Chapter 10
10
A ven must have fallen asleep at some point after countless hours spent staring at her ceiling. The branches of the tree that made up the headboard of the massive bed swayed gently in a phantom breeze. At first it shocked her—the magic of this place, inherent in every breath and beat of her heart.
Even the odd thickness and the electric charge of spellwork in the air became something tolerable.
But the moment she closed her eyes she saw them again.
Her family, slaughtered. Like animals.
No soft mattress or flowery fragrances would be enough to erase the horrors etched into her mind. Somewhere along the line, however, exhaustion took her under regardless of her intentions to stay alert.
She’d maneuvered a large trunk in place to block the door even when she knew it was futile. Fae magic would easily move the piece. If anyone did try to come into her room, hopefully the noise of the large furniture piece skidding across the floor would be enough to wake her.
Her dreams, mercifully, remained empty. Everything was empty until her curtains being thrown open shocked her awake.
“Rise and shine!” A soft voice chirped out the greeting. Aven gasped. “The morning has come and gone, Your Highness. It’s time for us to start the day before it disappears entirely.”
Aven shot out of bed with her eyes burning and her hand automatically reaching for her weapon. She came up short. She’d come here with only the clothes on her back and her wand—unreachable without alerting the fae woman to its presence.
With nothing to use to defend herself, she reached for her pillow and held it in front of her. The worst shield she’d ever wielded.
A pair of pretty amber eyes met hers, set in a soft face designed to bring kingdoms to their knees. The woman giggled, lifting a pale hand to cover her mouth. “You won’t do much damage to me with that, Your Highness, if you don’t mind my saying so. Unless you’d like to have a pillow fight.”
“Who are you?”
Aven didn’t bother telling the woman to stay back. Or ask how she’d managed to get into the room. She spared a glance over to see that the chest of drawers had been slid soundlessly back into its original position, silently.
Her chest constricted. So much for her plan.
The woman executed the perfect curtsy and held the soft pink fabric of her dress out to the side. Sunlight filtered through it and gave her the appearance of having wings. “I’m Nora, Your Highness. It’s a pleasure to be able to serve you. Crown Prince Cillian told me to take care of you, and when you didn’t rise for the day, I worried.”
“Don’t call me Your Highness.” Aven slowly lowered the pillow but kept her grip on it, pushing away from the headboard and stepping down. “I’m not royalty anymore. Not here.”
Nora looked startled before she schooled her features into an easy mask. “As you wish. It’s not my place to argue.”
“Only your place to wake me up,” Aven clarified.
“The afternoon has already come, lunch gone with it.” Nora flitted through the room on light feet and tossed open the rest of the curtains blocking out the light of day. “I would have let you sleep longer, but orders are orders.”
Sleep left Aven the moment she realized she wasn’t alone in the room, and yet her responses were sluggish. Despite her best wishes, her body must have needed the extra hours, but too many had made her slow.
“The Crown Prince ordered you to wake me up?” she wanted to know.
Nora busied herself now in the bathroom, and soon the gurgle and splash of running water in the bathtub sounded. “Oh, yes. There’s to be a grand ball tonight, and you’ll be attending. He wants to make sure you have plenty of time to prepare.”
From a prisoner to something else—a doll to be dressed up and paraded around for others to gawk at.
Aven balked, frozen in place. “I’m not going to any ball. I hate them.”
Nora returned from the bathroom, and for a moment a haunted look passed over her face. “Begging your pardon again. In this matter, I’m afraid you have as little choice as I do. You’re to go to the ball under the Crown Prince’s command.”
This was her life now. She’d escaped one cage for another, and it didn’t matter if this one had pretty dresses and good food.
Aven narrowed her eyes on Nora. “I wasn’t aware that the fae kept servants.”
“It’s a respectable job, Your—Princess,” Nora said to quickly cover her mistake. “The palace needs many people to help it maintain order. I am blessed to be one of them. My mother and sister also work in the palace as integral household staff. The three of us have pledged our services to the royal family.”
She hustled around the room, making the bed, pulling the covers taut on either side, and tucking them in neat lines.
It was a sore spot, apparently. Aven noted the slight tick at Nora’s jaw and tucked the information away for later.
“I understand,” she replied, not sure why she felt compelled to soften her tone. And she did understand. It was a dirty business trying to keep a kingdom running, but Nora did not have the look of a woman who delighted in her place. No, despite the cheerfulness, there was something cowed in her manner when she spoke about the situation.
“Will there be time to do other things before this ball tonight?” The thought of being dressed up like a turkey for a holiday feast turned her insides cold. And what about being forced to see all those fae nobility? Or the princes dancing and eating and laughing like they didn’t have a care in the world.
A ball? Now?
What a terrible time.
Although it wasn’t—not for Mourningvale. For them, they’d gotten their victory; now they wanted to show off their might. She ground her teeth together.
“I’ve set a plate of food for you at the table. Let’s get you clean, and then you’re free to eat while I do your hair and makeup.” Nora glowed slightly at the mention of the beauty ritual. “Up now, Miss.”
“I prefer Miss to Princess,” Aven grumbled under her breath.
She meant what she’d said. She was no longer royalty, Grimrose defeated, bound to be lost to the annals of time and crushed under fae rule.
A declining realm? Aven had her doubts.
With everything she’d seen, the fae were doing well.
She bit down on her lower lip to keep it from trembling as she slowly approached the table. The sun had warmed the floor. No more chilly stone. No more ridiculously long days of gloom and storm clouds, or darkness and dank in the dungeon. No, it felt light and bright and abnormally wrong here in the land of her enemies.
Nora waited patiently with an easy grin pinned on her lips. “I’m here to help you, if you need.”
“I can bathe alone, thank you.”
“As you wish.” Nora inclined her head.
Aven slipped past her quickly, making sure to never turn her back on the other woman. It didn’t matter how lovely Nora appeared or how kind. The fae were not to be trusted under any circumstance. They were masters of manipulation, and a pretty face was nothing but another weapon in a vast arsenal.
Aven slammed the door to the bathroom and rested against the lip of the tub, waiting and barely breathing to see if Nora would mind her and keep her distance. When nothing happened, she slipped out of the silk dressing gown she’d slept in, dipping her bare toe in the bath.
The water filled it nearly to the brim in the perfect temperature. She sank beneath with her eyes closed and her lips pressed tight. A ball tonight. It felt like a giant slap in the face, as though the violence done against her and her people hadn’t been enough. Now the royal fae were—what? Celebrating their victory?
She shot angry bubbles from her nose.
The more time she wasted in the bath, the less she had to eat, and eventually, despite her desire to waste time, she joined Nora in the bedroom. Her empty stomach grumbled and turned itself into knots. The fae woman stood beside the small table and gestured toward the plate of food.
“A light dinner,” she explained unnecessarily. “There will be more once you get to the ball tonight. All sorts of delicacies and delights you haven’t tried before. Our kingdom is known for several foods available nowhere else.”
“Didn’t I hear a tale somewhere about eating fae treats and being bound to stay here forever?” Aven sounded bitter even to her own ears. “Not like I’m going anywhere anyway.”
“Those are stories to frighten mortal children at night. There’s nothing for you to worry about. You’re safe here.”
Lies . They were nothing but lies, and her five days down in the dungeons attested to it.
She ate her fill while Nora worked on her hair, weaving the dark strands together and humming something low underneath her breath while she worked. The song calmed Aven, somehow slipping through her defenses with its haunting melody.
“It’s something my mother always sang to us when we were little and had trouble sleeping,” Nora explained eventually. Her hands continued their tireless winding, and Aven didn’t need a mirror to know that the updo was something she’d never seen done on herself.
On the twins, perhaps. They’d always fancied themselves above the cut, craving the latest fashions and styles. Two messy braids had been enough for Aven. As long as it kept her hair out of the way during battle?—
For all the good it did. And remembering her sisters now brought a penetrating flash of agony so strong she lost herself for a beat.
Once Nora finished with Aven’s hair, she moved to the armoire and pulled out a velvet-lined hanger. “This is the dress Crown Prince Cillian requested you wear tonight for the festivities. He has a good eye, don’t you think?”
Aven wanted to tell her lady’s maid that she didn’t care what Cillian requested because she’d rather eat glass than attend his ball. They were insufferable on the best of days.
Spiteful words bubbled up inside of her, and she swallowed down every sour one of them. She rose and lifted her arms to the side, uncaring about her embarrassment as Nora undid the bathing robe. Naked, Aven allowed the fae to dress her. First the underwear and undergarments, then a corset to emphasize the smallness of her waist, Nora explained.
Finally the dress, silk, the color of the sky. The color of Roran’s eyes. The comparison wasn’t lost on her, but once again, nor was the fact that she kept comparing things to him. It irked her to no end.
By the time Nora finished preparing her for the ball, the sun had begun to sink lower to the horizon, and the color of slats across her floor took on a warm peach hue.
“It’s going to be a marvelous time. You’ll see.” Nora tucked a gemstone necklace at the base of Aven’s neck. “Things might seem scary now, but once you get down there, you’ll find it enjoyable.”
Who was this woman trying to convince?
A knock at the door sounded half a second before it swung inward, and Cillian’s presence filled the space. Nora instantly took a step back and ducked her head in reverence. The air practically crackled with his energy, and Aven swallowed over a low moan.
“She’s ready, Your Highness,” Nora murmured.
“I didn’t realize crown princes were in the business of escorting prisoners down to a ball. Aren’t there attendants for that sort of thing?” Aven asked sweetly.
Then she stopped under Cillian’s scrutiny. Today the crown prince had traded his tunic for a suit jacket that looked like it had been hammered out of solid gold. The material captured the dying rays of the sun and reflected them back, his skin taking on the same tone. He studied her unabashedly, taking his time in the perusal, and every step he took toward her thickened the air.
“You look stunning, Aven.”
The compliment took her by surprise, and her feet grew roots through the soles of her slippers. “There’s no need to lie,” she found herself saying, tugging uncomfortably at the end of her sleeves.
“It’s not a lie. I mean every word of it. Shall we?” Cillian held his arm out for her, palm upturned. “Everyone is waiting for us.”
Just like that, he’d roped her in. Just like that, he’d dismissed Nora, who remained standing with her focus on the floor as Aven slid her palm to Cillian’s and allowed him to draw her forward. The silk whooshed like the wind where fabric met the floor.
The two of them headed down the hallway. No, they glided. She somehow found herself in the exact circumstances she’d wanted to avoid, with a handsome man at her side and the world spun around them. This wasn’t real. None of it could be real.
“I don’t understand why you chose this time to throw a ball,” she said in an undertone.
Cillian regarded her from the side with one eyebrow raised imperiously. His golden hair had been slicked away from his face, leaving it bared for her own personal perusal, the same way he’d done to her.
“Don’t you? This ball is celebrating the peace won, due to my strategizing and your capture.”
The words filled her with ice. Something sharpened inside of her, and she used the strength of it to glare at Cillian.
“You’re hauling me off to a party to celebrate the way you murdered my family?” She ripped her hand out of his, wiping it on the side of her dress. Disgust burned her insides. “You want to parade me past your cronies because of your victory? Your head is large enough. You don’t need any help to grow it.” She snapped out the last part.
Monsters. Murderers. Yeah, she needed to remember it. No amount of pretty furnishings hid the truth of the evil in their hearts. It made her sick.
“Aven, please—” Cillian attempted to say. He reached for her.
This close to the staircase, the sounds of the festivities below grew louder, multiple voices all rising together in a constant drone. Cillian shushed her, but suddenly, the dress squeezed her, constricting her lungs and making it impossible to breathe.
“What kind of a person does that? You threw this together quickly. Or did you already plan on it when you brought me up here? Did you know what you were doing when you played guide yesterday?”
More sick games. She should have expected it, had known somewhere when Nora woke her. Grief might have shadowed her instincts, but they were still there. Aven pressed her hand against her twirling stomach.
“Please, calm down.” Cillian took her by the elbow and drew her down the stairs, although Aven fought every step of the way. Her slippered feet skidded along the stair treads and gave Cillian even more leverage.
“You of all people know what it’s like to have a kingdom to think of. This war has devastated us the same way it has devastated you, thanks to your weapons,” he hissed at her ear. “Powered by stolen magic, no less.”
He plastered a smile on his face once they rounded the bottom of the stairs and the first of the crowd trickled into view.
“I know you’re upset,” he finished.
Twilight colored the horizon now as they made their way toward the grand ballroom.
The rafters soared up to unimaginable heights, the ceiling barely visible overhead. Chandeliers hung above their heads, suspended in midair, with white tapered candles casting a gilded glow over the congregation. Aven caught no sight of King Donal or Roran, and Cillian wasted no time before dragging her to the center of the space. The crowd parted for them.
Everyone had bedecked themselves in their finest outfits, but the sight of so many sets of pointed ears filled her with a mixture of disgust and fear.
“You have every right to be. I’d be upset if I were in your place as well. You have to know the strategy might have been mine, but I had no part in what happened to your family. I will forever remember your loss. It wasn’t my intention. Tonight is for my people, and I’d hoped to show you a glimmer of the goodness of our land. To see that we are not all beasts.”
“Nonsense.” Aven called him out on it, losing her breath when his hands moved to her waist and he drew her into a dance. Like bringing her in here might somehow still her tongue. She wasn’t afraid to embarrass herself or him by making a scene. “It was your strategy, Cillian. You said it yourself multiple times. So you would have known exactly what you were doing. You needed my siblings out of the way to use me as leverage, to maneuver my father into place.”
“I did what I had to do in order to protect Mourningvale. I’m the one responsible.” His face had hardened and gave nothing away.
“I know it isn’t enough to calm you, Aven. But I need you to know that I will do whatever it takes to ensure my people live. The same way you have fought for yours. That alone should explain things.”
She could not argue with him on the point. Not when it was true. Despite the small part of her who agreed with him, she vowed to never forgive him for what his planning cost her. She was alone in this world. And no amount of dancing, no amount of cajoling or fancy dresses, were going to change her mind.
She’d never forgive. And she’d never forget.