Chapter 22
CHAPTER 22
LARA
O nce I decided to go to the firelords for help, I spent days trying to get Adefina to tell me more about them. The first time I asked, she gave me a suspicious look. “I hope you’re not thinking of doing something foolish.”
“Of course not.” I turned back to rebuilding the fire. “I’m just curious. I’ve never heard of them before. They’re just completely new to me.” I stood up and dusted my hands on my jeans.
When I glanced at her again, Adefina still stared at me through narrowed eyes. “I hope that’s your only motivation. The firelords are vicious, cruel. They will not hesitate to use you and discard you. The Ice Court is positively gentle by comparison.”
“Nope. Just curious.”
I dropped the topic for a full day and didn’t bring it up again until we were sitting by the fire that night as Kila told a Caix version of a campfire horror story.
I’d been drowsing, barely paying attention, when Kila said in a shrill voice, “And that’s when she saw the scales on his neck and realized this was no Starcaix. It was a firelord .” She practically hissed the last word.
I did my best not to perk up too obviously, given Adefina’s reaction when I’d asked about them before. But I couldn’t let this moment pass me by without trying to learn something. “Scales on his neck? That’s how you can tell someone is a firelord?”
Kila’s mouth twisted in irritation. “That’s your reaction to my story? Aren’t you scared at all?”
“I’m sorry, Kila, but I don’t think humans have the same reaction to firelords that the Caix do.”
The Caix looked like she wanted to stomp her foot, but instead, she rolled her eyes and said, “Yes. Most firelords keep some scaled patterning on their skin, even when they’re in the form of real people.”
“How do you know that?” I asked. “Have you ever seen a firelord?”
Kila shivered. “No. And I hope I never do. They eat rayas as snacks.”
“I think it’s time for bed,” Adefina said.
I didn’t object. I needed to think about what to do next. I had no idea how to get back home—but maybe the firelords would know a way.
“Why do the Caix and the firelords hate each other?” I asked Adefina the next afternoon as I helped her roll out dough for Ivrael’s morning bread.
“The hatred runs deep,” Adefina said, her hands never pausing as she worked. “The firelords say we betrayed them during the Great Split, when King Caix created his crown. That we stole their magic and twisted it.” She shook her head. “But ask any Caix child and they'll tell you the firelords were the traitors. That they tried to steal the crown for themselves, to hoard all the power.”
“Which version is true?” I asked, watching as she shaped the dough into perfect rounds.
Adefina's mouth tightened. “Who can say? It was generations ago, and both sides tell the tale differently. But the hatred...” She paused, staring at nothing for a moment. “The hatred is real enough. Fresh enough that it might as well have happened yesterday.”
I considered this as I helped her arrange the bread on the baking sheet. The way she spoke of it reminded me of old family feuds back home, where no one quite remembered what started the fighting, but everyone was too invested to stop.
“Do you ever see them? The firelords?”
“Here?” Adefina scoffed, but her eyes darted toward the window. “Of course not. We keep to our own territories.”
“So they have their own lands?” I tried to sound casual, though my heart raced at this first detailed piece of information about the Icecaix’s enemies.
“Aye. The duke’s domain borders theirs. But His Lordship’s lands are the only Caix holdings that touch the firelords’ lands. And there’s only the one pass through the Ashenfang mountains, so it’s easy enough for us to stay on our side.”
“I thought the firelords could fly?”
“Of course. But it’s in their best interest to maintain the treaty, as well.”
“What about the flying Caix? Like the Starcaix rayas? Or those flying horses of Ivrael’s? Couldn’t the Caix just fly over the mountains, too?”
Adefina shook her head. “Caix magic doesn’t work in the mountain pass, nor in the firelands.”
“Why not?” I frowned. “Wait. Does that have something to do with the crown you told me about?”
“Hush, child.” Adefina craned her neck around to make sure no one was nearby—as if anyone could have managed to sneak into the kitchen while we weren’t looking.
“Even if our magics worked in the firelands,” she finally said, “no Caix would use them.”
“Why not?”
“The treaty forbids it.”
I tilted my head, considering what other questions might help me learn everything I might need to know about the firelords—and more to the point, about how to reach them. “What if the Caix wanted to update that treaty? How would they get in touch with the firelords?”
Adefina shook her head. “His Lordship has maps showing the pass through the mountains. Anyone who wanted to talk to a firelord would have to pass through the dukedom first—and the duke of these lands has never been known to share that information freely.” Her expression turned suspicious. “Why so many questions?”
“No reason. Just curious.” I dropped the topic again, determined to make it seem like all my interest in the firelords was casual.
But the next time I was sent to dust upstairs, I ducked into Ivrael’s study, looking for maps as I ran my feather duster over various surfaces that had probably already been dusted. It was as good an excuse as any to go digging through his papers.
Unfortunately, I didn’t find anything that day—and all too soon, voices in the hallway sent me scuttling away, afraid of getting caught.
The next time I pulled the I’m-dusting-in-here, don’t-mind-me trick, I actually saw the map—or what I was fairly certain was the map, anyway. It was housed in a locked glass case. Folded in half, barely peeking out from under several other maps, with the image of wings just visible on the section that was showing.
I needed an extended time to work in Ivrael’s study, a time when I was less likely to be interrupted and could figure out how to pick the lock on the case. Or at least a time when no one would hear when I broke the glass on the case and ran. A time when no one would be looking for me, when I’d have lots of lead time to get away from Starfrost Manor.
So when I learned of the ball for Prince Jonyk, I knew that was my chance.
No one would need me. And no one would miss me, more to the point. The servants who weren’t slated to work that evening were planning their own party behind the kitchen, and I had already told Adefina that I had no interest in attending.
Now that I have my opportunity planned, I just have to wait. And try not to think too hard about what I am going to do after I get the map. I have a vague idea of heading toward the firelord mountains I can see from the courtyard, but what I've learned about the firelords is contradictory and confusing.
Adefina gives me plenty of work to do, and Kila keeps me company while I work in the kitchen the afternoon before Prince Jonyk’s arrival, buzzing around my head as she helps season dishes for the ball. I appreciate the distraction of her constant chatter—it keeps me from obsessing over my plan.
“Do you have stories where you come from?” she asks as she sprinkles spices across a platter of raw meat. “Like we do about the Great Split and the crown?”
I pause in my own work, remembering all the tales my mother used to tell Izzy and me. “Of course, everything about your people is considered a fairy tale in my world.”
Kila’s expression turns confused. “What’s a fairy tale?”
“You know—fairy tales. Where the handsome prince rescues the princess from the dragon and?—”
“What’s a dragon?”
I frown, momentarily distracted from my darker thoughts. “Well, it’s kind of a giant flying...I guess you don’t know what a lizard is.” They stare at me blankly as I fumble for words. “A dragon is a...a giant creature with huge teeth and wings. And it flies around. And sometimes out its mouth—or maybe its nose—anyway, it breathes fire?—”
Synchronized gasps of horror from everyone in the room stop my description cold.
“What?” I glance around at the matching expressions of disgust.
“You have firelords in your tales? And didn’t you say pixies are a kind of fairy? You have firelords in the same stories as pixies?” Kila’s voice is pitched so high I can barely make out the words in her shrill trilling voice. “So you have firelords and Starcaix raya in the same stories?”
“I guess dragons are kind of like your firelords, yeah,” I say—but I’m speaking slowly as I begin piecing together the fragments of information I’ve been gathering over the last year. “And pixies are fairies who are kind of like Starcaix raya. So sure, I guess that means our fairy tales have Starcaix raya and firelords in the same stories. Why not?”
Dragons. The firelords are fucking dragons .
“The Caix and the firelords have been at odds for generations,” Adefina reminds me.
“I don’t think anybody in my world actually knows that. Honestly, as far as I know, humans would think you’re all equally fictional.”
“Fictional?” Kila’s voice comes down a few octaves.
“Not real,” I explain.
The raya’s wings buzz so hard in agitation that her whole body lifts up off the table. “Humans think we’re made of lies?” So much for her voice coming down.
I snort, looking for the right words to encompass all my recent musings about the genre. In the end, I say, “More or less. Most humans wouldn’t believe the Caix truly exist.”
Kila begins peppering me with questions. “Why would they have tales about creatures like us at all, then? How long has it been since your people believed in us? How many lies can you tell in a row? Are there no punishments for lying in your world?”
With a laugh, Adefina puts her hands on her knees and pushes herself out of her chair. “Time to get back to work.”
N ow that the night of the ball is almost here, I’m more excited than I expected to be. Choosing to ask the firelords for help might be a mistake—but so is staying here. The longer I wait, the closer Izzy’s birthday draws, and the more likely it becomes that Ivrael will get whatever it is he wants with Izzy and me.
Sleep eludes me as I lie on my pallet by the hearth, my mind racing with plans for tomorrow. Adefina retired to her room hours ago, leaving me alone with only the crackling fire and Kila’s tiny snores from where she’s curled up in the crook of my neck.
The creak of the door jolts me fully awake.
Baron Svalkat stands in the entrance. My heart constricts as he takes a step inside, then another. His boots make no sound on the stone floor.
“What a charming scene.” His voice carries that oily smoothness that always makes my skin crawl. “The human pet and her little pet, all cozy by the fire.”
I sit up slowly, careful not to dislodge Kila. “The kitchen is off-limits to guests at night, sir.”
“Is it?” He drifts closer, and I catch the scent of wine on his breath. “How fortunate, then, that I don’t consider myself a guest. More of an...” He pauses, his gaze settling on the neckline of the dress I still wear. “An interested observer.”
Kila stirs, her wings buzzing in sleepy confusion. Before she can fully wake, Svalkat’s hand whips out with shocking speed. He snatches her up, ignoring her squeak of protest.
“Such a delicate creature.” He examines her like a butterfly he’s caught, his fingers pressing just hard enough to make her gasp. “I’ve always wondered how much pressure it would take to crush those tiny wings.”
“Don’t hurt her.” The words scrape out of my suddenly dry throat. “Please.”
His smile widens, showing too many teeth. “Please? How polite.” He glances around the kitchen, then moves to where empty preserving jars line a shelf. One-handed, he selects a jar and drops Kila inside, screwing the lid on tight. Her muffled shouts barely penetrate the thick glass.
She’ll suffocate , I start to say—but at least she’s out of his grasp. I remain silent.
“There.” He sets the jar on a high shelf, well out of my reach. “Now we can speak privately.”
I scramble to my feet, putting the hearth between us. “We have nothing to discuss.”
“Oh, I disagree.” He begins moving around the fire, stalking me with predatory grace. “I find you fascinating. A mere human who’s caught our duke’s eye? Who’s earned his protection?” He taps his lips, smirking all the while. “I simply must know your secret.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I edge away, trying to keep the distance between us constant. “I’m just a servant.”
“Oh, no, no. Truth binds reality, my dear. Lies allow chaos to seep through the cracks.” He’s moving faster now, herding me toward the corner. “I’ve seen how he watches you. How he threatens anyone who dares touch his precious pet.” His voice drops lower, almost intimate. “I wonder if you’re worth the risk.”
My back hits the wall. Svalkat’s body blocks any escape route, his bulk casting me in shadow.
“Please.” I hate the tremor in my voice. “Don’t.”
“Shhh.” He reaches out, trailing one finger down my cheek. His touch is cold, alien. “No need for fear. I simply want to understand what makes you so...special.”
I try to duck under his arm, but he catches my hair, yanking me back against the wall. Stars burst behind my eyes at the impact. Through my daze, I hear Kila’s frantic beating against the glass jar.
“Now, now.” Svalkat presses closer, his free hand moving to grip my throat. “Let’s not make this unpleasant. Though I must admit, your fear is intoxicating.”
His fingers tighten, cutting off my air. Black spots dance at the edges of my vision as he leans in, his tongue flicking out to taste my skin at my jawline. I want to scream, to fight, to do anything—but my body won’t respond.
“I wonder,” he muses, “if you’ll taste as sweet as you smell. If you’ll break as prettily as you tremble.” His hand slides down from my throat to my collarbone. “Shall we find out?”
Terror claws through me, sharp and metallic. This isn’t happening. Can’t be happening. But Svalkat’s weight pins me to the wall, and Kila’s desperate cries echo in my ears as the darkness closes in.
I’ve never felt so helpless. Not even when Ivrael bought me.
So afraid.