Chapter 5
Elders claim that other realms exist side by side with our world, though the pathways there have been lost.
—EXCHARIAS, SYLVAN POET
Needing sleep after her patrol, her conversation with Tordon, and her humiliating loss of control while training, Thea decided to go back to bed, only waking when Rozie burst through her bedchamber door a few hours later. “It’s time for the revel!”
Thea sat up and pushed the tangle of hair from her face. Rozie was dressed in green trousers and a flowing tunic, both too large for her. “Where in the nine realms did you get that outfit?”
Rozie straightened proudly. “I found a trunk full of clothes left behind by one of the old Seers.”
Thea didn’t know how to tell her sister that the flamboyant costume did not look right on a twelve-year-old girl. “It’s too big.”
“I’ll grow into it,” Rozie said, hand on one hip. “Anyway, get dressed! We don’t want to miss the beginning.”
“I’m not going,” Thea said, hoping a steely-eyed stare would have some effect. “I don’t feel like dancing.”
Rozie bolted to the side of her bed. “You don’t understand! There are drudes! Drudes!”
Thea wrinkled her nose, trying to remember. “Those folk from the mountains?”
“Yes!” Rozie put her hands together. “They juggle glass and fire, and they do all kinds of tricks! I’ve been begging to see them for three years and Father asked them to perform for us tonight!”
Thea noticed the excited flush on her sister’s cheeks. “This is clearly a momentous occasion.”
As Rozie passed near the fireplace, she reached down and scooped up something. “Is this your dress for tonight?” She shook out the garment, her expression impressed. “I like it!”
Thea’s lips parted in shock as Rozie held up a gown she’d never seen before, the fabric dyed the hue of faded lilacs. On the hearth were a pair of stockings and slippers—black with purple flowers embroidered on the tops.
Seeing Rozie’s hands on the dress made something inside Thea go wild. The idea of her youngest sister being tainted with some unknown magic, of it having any effect on her—
Thea leaped from bed and ripped the garment from her sister’s hands.
Rozie stared at her with wide eyes. She blinked a couple of times before her lip trembled. “I wasn’t going to do anything to it.”
Thea’s heart contracted as she registered the hurt in her sister’s expression.
“It’s not that.” How could she explain without scaring Rozie?
“It’s a surprise.” Though her throat tightened at the misleading statement, it was vague enough, and partly true enough, that she was able to speak it.
The dress had, in fact, been a surprise to her.
“All right,” Rozie said, eyeing her cautiously. She moved with careful steps, as if Thea might do something unexpected and dangerous. Which she supposed she just had.
Thea’s heart stuck in her throat as the door closed. She shut her eyes, fury building in her chest. The garments were no longer an annoyance but starting to feel sinister.
Now that Rozie had seen the dress, she would expect to see it on Thea, but there was no way—not without knowing more about the risks. Tossing the garment back to the floor, Thea threw open the doors to her armoire and chose a simple brown dress.
By the time Thea reached the great hall, the revel was in full swing.
The Sylvan king was not in attendance, but the drudes, diminutive mountain folk wearing colorful garb, were warming up in an open area off to the side.
A few dozen Huntsmen, some in green-and-brown dress uniforms, others in colorful garb, danced with lutins, naiads, and river nixies.
Thea admired the clothing of the water folk—dresses woven from delicate green muskgrass and swamp milkweed, belts made from cattails—and their hair braided with marsh marigolds and water hyacinths.
Thea scanned the room for newcomers but decided she had no wish to introduce herself to anyone tonight.
Instead, she danced with Gawen, a stable boy her own age who she’d found a quiet corner with now and again.
As their hands joined in the dance, he asked her with his eyes if she might be interested in stealing off now for such a thing.
Normally, she would. But something was making her neck prickle. And suddenly, she was not looking at Gawen at all.
A stranger stood in his place. But no, she’d seen him once before. She had a memory of meeting him in the Grotto! Somehow, the incident had fled her mind as soon as he’d disappeared, but now it came rushing back to her.
He is here! In the great hall of Scarhamm! The thought of an intruder getting past the wards made Thea’s heart stop for a moment before crashing in horror.
The stranger was dressed in finery once again, a fitted, dark jacket and trousers made of some soft material.
His snowy white shirt was pristine. Silver cuff links glinted at his wrists, and rings shone on his fingers.
He was even more handsome than Thea remembered.
She felt the same pull toward him, but it was mitigated by the wrongness of his presence.
“Keep dancing,” he said, smiling urbanely as if he’d been her partner the whole time. “It will seem odd if you stop.”
Her pulse slammed, but her head felt light. Her hand went to her dagger, but she didn’t bring weapons to revels. Maybe she should.
His eyes went to her hand. “There’s no need for whatever weapon you seem to be searching for. You can’t hurt me with it, anyway.”
“How did you get in here?” she hissed, her voice breathless when she’d meant to sound threatening.
He ignored the question. “What is this you’re wearing?” He waved a hand up and down, a slight frown marring his features. “It doesn’t do you justice, Theodora. The dress I sent is much nicer, and it will fit you better, too. Why don’t you go back up to your bedchamber and change?”
“I will do no such thing.”
His eyebrows lifted, and she could not help noticing how thick they were and how nicely they framed his dark eyes. “If you prefer to wear a grain sack to a revel, who am I to argue?”
Thea’s hands curled into fists, longing to teach him some manners. But before she could do anything, she found herself staring at Gawen, who was regarding her with huge, wide eyes. “Thea? Are… are you well?”
She looked around for the stranger but saw only Huntsmen and guests. It took her a moment to find her voice. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Well,” he said slowly, his eyes wary, “you said some things that didn’t make sense, and… you looked like you were going to hit me.”
She cringed, noticing several revelers looking her way.
She could remember a stranger standing there in Gawen’s place.
Had she imagined it? The details were already fuzzy in her mind.
They must all think her mad. Oh, and now Enora was coming over.
Thea had no urge to answer questions when she didn’t even know what had happened. She needed to be alone.
Without another word, she turned and strode from the great hall.
Thea took the stairs leading to the bedchambers two at a time, hoping to outrun her shorter sister.
But Enora’s voice came from too close behind her. “I couldn’t hear what you were saying, but Gawen looked horrified. What happened?”
I don’t know. But if she admitted that, Enora would pester her with a thousand questions she couldn’t answer. “I’m tired,” Thea said, speaking a truth to avoid lying. “I’m going to bed.”
“Thea.” Enora leaped three stairs and spun to block her way. “Tell me what’s going on!”
In a cheap move, Thea reached out and tickled Enora’s side, then slipped past her and into the bedchamber.
But her sister was quick to recover, pushing her way in before Thea could slam the door.
She’d seldom seen her sister so agitated.
Braids had come loose and were coiling over her shoulders. How very un-Enora-like.
She understood her sister’s confusion. Usually, Thea shared every detail of every fight, every jest, every encounter with a soft-voiced groomsman or stable hand. But now she could barely remember what had happened.
At Thea’s silence, Enora’s tone hardened. “We’ve always trusted each other with everything. Why don’t you trust me now?”
Thea took a breath, trying to calm. “It’s not about trusting you, Enora. I do. More than anyone.”
Enora folded her arms, her gaze probing. “You’re keeping secrets.” She glanced around the room as if searching for clues to her sister’s strange behavior. Her brows furrowed as she glanced at the floor near the hearth. “What’s that?”
Thea’s pulse quickened as she saw the gown on the hearth. Furious that she’d forgotten about that, too, she wanted to pick the dress up and hurl it into the flames. But that would only make her sister more curious, and she needed to be alone.
Enora’s eyes narrowed at Thea’s silence. “It’s been years since you had a new one made.”
Thea shrugged, searching for a reply that wouldn’t lead to more questions. “I’m full of surprises.”
After a final, searching look, Enora finally turned to leave. “I hope you get some rest.” The door shut with a bang.
Thea sat on the edge of her bed and stared at the hearth, tempted to drive her fist into the stonework just to ease her frustration. She hated magic, but it was time for her to visit the one person in Scarhamm who might be able to explain everything.