Chapter 29
“Her hair is in a hopeless tangle.” My head jerks to the side as a comb is run through my braid, trying to unravel it.
“She’s human, Gallie,” says a soft voice. “Be careful.”
Am I dead? Is this some sort of hell?
Something clamors against a table. “Hopeless, see? We’re better off cutting the knots out.” Movement, right next to me. Rummaging.
“Don’t—don’t touch me,” I say feebly, hoping they didn’t already take off my clothing and see what’s underneath. “Please.”
A pause.
I open my eyes to see two stunningly beautiful women.
Their tan skin is glimmering, like they’ve been brushed by starlight.
Their eyes are like freshly cut emeralds.
Unlike mine right now, their hair shines, tied into perfectly smooth waterfall braids running down both sides of their heads, before meeting in the back to form an intricate shape.
A blooming rose, for one. A bow, for the other.
They’re wearing gleaming, otherworldly fabrics, one in pink, the other in purple.
I blink, confused, unbelieving. The last thing I remember is gates, crafted from wood. Were we saved?
The silver woman, she—
“She’s awake!” the one in purple says. Gallie, apparently. The one who wanted to cut my hair.
“We won’t,” the one in pink says, in response to me.
If my dirt-crusted discomfort is any indication, they didn’t try to change me out of my clothes, whoever they are. I look down to see I’ve ruined the perfect, silk-soft linens they placed me on.
It makes me think of someone else who would be just as dirty as I am right now.
“Where … where is he?” I ask warily, a pinch of worry forming in my chest. I remember the poison. How we both collapsed.
Gallie smiles mischievously. “Just down the hall. Growling at anyone who goes anywhere near him.”
Yes. That sounds exactly like normal Raker behavior. Relief runs through me, far sharper than expected.
“He’s handsome,” Gallie says, smiling.
I frown. “You saw his face?”
“No,” she says. “But I can tell. Just by the way he walks.” So he’s up and walking? I don’t know who these people are … but clearly, they healed us. I swallow, only to feel my throat smooth again. As if they somehow fed me water while I was sleeping.
The one in pink shakes her head in a long-suffering way.
“He’s a demon,” I tell Gallie.
She shrugs. “Demons can be handsome.”
“And how would you know that?” the one in pink snaps, exasperated.
I blink at them. They seem friendly, but what if they’re not? “Who—who are you?”
The one in pink smiles. “I’m Este. This is my sister, Galice.”
Sister. I feel the familiar pang of sadness, seeing them together, remembering what I once had.
“I’m Aris,” I say slowly.
Then, suddenly, I feel a rush of panic. Something is missing. “Where’s my sword?” No one is supposed to be able to move it.
I’m still alive …
Did it choose someone else? Did it abandon me?
Gallie blinks, unfazed by my alarm. “The blacksmith took them. Weapons aren’t allowed here.”
“How—how did he move it?”
Este’s voice is more understanding. “Blacksmiths have ways with metal. They can move any sword, even claimed ones. Even ancient ones. It’s their power.”
My first instinct is to not believe her. I don’t believe any of them. She’s immortal. She’s glowing, though faintly.
But when she puts her hand on mine, I see something in her. Something that reminds me of the mysterious woman who led us to safety.
“The Elders will explain everything.” Este rises, offering her hand. “Come. We’ve drawn a bath.”
I blink. I should run out of this room. I should find my sword, and Raker, and get the hell out of here.
But I’m still exhausted. And … they clearly helped us. Trust, I think, must sometimes be worth it. So I follow her through the ornate, strange room and into another.
The bath is a massive sparkling geode filled with steaming water, with flower petals and sprigs of lavender swirling on the surface.
“These will help with your pain and injuries,” she says, motioning toward the nature. “The plants have healing properties. We already put some on your forehead while you were sleeping.” So that’s why I feel strong enough to stand. It must have counteracted the poison somehow.
“Here you go,” Gallie says, offering an entire tray of different soaps.
“Use all of them. Please.” There are roses and valerian woven through the thick pieces, but even then, they don’t smell half as good as Raker’s.
“And this.” She places vials of oils and liquids on the lip of the tub.
“You need to wash your hair like twelve times,” she says, before Este shoots her a look.
“What? She ruined my comb. It was from a siren!” She holds up what looks like snapped sea glass.
I don’t know whether to laugh or scoff, but Este grabs her sister by the arm and drags her through the towering bathroom doors. They whisper shut.
And then I’m left alone.
I look around the room. It’s made of bark, leaves covering the walls, ivy crawling across it.
There are no windows. I lock the doors, just in case.
Then, carefully, I take off my clothing.
My skin is raw and dry. Dirt has crusted around my ankles and wrists. I slowly lower myself into the bath and tense, before sighing in relief.
Este was right. The bath does help. I pour what looks like honey into my hand and smell it. It’s sweet and rich, a nectar that glides across my skin effortlessly. There are a thousand sparkles inside. It makes my body gleam.
The next is purple, like Gallie’s dress. I put it in my hair, sliding my fingers against my scalp, then washing every strand.
Another smells like the sea. It’s a thick paste, with salt and dark sand. I use it to get the dirt off. I scrub and scrub, and for a moment, I enjoy.
This journey is not about pleasure, but right now I let myself sit back and breathe. I’m alive. I’m here in this mysterious, glittering place. I’ve made it this far.
Another brush has been left by the tub. I comb it through my hair, starting at the bottom. It takes several minutes, and winces, but finally, under the oil’s command, it goes smooth again, the knots forgotten.
I mourn the bath the second I step out of it. A cloud of a towel is waiting on a stone surface. It wraps completely around me, like a blanket, and is as soft as one. Only when I frown at my pile of dirty clothing do I wonder what I’m going to wear.
I don’t wonder for long. The door creaks slightly as I poke my head out into the room, relieved to find it empty.
A pile of dresses is stacked on the bed.
Este and Gallie must have noticed the modesty of my clothing, because all of them are long-sleeved and high-necked, unlike theirs, which showed plenty of skin. A warm seed forms in my chest at that notice. At that consideration.
My hands run through the fabrics with wonder. They feel liquid. They glow as if drenched in moonlight, almost as brightly as the ones the woman who saved me wore.
Who was she?
I choose a dark blue one that molds to my form but feels like I’m not wearing anything at all.
It’s a balm against my tired, aching skin, and puddles at my feet.
I decide to go barefoot, not in a rush to be in my cramped boots so soon.
Instead of braiding my hair back into my typical style, I shrug and keep it down to dry.
The moment I step out of the room, Gallie and Este stop speaking. They’ve been waiting there.
Gallie blinks. “Wow. The oils work wonders.”
Este squeezes her arm. Her face brightens. “You look vibrant, Aris. You always did, but now …”
“I’m not covered in dirt and mud?”
She smiles. “Exactly.” She motions me forward. “Come. They’ll want to see you.”
Right. The mysterious Elders she mentioned before. I follow the sisters down bridges that cut through trees and are suspended with dangling vines.
I see him first.
Raker, his sword on his back despite the rules. I almost smile, imagining his fury when he woke up without it. I pity the blacksmith.
His hood is still up, of course, mask still on. His clothes are washed. His boots aren’t covered in mud anymore. I can see by the set of his shoulders that he’s on guard and irritated. He’s very noticeably turned away from the two people next to him.
Este and Gallie bow. “Elders. May we present Aris.”
A man and a woman turn, and I’m momentarily stunned by their brilliance. Their skin is smooth as stone. There’s a soft silver glow around their bodies, and their hair and clothes float in a gentle wind reserved just for them.
The man wears a suit of silk, with glowing leaves accenting his shoulders.
His buttons are made from acorns. His skin is dark, his eyes a searing amber.
The woman is wearing a dress of glimmering, slightly transparent gossamer.
It hardly covers much. Pink roses are stuck on the fabric and on her moon-white skin.
She wears several layers of glittering necklaces around her neck.
She smiles, and it’s like a ray of sunshine. “You were asleep for a while. We were starting to worry.”
By we, I suppose she means her and the man next to her, because I don’t see a hint of worry in Raker’s posture. If anything, he looks angry.
She picks a flower from the plant next to her and offers it to me. It has a long green stem and curved, bulbous, light pink petals, shaped like a goblet. Inside sits slightly silvery water. “Drink,” she says, her voice slightly resonant and drawn out. “It will help the thirst and hunger.”
I’ve never drunk from a flower before, but I bring the petals to my lips, and they’re soft as velvet. The liquid smells sweet.
I tip it back like a cup, and the moment the nectar hits my tongue, sweetness melts through my mouth. It’s not just the taste. Instantly, I feel the balm in my bones, the energy through my limbs. It’s as if I’ve slept a full month and eaten a feast.
I throw my head back, draining every last drop. When I finally put the flower down, the Eldress is smiling. “Better?”