Chapter Eight
Following a restless sleep, I head down to the kitchen the next morning. When Nadir, Tristan, and I arrived home last night, everyone had already gone to bed. So the three of us had a cold dinner of bread and cheese before we said our goodnights.
Laughter floats up the stairway, and I emerge to find Nerissa at the stove, tending to a frying pan, while Tristan leans against the counter with his arms crossed. He’s smiling broadly as he says something that causes Nerissa to laugh again, her hand landing on his biceps in what I’m sure is a very deliberate attempt to touch him.
A knot of emotion forms in my throat as I watch them. This is what I want for my siblings. To find someone who allows them to feel again. To love and lose themselves with. This is what I was fighting for during the Trials.
Tristan catches sight of me and straightens up from his position.
“Morning,” he says, looking down at his feet as he pulls up a stool around the large kitchen island and settles onto it. I’m sure he’s blushing, but I decide not to embarrass him by commenting. I’m not sure why he’s pretending he’s not interested in Nerissa, but he has his own demons to contend with, and we’re all dealing with it in our separate ways.
Nerissa peers over her shoulder and smiles.
“Morning, Lor. Breakfast is ready. Help yourself.” Then she returns to the stove, humming to herself, but not before her gaze falls on my brother for the briefest moment.
I sit down next to Tristan, and one by one, Nadir, Willow, Mael, and Hylene also file in, helping themselves to pastries, waffles, and crispy strips of bacon. While Nerissa is more than content to cook for us, she absolutely refuses to clean up our mess, which is a fair boundary.
Mael’s a bit of a slob, and I wouldn’t want to clean up after this lot either.
A few minutes into our meal, Amya enters with a letter in her hand and a grim set to her lips.
“What is it?” Nadir asks.
“I just received a report from The Aurora,” she says, scanning the page as though she’s hoping the words will rearrange themselves. “The Savahell Mine collapsed two days ago, killing almost six hundred low fae, a group of prisoners from Nostraza, as well as every guard on duty.”
We fall into silence at those words.
“The Savahell Mine?” Tristan asks, a raw edge to his voice. As an able-bodied male, he was regularly assigned to work in the mines during our days in the prison while Willow and I were assigned to more domestic tasks. He’d come back covered in black dust, too tired to eat, often with lash marks torn into his back.
Willow reaches out and takes his hand, squeezing it.
“Yes. It’s the largest jewel mine in The Aurora,” Nadir replies, missing their exchange. “Dissent has been growing for months. The working conditions are vile, and even several members of the Aurora council disagree with its practices, but my father doesn’t care. He just keeps pushing them to dig deeper and deeper.”
That’s when his gaze lands on where Willow is still gripping Tristan’s hand so tightly her knuckles are turning white.
“Did you…” Nadir asks.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” Tristan says, cutting him off.
Nadir dips his chin in acknowledgment. “I’m sorry.”
There’s such anguish in that apology that my hands clench, my nails digging into my thighs.
Tristan nods and looks away, indicating he’d like to move on from the topic.
“Why does he keep digging?” Willow asks. “To what end? Don’t you have enough riches and jewels?”
Nadir looks at my sister. “If only it were that simple.”
“We have to stop this,” Amya says, and she sounds so small.
“I know,” replies Nadir. “I know.”
He looks down at his plate and makes a show of returning to his breakfast, though I can see he’s not really eating. The rest of us follow suit, chewing quietly in the kitchen’s somber mood.
Nadir drops the piece of toast in his hand and stands up, planting his fists on the table’s surface.
“We have a few things we need to take care of quickly. Gabriel can give us only a little time before he’s forced to reveal our presence to Atlas. We need to accelerate our plans.”
Everyone’s eyes meet around the table. I can hear the strain in Nadir’s words. The news from The Aurora has shaken him, but he’s putting on his game face.
“Nadir,” Amya says, but he holds up a hand.
“The plan hasn’t changed. From the beginning, it’s been our intention to get Lor’s magic back so she can help bring Father down. That’s the only thing that ends this. And to do that, we need to understand who’s sharing the secrets of Heart around Ouranos and get Lor to the Mirror. Then we can focus on the rest.”
Nadir glares at his sister, who dips her chin in agreement.
“But we still don’t have a solid plan,” Tristan says.
“What we need is someone who knows the layout well enough to draw us a map with alternate entrances and exits to the throne room and the building itself,” Mael says.
“Gabriel,” I say, but Nadir shakes his head.
“Only as a last resort. I worry we’re already testing how far he can stretch this. If we ask him, we can never be sure when the line crosses into something he has no choice but to reveal to Atlas.”
Nadir looks at Amya. “Any ideas?”
“Actually, yes,” Amya says. “As luck would have it, I heard last night the future Sun Queen is looking for new lady’s maids. Apparently, she fired her entire staff because they were all, and I quote, ‘a bunch of ninny-headed fools without two brain cells to rub together.’ She’s holding interviews tomorrow. It might be the perfect opportunity to get us inside.”
I almost smile at that, imagining Apricia tearing up a storm in the palace. It almost makes me feel sorry for Atlas.
“I’ll do it,” Willow says, and every eye swings to her. “Well, it can’t be Lor. They’ll recognize her. Nor can it be Amya.”
“I could do it,” Hylene says. “No one there knows me by sight.”
“I have a feeling your skills are needed elsewhere,” Willow says. “This is something I can do, and I want to help. I’m sure I can convince this Apricia I have at least three brain cells.”
“It makes sense,” Nadir says slowly, but Tristan and I trip over each other’s objections.
“It’s too dangerous,” Tristan says.
“What if he figures it out?” I question, and Willow gives us both a sharp look.
“Oh, and everything you’re doing is safe? Stop it. I can do this. I can stay beneath anyone’s notice long enough to get a lay of the place.”
“Servants usually know all the best routes to go in and out,” Amya says. “It’s a good plan.”
“She looks too much like Lor,” Mael says. “What if they make a connection?”
“I can dye my hair,” Willow says, anticipating the comment. “I’ve always wondered what I’d look like as a blonde.”
She flips her still-short locks and smiles at me. “I want to do this for you, Lor. For all of us. I don’t have magic, and I’m no good in a fight, but this I can do.”
“But, Willow—”
“No,” she says, more firmly than I’ve ever heard her speak. “You and Tristan, you’re always the brave and selfless ones. You’re the one who protected me when those guards… You… They…”
She breaks off, her eyes filling with tears. I’m trying to understand what she’s not saying. Does she think she owes me anything for our years in Nostraza?
“Just let me do this,” she whispers.
An awkward silence hangs in the room, and I exchange a look with Tristan before I nod in agreement. Despite my reservations, this is a good idea. While we try to puzzle out who knows our secrets, we have to figure out how to get inside the palace. And we have to do it quickly, before Gabriel is forced to reveal our presence.
“Too bad we can’t get Callias to deal with your hair,” I say.
“Don’t worry,” Amya says. “I can take care of that.”
“So that’s decided,” Nadir says, pushing past our un-comfortable confrontation. “Once Amya has altered your appearance, you’ll present yourself at the Sun Palace and hope the future Sun Queen deems you intelligent enough for her highly exacting standards.”
Willow holds up her hands with her fingers crossed. “One can only hope.”