Chapter 8 #2
“Yes, I can see you’re making bread,” I said dryly.
Cloth-covered proofing baskets sat on the counter, and one of the cabinets was open, revealing a sack of flour, a pot of honey, and other ingredients the house must have manifested.
“But the house will provide cooked food if you ask it to. You don’t have to make it. ”
Maude looked around mistrustfully, as if the house might start flinging food at her. “No,” she indicated with a sharp jerk of her head and a slashing motion. “No magic.”
“It’s better this way,” Triana agreed. “Something to do.”
I refrained from pointing out they were already using magic, since the flour had come from somewhere. If this was what they wanted to do, I wouldn’t argue.
Lara nudged me. “What are they saying?”
“That they don’t want to rely on magic and that it’s good to have something to do.” I looked at Anya. “Do you know sign language?”
She shook her head. “I was kept…apart from the others.”
Because Osric had been covetous of what he’d considered his.
Triana set the bowl aside, then moved to wrap her arm around Anya’s waist. They had grown close in a shockingly short amount of time, and a small, shameful part of me was jealous.
Then Triana rubbed her hand over Anya’s shaved head before rubbing her own short hair, and I felt even worse for my pettiness.
Of course they would have recognized each other as fellow survivors.
There was a message in that gentle rub of the head. I was like you once , Triana was telling Anya. Or maybe she was trying to tell Anya that her hair would grow again, with all the associated growth that came with it.
“Maude and I will teach you,” Triana signed, pressing a finger to Anya’s chest. She looked at me and made a gesture at her throat, asking me to provide the interpretation.
I cleared my throat, resisting the urge to cry at Triana’s unhesitating kindness. “She says they’ll teach you to sign.”
“Can I learn, too?” Lara asked, surprising me. She had been staying close by my side, and while her earlier attitude towards the others had been petulant and entitled, now there was a hesitance to her bearing. “If we’re all members of the house, we should understand each other.”
No Noble Fae I’d ever spoken with—other than Kallen—had expressed a desire to learn the language. The humans were far beneath their notice, good only for the work they did or the entertainment they provided with their suffering. But Lara was making an effort.
I looked to Maude for the answer, because I already knew what Triana would say. Triana had welcomed me with open arms despite my new form and new magic; she would offer to teach Lara, too.
Maude’s mouth was pressed in a tight line. Rather than answering, she turned to roll a stone in front of the oven to seal in the heat.
Triana walked over to Maude and tapped her on the arm. They held a discussion full of short, sharp movements, and then Maude shook her head and stormed out of the kitchen, skirting as widely around Lara and me as she could.
Triana looked at me apologetically. “She doesn’t trust faeries.”
“She hates me, doesn’t she?” Lara asked, crossing her arms.
My head was starting to hurt. “It’s not you,” I told Lara. “Maude’s been trapped here a long time. She doesn’t trust any of the Fae.”
“Except you.”
A sad smile crossed my lips. “She doesn’t trust me, either.”
Triana rapped her knuckles against the table to get my attention. “I’ll teach the faerie,” she told me. “Who is she?”
I nearly smacked myself in the forehead. I’d talked about Lara many times when visiting Triana, but she’d never actually met her, had she?
“Can I tell them what happened?” I asked Lara quietly.
She scowled. “If you must.” Then she stalked to a cabinet, opened it, and stared at the shelf balefully until a bottle of red wine and a goblet appeared. She proceeded to pour a very full glass before pulling a stool up to the table where Anya had been shaping the dough.
“This is Lady Lara,” I told Triana. “Formerly of Earth House.”
Triana made a soft noise, and I wondered if she realized why the heir to Earth House might be standing in this kitchen. When her brown eyes filled with pity, I knew it—I just hoped Lara didn’t see that look, too.
Anya was frowning, fingers squeezing the edge of the table.
She’d met Lara, but she didn’t know the full story, so I picked through what to say that wouldn’t injure Lara’s pride too badly.
“She was my mistress when I was a servant—I was helping her through the immortality trials.” At Anya’s quizzical look, I smiled ruefully.
“I’ll explain the trials later. A lot has happened.
” Far too much. I felt like I’d aged a decade in the span between winter and summer.
“So why is she here and not in Earth House?” Anya asked.
“This is humiliating,” Lara muttered.
“There were three possible outcomes to the trials,” I said, bracing myself. “Lara would either gain her full magic, lose all her magic, or be killed.”
“I’m sure you can tell which one it was,” Lara said bitterly, gesturing to herself. “Since I’m not dead, but I’m here.”
“You…lost your magic?” Anya still looked wary, but she hadn’t moved from her spot at the table.
“And was immediately disowned,” Lara confirmed, drinking more. “Banished from Earth House, then taken in like a stray by Princess Kenna.”
“Princess?” Anya whispered. She wrapped her arms around herself, swaying. “Kenna, what ?”
Shards, I had gone about this all wrong. I’d left my friends alone in Blood House without any explanation of what was happening. Anya knew I had become Fae, but that was it.
The weight of this new life felt too heavy. So many secrets. So many lies. And there were so many people I’d sworn loyalty to—genuinely or not—that no one knew the entirety of who I was or what I had done.
A sigh slipped from my lips, and my shoulders drooped. “I’ll explain everything, but I think we all need wine.”
An hour later, we were each on our second glass, the bread was cooling, and I’d explained as much as I could about what had happened since I’d reached Mistei, from my initial assignment to Earth House to the disastrous council meeting earlier that morning and the Accord we were all about to be subject to.
My visit to Oriana I left unmentioned, since I hadn’t decided what to tell Lara about that.
Maude had crept back into the kitchen partway through the story, perching on a stool near the ovens as she picked at some finger-knitting in her lap.
Where she’d gotten the yarn was a mystery, but the house had a habit of providing helpful items. I took her presence as a positive sign.
She still wasn’t sure about me, and especially not about Lara, but she was listening.
The others had already heard pieces of the story, but Anya was the one with the most to learn. Her expression had grown stark when I’d first mentioned King Osric, and at the third instance of his name, she’d poured another glass of wine, hand shaking.
“Do you want me to stop?” I’d whispered.
“No,” she’d said, frowning into her cup. When I’d reached for her hand, she’d pulled away.
Trying not to let on how much that hurt, I’d kept going.
There had been two other uncomfortable parts of the story—when I’d told them about spying for Kallen and when I’d confessed my affair with Drustan. Lara’s gaze had nearly flayed me alive, but she hadn’t said anything.
Not at first, anyway. The tale was done, Triana and Maude were discussing it while Anya stared into her drink, and I was approaching a cabinet, shaping a wish for cheese to accompany the fresh glass of wine in my hand, when Lara appeared at my elbow.
She’d poured a third glass, too, but drinking didn’t seem to have calmed her down.
“All this time,” she said, gripping my elbow, her voice quiet but furious. “You were working with Kallen and Drustan all this time . You were sleeping with Drustan!”
I winced. Shame curled in my chest, and I covered it with a deep drink of wine.
It tasted like black currants and smoke.
I wished it was Earth House’s crisp white wine instead, the vintage Oriana had served on the spring equinox.
Whatever magic was woven into it had made me happy in a way that had grown rare.
That made me think of Drustan, though. I’d danced with him on the equinox, sun on my face and excitement in my heart.
“Are you angry?” I asked Lara, already knowing the answer.
“I’m annoyed you didn’t tell me earlier.” She swayed slightly, the alcohol clearly affecting her. “You were sworn to Earth House. Meeting with Drustan and Kallen was a betrayal.”
“A betrayal?” My voice rose, and the others looked our way.
Lara wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “To Oriana, anyway. I suppose it doesn’t matter to me anymore.”
The ache of regret was growing. “No, you’re right. Not about Oriana, but…I should have told you. As my friend.”
She sniffled. “Yes, you should have.” Then she made a face. “Seriously, though. Drustan? ”
“At the time, he wasn’t…He hadn’t…” I trailed off, not wanting to finish that sentence, because I knew why Lara was disgusted at the idea. Because of Selwyn.
I hadn’t confessed to my role in that tragedy during the story, either.
So much had been painful to admit, but that one had been too much to bear.
It wasn’t only grief tightening my throat until I thought I might choke; it was fear.
Because if Lara knew I was the reason Selwyn had joined Drustan’s rebellion, she might hate me for it.
“I didn’t know what he would do,” I said. “He promised everything in Mistei was going to change.”
And it had.
She muttered a very un-Lara-like “Fuck,” then ripped open the cabinet to reveal a plate heaped with cheese, grapes, and little jars of jam. It wasn’t precisely what I’d envisioned, but it was close enough that I smiled despite the lingering pain.
“I can see the appeal, I suppose,” Lara muttered darkly, ripping a grape off its stem. “Not personally, but he’s always been lusted after on a grand scale.”
And he’d wielded that charisma and sexual heat like a weapon. How many others had he recruited with sex?
We used to fuck , he’d said on the summer solstice before sending the Fire lady Edlyn to her death.
She was jealous. And maybe Edlyn had been, and I could understand why Drustan had said what he did to save himself and the rest of the rebellion, but Edlyn had only been in that position because he’d asked her to start recruiting ladies from Illusion House.
He’d asked me if I wanted to help his cause, too. And I’d said yes, because overthrowing the king was right…but also because whenever Drustan’s smile had been directed at me, I’d felt valuable in a way I never had before.
Maybe I should tell Lara that. A small piece of my hurt; a gift like the necklace she’d given me last night that I’d thankfully kept in my pocket, engraved with words that meant more than the object itself: To my best friend.
“I thought he cared for me,” I whispered, trying my best not to cry. “He made me feel important.”
“You are important,” she said past a mouthful of cheese. She still sounded angry, but this time it was in the way of a drunk making a passionate argument.
“Thank you,” I said, torn between the urge to smile and weep. “But what hurts is I don’t know how much of it was real. Because it felt real, but if it was a lie and all he was doing was trying to get information about Earth House…”
What did that make me? A fool at best. Desperate. Delusional. I’d given a part of myself—and I wasn’t talking about my virginity—to someone who hadn’t wanted it for the right reasons.
“If it was a lie, then he was too stupid to realize what he had.” Lara gave me a boozy yet determined look. “I hope it wasn’t a lie, though. Not because I want you to be with him, obviously, but because I want him to feel horrible about losing you. I want him to suffer .”
“You’re a good friend.” My eyes were definitely misty now.
Lara handed me a piece of cheese. “Go on, bite it in half. Pretend it’s his dick.”
My laugh was loud and startled. I staggered, sloshing wine on her. “Damn,” I said, reaching forward to wipe it off her navy blue skirt and accidentally spilling more.
She looked down at the spreading stain. “Maybe this is why Blood House always wore red.”
That made me laugh more. Everything might hurt, but there were still good things in the world.