40. Unicorn Hair
Chapter forty
Unicorn Hair
L ater that evening, I was in my bedroom alone again, preparing for the Court of Wind’s arrival.
Lucais and I lay together, wrapped in an unyielding embrace, until the very last possible second. He evanesced us back to my bedroom before kissing me, hard and long, and explaining that he was required to attend to matters involving our visitors and the wards. As he left, he flicked my chin affectionately and told me he would see me later in the night.
I was still thinking about what we did in the other room when Delia came to my bedroom to deliver a note from the High Lady. It was accompanied by a small parcel wrapped in huge, brown, leathery leaves tied up with twine.
A few things to remind you of who you are while you figure out who you wish to be. – M
My good mood took a nosedive. Morgoya had spoken with Wren. That much was obvious from the note alone, but I tore into the package as soon as Delia had closed the door and disappeared behind the bathroom curtain.
Makeup?
The High Lady of the Court of Light had gifted me make-up—and a gold necklace with a thin, circular charm emblazoned with Belgrave’s insignia.
Because it was Belgrave’s insignia to me, even if my small town had once been part of Faerie—and even if the orb of light originally belonged to Lucais’s Court, the symbol would always mean home to me. I wondered what it meant to her to give it to me.
Nearly giddy with happiness, I sifted through the contents of the package. It was selfish and vain, but I’d lived without the add-ons from my human life since the day I’d crossed through the gateway. To have access to them again, to have a means of levelling the playing field when I dined with the Court of Wind…
Nobody mentioned the birthmark. Nobody even suggested that my inferiority stemmed from my looks—except for Wren—but I wanted to make sure it stayed that way as my circle of tricksters and thieves inevitably grew.
Powders and creams were contained in small clamshells and jars. The few brushes included in the parcel were nothing like the ones I had back home, seemingly crafted from polished twigs and hair so fine and shimmery that it could have belonged to a unicorn.
Pausing, I squinted at a brush and held it up to the fading daylight.
It probably was unicorn hair.
Stifling a sound of abhorrence at the thought, I packed everything back into the small woven basket. When I reached for the wrapping and twine, I found that the House had already disposed of it for me.
Delia emerged from the curtain, smiling at me through the iron-thread stitches on her mouth. She gestured towards the room and bowed her head, making her way towards the door.
“Wait,” I called, scrambling to rise from my perch in the middle of the bed.
She turned, an eyebrow arching over one silver eye.
I swallowed the lump in my throat and said, “I’m so sorry about your hair.”
Her eyes widened, the smile spreading across her face. She lifted a hand and ran it through her midnight-black locks, twirled the ends around her fingers, and shook her head at me as if to say she liked the new colour.
As she played with the last few strands, I noticed her broken fingers for the very first time. If I hadn’t known to look for damage, I might not have realised they bent the wrong way or that her knuckles were gnarled and swollen. There was no discolouration on her pale pink skin, but I could see very clearly that at least three of her fingers on each hand wouldn’t curl well enough to hold a pen.
Delia placed her hands over her heart and inclined her head to me before leaving the room, her eyes sparkling with a knowing sort of delight that made absolutely no sense to me.
“Wait!” I raced after her, catching the bedroom door right before it closed, and swung my head out into the hallway. “Did you know?”
The Secret-Keeper continued down the hall as if she hadn’t heard me, but I saw the way her elongated ears pricked.
She couldn’t answer. She was not allowed to divulge any information that she had gleaned from the Temple of All. It was wrong of me to have even asked, and embarrassment stained my cheeks. Even so, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was right—that Delia had seen the future and knew I would go there, and that would happen.
The thought was a cold, slimy pit in the bottom of my stomach as I trudged into the bathroom to get dressed for dinner. What else does she know?
I didn’t know very much about the High Mother—or the Oracle, for that matter—but the idea that I was being featured in so many visions and fortune-tellings regarding the fate of Faerie stirred the nausea I buried underneath whatever other feelings I could snare to smother it.
And the thought of visiting the Temple of All appealed to me again, even as the House filled the bathtub for me, and I sank beneath the surface and held my breath.