Chapter 9
Elorie
The endless halls of the palace remind me of the prison. They all look the same. The longer I spend inside them, the more lost I am. I’m not offered directions as a guard leads me through the maze of polished gold.
Every time we pass a window, I squint to see a glimpse of the kingdom beyond the palace. But like the windows in the great hall, they’re distorted by thousands of fragments of swirling color masking what’s beyond the glass.
By the time we stop at a doorway, I have no real sense of where I am. Only that this new room will be far more opulent than the cell I was being held in earlier.
The doors swing open, and a female steps through.
She reminds me of Letia with her golden-blonde hair.
But her hair is vibrant and soft, not brittle and littered with split ends from years of harsh winters.
Her cheeks are bright, and her eyes are hypnotizing.
One green and one blue. Both shine with rivers of color that are impossible not to stare into.
The grumbling guard who led me through the palace takes a step back. “She needs a bath.”
His thick dark hair is slicked back. And while Callum fills out his Crown’s Guard armor, this Fae doesn’t. It’s clunky on his shoulders, shifting around in a way that is more likely to get him hurt than protect him.
“The king wants her presentable for the ceremony tonight.”
Presentable.
Am I even a person to him?
Or is that the problem? I’m a human to him.
The king needs this magic he believes brews inside me, but when he realizes it was a fluke, he’ll discard me with what’s left of Alyssium.
After all, the brunette hanging on the king’s arm is proof he has no romantic intentions for me. It should be a relief, but it isn’t. It makes me easily disposable.
The blonde female nods, stepping aside. She’s silent as I walk past her, closing the door behind me. For the first time today, I’m free of the Guard.
My shoulders relax as I take in the room.
It’s twice as large as Father’s entire house.
An unusual white stone makes the floor iridescent, like the surface of the moon.
It glows against the dark walls and sheer black curtains.
Unlike the rest of the palace, there is little gold in my room.
Instead, the flecks of light on the windows are as white as snowflakes sparkling in firelight.
Walking past the bed, I brush my fingers over the buttery silk sheets.
I’d freeze in such a light blanket back home, but here, there is no need for anything heavier.
Magic swims up through the ground. It seeps through the pores of the palace and into the objects in this room.
I sense it in every inhale. Feel it between my fingers as I wiggle them at my sides.
The Ley Court is alive in a way Alyssium isn’t.
“It’s beautiful.” I glance at the blonde as she walks into a connected bathing chamber. “This room is nothing like the rest of the palace.”
It feels like mine.
Glancing up, there is no ceiling—not really. Where it should be, there is an abyss of darkness with small pinpricks of stars glowing.
“The rooms at the palace match their guests.” She dips her fingers into the clear water in the tub, stirring until steam begins to rise. She drops sprigs of lavender into the water, and the scent quickly fills the room. “Come, undress.”
“I can bathe myself.”
“It’s my place to help.” Her glare hardens, and although she reminds me of Letia physically, there is no levity in her tone.
No smile on her face.
Her expression is cold and empty.
I step into the bathing chamber when she refuses to leave and slip out of my blood-stained cloak first. “I’m Elorie.”
“Isolde.” She snatches my cloak from the floor, grabbing each item of clothing as I discard it.
Dirt makes a mess of the moon-white stone as I strip myself bare, and when I dip my first foot into the water, black soot swirls on the surface. It’s been days since I’ve bathed. Possibly longer, but I’ve lost track of time.
I sink into the tub, brushing aside the lavender tickling my neck.
After Isolde discards my clothes in a bin, she walks over to me and places a hand on the surface of the water again. Her eyes glow, and slowly the temperature warms a little more. It starts to swirl, pulling the dirt in the water to an invisible drain, until it clears.
“What kind of magic is that? Are you a water wielder?”
“I do not wield anything.” Isolde pulls her hand out of the water, wiping it on a rag. “My affinity is to nature.”
I’m not as familiar with affinities as I am with wielding magic. Wielders are the ones the Guard tell stories about. Their abilities change the tide in battles—in wars. Wielders alter elements and nature in grand displays. While Fae with affinities have much more subtle magic.
Some can speak with animals, passing secrets through the forest. Others are in tune with plants, creating tonics that can heal or harm. Affinity magic is quieter, but just as important.
“What does it mean to have a nature affinity?”
Isolde’s expression is blank as she dries a splash of water off the floor. “You’re very curious.”
Father often chided me for my curiosity, saying it was bound to get me into trouble. But in this place filled with magic and new possibilities, I can’t help trying to understand it.
“I’ve never been around magic before. The Fae on Alyssium couldn’t wield theirs, so all we had were stories. Hearing about it isn’t the same as seeing it.”
She wipes her hands again, pausing so long I think she might not answer me. Her gaze follows mine to the star-flecked mask that covers the glass, and I can’t read what she’s thinking. When she finally turns to me again, her eyes are cold, but her frown has softened.
Finally, she relaxes her shoulders. “Affinities amplify what already exists in small measures. In my case, I amplify natural elements. The aroma of a flower, the warmth of a stone in the sun. The potency of a venomous sprig.”
“That’s how you drew the heat out in the water?” She nods. “And the scent of lavender.”
“Among other things.” Isolde stands, walking to a table at the edge of the chamber to retrieve a bottle. “This will help with cleaning. And that… smell.”
Her nose wrinkles, offering the strongest reaction she’s shown to anything since I stepped into the room.
She pours the tonic into the water. “I’ll get your clothes ready.”
Tipping my head back, I relax in the bath’s warmth, knowing I need to finish cleaning myself to get ready for tonight. But the thought of stepping out of this bath and facing what lies ahead is heavy. I’m not prepared. How can I be, when I’ve barely had time to process everything?
I close my eyes, but there’s no relief in the darkness.
Only nightmares.
Memories.
I see Father’s hand, reaching for me in the street.
If I’d have known the night we sat down for dinner was the last one we’d share, I might have said more.
I might have told him I loved him before he went to bed.
I might have taken him up on his offer of tea before I left for the market that morning.
A hole widens in my chest, and even when I press my palm to my ribs, the ache doesn’t ease.
Who carried out Father’s blessings?
Did they remember all four gods?
Will his soul rest?
Relaxing my fingers, I let my hands float in the water beside me.
My tears make rivers on my cheeks, but the steam from the bath sweeps them away.
The warmth of the water brought me comfort when I first climbed in, but now it feels like an insult to my home.
To the people freezing on Alyssium. Ravaged by what the rebels have done.
Callum still hasn’t told me who survived, and I’m a coward, afraid to ask.
I grab a tonic Isolde left beside the bath and pour some into my hand to wash my hair and hurry my cleaning.
The people back home would sacrifice so much for a bath like this. The water here doesn’t chill the longer it sits. It heats through to the bone.
While they freeze and suffer, King Malachi’s kingdom is brimming with opulence. It’s a testament to how insulting the Crown’s shipments are.
I glance at the window, wondering how lush the trees are here. In the dungeon, I could smell the vegetation. A few roots jutted up through the ground, ripping apart the stone. How much do they have while the humans suffer?
“Why can’t I see out the windows?” I ask loudly so that Isolde might hear me from the other room.
“The king prefers it this way,” she answers, rounding the corner.
It’s a strange preference. While the windows let in light, they lack depth.
“Are you done?” Isolde stops at the tub with a towel, and I nod.
I’m careful not to slip as I climb out, and Isolde wraps the towel around me. It’s awkward, as I’ve never had help with anything as simple as bathing. But I don’t want to insult her.
Her gaze pauses on my cheek, so I brush my wrinkly fingertips over it.
“Did I miss some dirt?”
She shakes her head, and her eyes refocus like she was lost in thought. “No, I was admiring your freckles. I’ve never seen anything quite like them.”
“My freckles?” I’m aware it’s rare for Fae to have scars, but I assumed freckles weren’t unique to humans. Maybe I was wrong.
“Mm-hmm.” She spins on her heels. “I’ll gather tonic to smooth your hair.”
Isolde leaves the chamber again, and I walk over to the mirror, leaving a wet path in my wake. It’s been since Alyssium that I’ve seen my reflection, and I’m thinner. My eyes are hollowed out. Yet, somehow, my skin is pinker, and there’s brightness in my cheeks.
My silver eyes shimmer.
But my attention is on my freckles. The three dots on the apple of my right cheek. They form a wide V like an arrow pointing downward. And somehow, they glow like stars.