Chapter 14
14
Lara and I both slept until early afternoon, since the revelry hadn’t ended until after dawn. Lara had been ebullient when I’d helped her undress after the celebration. “Did you see their faces? They didn’t believe I could do it.”
I’d smiled, even as a small, uncharitable part of me thought, You didn’t do it . I did.
Then she’d gripped my hands. “Thank you.” She’d given me a genuine smile, and my resentment had dissipated at that simple sign of gratitude.
Her good humor continued that afternoon. When she’d finally rung for me, all she’d requested was that I have the kitchen send up a tray. The rest of the day was mine to do whatever I wished with. What I wanted was to keep sleeping, but there was no way I would squander an opportunity like this.
I set out with two specific goals. The other human servants couldn’t speak out loud due to the Fae barbarity that had seized their tongues, but I’d realized they communicated with one another in some sort of sign language. The fluttering hands of the woman I’d met my first day in Earth House had been my first hint, and since then I’d seen others employing the same motions. I planned to visit the human levels and ask them to teach me. The second goal was to continue exploring the catacombs. Perhaps I would see or hear something useful, like information to feed Kallen or details that would aid my eventual escape.
The human levels were very different from the Fae levels.
They were deeper underground, and I emerged from a staircase into a narrow hallway with a low ceiling and uneven cobbled floor. There were no crystals to simulate daytime; guttering torches provided the only illumination, the walls above them blackened from centuries of flame. It smelled like smoke, sweat, and excrement.
There were no closed doors down here, only open archways. I passed countless workrooms where men and women sewed, polished silver ornaments, scrubbed pans, sorted grains and lentils, ironed, folded, and cleaned. It seemed the more menial household tasks were delegated to humans rather than Underfae, although that couldn’t always be true; there were Underfae in Earth House who cleaned, ironed, and folded as well. Maybe Oriana didn’t want supposedly inferior human hands touching her linens.
I received a few curious glances, but no one approached. It was eerily quiet without normal servant chatter, but hands flashed everywhere and occasionally a laugh or grunt broke the silence.
The workrooms gave way to chambers filled with rows of tiny beds stacked one atop the other. There were no doors here, either. Was it a subtle exercise of Fae power, stripping the humans of their right to privacy?
It felt like walking through an animal’s burrow: dark and claustrophobic, the air foul. I felt ill after only a few minutes. The faces I passed were haggard and many bodies were stooped with age or the effects of hard labor, but despite the grim surroundings, many wore smiles and animated expressions as they signed. People finding joy in one another despite the circumstances.
Then I heard faint sobbing from down the hall.
I followed the weeping, curious. In one of the rooms, a woman sat on a bed with her arms wrapped around her knees. Her reddish-brown hair hung to the floor, shielding her face. Beside her sat an elderly woman who rubbed her back comfortingly.
“I’m afraid,” the woman whispered.
I jolted in surprise at the words, and both women looked up like startled rabbits.
“Forgive me for intruding,” I said, raising my hands disarmingly. “I wanted to meet other humans.”
The old woman looked at me suspiciously, but the younger woman—who I could now see possessed a beautiful pair of brown eyes—seemed struck with wonder. “Did they just release you from the king’s brothel, too?”
Brothel . The word was a fist to my stomach. I tried to keep pity out of my voice. “No, I’m a handmaiden in Earth House.”
The woman sat straighter, brushing tears off her cheeks. “I’ve heard about you. I had a visitor on the solstice.” Her voice faltered on the word visitor , and I knew what she meant. “Why didn’t they cut out your tongue?”
“I have to talk to my mistress. Why didn’t they cut out yours?”
She flinched. “Because it was needed.”
Oh. I winced at my own thoughtlessness, the unintentional cruelty. “I’m so sorry,” I said. “I didn’t even know there was a brothel down here. I don’t know anything about the other humans. My name is Kenna, by the way.”
“I’m Triana.” Triana gestured at the woman who still rubbed circles on her back. “This is Maude. She’s been here the longest of anyone, and she came from the brothel, too.”
Maude’s fingertips were stained a familiar green and yellow—she must be an herbworker, turning plants into potions and poultices. The ache of sorrow below my breastbone deepened. In summer it would be two years since my mother had passed, but sometimes small things like this would remind me of her and then grief would rip over me like a sudden gust of wind.
I pressed a hand over my heart and bowed my head. “It’s nice to meet you both. As nice as it can be in the circumstances, anyway.”
Maude’s expression softened, and Triana’s lips curved in a melancholy smile. “Our lives have taken a turn, haven’t they?”
“How long have you been here?” I asked. Maybe I should have left her to her grief, but her eyes were brighter now, and she looked as interested in talking to me as I was in talking to her. “And where did you come from? I’m from Tumbledown.”
“Oh, Tumbledown! I’ve been there. I lived in Alethorpe, and I was stolen from my bed eight years ago.” Triana shivered. “An Illusion Underfae was looking for women. The king likes variety.”
Alethorpe was a village a day’s ride from Tumbledown; it was possible I’d seen her at a long-ago festival. Here was proof of what Aidan had told me: that the king abducted humans on a whim. Fresh fury filled me at the thought, and I let it push aside the sorrow. Anger was easier to feel.
I looked at Maude. “I don’t speak your sign language yet; I’m sorry. But were you also from Alethorpe?”
She nodded, mouth turned down and the weight of years in her eyes.
“The Elders never told us any of this,” I said, hating those village leaders nearly as much as I hated King Osric. “What the Fae are truly like, what they do to people.” Instead they’d filled our heads with empty dreams. All that talk of blessings and how the Fae whispered in their ears and guided their hands…Had they known the cruel truth, or had they been as ignorant as the rest of us, inventing their own authority?
The latter, I’d bet. And the Elders would never be the ones who paid the price for their own lies. It was paid by people like Triana and Maude, like Anya…even people like my mother, who had given her best years to faith and died praying for a salvation that never came.
“I was a true believer once.” Triana’s mouth twisted bitterly. “Would you believe that at first I was happy to be stolen away? I thought I was going to be showered in riches. That maybe the Fae had seen something in me no one else ever had.” She dipped her head, hiding her expression behind her hair. “They saw something in me, all right.”
Maude made a soft noise in her throat and stroked a stained hand over Triana’s hair.
“Was everyone down here stolen from their beds the same way?” I asked.
“Yes, for the most part. Usually because they were beautiful or particularly strong. But others were brought here as babies.”
At first I thought I’d misunderstood her—the idea was too abhorrent. “Did you say babies ? Why?”
“Who knows? Probably to train them as servants from birth.”
A shiver raced through me. “I can’t imagine growing up here.”
Triana smiled sadly. “I suppose we were lucky in that sense. At least we know what the outside world looks like. There are some down here who have never seen the sun.” She patted the open portion of the bed beside her. “Come, make yourself comfortable.” Maude nodded, echoing the invitation.
I sat, grateful for the hospitality. “You said they released you from the brothel?” I asked hesitantly.
“Yes.” Triana drew a steadying breath. “I’m too old to appeal to them anymore. Most of the Noble Fae like their whores young and…unblemished. At least for a while.” Her shoulders curled inward at the words, and Maude made another soft noise and wrapped an arm around her.
Everything about this was sickening. “So you’ll become a servant now.”
“Thankfully, yes.”
I frowned, remembering the heartbroken sound of her weeping echoing down the hallway. “You said you were afraid, though. What are you afraid of?” Wouldn’t cleaning and mending be better than whatever she’d endured in the brothel? There was a world of difference between choosing to trade one’s body for coin and being forced to—not that I imagined the Noble Fae compensated humans for their suffering.
“It’s silly.” Fresh tears seeped from Triana’s eyes. “I wanted this for so long and I told myself any sacrifice would be worth it, but now that it’s finally here…I’m afraid to lose my tongue.”
I recoiled. “They’re still going to cut it out?” I should have expected it from the Fae, but still—the barbarity was shocking.
“Tomorrow morning. Underfae from Fire House will cut it and cauterize the wound, and then I’ll be like everyone else.” She shuddered. “It’s still better than the brothel.”
“I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine.” For all that I was a prisoner, my life underground was practically paradise compared to what Triana had experienced, and I felt guilty at the thought. “Do you know sign language?”
“A little. We were kept separate from the other humans, but we learned some. Maude’s going to teach me more.”
I hesitated, wondering if I could ask to join those lessons or if my very presence would remind Triana of what she had lost—of what I was still in possession of purely by chance. “May I join you sometimes?” I asked. “I’d love to get to know you and learn sign language.”
Triana looked at Maude. “What do you think?”
Maude studied me with dark, penetrating eyes, then nodded.
Triana smiled. “Then yes.”
After thanking Maude and Triana profusely, I left, not wanting to intrude on Triana’s sorrow any longer.
I’d noticed a flickering secret door in the corridor, but I left via the main stairwell in case anyone was watching. Other stairs led to deeper levels where more humans lived. I wondered how many people were housed here. Hundreds, at the least. A shocking number of people to have been stolen from their beds without the human world noticing, but then again, I’d heard occasional stories in Tumbledown about people disappearing: presumably lost to the bog, runaways, or murdered.
I found another entrance to the catacombs a few levels up and slipped inside before pulling a piece of parchment and a pen from my pouch. My mental map wasn’t enough, considering how many levels and corridors wound through Mistei, so I’d started documenting my discoveries. I sketched the layout of the human section.
It would have been easy to get lost in the catacombs, but two things worked in my favor. One was that I would always reach the underground river eventually, which I could then follow back to Earth House. The other was that there were so many openings—both traditional doors and peepholes for spying—that I was likely to find an exit in a familiar location. Nevertheless, I made sure to document my route as I set off down the tunnel.
This section of the catacombs was rough-hewn, and I walked carefully, the glowing key illuminating my path as the tunnel sloped upward. Eventually that light was joined by illumination from a small hole in the wall. I squinted through it, wishing I could study the peephole from the other side to see how it had been hidden from sharp Fae eyes. Perhaps it blended into a wall decoration.
The tiny hole looked out on a corridor near Fire House. The torches shone red gold, and the crystals in the ceiling were warm with late afternoon light. A cluster of laughing children darted past.
I hadn’t seen many children in Mistei. The candidates were the youngest faeries at court or any of the formal dinners, and while there were children in Earth House, they didn’t often go exploring. Probably because the royal court was dangerous even for full-grown faeries.
There were other openings nearby, so I continued investigating, peering through peepholes and pressing my ear against cracks and hidden doors. Most conversations I overheard were light, the topics ranging from fashion to the trials to the upcoming spring equinox celebration. I kept moving until I found a small stained glass window set at eye level. The sharp-edged design depicted a bonfire, and light from within the room cast shards of color over the corridor.
I squinted through the distorted glass, trying to determine which room this was. There were shelves along the walls—a library or study. Three figures leaned over a desk in the center of the room, two wearing pale clothing and one in dark red, but I couldn’t make out their features.
I pressed my ear to the glass, straining to make out the faint words.
“That display was more sickening than usual.” The voice belonged to Drustan.
“It’s always sickening,” an unfamiliar female voice replied.
“Usually there aren’t quite so many to kill, though. His tolerance for dissent is diminishing. Soon it will be illegal to even think something negative about him.”
“We should watch our words,” another male voice said. “Lord Kallen is said to have spies lurking in every corner.”
I winced.
“I warded the door, and if there was magic in this room, I would sense it. Even Kallen’s sight has limits.”
“Still, perhaps temper the words used to discuss our dear king. We want to show you the roster.”
Drustan sighed. “Very well. His depravity won’t last for much longer, anyway.”
The conversation stopped, replaced by the rustling of paper and a few murmurs too low to make out. Though I strained to see through the warped glass, it was impossible to tell what roster they were reviewing or who the other two speakers were.
My heart raced, and I felt a bit sick. Drustan had not only criticized the king but implied his days were numbered. That was treason, and Kallen would definitely want to hear about it.
“What about Beltane?” the female faerie finally asked loud enough for me to hear. “Do we want to make connections?”
“No,” Drustan said. “Too much risk. Osric has allies in Grimveld.”
“Elsmere is about to gain new leadership, though. Young and untested, possibly malleable.”
“You always hear the most interesting rumors. I wish you’d tell me where.”
“Some secrets are mine to keep.”
I wasn’t entirely sure what they were talking about. Grimveld was a country to the northwest of Enterra, across the mountains we called the Giants’ Teeth, after a legend so old all but the name had been forgotten. In Grimveld’s icy plains, it was rumored day and night each lasted six months. They were said to have Fae, too, who wore ice as armor and rode creatures spun from snow. Elsmere wasn’t a place-name I’d heard before, though, nor did I understand what Beltane had to do with anything.
“It’s a decent suggestion,” Drustan said, “but young and untested isn’t what we need, and the bonds between us were never strong.”
The other male faerie spoke up then. “Outside forces will also have outside opinions.”
“True,” the lady said.
“Besides, Kallen is always whispering in ears at these events,” Drustan said. “If they’re malleable, he’ll have molded them before we can even make an introduction.”
More soft, indistinct murmurs followed, then more rustling paper. Eventually a door opened and closed, and after that nothing moved in the library.
I felt cold, shivering from more than just the damp chill of the corridor. Even without understanding the specifics of what they had discussed, I knew that conversation had been a significant one. Kallen was expecting a report from me soon—what else did I have to give him?
I wasn’t willing to betray Drustan, though—especially if he was plotting against the king.