Chapter 7
7
Lara refused to see me.
I’d been too unsettled to explore further after the incident at Fire House, so I’d returned to see if she needed anything. My hesitant knock only resulted in a barked “Go away.”
What was I supposed to do if my mistress didn’t want a handmaiden?
Part of me was relieved not to have any duties, but I wasn’t a fool. In order to survive long enough to escape, I needed to succeed as a servant. Besides, every pause gave an opportunity for grief to catch up with me again—better to stay busy and save my tears for the lonely hours of the night. I returned downstairs, determined to ask Alodie for another task.
Alodie wasn’t in the main hall anymore. Instead, Princess Oriana stood there, breathtakingly gorgeous and abundantly curved. She was talking quietly with a cheerful-looking young faerie who wore a single yellow rose pinned to his blue tunic. The teenager’s wavy brown hair had golden streaks that matched Oriana’s blond tresses, but his brown eyes were the same shape and shade as Lara’s. This must be a younger brother.
The Noble Fae all seemed to have frozen into immortality looking like they were between twenty and thirty years of age, so it was odd to think that Oriana could be this boy’s mother. It would be an adjustment, being unable to guess family relationships on a glance the way one could in the human realm. For all I knew, Oriana was thousands of years old.
I tried to retreat, but Oriana noticed me immediately. “You.” She pointed a stern finger at me. “Come here.”
I approached and curtsied. Thankfully, this one didn’t wobble too much. “Princess.”
She studied me with grim resolve, as if I were an unpleasant duty that must be undertaken. She wore a twisting wooden crown and a forest-green dress, and her hair was plaited into thick braids that wound around each other to the middle of her back. The hazel of her eyes reminded me of Anya’s, and a pang went through me. “This is the human,” Oriana told the teenager.
He smiled, and a dimple popped out on one cheek. “I gathered that.”
“Forgive me if I intruded,” I said. “I was seeking Alodie to find out if she has any tasks for me.”
Oriana’s eyebrows rose. “Hasn’t Lara given you enough tasks to fill your time?”
I phrased my answer as delicately as I could. “She does not require my assistance, my princess.”
“So she’s being a brat,” Oriana said flatly, and the boy guffawed.
I almost choked. I stared at her, unable to respond.
Oriana sighed. “Lara has always been sensitive to criticism.” She snapped her fingers, and I twitched at the sharp sound. “Come.”
The boy smiled at me before leaving the hall, and I followed Oriana up the spiraling staircase. She marched to her daughter’s door and pounded on it.
“What?” was the testy response.
“Open the door.”
The door opened a few seconds later, and Lara stepped aside as the princess swept in. I trailed along behind, not knowing what else to do.
Lara glared at me as I positioned myself in a corner. Her black hair was down, and she wore a rumpled turquoise nightgown. “I don’t want the human here.”
“Yes, that’s apparent.” Oriana settled onto a plush couch, motioning for Lara to take the brocade-upholstered chair opposite. They stared at each other. The familial resemblance was subtle, but I found it in the angle of their arched brows and the shape of their noses.
The silence drew out. Lara shifted uncomfortably in her seat.
“This human,” Oriana finally said, “was gifted to you by King Osric himself.”
“I don’t want her.”
“You have no choice. He is the king.”
Lara looked at me with hatred. “The others have been taunting me about it. How I’m so weak I need a human servant. It’s humiliating.”
“It’s only humiliating because you allow it to be. If you didn’t care what they said, it wouldn’t matter if your servant was human, Underfae, or Nasty.”
“I have to care what they say. Aren’t you always telling me I can’t look weak?”
“Yes. And by rejecting this gift, you are making it clear to everyone at court exactly how humiliated you feel. You’re confirming what they already think.”
Lara flopped back in her chair, exhaling heavily. “I hate this. Why does the king dislike me so much?”
“It’s not just you,” Oriana said. “It’s all of Earth House. He hates that we’re neutral and have never taken his side. He sees it as weakness, so he delights in testing us. You must be stronger than that.”
“So I just take the insult? Accept it when everyone laughs?”
“Yes.”
Lara looked at me again. I tried to keep my expression calm and my body relaxed, even though I hated the way they discussed me like an object, not a person.
“How does that prove my strength?” Some of the anger had faded from Lara’s expression.
“By acting with confidence despite the insult, you imply that you are above it, that you are so worthy you don’t need to be concerned about a human assisting you in the immortality trials. By holding yourself in a position of respect, you teach others how to treat you.”
I listened intently, wondering if there was a lesson in this for me, too. I’d always told myself it didn’t matter how others perceived me, but appearances were everything to the Noble Fae. If you appeared confident, you were confident. If you appeared powerful, you were powerful. So when I had reveled in appearing dirty, feral, and defiant to cover up my miserable life and my hundred petty fears, everyone in Tumbledown had assumed that was who I was, and no one had bothered to look any deeper.
Lara sighed. “What if the trials require something she’s incapable of doing?”
At least she was calling me “she,” instead of “the human” or “the insult.”
“They won’t. Even the king would not sabotage a contestant so much. But I’ve been thinking about how we can use this to our benefit. We’ve been so focused on viewing the king’s gift as an insult that we failed to appreciate the advantages it brings.”
The calculating look in Oriana’s eyes made me nervous. What did she mean?
“What advantages?” Lara asked derisively. “You see her.”
I bit my cheek, determined not to say anything rude in response. I knew what they saw when they looked at me: a small, unkempt, inferior being. I could work on the unkempt part, but there was only so much I could do about the rest.
“Exactly.” Oriana cast me an appraising glance. “Many areas of Mistei are warded against Noble Fae and Underfae. There’s only so much a traditional servant could have done to help you, only so many risks they could have taken. But a human can risk more, and no one will think twice about her because humans aren’t considered a threat. They’re physically weak, they have no magic, and most of them have had their tongues cut out. Who would they speak with, even if one of them somehow gained the courage?”
My stomach dropped. Tongues cut out . That explained why the humans I had met so far hadn’t spoken to me. The thought made me want to vomit. If I hadn’t been assigned to Lara’s service, would the Fae have done the same to me? Mutilated me to prevent my voice from being heard?
“Your handmaiden will spy for us,” Oriana continued. “She will learn everything she can about what the upcoming trials will entail. She will explore deeper, darker places than would have been possible otherwise.”
This sounded very bad. I shifted nervously, and Oriana’s gaze shot to me. “You will do everything you can, human,” she told me in the sharpest tone I’d heard from her yet, “to ensure Lara succeeds. Anything. There are no limits.”
She truly meant it. Anything up to and including murder would be acceptable in her eyes if it helped her child win.
“Yes, my princess.” It was the only answer I could give.
“Earth House is more merciful than most, but even our mercy has limits. If you fail to assist Lara or if you cease to be useful, we will punish you accordingly. You will be sent below to live as the lowliest servant—if I don’t decide to have you executed.”
A chill wormed down my spine as she shifted her attention back to Lara. With her commands and threats delivered, Oriana was apparently done with me.
“Have the human assist you,” she told Lara. “Take her to every event so she can listen for information about the trials. And no matter what, don’t show any weakness—or there will be consequences.”
Lara and I stared at each other after Oriana left.
She looked just as mired in dread as I felt. Why? She wasn’t the one under threat of getting her tongue cut out…but then again, I shouldn’t forget that she, too, risked death if she failed the trials.
She was young, I remembered. Somewhere near my age. I kept thinking of the Fae as if they were all ancient and powerful, but Lara wasn’t. It had been hard enough growing up in the human world—what must it have been like to grow up in the terrifying Fae court, where any weakness invited punishment?
I would do anything to escape, whether that meant playing the perfect servant or becoming Oriana’s spy, and if I couldn’t escape before the trials began, I would help Lara succeed for the same reason. I wouldn’t just be preserving my own life, though. Brat or not, Lara was afraid, and she was in danger.
In that moment, the way I saw my mistress began to shift. Despite her harsh attitude, despite the vast gulf between our stations, we had become reluctant allies in the same fight.
“Can I bring you anything, my lady?” If we were to be allies, I needed to start building a truce with her.
She opened her mouth, then stopped as if reconsidering whatever she was about to say. “Water,” she said at last.
There was a pitcher and glass in her washroom, as there had been in mine. When I returned, Lara accepted the glass silently.
“I’m sorry.” I didn’t know what else to say.
She drank, then closed her eyes and tilted her head back with a sigh. “I don’t want your pity.”
The sharp edges were still there. It would take time for her to accept me, if she ever did. She wasn’t throwing things, though, so I counted this as progress. “Can I do anything else for you, my lady?”
“There’s a lunch I need to attend. Help me get ready.”
Such simple words, but I didn’t even know where to start. “I’ve never served a lady before,” I told her, figuring honesty was required if we were going to get along. “What do you need me to do?”
She rolled her eyes and gestured to the wardrobe. “Pick an outfit.”
I opened the doors and suppressed a gasp at the cascade of fabric that poured out. Most of the gowns were the blue, green, or brown that were so common in Earth House, but a few were pink, cream, or yellow. I trailed a hand over smooth satin, rich velvet, and a fabric so light and sheer it fluttered with every shifting air current. What would a lady wear to lunch? It was all so outrageously beautiful that I had no idea what to choose.
I grabbed an ivory dress at random. The bodice was studded with tiny emeralds, and the skirts fell in a cloud beneath a green satin belt. The sleeves were fine mesh dotted with more emeralds, the fabric so thin it looked like spiderwebs. I held it up, and she looked at me as if I were insane.
“That’s a ball gown,” she said flatly. “This isn’t a ball. This is lunch.”
I cringed. “Of course.” I put the dress back and raked through the others, finally finding one that didn’t look as overwrought as the rest. It was dark green with long sleeves and a scooped neck, and the skirt was covered with black netting. The overall effect reminded me of pine trees in a dark forest—evergreen needles alternating with shadow. I showed it to her, and she nodded.
I helped her dress in silence, quickly learning that the outfits rich ladies wore were unreasonably complicated. There were underthings she had to point me to, and once I’d draped the satin over her full figure, I needed to tighten a seemingly infinite number of laces until the gown accentuated every curve.
I stepped back and appraised her. She looked incredible, the green making her olive-toned skin seem to glow and the neckline highlighting breasts I could only aspire to. “Perfect,” I dared to say.
She cast me another withering look. “Cosmetics?” she asked acidly. “Hair?”
I started sweating. I had encountered cosmetics for the first time this morning. And hair—how did one do a lady’s hair? I thought of Oriana’s complex braids and almost whimpered.
I ushered Lara into the washroom in silence, casting a frantic eye over the dozens of bottles and boxes on the counter. I looked at the inscribed tops, organizing them into areas of the face. Lips, cheeks, eyes. Then I started peeking inside them. There were so many shades—an array of reds and pinks for the lips and cheeks and infinite variations of the rainbow for her eyelids. What was I supposed to do with these?
As I pawed through them in near panic, she sighed. “You don’t know how to use makeup, do you?”
“No, my lady.”
She bustled over and started collecting boxes and brushes from the untidy heaps I’d made. “I can tell by how terribly you applied your eye shadow.”
I flushed. Had I applied it incorrectly?
“Here.” Lara indicated that I should watch. “Do the eyes first.” She lined her eyes with a brown pencil, then smudged deep green eye shadow along her lash line. It looked exactly like what I had done, I thought bitterly, but then she took a lighter pigment and blended it in until faint glimmers of green rose all the way up to her eyebrows.
Oh. Yes, that looked better than what I had done. I compared our faces in the mirror. Now I could see that my blue eye shadow was both asymmetrical and too severe.
Her dark lashes were short but naturally thick, and she brushed an inky pigment over them that emphasized them even more. She used a cloth to clean up stray green powder that had fallen on her round cheeks, then patted on a shimmering coral blush. Then came a cream that deepened the natural berry tone of her lips, and finally she brushed glittering powder from her forehead to her chest, careful to avoid getting it on her dress.
I blinked at her transformed face in the mirror, awed at her skill. She was naturally beautiful, but now she looked unearthly. That innate faerie shine intensified the shimmering colors, and I was reminded of the flashy, glimmering fish that swam around the tunnel entrance to the house.
“I’ll be sure to practice,” I told her.
“Please do.” She returned to the main room, sitting at a vanity that held a looking glass whose gold frame had been fashioned to resemble tree branches. “I used to have the cleverest asrai servant. She was brilliant with cosmetics and hair.” She cast me a bitter look in the mirror. “They sent her to a different family after the king gifted me with you.” Her emphasis on the word gifted told me she still saw me as anything but a gift.
“I’ll learn.”
I brushed out the midnight length of her hair. The texture of it reminded me of Anya’s—soft with a natural wave. Another prick of grief stung my heart as I thought about how Anya and I had braided each other’s hair while sharing town gossip. I’d learned a few simple hairstyles from her—one of those would have to do for Lara. I started braiding her hair above the ear, planning to loop the braid over her head and fix it behind her other ear with pins, leaving the rest to flow freely down her back.
“Are there many families in Earth House?” I asked. I hadn’t explored the entirety of the house yet, but it seemed vast and I’d seen many Noble Fae wandering the halls or lounging in sitting rooms while the servants rushed around.
“Yes,” Lara said. “My mother’s bloodline is the strongest, but there are other Noble Fae families with similar powers.”
“Did your father come from one of those?” I concentrated on pulling more hair into the braid.
She was still for a long moment. “Yes, though I barely knew him.”
I immediately realized I had made a mistake. “I’m sorry.”
She sighed, apparently taking mercy on me. “My father was Oriana’s second consort, and she only chose him a few decades ago. That’s why Selwyn and I are so young compared to the heirs of the other houses. My father died shortly after Selwyn’s birth.”
Selwyn must be the cheerful-looking teenager I’d encountered earlier. “I’m sorry,” I repeated, meeting her eyes in the mirror. “My father abandoned my mother and me when I was only a few years old. I grew up without one as well.” Perhaps this shared pain would be our first common ground.
Her expression gentled. She nodded, silently acknowledging my confession.
The braid was turning out better than I had expected. I was nearly done, and so far it was only a little crooked. I scrambled for another topic of discussion. “So you and Oriana have the same magic?”
That quickly, the softness in her expression vanished. She looked as if I had insulted her. “I only have a little magic,” she said in a biting tone, “because I haven’t undertaken the trials yet.”
I winced. Apparently I had reminded her of another way in which she felt inadequate. “Of course.”
I finished the braid in silence. She studied it in the mirror, blatant skepticism written on her face. “It’s simple.”
“It’s a simple dress.” Not to me, of course, but she nodded as if accepting the logic and rose from her chair.
“Come.” She snapped her fingers as if I were a dog, just as her mother had.
“Where are we going, my lady?” I asked as politely as I could manage.
“Lunch at Light House. Do not embarrass me, or I swear I will have you removed from my service, no matter what Oriana says.”
Our moment of camaraderie was over. I followed her to the main staircase, resisting the urge to roll my eyes. She needed a small victory—I supposed I could understand that. So I played the cowed servant and followed in her wake, trying to look docile.
It wasn’t until later that I remembered what Drustan had told me. Stay away from Light House .