana was far from in the mood to train. Cordan rubbed her back, comforting her through the latest throes of her nausea as she glared at the bottom of the bucket. She could still feel the blood on her hands and the handle of the jewelled dagger in her hands. Her body had moved as her mind screamed for it not to, and her skin had crackled with power as she freed their lifeblood from their veins. It had not been until she had killed him, the one with the white hair that had begged her to in the end, that she had finally been freed from her nightmare. She could not get their faces from her mind, a range of horrified and angry and proud.

Around her, servants bustled, gathering her meagre belongings to move to her newest rotation of lodgings. She was glad she had her dagger strapped to her thigh, it’s cold steel a meagre comfort after the nightmare. If the king’s servants found it, she did not know what the repercussions would be, but she knew it would not be good. Cordan watched them closely, and she wondered if that was why. As surreptitiously as she could manage, she guided Cordan’s hand to where the cool metal sat against her skin. She was rewarded with an amused snort that tousled her hair, and she felt him somewhat relax against her.

“I think I am done being sick now,” she murmured up to him, a faint smile on her face. The amber eyes that looked down on her were still full of concern, but the smile had returned.

“Let’s do something other than training this morning. Anything you choose, I will happily follow you,” Cordan replied, helping her to her feet.

“I want to go to the kitchens and cook my own breakfast,” Morana replied definitively. Three weeks without cooking her food and she was missing the smell of the kitchens greatly.

“I... that is not what I would have imagined you to choose,” Cordan began, back-pedalling when Morana fixed him with an accusatory look. “Not that it’s a bad thing. Cooking can be fun. I just imagined you to either want to punch something or see more of the castle grounds.”

“Those are two very juxtaposing whims.” Morana could not deny the truth in his statement, though. Those two whims would be second and third on her list of wants this morning.

She made quick work of dressing herself, finding comfort in a tailored tunic and leather trousers that clung to her like a second skin. With the addition of her polished black boots, she knew she made a formidable sight. Already the hollows of her body were filling, her limbs thickening with hard-earned muscle. When she glanced at her reflection in the mirror, she looked fitter and more dangerous than she ever imagined she could have. She would hate to see someone corner her in an alley or grope at her in the tavern now.

Having never been to the kitchens before, Morana watched their path carefully as Cordan took the lead. Four guards were stationed around them, pushing every oncoming person to the side for their passage. Morana nodded apologetically to each, taking the time to scan them. Far fewer were elves than she originally thought, she had realised over her time. Their green and grey and blue-tinted skin gave away their heritage, even if their form did not. Some had wings, some had gnarled skin, and others had eyes of creatures far from natural. She responded poorly to none of them, merely cataloguing their numbers and obvious roles.

After about half of their trip, Morana could have found the kitchens on scent alone. With the sun just barely cresting the horizon, they were in full swing with the preparations of numerous breakfasts. She merely stopped and watched for a time after they entered, awed by the sheer scale of production. Nearly none of the creatures of the kitchen were elvish in nature. No, their numbers were predominated by brownies and kobolds, amongst other smaller faeries. Each fastened Morana with a heavy glare as she stood there, but she was quickly ignored when she did not interfere. Finally, once her mouth watered and she wondered how long she could wait for them to be done, the number of things being pushed out the door outweighed those being prepared, and a small section of bench space was conceded for their princess.

With a gracious smile, she made quick work of gathering goods. Cordan merely watched as she gathered eggs and ham and spinach, as well as garlic, mushrooms, bread and all the other things she had often been deprived of in her breakfast cooking. She set to work quickly, ordering her companion to chop what she needed to be chopped whilst she put pans on the heat to begin cooking. The heat of the kitchens kept her flushed as she hurried around, even the brownies watching her feverish movements. She sautéed the garlic in a sea of butter, far more generous than she had ever allowed herself, followed closely by the finely chopped ham. Whilst that was cooked, she fried the mushrooms in more butter and toasted the bread. Then she started the sauce, an intricate and delicate tangy cream she had watched the inn’s cook make plenty of times and had never managed to snavel the ingredients to recreate.

By the end of it, the toast held a delicate bed of cooked ham and spinach, with each slice having a perfectly poached egg placed upon it. The mushrooms split the meal, being heaped down the centre. Cordan watched with bated breath as Morana topped it with the sauce, smiling as she stood back. Her mouth watered with the thought of devouring one of the best meals she had ever managed to create. A single glance at Cordan, and she knew his did too.

“Remind me to encourage this more often,” he said as Morana offered him his portion. She watched with a grin on her face as he took his first bite, moaning around it. She laughed but had to force herself not to do the same, the meal nearly as good as the luxurious feasts she had been offered day in and out since her arrival.

“The best part about this is you will now be too slow and heavy to outpace me in the ring,” Morana said with a grin as Cordan finished his portion, and then hers also when she could eat no more.

“If a beating in front of the guard is the price I have to pay to eat this every day, I will happily pay it. Before too long I will be too fat and happy to do anything,” he replied, wiping the crumbs from his face with poor success. After a dramatic sigh, Morana took the towel from him and completed the job for him.

“I don’t want you too fat, Cordan. I enjoy a challenge, and without one, my life would grow utterly boring. I would have to forcibly remove Rowan’s head from his ass to get any joy from my day, and that seems like an impossible task.”

Cordan laughed, but Morana immediately knew she had said the wrong thing. The conversation fell to a lull at the mention of the copper-haired asshat. With a resigned sigh, Morana suggested they retreat and allow the poor staff their kitchen back. Their silence was an easy one as they made their way to the training field, Morana simply happy for good company.

Morana’s happiness died as they finally exited the winding warren of the castle halls, finding the aforementioned red-haired elf standing grumpily in front of the field. The look he fasted on each of them could have killed had either of them cared enough to acknowledge it. Morana stared, irritated but surprised, as he stalked towards them with the anger of a raging bull.

“Do you know how long I have searched for you both? Two hours past our change of hands, and you were nowhere to be found. You had not yet arrived at your new rooms, had not deigned to grace the training field, and are edging awfully close to late for my lessons,” he hissed between clenched teeth, and Morana blinked at him. Cordan was about to open his mouth with a reply, but Morana held up a hand to silence him.

“Rowan, how many of your recent shifts have you deigned not to attend? How much extra work have you pushed on Cordan because of your poor little feelings? You do not get to march up to us like some pious protector when you can barely bring yourself to grace me with your presence. The audacity you have to be on a high horse here when last night you commanded Cordan to take your shift over bitterness at being disarmed! How was he or I to know you felt your ego healed enough to relieve him?” Rowan turned his stare on her now, and Morana glared up at him with the full weight of her anger. He would not shove her away or ignore her, not anymore.

“You should learn to be seen and not heard like a good little princess. Your opinion is not warranted here, nor is it wanted. You only live because of the strings I have carefully pulled to ensure you seem harmless and innocent and loyal, so act like it.” His every word dripped with venom, and his lips curled to reveal his fangs in an outright threat.

Morana could not help herself. Quick as a viper, she struck. The heel of her hand connected with his nose, driving upwards with all the force she could manage. Rowan released a satisfying cry of pain, and she jumped back from reach as he reeled forward again. Blood sprayed from his face and his nose already threatened to swell, obviously broken. Those green eyes fixed on her with shock and fury dancing in their depths, and all Morana could manage to do was smile at him.

“I expect you to return with an appropriate apology once you have remembered how to control yourself, Lord Greenfeld,” Morana commanded, summoning an air of royalty she had never managed before. Rowan watched her incredulously as she nodded to Cordan and turned on heel, retreating from the ring.

Beside her, Cordan hid his laughter behind a wall of coughing. Morana took deep breaths to calm her rising fury, intent on not releasing another wave of destruction because of the prick still bleeding behind her.

“Take me to the gardens please, Cordan. I need a minute to relax and to gather some things that grow there,” Morana finally said as they neared the edge of the castle. Dutifully, Cordan changed their trajectory to instead walk around the huge living structure.

“I am more than happy for us to go to the gardens, Morana, but what on earth would you need to collect from there?” Cordan asked as they walked, his face still light with glee.

“Some plants and flowers to make a familiar paralysis poison. If his royal highn-ass does not deign to come to me with an apology today, I am going to hunt him down and force it from him. He does not get to treat me like some gnat to brush away when he is done playing with it.”

Cordan’s only support was his laughter, but that was good enough for Morana.