Chapter 29
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
The black moth follows me.
It flutters around me as I make my way down wide staircases to the lower terraces where the breakfast is being served, with Arkin as my escort for the day.
Why is he here instead of Tru? It looks like Jai forgave him for slacking in his duties yesterday, when I managed to run away and enter the royal apartments.
As we walk, people point at the moth and gape at me. I never thought something so small would garner such a reaction, and the last thing I need is to draw more attention to myself.
Great gift, Jai.
Only it wasn’t a gift, was it? What do I want with a man who drips moths and disdain wherever he goes?
Except, he held me in his arms with such care, looked after me during the night. Made me feel precious and dear, treasured and doted on.
No, no. Jai is doing this for a reason. People always do things for a reason, and what I imagine the reason to be is impossible. No man ever falls hopelessly in love with a girl just like that, enough to decide to throw his life to the fish for her. That only happens in children’s bedtime stories.
Especially a man with Jai’s power and arrogance, with that evil side.
Phaethon.
Or not. Maybe that’s just who he is.
Like I said, people do things for a reason, and Jai must have his own. If it is to make me like him, though, it’s a mixed bag. His plan isn’t well thought out. If you want someone to like you, you need to be consistently kind, not tell the guards to throw you into the sea, or…
“I can’t wait to see you get thrown into some dungeon to die.”
Yeah. He said that to me on the barge, during one of our first encounters.
Strange how I still feel those words like splinters in my chest. How it’s not his evil side that has me backtracking, but the kind side, the feel of his arms around me, the promise of safety he gave me.
See why I should keep away from him? He’s dangerous to my sanity.
Patting my dagger, snug and hidden in the folds of my dress once more, I move through the palace, Arkin on my heels.
He doesn’t comment on the shiny black moth now sitting on my shoulder, pretending once more to be a gem, part of my costume, though I’m sure his keen fae eyes have noticed it. Figured out what it is, even before the fae nobles started pointing at it.
I still don’t see Neere around. What is the story between them? My fingers itch for the paper and ink I left in my room, my only real means of communication.
Then again, maybe it’s for the best. Who knows what my traitorous mind might decide to ask now? Would it ask him if he has known Jai long? If Jai has also saved his life, like Tru claims he did for him? If he knows anything about Phaethon and shadow magic?
Yes, it’s better that I can’t ask or speak at all. The loss of my voice seems like an unexpected boon today.
The terrace is dominated by a white pavilion under which long tables have been set. The pillars supporting the roof are festooned with star flowers, the fae’s favorite blooms, said to have been brought over from their world, as well as golden ribbons fluttering in the wind.
Seabirds caw overhead, and draks screech.
The fae nobles stand idly in the gardens, sipping from tall, fluted glasses and ignoring me as I hurry past, pretending I don’t exist.
Except for one of them.
Neere.
She’s not dressed as a guard anymore but as a lady in a lovely green gown, long hair caught in an elaborate updo, long green pendants hanging from her earlobes.
She steps in my path and looks down her narrow nose at me. “Well, well. The half-drowned rat has made it through the first trial. Who would have thought?”
I stare right back. Why is she here? Why is she mingling with the fae nobles?
Well, it appears that all my thoughts appear in oversized letters on my face, because she smirks.
“Don’t look so shocked. The Royal Guard is often comprised of nobles, and you poor human wouldn’t know anything about it, but taking part in the sacred procession from the lands to the Sea Palace for the festival is an honor.”
My mind spins. So she’s a noble. And what about Tru and Arkin?
She sneers. “Look at you. Pathetic. So ugly and ordinary. So… monochromatic and magic-less. I don’t see what Athdara wants with you, weakling, spending time around you, lending you his moths. And yet you wouldn’t be here if he hadn’t saved your ass over and over.”
Glaring, I try to sidestep her. She’s right, and the truth grates.
She blocks my way again. “Arkin is escorting me to the ball, and he already gave me his token. So stay away from him, do you hear me?”
Seriously? She thinks I’m interested in her man? And even more ridiculous, she thinks he’s interested in me ?
It would seem so, because she bends slightly to get into my face. “I said, do you hear me, little freak?”
Gods above. I shove at her and resume walking before I stab her with my hairpins. They are pretty sharp, and I’m saving my dagger for the king.
“You’re all going to die, all of you little humans!” she calls after me. “You were born with a foot already in the grave. So die already, and let us enjoy our festival in peace.”
Right…
“Oh, and stop flirting with Athdara! He isn’t interested. All he has ever done was follow the king’s orders. Or because he’s insane.”
Holy Wights , she’s still talking. I tell myself that going back and scratching her eyes out isn’t serving any purpose, but Gods, I want to.
“He isn’t interested.”
Why did her comment sting?
I couldn’t give a rat’s ass if she thinks I’m flirting with Arkin, but implying that I’m not good enough for Jai? That he doesn’t care if I exist?
Dammit. What’s the matter with me? That should be the very last of my concerns. In fact, it shouldn’t even make the list. Damn her, and damn Arkin for choosing such an idiotic, spiteful female as his lover.
Where are the humans? I only see fae and more fae, pointed ears covered in nightgold and silver, sharp eyes following me, susurrations and the nauseating tang of earth magic, sweet apples, and rot. I think I see skin turning to bark, hairdos turning into thorny branches, mouths turning into caterpillars.
I blink.
It’s not until I’ve reached the pavilion that I find the humans. They have been herded inside, it seems. Or they hid there themselves, away from the fae. Who would blame them?
Under the white fabric of the pavilion’s roof, they are sitting at small tables, but they have stilled, the conversations rippling around me when I stepped onto the terrace fading. They stare at me as I walk to the tables laden with food and drink.
What are they seeing? What do they know? What are they so afraid of, their gazes searing my back and pricking the back of my neck?
The moth remains quiet on my shoulder, and I doubt they even notice it—unlike on my way here when it insisted on fluttering its shiny wings, a living adornment, drawing every eye in every hallway I crossed.
When the silence finally breaks, it’s predictably bad.
“Fae-sympathizer,” a voice says.
Another says, “She’s in league with them. Volunteered for the games because she believes in the fae cause.”
Refusing to rise to the bait, though my back stiffens, I grab a plate and peruse the food. Let them think what they want. Just because I entered the godsdamned games, they think it’s proof I’m on the enemy’s side, simple as that.
When you believe something, everything is proof that you’re right, no matter what the truth is.
Where is Jai? I scan the faces around and don’t see him anywhere.
Better that way, I tell myself.
“Stop flirting with Athdara!”
I’m not flirting with anyone.
I walk along the tables, my mind still on Jai, Neere, and the king, not really seeing the porcelain plates heaped with the nibbles the fae favor. It’s a miracle they deigned to share this space with us, although as I understand it, they have little choice in the matter.
This is a religious festival, and like sacrificial animals headed for the altar, we are sacred, too. The fae nobles have no permission to openly harm us or object to our being here.
I doubt it will stop them from tripping us up when the telchin priest or the king isn’t looking, but all the same. They are forced to accept our presence.
Mulling over this, I collect a few slices of what appears to be cake with colorful layers, a sweet bun, and a glass of juice, yellow as a daisy.
Then, carrying my plate, I turn around, looking for a free seat. As luck would have it, there are two free seats at the table closest to me, and I head that way.
The two humans who are already seated there grimace at my approach.
“We saw Athdara follow you after you ran out of the banquet hall,” the man says. “You’re in cahoots with him. With the fae. You can’t deny it anymore.”
“You can’t fool us,” the woman adds. “And we don’t want you near us. You should find another table to sit at.”
Axwick, I realize. And Mera.
Because, of course I’m all out of luck. Oh, the joy. This day keeps getting better and better. The dagger is a cool weight against my thigh, reminding me of my real purpose.
Calm down, maikosa , I tell myself as I take my seat, but don’t back down.
I sit down, placing my plate before me. The fact they are sitting alone tells me that these two aren’t getting along with the others, so why should I expect better treatment?
Over my first bite of the bun which I find stuffed with sweet jelly, I consider both of them, their pinched faces, their anger. They are scared humans thrust into a game of death and survival, wary and suspicious of everything and everyone.
I’m the same. And I don’t need more enemies. I need allies.
I could just get up and find another table to sit at, but at the end of the day, what difference would it truly make?
Watching the two humans, I try to think of a way to bridge the growing gulf between us. I’m not used to social interaction anymore, because… because I’ve been alone for so long and…
Stop. The black hole in my mind awaits to suck me down, so I slam the door closed on it.
It doesn’t matter. What matters is what I do now, my next move. Looking at the past has never helped anyone—though it fuels me and pushes me, it can also be my downfall. Walking that thin tightrope between action and insanity is what I must keep on doing.
And if that reminds me of Jai, if that makes me think we are alike in some way, then who cares?
Silence has fallen on our table. The two humans are glaring at me. I gaze back at them, putting my bun down, thinking how to convince them I mean them no harm.
“Didn’t I tell you to leave?” Mera finally demands, her voice rising. She pushes her chair back. “I’m not sticking around. I can’t stand to look at you.”
Looking down at my plate, I think of how animals do it, how they put in a request for friendship, how they appease others. I’ve been an animal myself for too long.
So I select the prettiest cake morsel, and I offer it to her in the palm of my hand, holding her furious gaze.
She slaps it away, snarling. “Take that away from me. Do you think I’d accept anything from you? You’re a freak and a traitor, sucking it up to the fae!”
Her shrieks have everyone’s attention once more. Axwick is watching me but doesn’t say anything.
In fact, I realize he’s staring at me.
At my shoulder, to be precise.
“Would you look at that,” he breathes, half-standing up from his seat. “Is that…?”
The moth flutters into the air as I turn, the onyx wings flashing with shapes and colors. They flash like lights, like beacons.
“What… what is this?” Mera reaches out a hand, as if to touch. “Sleeping Gods, it’s so pretty!”
The buzzing of the moth’s wings changes, turning into a low, haunting tune. A melody.
“A Jaiet, a Death Moth,” people whisper, “a Death Moth!”
All of a sudden everyone is looking at me again, standing up and gathering around our table to gawk.
“Can I touch it?” Mera whispers, walking around the small table. “Will it let me?”
I’m not sure that’s a good idea, but she doesn’t wait for my acquiescence, reaching for it.
The moth doesn’t seem interested in getting caught, though. It spins, shedding a riot of colors and sparks.
The small crowd gathered around me oohs and ahhs .
“That is… amazing,” Axwick whispers.
Of all the things they’ve seen on this hellish trip—the journey in those cages and the deadly trial that followed, the fae in their finery and arrogance, the dragons and magic, they are impressed by this moth?
Would you look at this? Jai’s moth is working better to deflect hostility from me than peace offerings from my plate. Without any effort at all, I have these humans here, standing around me dumbstruck and happy, forgetting their animosity toward me. Any moment now, they’ll start eating from my hand.
But somewhere overhead, draks screech, way too close, the shadow of their wings showing through the pavilion’s white fabric roof.
The humans all look up as if waking from a dream.
“You know what this moth means,” one of them says. “She’s cursed. Stamped with death.”
Oh… dear. There goes any goodwill the moth might have garnered me.
The humans back away from me.
At least, most of them do. Mera is still staring at the moth as it settles back on my shoulder.
I stare at it, too. Will it become a permanent fixture? Should I find out what to feed it? Should I wear black earrings to match?
I may be going crazy, because I want to laugh, and this situation is anything but funny. I should be eating, drinking, getting my strength up, and not worrying about weird moths and draks and humans snubbing me for being cursed or for teaming up with the fae.
So much for making friends and finding allies. I don’t know why I ever thought it would work out.
I lift the piece of cake I collected and take a bite. It has a tanginess to it, a meatiness. I’m not sure I want to know what it’s made of.
Truth is, I’m more worried than hungry. My mind is buzzing. My stomach is a knot under my ribs, but I need to fill it, so I chew and swallow anyway.
The humans are glaring and backing away from me, yet I refuse to skulk away, tail between my legs. I won’t give these people the satisfaction. How is it that we’re hunted by the same enemy, and yet can’t be united in this struggle for survival? Sometimes, I wonder if humans are worth saving at all.
I’m in the middle of drinking down my glass of juice when the whispers rise in volume, and chairs screech on the paved floor.
I glance around, wondering what is happening, and find a page boy hurrying toward us. A young man, really—as young as Jackal was when I knew him. He’s wearing a uniform similar to that of the guards, minus the creaking wings and tall hat. Instead, he’s wearing a short black cap on his unruly curls.
Another human serving the fae.
“The king has asked for you,” he says, undoing in one stroke the last of the work I’ve been putting into making the humans trust me.
A hush falls over the terrace, the whispers gurgling to a slow death.
Just lovely. I mean, it’s not as if I was having any success. So, I push my plate away and point at myself. Me?
Just in case there has been a mistake.
“Yes, my lady, if you please. Now.”
Of course. We can’t keep the king waiting. My limbs are slow to obey, to coordinate. Grabbing the edge of the table, I push myself to my feet.
“Follow me,” he says, turning to go, and with a sigh, I hurry after him, seeing that I was right. This clinches the deal, and the silence shatters, the murmurs and baleful looks intensifying.
As we enter the palace, the black moth flies away. I turn my head to watch it waft up toward the ceiling and an open window.
You did your damage , I think, annoyed, and now you’re off? Well, good riddance. Return to Jai, if he’s the one you came here for, and leave me in peace.