Chapter 20
CHAPTER TWENTY
Fortunately, Daria hasn’t found many clothes that fit me.
It’s odd to think of it as a stroke of luck, I suppose—but it does mean that the fitting session is relatively short.
Still, my mood is dark by the time the last item of clothing has been discarded on the ever-growing pile of garments I won’t be wearing. The few items on the good pile will await the seamstress’ arrival so she can fix them for me.
The only dress that fits me well enough to wear right now is a pale gray silk with fitted sleeves and bodice, the skirt long enough to drag on the floor.
Daria thrusts it against me, brow creased, obviously unhappy with it.
No pants? I try to get Daria’s attention as I mouth the words over and over. Pants?
How am I going to run around the palace in this dress? I’m used to freedom of movement.
She’s getting stressed all over again as she gathers the unusable dresses and bodices. “The fae women tend to be taller than us, and the winners of the trials are usually men. They didn’t think to provide many gowns for human ladies, and now it’s too late to create a garderobe for you. I’m sure that the seamstress will fix you a gown for the ball, at least. I’m so sorry…”
She doesn’t need to apologize. It’s not as if this is any of her fault, but I’m coming to realize that Daria, sweet as she is, is under constant stress to perform perfectly in her duties.
I wonder if she’ll be punished the moment she fails even in the smallest task, let alone in preventing me from drowning in the bathtub and keeping me alive. She’s a human in a fae palace. It wouldn’t surprise me if they hanged her for it.
Once she’s stopped muttering, I beckon for her to help me into the gray dress. She buttons up the sleeves and pulls the ribbons at the back of the bodice, securing them.
At least the silk is soft and warm and has a stretch to it that I enjoy.
“Spidersilk,” she says, “very expensive… Some lady must have had it commissioned and then disliked it.”
That makes sense, both that these are castoffs from the fae court and that spidersilk should stretch so well. I test the elasticity by folding my arms over my head, turning this way and that.
It’s perfect.
Almost like fishscale-skin.
“You’ll need a cloak,” Daria mutters, grabbing again the dreaded brush and attacking my drying hair. “And stockings, and shoes. At least, those shouldn’t be that hard to secure… I’ll go dig in the storeroom. You’ll also require a fan and jewelry.”
Jewelry, fans, gowns… Old thoughts resurface in my mind, fluttering dark wings. Old memories.
I chase them away.
“I will be back.” She flashes me a bright smile. “I’ll send for refreshments. Rest until I return. You need to regain your strength.”
She departs, carrying the mountain of unwanted clothes, looking like a heap of fabric with legs, as I stand by the bed, watching her leave.
The moment she’s gone, I open the door and step outside, my dagger hidden in my cleavage, my bare feet barely whispering on the stone floor. I close the heavy door behind me.
The tall shadow stepping toward me has my breath catching for an awful moment?—
Shit.
It’s Arkin. He’s still here.
“Lady Rae.” His gaze rakes over me, which annoys me, but he only gives an approving nod. “I like the transformation. Are the bare feet a new statement of fashion, or haven’t they found shoes for you yet?”
I hiss at him like an angry darakin.
He lifts his hands as well as his brows. “If you wanted to see Athdara?—”
I make a cutting-off gesture. I don’t want to see Athdara. That momentary weakness is past and over, and besides, I’m in a rush.
“—you’ll find him on the southern terrace,” he finishes, ignoring my gesture and smirking, dropping his hands to his sides.
I glower at him. Not interested.
“He survived his meeting with the king,” he says after a long moment. “If you wanted to know.”
I don’t. I don’t care. I…
Survived?
It doesn’t matter. The king wouldn’t hurt his trusted right hand. If he’s angry because Jai decided to join the Death Games on an impulse, that’s only to be expected. It sounds like maybe Jai doesn’t know how to deal with consequences.
As for me, I need to familiarize myself with the palace, find out how close I am to the king’s rooms, if there’s a way to meet him outside of the fanfare and crowded ballrooms.
“If you don’t know how to reach the southern terrace where Athdara is,” Arkin says from right behind me, jerking me out of my thoughts, “it’s by way of the Ocean Hall, and then by?—”
No. I turn and make shooing gestures at him. Go away, Arkin. Go away! What else must I do for him to leave me alone?
But it looks like he’s been ordered—by Athdara, who else?—to follow me around, becoming my shadow.
Follow me around grinning , as if he knows something I don’t.
Screw him. Gritting my teeth, I open my stride.
He keeps up easily, his expression not changing, his boots thumping lightly on the stone floor. He stays one step behind me, as if to give me the illusion I’m free, free to wander and go wherever I want, free to be alone.
Music sounds from one of the rooms we pass, violin and flutes, followed by clapping and exclamations. From another room come the sounds of a heated argument.
Further down the hallway, we walk past an alcove with windows narrow like arrow slits, the walls decorated with tapestries showing forests, white horned animals and dancing nymphs. A group of ladies is gathered by a long table heaped with dishes and trays of drinks. The small cakes and patties filling the plates have to be fae delicacies.
The ladies are fae, I realize when they peek at me over the rim of fans made from exotic feathers, full of colors. Their pointed ears are adorned with pale gems to contrast with their colorful gowns.
Of course they are fae, I chide myself. Any human nobles should be residing on the Temple Island. Their gowns are like the draks circling in the sky, dyed in all the colors of the rainbow, the hue of every single one more startling than the previous, emerald green, ruby red, honey yellow, sea blue. Their hair is done up in elaborate hairdos towering on their heads, stuffed with carved pins and decorated with glinting gemstones.
They look like trees laden with fruit, trees decorated for the winter festivities. And this isn’t even the ball. This is simply how they dress to wander around in the palace.
Their giggling rings out from behind their fans.
“They dress up in case the king walks by,” Arkin says. “In case he notices them.”
I pfft and continue on my way. What do I care about it?
“You don’t mind them laughing at you?” he asks.
Is he still here? I shoo at him again. Take a hint, Arkin.
He only chuckles. “We’re almost at the southern terrace. If you go down the three steps up ahead and turn right, you’ll find a long portrait hall that will take you there.”
I don’t care. Somewhere has to be a staircase going up, toward the king’s apartments. That’s where I’m going. Water finds its way through earth, and hopefully so will I.
The halls echo with voices and laughter. A group of fae males appear around the corner, standing in a parlor with large windows facing the sea. They cast us curious looks as we walk by.
The windows are again made of glass, the iron creating a lattice outside, as it had in my room, in case an eldritch sea creature should jump high up and try to eat the face off of one of the guests.
I’m gaping at the opulence, and I can’t stop myself. We pass one parlor, then another. I ignore the stares and whispers, the outright whistling and laughing. Is it so weird for them to see a contestant walking past?
Craning my neck to check out a painting of a black wyrm with a rider seated behind the curved horns of its head, I stumble, and Arkin is there in a flash, catching my arm.
“Are you well?” he asks.
Gods, will he stop? I yank my arm free and continue on my way, refusing to look at him. Where is his girl, this Neere who likes to sneer? Go to her. Make babies. Whatever you want to do.
Where are the other contestants anyway? Those who were with me in the dragon’s mouth? I’ve only seen fae aristocracy so far, eating, talking and acting entertained. If I was out all night, the other humans had plenty of time to bathe and get dressed, right?
Unless they don’t want to wander the palace like me.
Unless they are afraid.
I glance over my shoulder at Arkin and catch his smirk. Is he keeping me safe? I won’t ever know, because with him a step behind me, I’ll probably never be attacked.
Possibly.
Skipping down the three steps, I continue along a dim hallway.
It doesn’t matter. Once I find the entrance to the royal apartments, I’ll have to get past the guards and enchantments. My dagger can hopefully help with both. Or I could pretend to be lost. Or be a maid. I just need to get close enough to the king to use my enchanted blade.
I wish I had Jai’s shadows, to walk through them and into the royal chambers.
How did Jai come by his hold on shadows? You are born with the ability, the affinity, or so it’s surmised, and it manifests itself sooner or later, by which point you will have to master it, or else it masters you. But how did the king hear of him, find him? What did Jai do to draw the king’s attention?
Shelves stuffed with books appear in various nooks, soft-looking sofas before them. I long to peruse the books, sit on one of the sofas and read.
I squash the urge. This isn’t the time to stop and rest, to indulge my curiosity and love of stories.
Yet I keep going. It’s warm throughout the palace, I realize as we move down the hall, though I don’t see many fireplaces. Is it magic?
A possibility.
Or , I remind myself, you got used to the cold.
You got used to the dark deep, to escaping.
Escaping the pain.
“If you wanted to find the other human contestants,” Arkin says conversationally, breaking through my musings, “you should have gone the other way. They are gathered in one of the parlors.”
I halt. Shoot him a suspicious look.
He winks. “But the southern terrace is right around the corner, as you heard me say. Are we by any chance heading there?”
I shake my head. I’m not heading to the southern terrace, and I’m not going to see Jai.
Nope.
So it’s kind of weird, isn’t it, that the southern terrace is exactly where my feet lead me.
I ignore Arkin’s snort as I walk down the long portrait hall, also ignoring the endless portraits of sneering fae nobility gazing down at me as I pad on my bare feet over soft carpets.
Reaching the end, I step out onto an atrium filled with light. It’s spilling through the oval glass skylight in the ceiling. The door is half-open, and I push it…
Stepping out into the bright day.