Chapter 3 False Dawn
three
False Dawn
Miralyte
The sky was the most violent shade of red I had ever seen.
Blood clouds, I thought. A sky covered in blood.
"Dawn is coming." Ciradyl sighed.
"Perfect," I muttered. "Can't wait to be half-blind when I miss the shot and scare everything back into the woods."
"You won't miss."
"I missed yesterday."
"That was a rock."
"It looked like a rabbit."
Ciradyl smirked and passed me another arrow. "You've got good instincts. Terrible eyesight, but good instincts."
I rolled my eyes. "One day, when I'm famous and wealthy and own ten estates, I'll hire someone to shoot for me."
"Until then," Ciradyl handed me the bow and nodded toward the treeline, "we hunt our own game. Father expects us back with meat before midday."
Father had taught us both to hunt after Mother died bringing me into the world. Ciradyl had inherited his keen eye and steady hand. I inherited his stubborn streak and little else.
"You know I'm terrible at aiming."
"So practice. I certainly cannot do everything myself."
"Maybe I prefer being useless."
"Hush." She cuffed me upside the head, ruffling my hair. "Come, Summerchild, let's see what you can manage. Mind your stance."
She always called me that. Summerchild. Not because I was born in summer, but because winter had begun the day I came into the world, and Father joked I'd dragged the last warmth with me.
To Ciradyl, it meant stubborn, soft, too bright for my own good.
She knew I hated it. Which only made her use it more.
A branch cracked in the underbrush ahead. Ciradyl's head snapped toward the sound, her entire body going still like a predator lying in wait. Her hand was already at the knife on her belt, fingers wrapped around the hilt like she was born holding it.
"Father's waiting," she whispered, eyes never leaving the treeline. "We cannot return empty-handed again."
We started moving through the withered birch trees, stepping carefully to avoid the worst of the snow. As we approached the river, Ciradyl suddenly raised her hand. I froze.
A gust of wind parted the branches like curtains, revealing what lay ahead.
A stag moved through the snow—a great beast, pure white with an enormous rack. Its antlers gleamed red as fresh blood in the dawn light. It lowered its muzzle, sniffing the ground.
I drew an arrow, notching it, pulling the bowstring to my ear.
Ciradyl immediately made me lower the bow. When I looked closer at the creature, I realized its shape was wrong. Too tall. Too graceful. The antlers curved in impossible spirals.
"What is that?"
"An emberhart," Ciradyl breathed. "Don't shoot. It could belong to the fae."
The creature was beautiful, with pale fur that seemed to glow with its own light. I couldn't tear my gaze away.
"It's said to bring good fortune if you let it pass unharmed," Ciradyl explained, never breaking eye contact with the beast. "If you see one and spare it, you'll receive a boon."
The emberhart raised its head and took three measured steps toward me before lowering itself to the ground. Slowly, carefully, I extended my hand toward its face.
The moment it touched me, lightning shot through my entire body. The feeling spread through every inch of me, warming me, filling me with light. An unfamiliar calm settled over me.
"Do you feel the light?" Ciradyl spoke up. "In your blood and bones, do you feel it burning?"
"What? I don't understand—"
The light in me began to rise like a tide.
"Oh, Summerchild, you do."
A burst of golden light flooded my vision as I awoke and found myself in a grand room, surrounded by stone walls draped in rich blue tapestries.
The sheets underneath me were softer than anything I had ever slept on, and the pillows smelled like cinnamon and pine.
I rubbed my eyes, trying to recall where I was.
The Thunder Court. I was in the Thunder Court. And this was the bedchamber they'd given me for the night.
Pelbie lay beside me, still sleeping, her dark curls spread like a halo around her head. Her chest rose and fell with even breaths. She looked peaceful, safe. I didn't want to wake her.
But then I remembered where we were, what they planned for us, and I reached over to shake her shoulder. "Pelbie? Wake up."
She opened her eyes slowly. "Mira?"
"I had another strange dream," I told her, uncertain of myself. In the world of the fae, you could never trust anything. "I saw my sister again. Ciradyl. We were hunting together."
Pelbie squinted at me, growing more alert. "What kind of vision?"
"We found this creature—an emberhart. When it touched me, I felt..." I searched for words. "I felt light. Like fire in my blood."
Sometimes the details shifted in these visions—had Ciradyl's hair been golden like mine, or darker?
Had the emberhart's antlers been red or silver?
The images came in fragments, like pieces of a broken mirror, and I couldn't tell if they were true memories or dreams my mind conjured in this strange realm.
Before Pelbie could respond, the door swung open.
There stood Karys. When she spotted us, her dark blue eyes narrowed.
"Rise and dress yourselves quickly. And wipe those miserable expressions off your faces. This is not a cage, my little ones. But how you behave will decide how free you feel inside it." She waved her hand and the fireplace in the wall opposite lit up with a blaze of white flames.
"There." She pointed at the dresses waiting in front of it. "Wear those when you come down to break your fast."
"What of our training?" Pelbie asked.
"You will begin tomorrow morning. Today, you will rest, and our healers will examine you. I trust there are no objections to that?"
"No, my lady," Pelbie said, lowering her eyes. She was always so polite. Always the model of perfect obedience. It irked me, seeing how easily she acquiesced to the fae.
"Will we have any say in who trains us?" I asked.
Karys’s lips peeled back just enough to show teeth. "None at all. You will be assigned a master and you will obey their every command."
"Who will that be?" Pelbie's voice shook slightly.
"You shall find out soon enough." Karys's smile grew wider, showing her teeth. "Now, hurry along, little ones. We haven't all day. The breakfast hall is downstairs, take the main passage to the left."
With that, she left the room.
We rose and dressed in the soft, gray robes we'd been provided. The lighter the robe, the lower the status. Karys and her peers all wore deep blue robes of a thicker material.
We walked down the main passage to the left, as instructed. As we descended the spiral staircase, the sound of laughter and voices washed over us. Hundreds of Vessels were already seated around the tables in the spacious hall.
The interior was enormous, easily able to fit the entire village of Erram. The ceilings stretched on, dozens of feet high, held aloft by arches studded with large veins of amethyst. On either side of us, dozens of enormous windows stood, sunlight spilling inside.
The breakfast tables had all been set up with steaming plates and bowls of food and flasks filled with what I suspected was wine.
There were piles of cheese, of fruits, of cured meats, of toasted bread.
It all smelled delicious, and the savory scents wafted to my nose, tickling my appetite and stirring my stomach to life.
We approached the closest table and sat on the opposite side from the blacksmith's son, Terys, who looked up at us with dark, guarded eyes. "Slept well, girls?"
Pelbie opened her mouth to respond, but Terys reached across the table and snatched the bread off her plate before she could speak.
“Wouldn’t want it to get cold,” he added, biting into it as if daring us to protest.
I stared at him. He didn’t look away. I fought the urge to snatch the food from his hand and smash it into his face.
But if I gave Terys the reaction he clearly wanted, I'd play straight into his provocation. And I refused to do that.
"Take mine instead," I told her. "I don't think I have an appetite this morning."
Terys rolled his eyes and huffed. "What happened to your spirit? Or did the warlord scare you that much yesterday?"
I clenched my teeth as Terys threw the remains of Pelbie’s bread at me. The other Vessels, I realized, had grown quieter now that we were in their midst. They watched and listened, waiting for a response.
A Vessel with a dark blue robe approached the edge of the table, clutching the edge with gloved hands.
He must have overheard Terys, because he fixed the boy with a look that could freeze water.
"Throwing food in your first week." His voice was light, almost amused.
"Brave. Stupid, but brave. Tell me, did they teach you manners where you're from, or did Lord Gryven scrape you from the bottom of a ditch? "
Terys's face flushed red. "I wasn't—"
"You weren't what? Wasting perfectly good bread while half the realm starves?" The man's smile sharpened. "Lord Gryven loves hearing about Vessels who think the rules don't apply to them. Shall I go find him now, or would you prefer to leave on your own?"
Terys shot to his feet, chair scraping loudly against stone. "Fine." He shoved past me hard enough that I had to catch myself on the table.
The man was tall, imposing, with bright green eyes and ash blond hair. He offered us a pleasant, easy smile. "I'm Brond. Eighth year here." He gestured to his dark robes. "I help train the newer Vessels."
"I'm Miralyte. This is Pelbie."
“I know.” He sat down on the bench next to us, and his fur cloak spread over the seat behind him. "You're the mad one who volunteered. "
Pelbie finished chewing her food, then turned to look at him. "Did you volunteer too?"
Brond's smile faltered only briefly before returning. "No. I was chosen at sixteen. That's a long time ago now. You'll learn quickly, and the days will go by fast. Soon you won't even realize how long it's been. That's how it was for me, at least. And it's true for most everyone else."