Chapter 13
Briony and I do not speak as we travel back through the castle towards my chambers. The Grand Hall still bustles with noise, but it is the noise of a feast, not a celebration, leading me to assume the jester’s performance is over.
When we reach my chambers and the door closes behind us, I cross quickly to the bed and sit down hard. My breath rises in my chest, panic clawing at my insides because it took every ounce of willpower not to show weakness in front of that man.
“Are you all right, my lady?” Briony asks, kneeling in front of me, staring up.
I shake my head and motion for her to stand up. “Please stop calling me that. Call me Alana, and do not kneel for me,” I tell her.
She nods, rubbing her arms nervously, then fetches me a glass of water because, clearly, she needs to feel like she’s being helpful.
“What happened?” she asks. “Did he . . .?”
I drink down the water and push my hair back from my face. “We just talked,” I tell her. I’m about to say he didn’t lay a finger on me, but that’s not entirely true.
I look down at my gloves. I pulled them back on as I left. And although I’ve worn them so many times before, they now feel unfamiliar and strange.
He did touch me, but it was not how I expected it to be. He is not how I expected him to be.
I stand up and cross to the window, opening it in the hope that a cool breeze might enter, then remembering the outside is nothing but thick, hot, and humid.
“He says he wants to see me every day.” I turn, leaning against the sill and raising my eyebrows. “To talk.”
Briony frowns at me quizzically. “He wants to talk with you?”
I nod and reach for another glass of water, wishing it was something stronger. “He said he wants to learn about the Leafborne – about the elementals. He said if I do what he asks and answer his questions, no harm will come to me or my people.”
Briony has turned to sit down. She chooses the stone bench in front of the fireplace and leans forward onto her knees. “That is not what I expected,” she says, and I can’t quite read the look on her face.
Although I’m tempted to let down my guard and reach for her feelings, I don’t. I feel like there is a friendship blossoming between us, and I have learned over the years that if my friendships are to be true, I must learn when it is appropriate to cross that boundary and enter their thoughts without their permission.
“Me neither,” I reply. As I speak, my stomach growls loudly.
Briony stands, crosses to the dresser, takes the lid off a platter of bread and cheese and hands it to me. “I wasn’t sure if you’d be attending the banquet, so I saved this for you,” she says. “You should eat.” Suddenly faced with food, I realise how hungry I am.
I eat while still standing, dropping crumbs down my dress and on the floor and not caring.
When I’m finished, Briony takes the plate away and fetches my robe from where it hangs on the back of the door. “Here,” she says, “you should get changed. Finn will be here soon to look at your leg.”
“Finn?” My heart skitters in my chest. “The jester?”
Briony tilts her head from side to side. “He is also a healer. Not that Lord Eldrion knows that. His aunt taught him before she died.”
“Eldrion wouldn’t allow him to practice if he knew?” I ask, trying to keep my face from betraying any hint of the fact I am certain I already know this man.
Briony makes a face. “Oh, no. Finn is here to entertain. And Eldrion doesn’t like his Shadowkind forming bonds.” She smiles a little, then shrugs. “You wonder why I’m such a chatterbox? It’s because we’re not allowed to speak to one another. If we’re caught...”
“You’re not allowed to speak?”
Shaking her head, Briony takes my dress and slings it over her arm. “Finn risks a lot by helping us. But he’s good at going unnoticed in the shadows.” She smooths the dress a little.
There is a fondness in her voice that hints at a sense of admiration for the man who danced in the air. The man who, I am certain, brought me to my knees with pleasure.
“He helps us not just with our bodies but with our minds. He has tinctures for anxiety and sadness. We experience a lot of both.” She sighs a little. “He looks after us all. And he’ll look after you,” she says. “Now, change. I’ll take this back to the kitchen and I’ll give him the key. He won’t come until after midnight, when the feast is over and everyone is sleeping.”
Briony pauses at the door, turns, and meets my eyes. “Alana, Lord Eldrion must not find out that Finn has been here. He’s doing this to help you. You must not betray him.”
“I have no loyalty to Eldrion,” I tell her. “I will give him only what little information I must in order to keep my people safe. But I promise you, Finn’s secret is safe.”
His name feels warm and pleasing on my tongue. Finn.
Briony nods, a smile twitching on her lips, then says, “I know this is probably extremely inappropriate. But, although I’m sorry for your situation, I’m also glad that you’re here. It has been a long time since I had a friend.”
She has closed the door and disappeared before I can think of how to reply. It has been a long time since I had a friend, too.
Perhaps there is some light in the darkness after all.
It is pitch-dark outside,and the moon is shining brightly through the windows when I hear a key turn in my door. Still sitting in the chair by the fire, I turn towards the noise and brace myself.
The door opens slowly, a shadow creeping across the stone floor, snaking towards me.
When it closes again, I hold my breath. Someone is there, but I can’t see him. I can only feel him. “Finn?”
When he appears, he is closer to me than I’d expected and a shudder shakes my shoulders.
“My lady,” he says, echoing Briony’s greeting and sweeping into a bow.
I stand, but stumble when pain shoots from my thigh to my pelvis. He reaches out and steadies me, glancing at the gloves I’m wearing, then helps me back into the chair. As he does, the bells on his wings chime gently and send shivers through my body.
“Please, call me Alana.”
He nods, already kneeling in front of me. “As you wish.”
Is he going to say something? Should I? Did I imagine the way we looked at each other when he was performing and caught my eye?
“Or should I call you Varia?” He looks up, his lips twitching with a smile that makes me grin.
“It is you.” I reach out to touch him but he flinches and I stop. “I’m sorry –”
“Don’t be sorry.” He shakes his head, then catches my hand and presses it to the side of his face. “I just didn’t expect to see you again.”
“Are you sorry?” I ask.
He smiles again, and squeezes my gloved fingers. “No, I am happy. But that makes me sorry. Because I should not be happy that you are here.”
“Briony said the same thing.” I stroke his forehead and he leans into my touch.
“Did she sneak away from the castle to attend the forest centennial, too?” he asks, chuckling.
“No.” I shake my head and ease back in my chair, allowing him to lift my leg onto his knee. “But I think she has been lonely.”
Finn’s smile drops a little. He presses his lips together, then says, “Loneliness is the Shadowkind’s second biggest curse.”
“What is your first?” I ask.
But he doesn’t answer.
Wearing loose black pants and a brown jacket, open at the chest, a bag is slung across his chest. He opens it and begins to rummage around inside.
“You are still wearing a mask.” I dip my head to meet his eyes. “Am I never to see your face?”
When he looks up, a smile curls his lip and dimples his jawline. “I am not permitted to remove it,” he says. “But my face is not worth seeing, si’thari, trust me.” He smiles again. “Yours, on the other hand.”
I inhale slowly, wisps of pleasure settling on my skin.
“May I take a look?” he asks, fingers hovering above the opening crease of my robe.
I’m about to part my thighs for him when I realise he is talking about my injury and not something else. Gingerly, I lift the hem.
He does not look down until I have raised it high enough to expose the wound, just keeps his eyes trained on mine. And, somehow, the eye contact makes me feel more vulnerable than I would if he was staring at my naked flesh.
For it is as if he sees me.
“What happened?” he asks. “Briony wasn’t sure.”
“We were raided by Gloomweavers. They took us all. Whatever was in their arrows killed those who were struck in the heart.” I pause, then quietly add, “What happened to you? Where did you go?”
Finn adjusts his mask at his ear and shakes his head. “I fled,” he says. “I was afraid of being caught.” He swallows forcefully and the muscles in his shoulders twitch. “I’m sorry,” he mutters. “I should have stayed. Should have tried to help.”
I reach out and slip my hand into his. “Don’t be sorry.” I squeeze gently, showing him I mean it. “I’m just very glad you’re here now.”
For a long moment, we simply stare at each other. Then Finn returns his attention to my leg. “Lucky for you, you were only grazed,” he says. “Also lucky for you... Gloomweavers’ potions are strong but easy to treat. They’re incredibly stupid. Haven’t changed the ingredients in centuries.”
I wince as he presses his fingertips to the sore, red flesh around the wound. “It’s not infected,” he says. “But I’ll give you something topical for the wound itself and something to drink just to make sure it doesn’t become infected.”
I nod, flexing my foot because my ankle is at a strange angle and starting to ache.
As if he can tell, he lowers my leg to the ground. I am sad to lose contact, and my skin feels strangely cold without him beneath it.
As he prepares the remedies for my wounds, I take a deep breath and try to fight the urge to sleep. It feels like so long since I last slept.
Finn smiles at me. The crackling fire casts dancing shadows across his mask and accentuates his chiselled jaw. I find myself unable to tear my gaze away.
“I saw your performance for the court,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper. “The way you moved... it must have taken many, many years to become so skillful.”
Finn pauses, meeting my eyes. “I have been in Eldrion’s keep for a long time,” he says, giving his wings a small flutter that makes his tip-piercings chime.
I try to count how many others there are, lining the outer rim of each wing, but he answers for me. “Thirty,” he says. “Thirty generations of my lineage have been indentured to Eldrion’s family.”
“Thirty?” I breathe out heavily. That’s thousands of years.
“You enjoyed the dance?” he asks, smoothing some dark grey lotion onto his fingers, then bringing them to my thigh.
“Enjoyed?” I bite my lower lip as his fingertips meet my skin. “I found it harrowing, actually.”
A wry smile parts his lips. “You’d be the only one,” he says. “I perform that dance every time Eldrion asks me to entertain the citadel. Every time, I think maybe this will be the time they realise what they’re witnessing. They never do.” He pauses, frowns, and looks up at me with his deep brown eyes. “Or maybe they do and that’s why they enjoy it. I wouldn’t put anything past a Sunborne.”
“Explain it to me.” I lean forward as he caresses my wound. The lotion has already soaked in, and yet he is still making slow circles with his fingers. “I understood it was about your servitude. But I feel as though there’s more than I could see...”
Finn sits back on his heels, slowly removing his hand. He passes me a vial of something blue and gestures for me to drink it.
I swallow it down quickly, wincing as it burns my throat.
“The dance is a reflection of my people’s history. How much do you know about Shadowkind fae?”
I tuck my hair behind my ear. “Shamefully little,” I reply. “There isn’t much in our history books.”
“Of course, there isn’t.” Finn chuckles. “Well, the Shadowkind have been in captivity for thousands of years.”
I glance at his piercings, my stomach tightening.
“When the Sunborne first started using us for labour, they began to bind our wings.”
“Bind them?” I swallow hard, trying to force the words down the sudden thickness of my throat.
Finn nods and adjusts his mask. Behind it, his eyes are rimmed with charcoal. “And still today,” he says. “When a Shadowkind is born, their wings are bound to their body. While Leafborne and Sunborne have magic deep inside, ours is inside our wings. By binding them, preventing them from growing, we are stripped of our magic.”
Cold, lingering disgust snakes down my spine. “How did I not know this?” I breathe.
“Few people do, and even those who do pretend they don’t.” Finn places a hand on my bare knee, and squeezes. “Don’t feel bad, Alana.”
I hold my breath, acutely aware of the rise and fall of Finn’s chest, the sound of his breathing mingling with the crackle of the flames in the grate of the fire.
“I’m an empath,” I laugh. “Feeling bad for others is what I do.”
“But you’re shielding right now?” he says, raising his eyebrows at me.
“How do you know?”
“I’ve known empaths before,” he says. “Not many. But a few.”
I stifle a yawn, and Finn smiles at me. “I want to keep talking to you.”
“You should rest.” He slips his arms beneath me and lifts me from the chair. I allow myself to brush his lips with my thumb.
But he does not kiss me. Instead, he lowers me onto the bed and tucks me beneath the sheets. He is at the door when he says, “What happened behind the falls cannot happen again, Alana.”
I sit up, searching for him in the shadows.
But once again, he is gone.