Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
Later that evening, while I am in the bath, mulling over my plan, I hear a little tap tap tap at the door.
“Come in, it’s open!” I call out, recognizing the knock even after weeks of not seeing her.
“Nuria! I am so sorry I haven’t been around.
Mistress Colette caught wind of me traipsing around the house and put me on strict servant quarters duties for weeks!
It was so boring! I am in her good books again so I came straight here,” Lillian giggles as she races over to the tub and starts flicking water at me.
“Pretty necklace, where did you get it?” She pulls the pendant out of the water and examines it like a crow playing with something shiny.
“It was my mother’s,” I say and she makes an oh shape with her mouth before carefully placing it back against my chest. “Do you think it is wise to be once again traipsing through the house Lil?” I laugh, splashing her back.
“Lil… I like it. No one has given me a nickname before,” she giggles and sticks out her tongue.
“Perhaps it’s not so wise to be up here, but most of the servants are in bed by now anyway, they won’t notice I am gone,” she says, a mischievous grin spreading on her face but then the corners of her lips turn down into a scowl.
“Nuria, why did you lie to me? There has been gossip in the servant quarters that there is a fae girl working in the kitchens. I thought you were human?” she questions with a little frown and a pout tugging down her bottom lip as she rests her chin on the edge of the tub.
“How did they know I am fae? I mean… I grew up in the human realm and I just assumed everyone thought me to be human,” I ask, wondering what gave it away and if that means Pyralis has known who I am this whole time. What’s his game?
“Juniper is a deer Metamorph and she says you smell funny. Like a fae wearing human perfume. I’m human though so I can’t smell you. ” Lillian replies, taking a big sniff in my direction.
So he must know what I am. Why has he led me to believe otherwise? Panic starts to rise when I think this may affect my plans of escape.
“It’s ok, I forgive you.” Lillian gives my hand a little pat. “What kind of fae are you anyway?” She blatantly scans my naked body in the water, probably searching for some sort of animal part.
“Can you keep a secret?” I ask, Lillian nods her head, leaning in close. I wonder whether she would know what an Etherealist is and try my luck. I hold onto her hand and look her in the eye.
I am an Elemental fae.
Her eyes go wide and she squeaks in response. “Wowie you’re pretty special! I’ve never met someone like you before,” she says.
She does not prod further about the topic though which I am unsure how I feel about. I wonder what she knows about Etherealists and if there are others like me. She said I am special but how special could it be? Perhaps she just hasn’t encountered one from within the confines of this estate.
“I also heard you almost caused Olaf to flip? You’ve got to be more careful Nuria!” she scorns, waving her finger at me like she is the adult here.
“What did I do? I was just asking whether the gromlins owed Pyralis a debt like me,” I say, showing her my brand.
She makes a humming sound in her throat.
“Well, that would’ve done it. That’s not just a sign for a debt.
It’s a slave brand. The gromlins are very touchy about injustice.
What did you do to Pyralis to get such a mark?
He doesn’t usually do that to his servants,” she asks, sounding worried.
She reaches out to touch the scar but thinks twice and pulls away.
“This ties you to him for life, or until he removes it,” she adds with a big pout on her face.
“I did nothing! He is the monster who tried to kidnap my sister! I freed her from his vargs and for that I have been enslaved!” I say, trying to keep my temper under control so I don’t scare her but internally I am envisioning setting Pyralis on fire and watching him burn like Garr did.
There is no time for revenge, escape is the only goal. I reassure myself, but still allow a brief moment of imagining Pyralis getting a taste of his own cruelty.
“Wow, so you’re like a princess locked in a tower who needs her shining knight to come rescue her! Jacob used to tell me bed time stories of princesses just like you,” Lillian giggles, clearly unable to fully comprehend the situation and using fairy tales to make sense of it.
“Except I am no princess and my shining knight will have to be myself. Besides, not every woman needs to be rescued, Lillian. Sometimes we have to watch out for ourselves and I’m doing just that,” I say, reaching out to grab her little hand to give it a squeeze.
“You’re leaving aren’t you?” Lillian says, pulling her hand away and frowning at me.
“Lil, I can’t stay. My sister is still out there and I need to find her. I don’t belong here; I belong in the human realm,” I say, looking into her eyes. She is hurt by my not wanting to stay. I wonder if she has ever had a friend.
“Will you take me with you?” she asks as she chews the end of her braid, looking at me with hopeful eyes. My heart sinks.
“It is too dangerous, and would you really want to abandon your brother? If you aren’t indebted to Pyralis you two can just leave. If you come with me you will be seen as aiding an escaped slave,” I explain, clearly disappointing her but also seeing her resign to my logic. She lets out a big sigh.
“I don’t know anything other than this life… but perhaps if I had someone from the human world to guide me…?” she asks, but I just shake my head. I’m not even sure if I can return to the human realm, but I do know that my escape plan does not include towing along a child.
“Well, if I can’t join you, I can still help you!” she says, her bright demeanor returning as she does a little hop dance. “Tell me what to do! I can be your shining knight too,” she giggles at the thought. Her hopeful face reminds me of Marissa and melts my heart enough to accept her offer.
“All right Lil I trust you, here’s my plan.
” She leans in close, eyes wide. “I have tracked when the vargs settle into their evening meals and there should be a brief window of overlap during the important dinner with the visiting lords tomorrow night. I will only have a window of a few minutes but if you can get Jacob to have a horse saddled and the stables unlocked I should have enough time to escape. The vargs are fast but not faster than a horse,” I explain my plan to Lillian.
She tells me the little information she knows of the rebels that I hope to find in the forest.
I pray the plan works, it has minimal room for error but if I time it right it should work. If not… then I don’t even want to think of what Pyralis might do to me.
After Lillian has departed with her part of the plan to sort out for me tomorrow, I am left lying in my bed, staring at the pointed, wooden ceiling, wondering whether it was a wise choice to trust a ten year old.
My still damp hair is creating a stain on my pillow that I can feel creeping towards the back of my neck, giving me a chill but the plans for my upcoming escape are plaguing my mind and I can’t be bothered to get up to grab a towel.
Thoughts of what I may find in the forest haunt me. What if they are hurting Marissa, what if I have to fight the rebels? I have no weapon…
Holes are already forming in my plan but I cannot dwell on them. Tomorrow is my opportunity and the wheels are already in motion. I close my eyes and try to slow my breathing, willing sleep to come, when I start to hear a woeful song being played on the piano downstairs.
At first, I think that it is the ghost of Oleander’s mother singing her lament. The song starts out slow and sweet but is now moving towards a heartbreaking crescendo and I can feel myself being physically pulled by the notes as I sit up and walk towards the door.
What am I doing?
I open the door and poke my head out into the stairwell. No one is there, so I tiptoe my way down the steps and reach the door on the left. I have never left my room at night before and the feeling of wrongness causes my heart to pound.
I should go back.
I look up the stairs but my hand has a mind of its own and grasps the door knob, pushing the door open. No one is in here but the melancholic music fills the dark room filled with ghostly furniture and pulls me in.
When I get to the door of the drawing room I have to physically stop myself from swinging it open and turn my back to the door instead, leaning my head against the wood and closing my eyes.
The music winds its way around my limbs and swirls into my heart.
It speaks to me of a warm motherly embrace.
The feelings I had when I first put on my mother’s necklace are perfectly captured within the notes.
I lift my hand to my cheek and feel it is wet from tears I did not know I needed to release.
At the acknowledgment of my own sorrow, I let out a little sob.
The music abruptly stops. I hold my breath, hoping whoever is on the other side did not hear me. I go to tiptoe away, when a deep voice sounds from the other room.
“You do not have to hide. I won’t turn you in,” a familiar voice says softly. Embrys.
“This was a song I played when Elora, Oleander’s mother, died.
My father cannot bear to hear it, so I only play it when he is asleep.
I never knew my mother. She died in childbirth…
Elora treated me as if she was mine but father always reminded me that she, in truth, was not.
It is nice to have an audience for once,” he says, as he starts to play, very faintly, for a few bars.
I can picture his fingers delicately caressing the keys for a brief moment before he cuts himself off again, the light thud of the lid sounds as he closes it.
The scrape of the piano bench warns me of his approach as he stands up. His footsteps are soft and swift as he strides over to the door I am hiding behind. I have no time to turn around and run, or maybe I just secretly don’t want to, before he wrenches the door open and looks down at me.
I gasp at the sudden reveal and go to take a step back but feel I am glued to the floor.
Why are you betraying me now, legs? He looks down at me with a soft knowing smile, breaking up the hard features he inherited from his father.
I can feel the magnetic pull that I felt at the chicken coop drawing me towards him.
What is this connection? Does he know of my visions? The light cast behind him sets his red hair aglow. From this lighting I am unable to tell the minute colouring of his eyes, however, I do notice their movement.
He looks down at my body briefly, lingering at my breasts and I follow his gaze to see that my still wet hair that is draped over my shoulders has now seeped down, making my white nightgown nearly translucent and my nipples taut.
Our eyes snap back to each other and, where I once would have been embarrassed, I feel the warmth of arousal blooming at his noticing.
“Nuria…” His breath hitches as he takes a small step towards me, “you’re everything I thought you would be.
” He reaches out his hand as if he was going to brush my hair out of the way but my legs finally obey and let me move.
I slowly back away, shaking my head at him and turn on my heel to run back through the dark room to the safety of my stairwell.
I do not hear him come after me as I run up the steps and into my room, closing the door behind me and slumping against it.
What on Earth just happened? I am everything he thought I would be? What does that even mean… I try to settle myself but my pounding heart is threatening to burst out of my chest. My body needed to touch him to feel fulfilled. He knows my name, which means he has been sharing visions with me.
How can someone feel that way the first time they meet? Why did I run? I have been waiting for this. For him. Right?
I try to remember how Benji and I’s attraction started but come up short realizing that compared to what I’d just experienced I’m not sure if Benji and I shared anything remotely similar.
This all seems too ridiculous to be true.
This isn’t how this is supposed to work. Things like this should take more time…
Just go to bed Nuria, after tomorrow you will never see him again.
I feel I am being tested on where my loyalty lies.
He is the son of my captor. He is the catalyst for my escape, and I know I need to get out of here to find Marissa.
Why couldn't he have been someone else’s son? Why could we not have met elsewhere?
I can't get distracted from my path now, so I hurry back into bed, pulling the covers over my head, but as I try to sleep, my dreams keep going back to his smile, the fullness of his lips, the beauty and sorrow in his song and the way he said my name.
His strong hands play the keys of the piano so delicately and I dream of those same hands touching me, just as softly. Caressing and stroking me into submission. I drift off into sleep, with his song winding its way around my heart.
Nuria, I hear his deep voice say my name.
I wake with a start and can feel the evidence of my arousal between my legs.
What is happening to me? I groan at my longing and rollover to bury my head in my pillow, letting out a frustrated scream before trying to go back to sleep.
Eventually exhaustion gives me sweet release from this foolish pining and I drift off, into dreamlessness.