Chapter Eleven
It’s been raining for nearly two weeks now, which is to say that I’ve been in Shadow’s Keep for nearly as long. I count the days as I stare at the water running down the windowpane in my room. Fifteen days, actually.
Fifteen days since I arrived mysteriously at a castle I’d never been to.
Fifteen days during which I’ve been interviewed, examined, and tested in all plethora of ways by just about every fae within these walls.
Fifteen days during which I’ve nearly been murdered.
Fifteen days since a pair of jade green eyes appeared, and everything changed.
Things have been quiet since the attempted poisoning.
Well, in a manner of speaking. Nothing else of a deadly nature has happened to me, but it’s been far from quiet.
Everywhere I go I hear people talking in low voices, whispering in corners.
Either about me, or what happened to me, or about the general unrest in Aureon.
Ever since the attempted coup on Queen Sarielle, and the infamous siege on the Court of Nightmares in Valaron, there has been peace.
And that happened nearly a quarter century ago.
But always there are tales, rumors… I hear them in every city I’ve ever traveled to.
Fae and human alike, wondering when the next evil will rise.
When the next power-hungry militia will attempt to overthrow the Queen.
There’s always someone unhappy with the current ruler, someone who wants to sit on the obsidian throne in Selaye.
And usually, that’s all it is—rumors.
But here, inside the walls of the headquarters of the Queen’s most trusted force—after all, Queen Sarielle’s consort was a Guardian, her Guardian, before they married—the rumors bear substantially more weight.
I get out of bed when I hear the breakfast bell.
In a few minutes I’m dressed in my usual pants, boots, and tunic.
My face is washed in the small basin on the far wall.
Trix receives morning scratches along the soft spikes at the back of her neck before I step outside and join the throng moving down the hall.
I give a passing nod to my night guard, a Guardian named Olsa who probably wishes she was doing something more exciting with her life than babysitting a human that showed up at the castle like a stray dog.
At breakfast I hear talk of forces coming from across the sea from the west to invade.
I’ve heard rumors like this before. Some far-off land of savage warriors.
Depending on who tells the tale, they have red hair, or silver hair, or black.
It’s said they have a host of dragons, or giant birds, or fearsome wolves.
This morning, it is red hair and wolves.
I catch more than one sidelong glance in my direction, as if my hair is somehow incriminating.
In espionage class, three people behind me talk about the City of Night, far to the north of Aureon, in Illiare.
Long ago, nearly a thousand years ago now, the City of Night stole all the magic from the rest of Aureon.
For more than two centuries, they hoarded it behind their walls, the city itself encircled by miles of impenetrable fog and terrifying monsters.
Later, after the magic was released, they said the whole thing had been a terrible accident, but the rest of Aureon has been suspicious of them ever since.
So, naturally, they are high on the list of those accused of trying to overthrow the Queen.
Throughout the day I hear more whispers, with rebellions suspected in literally every realm of Aureon, including from within Valaron itself. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time. The Queen had wrested her throne back from enemies inside her own realm centuries ago, when she first wore the crown.
By the time the dinner bell rings, I’m exhausted, and sick of being inside for days on end.
There’s an almost frantic anxiety in my chest. I’ve never been anywhere that I haven’t breathed the air outside every single day.
The majority of my nights had been slept beneath the stars, or about as close to it as I could get.
It feels claustrophobic inside the castle, which is odd since it’s so massive.
I go to my room and I read for a while as Trix prances around the corners of the bed.
The rain pelts against my window with metallic monotony.
I will myself to get tired so I can sleep, but the more I long for it, the more energy courses through my veins.
My restlessness can’t be quelled or contained.
And it’s not just the endless days of rain—how long am I going to be here?
In this castle, with these fae who are so different from me?
I don’t know if I’ve ever had a life, not exactly, not with the constant fight for survival.
But this? This waiting for something, for what? I don’t know why I’m here and neither does anyone else.
Abruptly, I get off the bed, startling Trix.
I’m across the room and out the door before having made a conscious effort to move.
The guard outside my door looks alarmed and steps toward me.
I murmur something about going to the bathroom and stride off down the hall.
I don’t know where I’m going yet, just that I need to move.
To be unstuck, to have some sort of agency, even for only a short time.
When I reach the end of the long third-floor hallway, I take the stone steps leading down.
My footsteps echo in whispers, I don’t even have shoes on, only a long nightgown.
The castle is dark, though it doesn’t feel still, not with the constant noise of the rain.
Sconces on the walls spill rosy light across the floor at intervals, deepening the shadows beyond their illumination.
On the first floor, I pause, looking down the main hall.
I’m alone. Not far from the stairwell, the doors to the sparring fields beckon.
I know I shouldn’t be wandering around here at night.
I’m a guest, and it seems… well, impolite.
Not to mention dangerous. Guilt worms through my gut.
The guard upstairs will be missing me soon, wondering if something terrible has happened to me.
But I can’t stay inside this place another minute or my heart will pound its way through my chest.
I shove the doors open before I can second guess myself further.
The thrum of the rain, which had seemed loud from inside, becomes a tempest in my ears.
I’m standing under the ornate eves of the castle entrance, but the cold and the wet press against me, icy droplets splattering up from the stone beneath my feet.
The smell of the storm hits me, and I close my eyes and suck in lungfuls of it for several long moments.
It smells fresh and violent, sky and earth colliding in a million different places.
It’s not enough.
Sucking in a breath to steel myself, I run, as fast as I can, across the twenty feet to the sparring quarters.
I am drenched in a moment, and the rain is piercingly cold, but I don’t care.
My heart is racing when I crash through the doors on the other side, but this time it’s in a good way.
I feel exhilarated. Free. I stand there in the darkness for nearly a minute, catching my breath and shivering in the cold, and then I keep moving.
When I reach the entrance on the other side of the building, I pull open the doors and stare across to the next building.
I have learned, in my fortnight here, that it’s a study hall of sorts.
For the Guardians and the solaris, the trainees in their final year.
Full of maps and libraries and historical archives and storage rooms for the apothecaries.
I can’t imagine that any of them are working at this time of night.
And no one else would want to risk catching cold like me just to get out of the castle. Not that the fae likely catch colds.
It’s the last place I should venture, but my restlessness tugs at me again, and then I am dashing through the deluge a second time.
I half expect the doors to be locked, but they open easily before me.
After all, this place sits inside the walls of a nearly unbreachable compound guarded by the literal Guardians of the realm.
I suppose security isn’t something they usually worry about, and the trainees all have too much to lose to risk getting caught here.
A rash, rebellious part of me wants to get caught, wants to get banished from this place.
Slowly, I close the door behind me with a creak, which echoes down the dark hall.
Then, just as slowly, I tiptoe forward across the stone floors, dripping water like a sea siren.
Somehow, the sound of rain is much softer here, more muffled.
I can feel some of the tension leave my shoulders, my chest. It only took a little breaking and entering to relax me.
I suck in a deep breath and let it out slowly, then suppress a shiver as I begin to walk down the hall.
The entire right side of the building seems to be one big, interconnected library broken up across four rooms. Polished mahogany paneling lines the walls.
Though the scent of rain still lingers in the air, I can smell paper and leather and ink also.
The strange thing about books is that I can read, and had been able to from the moment I woke up all those years ago.
Some ingrained knowledge from my previous life.
I don’t remember learning to read, or any memories of reading, but clearly I had.
The sensation itself is incredibly nostalgic…
how the pages feel beneath my finger, the instinctual wetting of my thumb if a page sticks.
My body remembers, even if my mind doesn’t.
I wander through the library for a long while, then cross the hall and start on the other side.
This side of the building holds historical artifacts from all over Aureon.
Pottery and scrolls and weapons and tools.
Paintings and statues and maps. I wonder what the Guardians study here.
What power do these items hold, to be reserved in such an exclusive place? I wonder if—
Voices carry through the space around me.
At first, I can’t tell where they’re coming from. I freeze, cocking my head to the side to listen. It sounds as if they’re coming from… below me.
I’m at the back of one of the rooms at about the midpoint of the building, so I’m not close to either of the exits.
The voices drift closer, definitely coming from below.
There must be a floor below ground. Perhaps that’s where the potions and apothecary rooms are located.
In the dark, I must have overlooked a stairwell leading down—I’d seen one leading up to the second floor near the opposite end of the main hall.
I realize, far too late, that the stairwell entrance must be in the room next to me.
I can see a glimpse of it through an open doorway, and then I catch a flash of movement behind a giant suit of armor against the wall.
It must be hiding the entrance to the lower floor.
Cursing, I scramble backward into the corner of the room I’m in.
Trying to leave now will put me in their line of sight.
I just need to hide for a couple of minutes, and when they’re gone, I can sneak out.
Except the voices come toward me, not away.
I walk backward, trying to tuck myself somewhere out of sight, but there isn’t anywhere to hide. My heart thrums in my chest and I can hear their footsteps drawing closer. Any moment now they’re going to step through the doorway and find me…
There’s a sound behind me, and I look over my shoulder to see a panel in the wall slide open. A hand claps over my mouth, and I’m yanked backward into the darkness.