36. Tempest
36
TEMPEST
“ C ome, love, it’s time for your bedtime,” a woman said from nearby.
“Can’t I play a little longer, Mummy?” a little girl chirped.
I couldn’t see them. I was . . . hidden? I didn’t know where I was other than inside a small room that was so dark, only distant shadows filtered through two draped windows ahead.
Swallowing down the panic broiling my skin, I sucked in a calming breath. It felt weird. My lungs rattled when they shouldn’t.
My bones ached terribly, as if I’d fallen off Seevar a hundred times today, then battled dregs for hours.
Because you’re me, someone said with a husky laugh—inside my mind. Yourself as well, I suppose.
I’m me, but I’m not?
Let’s say you’re borrowing me for a short time. Pay attention, now. You won’t be here for long .
The drapes on the windows lifted, and I looked out from eyes that were not my own. I was still Tempest, but I was not inside Ivenrail’s bedroom any longer.
You’re Tempest—and me, a woman whispered.
The voice sounded old.
Since I was fortunate to reach my two hundredth year not long ago, some might say this is so. I do not, however, she said sternly. My aching bones still have many steps left to travel. But enough of this. You must watch. Listen. Remember.
Who are you? I asked.
The person didn’t reply, and when I probed, using the spell to explore a mind, she tapped me sternly across the knuckles, hard enough to make me wince.
Not my knuckles. This wasn’t my body, yet mine felt the pain.
I will show you once. Then you must watch as this unfolds. Listen. Remember.
Alright.
She strode over to a mirror and for one instant, I caught my— her —image in the glass. Gray hair piled up onto her head. A simple yet beautifully crafted light blue gown. Wrinkles on her face, and eyes—
She spun away from the mirror and opened a door I’d missed and stepped through it. When she paused, I swore it was to give me a chance to absorb this world, not because she needed to stop.
Through her gaze, I took in a large open living area that was as big as two of the residences back at the fortress combined. The ceiling rose three stories and the golden gilt here could feed a village for a week. But where Ivenrail’s ostentatiousness came across as garish, this felt understated, if gold could ever be called something like that. A homey feeling permeated the room, from the toys scattered across the gleaming floor to the carved wooden dragons caught in mid-flight and mounted on thin supports, soaring across the thick slab-of-wood mantle mounted above the fireplace.
Sunlight streamed through a long row of tall, narrow windows on my right, the sunbeams dancing across the vast marble floor lovingly draped with ornate carpets. Gossamer curtains fluttered in the breeze trickling in through the open windows, carrying with it the heady scent of roses, much like the perfume Vexxion left for me to add to my bath.
At the chamber’s heart lay the hearth where azure flames crackled, shedding warmth throughout the room where a woman sat on a creamy sofa, one of at least eight, while a toddler girl played with wooden toys on the rug in view of the flames.
I swore enchantment filled the air, but that could just be the touch of magic swirling through me. The bone brought me this and it was a gift, so I would watch, listen, and remember.
“Auntie Vera,” the little girl exclaimed, dropping her toys and leaping from the floor to rush over to hug the person I . . . rode in. I wasn’t sure how else to describe it. “Help me find my Layla, please?”
“Soon,” Vera said.
A missing doll?
The child pouted. “Can’t find her anywhere.”
“I’m sorry. ”
She huffed. “Stay with us tonight?”
“If I can, little one,” the lady said. “I have much to do, and you’re the biggest part of it all.”
“Yay.” She clapped her hands, her cheery mood restored. “Presents?”
“Some might say that.”
The mother rose from the sofa. “You’re always welcome here, Aunt Vera, you know this.”
“I come bearing news, Mayline.” My— Aunt Vera’s —lips spread wide in a smile. I could feel it just like I did the ache in her left foot.
“I cannot wait to hear.” The mother’s eyes sparkled, and like with the room, I took in her appearance. She was tiny, slender, and she had long brown hair she’d swept up in a pretty arrangement on the back of her head. She wore a blue gown that matched her eyes and skimmed across her dark blue shoes, plus silver jewelry appropriate for day wear. I only knew the latter because Brenna had educated me during my time serving as her lady-in-waiting.
Unlike her mother, the little girl had green eyes that looked nice with her simple, pale peach dress. She’d inherited her mother’s dark hair. Had she gotten her eye color from her father? I could see the similarity in her cheekbones and slight frame, however.
“Let’s put this precious one to bed, and I’ll tell you everything,” Vera said, taking the child’s hand. “Come, love. It’s past time you were asleep.”
“I want to play! I want stories.” She tilted her head to look at her mother. “Please, Mummy, can’t I stay up longer? ”
“I have exciting news to discuss with your aunt. You can play and listen to stories tomorrow.” The mother took the child’s other hand, and they urged her from the room and into an equally gorgeous foyer, up a wide staircase and onto a plushily decorated landing. They continued down the hall on the right, stopping at a door.
It was obviously the child’s room. As we stepped inside, we were enveloped in a soft palette of blush and cream. The room had a whimsical feel, and I could tell by the shimmering sparkle drifting around them that some of the furnishings had been crafted with magic. Her canopy bed arched above where she slept and was carved from a wood unlike anything I’d seen before. I sensed it was ancient, as old as this castle. The curtains draped along the sides and were tied back with big cream-colored bows that danced as if to an unheard melody.
As Aunt Vera walked into the room with the child and mother, her feet sunk into the soft carpet designed with delicate pictures of frolicking woodland creatures. They appeared innocent and each laughed as if they’d happily given their images for this display.
Handcrafted toys lay on woven mats, scattered in front of big, open wooden boxes. Overhead, lights shaped like stars beamed down from the high ceiling that had been blackened to look like the night sky.
How could anyone sleep any way but peacefully here? A pang of envy shot through me. I’d slept curled up on a hard bunk in a room with nine other children, some sobbing half the night, others crying out from the nightmares of dreg attacks that would haunt them for the rest of their lives .
There’d been no pretty toys, no lush carpet underfoot, and no stars winking from above except the stark ones witnessing the horrors we regularly faced on the border.
The women helped the child dress in a pale green nightie and after washing in the adjoining bathing area, she climbed into bed, wiggling under the soft covers, a smile on her face.
Such innocence. I wanted to ask if she’d hold onto that or would it be stolen like mine.
Sadly, it will be taken from her as quickly as it was with you, Vera told me. There’s more you must see and hear.
Yes, I was sure there was.
Aunt Vera sat on the side of the bed and stroked the little girl’s hair off her face. “One day, you will wed a wonderful man.”
“She’s too young to hear this,” the mother said, though indulgently. I could tell she was happy to hear the news.
“Things have changed, and that’s why I’ve come,” Vera said. “It was not easy, but I found a way to visit. He’s . . .” Her sigh rang out. “You can only imagine.”
“Terrible,” the mother said.
“When I carefully showed him your picture in his dreams, little one,” Vera stroked the child’s forehead but directed her gaze to the mother, “he displayed the mark.”
The mother clapped her hands, her voice echoing joyfully in the room. So pretty, as sweet as the child and Vera. Who were these people, and why was I seeing this?
“He’s her fated one?” the mother cried. “Wonderful. Do you know what this means, my dear child?” She rounded the bed and sat on the other side, taking the little girl’s hand. “We betrothed you when you were just a baby, so it was too soon for such a thing at that time. But now . . . Now! He’ll love you for this lifetime and beyond, and you’ll feel the same about him.”
“Don’t want to love a boy,” the child said with a pout. “Wanna ride dragons!”
The mother laughed. “I’m sure you can do both.”
“Hush,” Vera said. “He’s a high lord, and you’ll have plenty of time to think about marriage and gowns and even dragons when you’re older. No one expects you to marry until you’re at least twenty. You’ll meet him one day.” I sensed overwhelming concern as Vera gazed at the mother. “We’ll have to handle this with utmost caution. We’ll arrange this where he can’t see.”
Her eyes shadowed with fear, the mother nodded.
“Perhaps, by then, it will be over,” Vera said. She gazed toward the child. “Then we’ll hold a grand ball where you’ll dance, walk in the gardens, and if you’d like, even hold his hand. No kissing.”
“Kiss a boy?” the child said. “Icky.”
Children were the same no matter where they lived.
“One day, you’ll feel differently,” the mother said. “You’ll see. When the symbol appears on your wrist, something will change within you, and you’ll know . That’s how it was with your father when I met him, sweet love.”
Such sadness in her voice. Her eyes still sparkled but now with unshed tears. Had she lost her husband?
He was murdered, Vera hissed to me. Not long ago.
“I’ll never love another,” the mother said fiercely. “And I’ll never marry another either. No one can make me.”
“Of course they can’t,” Vera said. “We’re safe here for now.” She rose and after kissing the sleepy little girl on the forehead, she started toward the door. “I’ll see you in the morning, child.”
The mother kissed her daughter as well and drifted around the end of the bed, wiping at her teary eyes. She joined Vera at the door and spoke in a low voice, too softly for the child to overhear. “What will become of them?”
“I’ve done all I can to protect them,” Vera said. “It’s in the hands of the fates now. But the mate bond will strengthen both our courts at a time when we need it most.”
Courts? I— we —sucked in a breath.
“I’m frightened.” The mother’s voice wavered. “I’d be a fool if I wasn’t. This alliance should be enough. It makes it us against them, not me facing this alone. It could mean the difference between the end of my court or a very fragile but amazing beginning for everyone.”
“Do not suggest failure, my love,” Vera said. She waved her fingers toward the ceiling and the lights dimmed to almost nothing, falling into the night sky at the crest of dawn.
“Sleep well,” the mother called out softly as she tugged the door closed. “I’ll see you in the morning, my darling Brenna, and we’ll talk more about your betrothal to Lord Vexxion of Weldsbane Court.”