Chapter 17 Auria #2
Brielle nodded. “It was the last battle in the war the last queen started to take power, about a hundred and forty years ago. A lot of families ended up fighting each other. That’s how it got its name. And a lot of people died—enough that we still feel its effects.”
“Both of our parents died in the war,” Orla added. “As well as Bylur’s. It’s the reason so many of the houses have younger lords or ladies right now.”
My face heated with a blush. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t know.”
Brielle sipped her punch. “It was a good question, important for you to know, just not as much fun for us to tell.”
I needed to lighten the mood. “Thanks for telling me,” I started, “but we definitely need a new topic.”
Orla picked up a blueberry. “Great idea.”
“How about my husband?” I grinned.
“We can’t gossip about him,” Brielle said, “he always finds out.”
“Well, you knew him when you were all younger,” I said. “What’s something fun from your childhood that he probably hasn’t thought to tell me yet.”
“His journals,” Orla and Brielle said at the same time.
My brows popped up. He’d mentioned writing. I didn’t think they’d find that entertaining.
Brielle grinned. “When we were younger, he used to carry journals around everywhere we went, taking notes, writing ideas, sometimes even writing down things we’d say just so he could remember them later.
I used to tease him about it because his hands were always full, so he’d have to find a safe place to put his journals whenever he wanted to use a sword or do anything with his hands. ”
“Everyone knew he was unusually powerful,” Orla added, “even when we were young. I wasn’t as close to him as Dearan and Brielle, but it was ridiculously adorable to see him carrying around his journal with as much passion for it as most young fae cared for their weapons.”
He still enjoyed his journal. I knew that, but I wondered if they did. I hadn’t been able to see if he carried anything around as a fae.
Brielle took another laetis. “I was actually a little sad when he stopped. I felt like he let go of a piece of himself.”
That tugged at my heart. “When was that?”
Orla made a sad little huff. “After the war he disappeared onto Umbran lands. We weren’t quite adults, but he took over his properties as lord.”
Brielle nudged her. “As did our brothers.”
Orla nodded again. “Everyone pulled back to where they felt safest. The Snow Queen was horrible, so if you could avoid her, you were better off. Then she disappeared, and we didn’t really see each other until a year ago when Bylur started gathering everyone to make a council.
I haven’t seen him carrying around a journal since before the Battle of Brothers. ”
* * *
More days passed, and I spent all the time during the nobles’ fancy evening dinners exploring locked rooms around the castle.
Tonight, I was back up at the tapestry of the Battle of Brothers.
Brielle had mentioned her father dying in that fight, and it made me want to look at the artwork again.
Had the artist known her father? Was he the dying soldier that the other fae knelt by?
The whole image was so full of tragedy that I could only stare at it for a few minutes.
I turned around to unlock the door across the hall.
This lock had five pins, but it only took me a minute to manipulate with my tension stick and hooked pick.
I tucked the lock picks back into my pocket, sent a silent thank you (for the millionth time) to Brittania for the pockets, and let myself into the room.
The room was completely empty. No furniture. No little doors to washrooms. Nothing. Except…
All the walls, and the ceiling and the floor, were painted. Not just one solid color, but a gorgeous mural of a waterfall surrounded by stone cliffs with moonlight dancing magically over the water.
The waterfall where I met Bylur. The stone steps across the floor mimicked the stones in the middle of the pool, and the ceiling held stars that literally twinkled as soft moonlight came in the open window.
Most of the rooms I’d lock-picked my way into had open windows, but none had stones painted like this. I reached for the waterfall, wanting to feel the texture, but I stopped when swirling shadows gathered next to the wall farthest from me.
The pile of darkness made my heart speed up, but I forced a slower breath and turned away from the shadows. “Bylur? Is that you?”
“Yes. What are you doing here?” His voice was calm and measured, so I didn’t think he was angry this time.
I shrugged. “Exploring. I hadn’t been in this room yet.”
“It should have been locked.” His voice was closer, almost directly behind me.
I smirked, knowing he couldn’t see me while I faced the wall. “I’m pretty good with locks.”
“You would have needed tools or magic.”
“Tools,” I answered. “Humans don’t have magic.”
His voice turned wry. “That’s what you think.”
I shook my head. “Can you tell me why this room is painted and locked? It’s gorgeous, and I bet lots of people would love to see it.”
He didn’t answer right away. I started chewing on my lip. Was he more upset by my lockpicking than I’d realized?
“Bylur? Are you still there?”
He set a hand on my shoulder. “Yes. I was debating telling you.”
Oh. Before I could say anything, he continued.
“This room was a nursery I spent much of my childhood in. Our family lived here for half of every year, so they painted it with the grotto where I was born. Life and death are powerful moments for fae magic. My mother chose the grotto because she is from House Waden and had strong water magic. I ended up with light magic that is tied to the moon, in addition to the shadow magic from my father’s house.
My mother enchanted the water in the paint to absorb wild, uncontrolled magic, so when I was little, and I threw magic about with abandon, the painting absorbed the energy.
It turned the painting permanent and added… sparkle.”
“Can I touch it?” I could see the sparkle, but I didn’t know if it was just light.
“Yes.”
He stepped forward with me, and I ran my hand along a stream of waterfall spray. It felt like a feather brushing my fingers, gentle but full of energy. The faintest hint of ink and cedarwood wafted off his presence.
“It’s beautiful,” I said, “but why keep it locked?”
He sighed. “I suppose it is a form of protection. It is a reminder of memories I cherish. I do not want to see it overridden with visitors who will not respect it.”
I stiffened. “Have I… invaded your space?”
“No.” He added his free hand to my other shoulder. “You and your lock picks are welcome to sneak around. But I would like to ask you to stop stealing bread.”
My eyebrows popped up my forehead, and I squeaked, “What?”
He chuckled. “Feigning ignorance is lying, Auria.”
“Is it?” I started to panic. How had he realized?
“Peace, Auria.” He squeezed my shoulders and leaned his head down by my ear.
“I can hear your heart turning frantic. Feigning ignorance is most assuredly lying. And it would mean a lot to me if you would remember your promise. I have not forgotten mine.” His gentle whisper caressed the back of my ear, warning me that I was very possibly in a lot more trouble than I realized.
Bylur was not prone to fits of anger, despite me having seen one or two.
No, his battle-tested plan was cool control and clever out-maneuvering.
I swallowed. “I won’t lie.” I had promised him that. “But I’d like to know what you heard.”
His answer came right behind my ear again. “You first.”
Fair. I clenched my hands together. “I’ve stolen a baguette every day since I got here, except today.” Today I’d been distracted by a loud display of marching guards.
“Stars, Auria.” He blew out an exasperated breath. “This is your home. Your castle. Your cook. Your baguettes. You could ask Kusan to give them all to you, and she’d be happy to oblige. There’s no reason to steal them.”
I lifted my chin. “If they’re really all mine, taking one each morning isn’t stealing.”
Silence.
Oh, how I wished I could see his face. His careful grip of my shoulders didn’t change, but the silence told me he disagreed.
“No,” he finally said. “You are correct. It is not.”
I did not expect him to agree with me. A breath of relief tumbled out of my mouth, and my shoulders relaxed.
“But,” he started, and my whole back tensed. “I hope that you will treat the servants and soldiers who serve you with respect and civility. I never thought you would justify inconsiderate treatment with newly acquired entitlement.”
Ouch. An uncomfortable feeling surged through my chest. “I wasn’t acting out of entitlement. That was my excuse to you.”
“So you lied to me again?”
“No!” I dropped my forehead against the painted stone wall in front of me and groaned. “Maybe? More, it was an attempt to justify my behavior because stealing sounds so awful. It was a lie to myself as much as to you.”
“Auria,” he groaned. “You are the most beautiful chaos I have ever encountered. How can I create a kingdom of order when you confuse everyone from soldiers to kitchen staff?”
“I honestly didn’t think she’d notice,” I confessed. “She had dozens each day, and I only took one.”
“Her accounting is exquisite.”
I grinned. “That’s why you like her work, isn’t it? You have a thing for exquisite detail.”
“I have a thing for well-organized work. It’s very logical. I also have a thing for you—”
My eyes widened. Was he about to confess his undying love for me? That would make no sense, considering everything else he’d just said—
“—which is why,” he finished, “I found a way for you to watch the council meeting.”
Wait. “What?”
His voice lilted as if he was smiling. “You keep saying that. Does it actually mean something or does it just come out of your mouth when you are surprised?”
I huffed. “A lot of things come out of my mouth without much meaning. But I am genuinely confused at the moment.”
He rubbed his thumbs against my shoulder blades, easing anxiety out of them. Not knowing what was going on around me was stressful, but his hands on my shoulders had been a source of security since my first night here.
“Every night,” he explained, “four hours after sunset, I meet with representatives from each of the twelve houses. They can each bring one guest, so we usually have twenty-three people in attendance. I am trying to convince each house to agree to a council of representatives to rule Kalshana. One person from each house, appointed by the ruling lord or lady of the house. The representatives here right now have decision-making power in their houses. I just need all twelve to agree, and then we could move forward, but every time I win one person over, someone else has a concern.”
“Sounds fun,” I murmured. “What are their concerns?”
“Come watch,” he said. “See for yourself.”
“I’m guessing you have some seating arrangement worked out—” I started.
“I could not find a satisfactory arrangement,” he interrupted. “We’d either need to cover your eyes or my face. But then I remembered. We have a watching room.”
“What?”
He chuckled. “Close your eyes. I’ll show you.”