Chapter 21
Chapter Twenty-One
BELLAMY
T ears squeezed from the corners of my eyes as I massaged my hands. Everything I did hurt. Whether I was washing them, applying bandages, even just sitting and doing nothing hurt. That actually hurt the worst because my mind wasn’t occupied. I’d need to let my hands rest before I started on sweater number one. Jorah’s sweater.
I stared at the basket full of stalks sitting in the corner of my room. Just looking at the thorns made me wince. Jagged lines of poison stretched from the puncture marks.
I blew out a breath, trying to breathe through the pain.
That’s what Solomon would say if he were here. I’d gotten hurt more times than I could count in the Wilds, wandering and exploring, going places a little girl had no business going. Solomon was always the one tending to my wounds. I had six other brothers to lecture me, to boss me around, and I think Solomon knew that what I needed more than a reprimand was comfort. So when I’d cry from the pain of my latest injury, his soft voice would be right there while one of my other brothers chided me.
“Just breathe, Bell, ” he’d say. “Breathe through it.”
After all these years, I could still hear his voice, could still imagine the way he’d be cradling my hand in his, keeping his tone soft and gentle. Exactly what I needed in this moment.
A sharp knock at the door broke through my thoughts, and I stood, walking over and hesitating. I looked out the window. The sun was still out, so I didn’t think it would be Kairoth, here to ask more questions, to find out my secrets. I bit the inside of my cheek and gritted my teeth at the pain that shot through my hand when I gripped the handle and opened the door.
Driscoll and Leoni stood there, a pixie fluttering between them. Not Goji. This one was male with dark, slicked-back hair and a thin mustache over his upper lip. He wore soft brown pants with no shirt, his wings flapping behind him.
“We’re going on a tour,” Driscoll said. “Jerome offered to take us.”
Jerome smiled and bowed. “Master tells me that you will be here for the foreseeable future. We have not had guests in ages. You have no idea how excited the staff is to have someone to serve.”
That sounded... awful. Like their entire existence revolved around others. I wondered if Kairoth had kept them captive, warped their minds somehow so all they wanted to do was work and serve. My jaw locked. I would find a way to stop him and not only get revenge for the people he’d murdered, but for all those he’d harmed, including these brainwashed pixies.
“Well, let me tell you,” Driscoll said. “I cannot wait to be served. Serve away.”
Leoni swatted him as Jerome chuckled.
“Wait until you try Cook’s boar. It is so succulent.” He kissed his fingers.
His accent was similar to Goji’s, so suave and lilting, like music. I could listen to them speak all day.
Jerome’s gaze landed on my hands, and he gasped in horror. “Madame, your hands. They’re—oh no. Did you fall into the briars in the garden? The flowers are beautiful, but there are awful thorns underneath.” He tsked. “I told Master Kairoth we have to take care of those vicious weeds. Someone was bound to get hurt, and now look what’s happened.”
I looked to Leoni and Driscoll for help.
“It’s kind of her thing,” Driscoll said.
“Her thing?” Jerome asked, mustache twitching.
Driscoll waved his question away. “She’s using the weeds for a project. A little craft project, if you will.”
Jerome looked horrified, and it was hard not to laugh at his utter confusion. He must think me mad. He wasn’t wrong.
Leoni looked at the pixie. “Do you have some kind of medicine that could treat her hand? A salve or something?”
Jerome frowned and scratched his head. “I don’t think so. We have no healers here. But I can ask around.”
“That’s not necessary.” I signed the words slow, trying to use my hands as little as possible.
Jerome studied me. “I’m afraid I don’t understand the language.”
“She said not to worry about it,” Leoni said, gaze fastened to my wounds.
I twined my hands around my back, hands out of sight. I didn’t need their pity.
“Okay, so does this tour include the kitchen?” Driscoll rubbed his hands together. “Maybe a snack, a little taste of Cook’s food?”
“I think we can arrange that,” Jerome said, waggling his eyebrows.
“Jerome,” a voice snapped, and I looked up to see another pixie flying toward us, this one with blonde hair tied back in a ponytail and a severe look on his face. “I thought I told you a tour would be a bad idea.”
“Oh, here we go,” Jerome muttered as the other pixie approached.
He cleared his throat, his dark eyes landing on each of us, his scowl growing deeper.
“They need to know where to go,” Jerome said, clapping the pixie on the shoulder with a thump. “They can’t just stay in their rooms all day.”
“Why not?” the other pixie argued.
Jerome turned to us. “Meet Wesley. He likes to suck the fun from everything.”
“Oh, we’re used to that.” Driscoll pointed a finger at Leoni, who shot him a glare. “C’mon Wes. Can I call you Wes?”
Wesley straightened. “No.”
“Are we going on this tour or not?” I signed, and Leoni translated.
“Yes,” Jerome said at the same time as Wesley said, “No.”
Jerome turned to Wesley. “You know you’re not the boss of me.”
Wesley turned up his nose. “Master put me in charge of the staff. You are the staff. That means I am your boss.”
“Well, Master also told me I could show the guests around. Make them comfortable. Do you want me to tell him that you’re going against his orders?”
Wesley yelped. “Don’t you dare!” He pointed a finger into Jerome’s chest.
Jerome gave him a lazy smile. “Didn’t think so.” He turned to us. “Ready?”
Jerome showed us the kitchen first. As promised, a red-faced pixie fluttered around amid boiling pots and bubbling cauldrons. Savory and sweet smells filled the air, and I had to admit, my stomach grumbled at the prospect of all this food.
“Cook hasn’t had a chance to show off his skills in a long time,” Jerome whispered to us before Driscoll snatched a piece of bread from the table and stuffed it in his mouth. Cook did not like that, shouting at us to get out unless we were going to pitch in.
After that, Jerome showed us the ballroom, filled with dust and cobwebs. He showed us the dining hall with a long table big enough to seat thirty. It reminded me of the table in the star castle where I so often ate my meals with Aron and other residents. And before that, my brothers and father. My heart clenched at the memories. At the reminder of how alone I was until I could break this curse. The entire time, Wesley flew behind us, a silent presence but an invasive one with the scowl lining his face.
It was clear he wasn’t happy with our arrival, but I wasn’t sure why. Jerome seemed to like us just fine, so I couldn’t understand why Wesley didn’t.
Goji had seemed more indifferent to us, but she wasn’t hostile. Just snarky. Wesley treated us like we were his enemies, sending glares our way, snorting and harrumphing any time we made comments, refusing to answer questions and cutting off Jerome if he felt the pixie was telling us too much.
We walked through a room of statues as Jerome pointed to different busts, naming the former rulers of the shadow court. Names that meant nothing to me.
“Of course, we haven’t had a ruler of the shadow court in over sixty years, not since?—”
Wesley pinched Jerome as he spoke, his face turning bright red with anger.
Jerome cleared his throat. “Well, there aren’t really any shadow elementals to step up to the throne,” he finished quietly, the tips of his ears red.
Not since Kairoth killed all of them. It was a stark reminder of whose castle we were guests in. Someone with the power to kill an entire race of people. Someone who had killed entire races. Someone who would do it all again if we didn’t stop him. It was a reminder that no matter how nice these pixies were, no matter how much they told us we were guests, we weren’t safe.
Leoni and Driscoll wandered around the room, looking at different paintings and other statues, but Wesley flew over to them and shooed them toward the door.
“Next, next, next,” he said, ushering us all out into the hallway.
“At least let them look at a painting,” Jerome said.
Wesley shot him a look. “I think they’ve looked at plenty.”
We walked out of the room, the main entrance of the castle far below with two winding staircases on either side that led down. Everything was black and glittering. From up here I could see across the way to an area we hadn’t explored. Tattered maroon curtains were drawn over the balcony, blocking any view of that area of the castle. That must be the east wing. Kairoth’s words came back to me, and I peered curiously at Jerome.
“What is over there?”
Leoni translated my question.
“Ah.” Jerome scratched the back of his neck. “That’s, uh?—”
“None of your business,” Wesley cut in.
“Oh look!” Jerome pointed up. “We haven’t shown you the amazing terrace up on the fourth level. Views of the entire jungle, the ocean.” He gasped. “We can have afternoon tea up there. The furniture just needs a little dusting.”
“Yes!” Wesley snapped his fingers, and this was the most excitement I’d seen from the pixie yet.
“Why do you keep staring over there?” Leoni asked me with a low voice while Wesley and Jerome chattered on about the terrace.
“There’s something he’s hiding. I need to find out what it is, and I need to do it while he’s asleep.”
Leoni took a deep breath, shooting a glance at Jerome and Wesley out the side of her eye. “The terrace sounds lovely,” she said. “Do you have wine?”
“Oooh, yes!” Driscoll said. “Wine. Lots of wine.”
Jerome’s face brightened, and Wesley’s eyes gleamed. “We do happen to have quite a few bottles in our cellar.”
“Sold,” Driscoll said.
Leoni leaned over. “I have a plan,” she whispered. “Just play along.”