Chapter 10
Elorie
Isolde slips a Tempest silk dress over me. The fabric is so sheer that, depending on how I move, my legs are exposed. It’s intricately threaded, with blue tones that are those of the night sky just before dawn. Dark as night with the hint of morning breaking through when it shimmers.
The dress carefully covers my most intimate parts while still being revealing. In front, it dips below my belly button and cinches. It breezes around my legs, shining like starlight every time I move. Grazing my fingers over the silk, I’m met with the most exquisite texture.
Letia would sacrifice her entire wardrobe for one of these dresses. And while the dress is impractical, and I’m nearly bare, this is the most beautiful I’ve ever felt.
Isolde smooths my hair, which hangs in long waves down my back. Two braids at either temple tie it off my face.
“Has your hair always been blue like this?” She weaves her fingers through the blue ends of my snow-white hair.
“Since I was three.”
It’s been ingrained in me since I was young to always hide the unique color in my hair, so it’s an adjustment to have it on display. With the tonic Isolde put in my bath, the blue is brighter than it’s ever been.
She brushes the strands, and I fight the urge to hide them. Especially now that I know my hair likely didn’t come from a tonic as I was told. I’m half-Fae. The daughter of a prisoner who, for all I know, is still locked in that labyrinth.
Growing up, Father would defend the Fae who let us live on the brink of starvation. I understand now. His sympathy wasn’t for the Crown; it was for me and my mother.
“Is it common for Fae to have blue hair?” I ask Isolde.
The Guard and everyone I’ve seen at the palace have hair tones that match those of humans, but no one has blinked at the blue since I’ve been in the Ley Court, so maybe it is common farther out in the kingdom.
“I’ve never seen this particular shade.” She drops her hands to her side. “But the Fae do have a wider range of hair tones and eye colors than the humans.”
“Have you been around many humans?”
“Yes, before the Collision. My family helped negotiate trades with the Mortal Realm.” She turns toward the dresser, sorting combs and bottles.
Before the Collision.
That means Isolde is at least a few centuries old when she looks no older than me.
I’m tempted to ask her more. I want to know what secrets hide behind her stony expression. But she avoids my gaze, and I think better of it.
A knock comes at the door, and Isolde goes to open it. I take a final breath and look at myself in the mirror, trying to recognize the bits and pieces that are the same as they were back home. My sharp nose. My thick eyelashes. My freckles, even if they’re now glowing.
A hint of my magic, maybe?
I hold my hands out, palms up, focusing on the magic humming in the air as I stand in front of the mirror. If the king is right, I summoned something great within myself. Something I never knew existed.
With my forehead pinched, I seek it out now, even as it feels so far away. I search for that murmur of death that was not death at all. It was my magic waking.
In the prison, my chest opened, and I reached somewhere deeper. Somewhere beyond thought or physical form. So why is it impossible to grasp now?
My fingers clench into fists, but all I feel is skin. A sheen of sweat coats the back of my neck as my heart races. I’m utterly human.
“Elorie.”
My gaze snaps up, meeting Callum’s through the mirror. He’s in freshly polished Crown Guard armor. Gray and stormy like the color of his eyes.
“You’re stunning.” He swallows hard, like he’s noticing me for the first time.
The heated sweep of his gaze is everything I’ve wanted from him for as long as I can remember.
Today, I feel nothing but anger when he looks at me.
“It’s impressive what a bath and Tempest silk can do.” I roll my shoulders back, turning to face him. “You’ve been assigned to fetch me now?”
He frowns. “I was hoping we could talk.”
“I can’t. The king is waiting.”
Callum’s jaw tenses, but he doesn’t try to stop me as I brush past. He follows me from the room, where I find two guards waiting for me in the hallway. Isolde doesn’t wish me well. She doesn’t say anything as she takes the stack of my dirty clothes in the opposite direction.
One guard walks a good distance ahead, while another hangs back, but Callum stays at my side.
“I’m sorry—”
“Please don’t. Not right now.” I’m barely keeping it together, and while I’m aware someday Callum and I will need to address all his lies, I can’t handle it with the nerves skittering through me. “Just tell me something.”
“Anything.”
“Letia.” Her name catches in my throat. “Mabel. Her whole family. Are they alive?”
“Yes.”
The knot in my chest unravels. “And the rest of Alyssium?”
Callum clears his throat. “It’s going to be a brutal winter with how the rebels left it.”
“Why doesn’t the Crown send help?” My voice pitches, and the guard ahead of us glances over his shoulder.
“The Crown is doing everything they can.”
His answer sounds rehearsed, and I wonder if he’s not allowed to tell me what he really thinks when the guards around us can hear our every word. Or maybe he’s not lying, and the state of my home is so bad that even help from the Ley Court won’t be enough.
“Letia is strong, and the village sticks together. She’ll be all right.” His attempt at reassurance does little to relax the stiffness in my shoulders.
I nod once, words catching in my throat. All I can do is hope he’s right. After all, the humans back home are like me, cut from the harshest winters. If anyone can hold on long enough for me to complete the Rite, they can.
“Are you ready?” Callum straightens as we reach the end of a hall.
A set of closed doors is all that stands between me and the beginning of this ritual.
“Am I ready to bind myself to a king who wants nothing from me but my magic? What’s there not to be ready for?”
“Elorie.”
“I know. Watch my tongue and behave.”
“That isn’t what I was going to say. We both know you’re incapable of behaving.” Callum’s eyebrow hitches, and for a split second, I forget I’m mad at him. He’s simply the male I enjoy verbally sparring with.
“I suppose you’re right.”
The doors swing open to a room twice as large as the one the king summoned me to earlier. The ceiling is endless, like it is in my bedroom. There is no end to it when I look up. But while mine is a night sky, this one is a clear day with sunshine and clouds wisping around.
Males and females sweep me over as I walk through.
I’m exposed in my dress, but it’s modest compared to others.
Each is more stunning than the last. Ruby-red lace.
Silver-threaded silk. A rainbow of colors.
Many of the Fae have studded jewels in their ears and cuffs on their arms and at their throats.
When we reach the head of the room, King Malachi steps forward, wearing something similar to earlier. But this deep-blue tunic is threaded with shimmering gold, and his cape has an intricate design laced through it. He reaches for my hand, pulling me closer, and smelling like sunshine.
“I almost didn’t believe Callum when he said you were beautiful. Seems he’s proved his word trustworthy after all.” It’s a compliment and an insult rolled into one, but I force a smile, trying to ignore the sour churn of my stomach as the king tightens his hold.
He’s stunning. Blindingly attractive to the point where he’s almost difficult to look at. But something about King Malachi’s presence makes me uneasy.
I stand at his side, and my gaze falls to the orb he wears around his neck. This close, I catch the swirls. Like blue dye dripped into a basin of water, swirling to a single point in the center.
“Elorie, I’d like you to meet Greer. She will be handling your training.”
“My training?” My eyebrows pinch.
“Unless you’ve suddenly figured out how to use your magic.” A sharp, feminine voice pulls my attention to my left as a guard circles in front of me.
Her armor is much like Callum’s in that it is silver and intricately carved with the Crown’s symbols.
But hers fits tighter to her body, drawing out the slight curves at her chest and hips.
At the top is a thin layer of chain-link that swoops over one shoulder, adding a decorative edge.
On her ears, she wears pointed, silver-winged earrings.
Her black hair is in tight braids, pulled off her face, and her ebony skin glows nearly as much as the magic stirring in her eyes. A scar cuts through her right eyebrow. It’s the only other scar I’ve seen on a Fae since the prison, and I can’t help wondering how it came to be.
Greer is stunning and terrifying. She stares so intensely that I can’t help but shift on my feet.
“Well, have you?” she asks, snapping me from my thoughts.
“Have I what?”
“Figured out your magic?”
I shake my head.
“Do you have a death wish?” There’s no emotion in her question.
“No.”
“Then you’ll train.” Her tone is clipped. Her words matter of fact.
King Malachi plants his hand on my lower back, and my skin prickles. “Greer can be a bit straightforward.”
She doesn’t flinch at his comment. Completely unbothered as her gaze continues to assess me.
King Malachi pulls me past her, and I watch her turn, disappearing into the crowd. “I assure you, she’s quite effective at helping others discover the full potential of their magic.”
“Even if they might not have any at all?”
He chuckles. “You have magic, Elorie, or you would not be here. You just don’t understand it yet.”
His words are borderline kind. And I forget for a moment that I am simply a tool to him. I stare up into his blue eyes and almost believe his interest in me extends beyond what he needs from me. But then I catch sight of Selia, glaring at me from a distance, and I remember where I am—who I’m with.
Her golden-brown hair is brighter in the light of the shining orbs overhead. Her warm cheeks glow. Irritation stirs in her gaze.