Chapter 1 #2
Attendees stumbled as they pushed past me, and my attention followed the rush of bodies. A figure emerged on the southern platform.
It must have been him–the evening’s honored Guest.
General Laryk Ashford.
Both men and women practically threw themselves at him, singing his praise and swooning in the delight of his presence.
Despite the fatigue, my eyes managed to roll just fine.
It was nothing personal against the General. I hated the entirety of the Guard just as much as they hated me. The major difference was that they held power and influence.
One wrong move on my end, and I’d disappear.
Or die in some freak encounter that would no doubt be ruled a tragic accident.
Riftborne presence in Sídhe wasn't tolerated, it was merely endured.
We were like a sickness to them, though their disdain was always hidden beneath a veneer of civility.
No one was ever held accountable for their actions. People simply looked the other way.
I gritted my teeth and refocused on the celebration, ignoring the pit growing in my stomach.
As the General stepped onto the dais and turned, an electric current rushed through the Grove. Every single eye was on him. And to my unfortunate surprise, I could now see why.
Flowing copper hair fell in waves over his shoulders, like shimmering curtains over his porcelain skin. Even from my vantage point, his sharp features were prominent. All the way down to the scar that marked his right eye and cheek.
He was taller than most Aossí, and his lean frame couldn’t be ignored, even behind the layers of his Guard uniform.
“Wow.” Osta’s painted pink mouth parted in awe.
I don’t know how I expected our most celebrated General to look, but it certainly wasn’t like this.
As much as I wanted to feign indifference, there was no denying how breathtaking the man was. If you were into pompous jerks with inferiority complexes, of course.
Anyone who joined The Guard these days was doing so in the hopes of climbing to an elite position.
On the Isle of Sídhe, ascending to a high rank in the Guard granted instant entry to the exclusive circle of the Noble class and practically guaranteed a family's legacy for generations to come.
They were all one in the same at that point–the Elite, whether they were born or bred.
Nobility or Guard. Even better if they were both.
Outside of status, the Guard didn’t seem to serve any real purpose.
It had been years since Sídhe faced a foreign threat, and you certainly weren’t going to find any resistance from within the kingdom.
War was a far thought, a solved problem of the past, if our educators were to be believed.
It did make one wonder why we needed a military this massive and all-encompassing.
The General smiled down at his adoring fans and I wondered if anyone would be lucky enough to win his attention. Maybe a few of them would have the pleasure of his company tonight.
The party already hummed with sensual tension—it hung thick and oppressive in the air like a perfume you couldn’t escape.
The General turned, facing the crowd of hundreds, an obnoxiously charming smile sprawled across his face. His gaze sauntered across the space until his eyes met mine, and he paused. The air seemed to go silent around me.
There was something intense and unwavering in his expression, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. It felt like he could see right through me. I was going to burn up under the scrutiny—I needed to look away. But I was frozen solid; I couldn’t even blink.
Lucky for me, after a few seconds, his eyes moved on, and the raging crowd came crashing back in. People were losing their absolute fucking minds over this man.
Perhaps I was starting to understand the hype.
My chest lurched, and I sucked in a gasp of summer air.
“Should we try to get closer?” Osta sang. It seemed even on the tips of her toes, the view was dismal. “I want to give the Queen a chance to see my design!”
“I’m not sure that’s such a great idea. In my current state of attire… they’d probably take it as an insult if I got that close to the throne.” I pulled at the sleeve of my stained blouse. She looked at me and bit her lip.
The dark truth of my apprehension sat on the tip of my tongue, but I couldn’t say it. Not here.
“Well... just let me do my loop and promise me we can have at least one drink before you head back to the apartment.”
I weighed the options quickly but came to the same conclusion as always: keep it hidden.
I could survive a little longer.
“Ok, I promise. I’ll just wander around… and blend in as much as possible,” I murmured, but my skin began to prickle. The surge ran through me once again and I held back a wince, biting my lip so hard I nearly drew blood.
“Come find me when you’re done with your presentation. But please don’t take too long,” I motioned for her to go, but she paused, bringing her eyes up to meet mine. Her face twisted as she inspected me.
“Fia… are you okay? Your eyes seem darker than usual. Have you been sleeping?” she whispered, leaning in closer. “More night terrors?”
“I’m fine, Osta. It’s just been a long day. Now go show off your dress.” I hid my shaking hands behind my back.
Her smile returned and she nodded, disappearing into the crowd. I didn’t want to disappoint her, but after the week I’d had… I could feel the edges of my control slipping away by the minute. And it was dangerous for both of us to be anywhere near here, even if she didn’t share my fears.
Osta, a fellow Riftborne, was one of the few left in the city. Across the Isle, our numbers had dwindled to a mere handful, barely a few hundred. The devastation in Riftdremar had claimed most Riftborne children already, and those who had been brought to Sídhe seemed to vanish year after year.
But somehow, through everything, Osta always remained positive.
She navigated the divide much easier than I did.
She could walk down the street with her sleeves casually tugged down, blending in.
At least in the beginning - long enough for people to develop a sense of comfort before realizing what she was.
As soon as Osta was out of sight, I made my way to the outskirts of the party once again. A few lingering stares followed me, and a chill ran up my spine.
It wasn’t easy to avoid the wandering curiosity of strangers when you looked like me.
People had always been able to sense my otherness.
There were Aossí with unique attributes, sure.
I just happened to bear a particularly unsettling combination of them.
My icy hair did me no favors. Each weightless curl danced in the air like static had taken me over.
Though I’d tied it up successfully this morning, the stress of the day had unleashed it in full glory.
Now I couldn’t even tuck it behind the points of my ears.
My one redeeming quality could have been my opalescent eyes, had they not been shrouded in perpetual shadows.
The darkness fanned out, waging war on my pale skin.
I was well aware I looked like a raging insomniac.
However, rest had no effect on my ghastly appearance, leaving me to assume it was simply a case of terribly unlucky genetics.
A gentle breeze drifted through the Grove, kissing my skin with a refreshing coolness and interrupting my thoughts.
The further I got from the commotion, the more my senses came to life. I stopped at a patch of trees up the hill. It provided a decent vantage point, allowing for a view of the lights and dancing bodies below.
The General shifted effortlessly between partners.
For another brief instant, his eyes locked with mine, and my breath caught in my lungs. It’s like he was seeking me out.
Was he ?
There was that same intensity in his stare that I couldn’t quite place–something dark and… intoxicating. His gaze continued to burn through me, and my body began to feel weightless. I tore my eyes away from his and stumbled back a few paces, the party disappearing from view.
The sinking feeling of discomfort crept into my bones. I didn’t like being seen. I didn’t want him to see me, of all people. The thought of a General’s attention on me made me want to evaporate.
The breeze picked up, and the most mesmerizing scent filled my nose - lily of the valley.
My mind nearly melted at the smell. I hadn’t found a wild batch of them in ages, and traders seldom had them in their inventories.
With there being no way to accurately recreate the floral profile, it remained an expensive and evasive luxury.
Perhaps a quick forage would calm me down.
I followed the aroma into the tree line, hunting for the white belled flowers in the dim moonlight. Perhaps a silver-lining to an otherwise emotionally crippling evening?
A subtle note turned me left, pulling me several paces before I found a patch on the forest floor.
Slipping off my gloves, I knelt to gather the bunches, tying them together with a piece of twine before tucking them into the folded sachet of my Apothecary belt.
I patted down the compartments, making sure all my tools were indeed still secure.
I felt my tiny notebooks, quills, bottles, and vials, all where they were supposed to be.
As I stood, I could hear the last vestiges of a song coming to end. Osta would be looking for me. It was time to have this drink, say my goodbyes, and finally end this curse of a day.
A part of me, one I’m ashamed of, thought briefly about wandering further into the safety of the woods, escaping to the anonymity of Luminaria’s streets, finding our apartment, and launching into bed…
Osta would hate me.
You can have one drink.
I headed in the direction of the party, dodging fallen branches, and groaned. I hadn’t realized how far I’d made it into the forest.
Just as I saw the edge of the wood, a chill ran over my skin. I heard the sounds of laughing and crunching twigs headed straight for me. Oh Esprithe.
I was in no condition to run into anyone out here. I practically glowed in the dark. Great thinking Fia, walking off by yourself in the middle of the night.
I clenched my fists.
Just breathe .
I tried to move out of their path. The sounds of their movement were getting louder as they advanced, and it was then that I recognized the shrill voice, complaining about someone wearing the same dress as her, and a second voice joining in to affirm.
Bekha and Jordaan.
It had been years since I’d seen them, but I would recognize those voices anywhere. Memories flooded back as their shrieks echoed through the trees.
Their mother was Lady Nessa Fairbanks, the woman who ran Luminaria’s House of Unity, the foster home where Osta and I grew up alongside some of the other Riftborne children.
Every ounce of cruelty that lived within that woman had been passed down to her daughters three-fold.
The Patriarch of the family had died in the frontlines of the uprising, and Lady Fairbanks never let us forget it.
It was as if we had killed him with our own hands.
That was our first taste of prejudice. It seemed like a whole other lifetime now, growing up in that place. We had all left years ago, back before the true terrors of this world were revealed to us. Back before my friends were murdered.
I was eighteen when I watched them drown beneath the currents of the Sprithe River. And though five years had passed, I’d been stuck in a constant state of fear ever since.
I shoved the thought away and dug my nails into my palms. Heat was already spanning the length of my body, simmering just under my skin. Waiting. And this train of thought was a dangerous one.
The girls approached, and I ducked my head, hoping they’d pass without starting what was sure to be an enchanting conversation. One that could very well send me flying over the edge.
And just like that, the forest floor betrayed me. I stumbled over a muddy branch and lost my balance. My hands hit the earth below and fear shot through me. I hadn’t put my gloves back on.
My branding was laid bare in the darkness, reflecting the dancing lights from the sky above.