Chapter 22
Even if I’m being framed for murder, I can’t miss my shift.
With the day of voting drawing nearer and Gray’s warning weighing heavy on my mind, I feel more nervous than ever. Vance tells me I’ve gone above and beyond since the ball, but it doesn’t matter what he thinks if Asralyn’s not on board.
After another long day, Asralyn has ordered me to get Vance and the children set up with dinner in their room, then to join her in the Endless Night Spa once I’m finished.
I’m in need of a spa evening, sure, but this isn’t what I’d had in mind.
Palms sweaty, I grasp a brass handle and push open the door to a private spa room. Instantly, the warm, comforting smell of hearth fruit turnovers and cinnamon greets me. I remove my boots and stockings. The cool black marble tiles are smooth beneath my bare feet.
I don’t see Asralyn yet, but the room is nearly as dark as the rest of the spa—with shiny, floor-to-ceiling black tiles.
Embedded in the ceiling are tiny dots of silver starlight, offering a whisper of light in the darkness.
A thin layer of fog wafts from the pool, taking shapes like my spirits.
It shifts into flowers, dissolves into running horses, then dissolves again into the hummingbirds that visit our gardens at home.
A staff member emerges from a closed door and hands me a silky, midnight-blue robe and water clothes.
“She’s waiting in the pool,” they tell me.
The pool’s hidden by a wall of black stone, so I strip off my sweaty uniform when the staff member leaves and shrug into the flexible, blue-scaled material that covers my chest, torso, and pelvis.
I wrap myself in the satin robe, chilled by the faint breeze in the room.
I step out from behind the wall and approach the rectangular spa pool set into the floor.
Lit from the bottom by white lights, under a black ceiling with a glowing star pattern, it’s like I’ve entered another galaxy.
Water dribbles from an elegant fountain at the back of the pool.
The only outside light peeks through curtains over a set of floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the sea.
Asralyn’s drawn the shades to keep the room dark.
I barely glimpse the shadow of her sitting on the submerged steps by the fountain.
Her light brown hair’s braided in a crown to keep it dry.
I’m reminded of the crown she said her daughter wore.
How many hours did it take Asralyn to teach her to do her own hair?
Her pursed lips and relaxed posture make it impossible to guess her mood. Nerves prickle in my stomach. “Let your hair down, Roe,” she says, voice softer than usual. “You have such beautiful hair.”
As I take my hair out of its tight bun and comb my fingers through it, I remember Isla’s warning from breakfast a few days ago: Never go off alone with a guest again.
She has a point after what happened at the ball.
With trepidation making my legs stiff and heavy, I descend the steps and wade into the warm pool.
Isla can smack me over the head with a spatula later. Asralyn’s in control of my votes.
She clears her throat. “The spa wasn’t taking any more appointments for the day. Too close to sundown. But that darling friend of yours—Zora, I believe—she overheard me talking about wanting to come after her performance and convinced them to keep it open.”
My lips tug at the thought of Zora bolting in full costume down the hallways to beg the spa not to close. All to give me a chance at impressing Asralyn.
“I’m glad you got some time to relax.” I let my guard down a little and smile. “Seems like this isn’t much of a vacation for you.”
Asralyn sighs, trailing her hand along the gush of bubbles flowing from the side of the pool. “No, it’s not. It’s more of an exposure, really. My sister thought it would be good for me to come back here in real life. Not just in my nightmares.”
I know nightmares. Every night I’ve been waking from deathmares in a cold sweat, gritting my teeth, tears streaming down my face.
Long, dark red streaks trail down my arms from where I’ve dug my nails into my skin.
I’m glad Asralyn can’t see the evidence in the dark now.
I feel the pain of all the death I conjure like it’s mine.
I think of the first time I went into Leith’s room after his death.
It was harder than going to the funeral.
Some days I can go in and sit on his bed without crying.
Others, I can’t. The ups and downs of grief never stop.
I used to want to punch the people telling me it’d get better with time.
For me, it never did. Some days are just as raw and painful as the first.
Father used to say, Don’t be angry with the people trying to help you. They don’t know what to say because there’s nothing that can be said. Nothing eases our pain. Be angry with the ones who find it easier to turn away and hide.
He was right. The awkward conversations were better than facing the friends and family who never reached out. The ones who avoided Leith’s name in conversation like a disease. Like they do my Morphia.
“How old was Karynna?” I ask. Asralyn’s lips part as her eyes lift from the water to find me. I wonder how long it’s been since she’s heard her daughter’s name said aloud.
She coughs. “She was eight. I think she and Sage would have loved being here together. My sister doesn’t like to talk about her. She doesn’t want to make her own children sad.”
I wade closer to sit beside her on the steps. “Not talking about something doesn’t mean it didn’t happen.”
She nods, silent in her grief. “I’m sorry,” she finally gasps.
“I met someone from your province at dinner last night. She told me your brother died when you were young.” She shakes her head.
“If I had known, I wouldn’t have told you about Karynna.
Not that way. I would have asked if you were ready to hear something like that. ”
The lump rises in my throat again, and I have a harder time shoving it down. I’m not used to Asralyn’s armored composure slipping. Her gentle tone threatens to break me. I reach under the water and grab her hand. “My brother’s name is Leith. He—he looked after me.”
She squeezes my fingers, studying the sheet of water coming out of the pool’s fountain. “Karynna was Morphic. She was able to make her father and me see things that weren’t there.”
“An illusive,” I murmur. I don’t know why I never expected Asralyn and Vance to have had a Morphic child. But it can happen in any family. Why not them?
“She was a little like you, I think. She wanted to use it all the time, even when we told her no. She didn’t understand why other people didn’t like it sometimes, and she’d get so tired afterward.
Sometimes she’d sleep for hours or have trouble standing after a big illusion.
” She lets go of my hand. “Vance and I didn’t know how to teach her.
We thought going on the Celestial would show her what happens to Morphics who… ”
She doesn’t finish, but it’s not hard to guess what she’s thinking. It’s the same way I used to think. Dangerous Morphics. Morphics who wielded their abilities without regard for consequences. “I bet that didn’t work,” I say.
Asralyn laughs a short, bitter laugh. “Of course not. She didn’t see how bad it was for the staff. She only saw this place as a fantastical playground. Until…”
Until that all changed. After a prolonged silence, I sniff the air. “Is that why you chose this scent?” I’d noticed it was an odd choice for the spa where guests usually go for botanicals.
“We used to make hearth fruit turnovers. Back home in Sarryndar, we had hearth trees.” The smile fades from her lips. “I had them cut down after she died.”
Abruptly, Asralyn climbs out of the pool.
She dons her robe and opens the curtains, revealing the setting sun over the blue sea.
“I notice you’re no longer working alone.
You’ve been excellent. No one can argue that.
” She turns, staring at me with her stormy eyes as she drips water onto the black tile.
“But I’m not sure if it’s you I have to thank or your friends. ”
Blood pounding in my ears, I swallow hard. I rise from the water. “It’s me. I wanted to be better. My friends help here and there, but we all help each other.”
Asralyn shrugs. “I’ve seen how hard you’re trying. How much you care about Sage and Ezra. Maybe even about me.” She grabs a towel and pats her arms dry. “Our family will vote for you, Roe. I don’t know if it will be enough to counteract the boss votes. But that’s my decision.”
My face flushes, but before I can thank her, she holds up her hand. “The sun will be going down soon. I can make it back to my room alone.” She smiles. “You don’t want to be late for the bosses tonight.”
Although she doesn’t want me to thank her, I climb out of the pool and walk to her. She touches my cheek with her fingers. “Be careful, Roe. Survive.”
I clasp my hand over hers, pressing her fingers tighter to my cheek, like maybe her daughter would have.
We stay there, standing in silence, outlined by the light of the setting sun over the sea.