4. Chapter 3
Chapter 3
T he coldness in the executioner’s eyes follows me as Arax and I enter the castle, and though I’m grateful to be free of the rain, I still hear it pattering on the stone and running down the columns. Arax guides me through dimly lit corridors, where flickering torches cast eerie shadows upon the stone walls. The Mordorin guards stand like silent sentinels, their formidable forms as still as statues, their eyes glinting like embers in the gloom. Each step feels like a journey in itself until we finally arrive at a pair of colossal doors, flanked by black banners emblazoned with the Mordorin crest: a winged sword soaring above a crescent moon.
Arax pushes hard against the dark wood and the doors groan open. The throne room unfolds before us, a breathtaking expanse adorned with intricately sculpted archways that soar high above. Candle light bathes the room in an eerie saffron glow, from the scattering of candles across the stone floor to the elaborate tiered candelabras and gigantic chandelier overhead dripping wax like rain. At the far end of the chamber, behind three thrones hewn from rock, stands a magnificent stained glass window, stretching from floor to ceiling, depicting a Mordorin warrior in full garb; the spiked pauldrons, the flowing ebony cloak, the shrouded helm, and black wings that fill the starry sky backdrop.
I stand behind Arax, my heart racing in my chest, beating so loud it sounds like thunder in my ears, and when a crack of lightning makes the grand room as bright as day, I see two shadowed figures standing on the dais before the thrones.
“Go,” Arax says in a whisper that vibrates the surrounding air. “They are waiting.”
I nod in agreement, but my feet freeze in place.
He glances at the figures, then back at me and clears his throat. “Girl? Did you hear me?”
I hear Arax’s words. I know what I should do, but still I do not move.
Then suddenly someone whispers in my ear. “You should not have come here! Run while you can!”
For a moment, it feels as if the Souls have found me. But that is impossible. Their home is the trees. A chill runs through my veins as I turn toward the sound.
Arax meets my gaze, confusion etched on both our faces.
“What did you say?” I whisper, my throat tightening.
He eyes me as if I’ve lost my grip on reality. “What? I told you to go to the King and Queen.”
My brow burrows, mind drifting off. I could have sworn…
“They’ve sent us a mad bride,” Arax grumbles under his breath.
“What is the delay?” calls a voice smooth as velvet from beneath the stunning stained glass.
“Apologies, my Queen,” Arax says, a grimace crossing his features as he turns back to me. “Move, Jewel. Now!”
My mind goes blank and I wonder if Arax is right. Have I gone mad, hearing voices that belong to no one? But before I find reason, there is a soft popping sound, followed by a plume of black smoke that explodes before me, and when the charcoal slivers fade, a Fae female stands regal in its place.
She is tall and willowy, with long slender limbs draped in iridescent black silk. Her pale shoulders are bare, her skin stretched tight against her collarbone, with a steel choker worked into a lace pattern wrapped tightly around her neck, a shimmering black opal at its center.
Even though Fae age slower than humans, I make out the lines around her eyes and mouth, hinting she must be centuries old like Arax, but she disguises this beneath layers of powder. Her eyes are eerily pearlescent, framed by long lashes and encircled with dark, heavy makeup. Her hair does not resemble that of her raven-haired kin. Waves of silver, streaked with stark white, and crowned with a black tiara, its sharp edges mirroring this forsaken rock we stand upon.
If her appearance is not startling enough, her arrival has me stunned. I have never seen void walking first hand, a Fae ability unique to the Mordorin, allowing them to travel short distances in the blink of an eye. My mind has a million questions, each one longer than the last, but I stifle my curiosity when Arax stamps his foot at me, before dropping to one knee.
“King Kaelus. Queen Lanneth,” Arax says with reverence. “I present Amara Tyne. Jewel of the Tenders.” He glances up at me from beneath his brow and scowls when he sees I am still standing. “Bow,” he hisses under his breath.
Even though my body is at last willed into movement, it takes longer than it should for me to take a knee before the Mordorin. After all, it is a sign of loyalty and respect, and for these Fae, I possess neither.
There is a second soft pop, and King Kaelus instantly appears from the smoke at the queen’s side, his gray eyes narrowing on me curiously. Queen Lanneth extends her hand to him, and he gently curls his fingers around hers.
“She does not bow,” Lanneth laments. “Do they have no etiquette where you come from, girl?” Her eyes skim my serpentine vine. “And look, she brings… a weed.”
“Now, now, Lanneth,” the king interjects, his gaze lingering on my vine with a flicker of interest. “She's merely unfamiliar with our customs, as we are with hers. Besides, she is Fae nobility now—no need for such rigid formalities.”
Lanneth glares at me through slitted eyes. “She is not nobility yet, my love.”
Though her voice is smooth, there is a slither to it that puts me at unease, and her disconcerting eyes do not give me a moment’s peace. I glance away from her briefly, if only to take a breath from her stare, when I glimpse something in the corner of my eye. A shimmer. A ripple in the air. And it seems to surround the queen.
I strain my eyes curiously. “What is that?”
The king and queen exchange bemused looks before returning their attention to me.
“Are you sickly, child?” Lanneth asks, her chin tilted upward.
“Now, my love,” Kaelus sighs, laying a kiss on her knuckles. “She is clearly weary from travel.”
He is not wrong. I suppose exhaustion could have something to do with the voices I’m hearing or the strange way the light plays off the queen’s skin, and when the shimmer vanishes, I doubt if it ever existed.
“The travel was long and difficult,” I say to justify my odd behavior, my throat dry and voice raspy.
Lanneth forces a smile over her thin lips. “That is not good. Our prince needs a strong and healthy bride and your Keeper assured us of your quality when the bargain was struck. I would hate to think we were deceived.”
A scowl spreads across my face, and my eyes narrow on the queen. “There is no deception. I promise. A wife in exchange for Blades to protect The Grove. So here I am. Have you met your obligations?”
Tension takes hold of the moment. Kaelus glances at Arax, who rises to his feet.
“Twenty Blades were left to watch over The Grove after we escorted the Jewel to the ship,” Arax states.
Kaelus raises an eyebrow at me. “Excellent. So we have both made good on our promises.”
“Only twenty?” I ask, my eyebrows knitting together. “We will need more than that to defend The Grove.”
“And you shall have them,” Lanneth interrupts. “As soon as you and the prince are wed.”
I hold her stare, even though it stings as much as the blisters on my feet. I do not want them to think even for a moment that I am some naive girl from the forest, easily manipulated. I am very aware of the terms of the bargain, and I will see them met. But for now, it seems as if all is well.
“Very well,” I say, nodding my head subtly.
“And the sooner you are wed, the better,” Lanneth adds. She runs her eyes over me with distaste. “But we must clean you up immediately. The prince cannot see you like this. Is that… blood?”
“None of it is mine,” I reply bluntly, and the queen regards me with a dubious glance.
I do not mention that the prince has already seen me like this.
The same time as I saw him cut off a man’s head.
After that little showing, I could not care less how the prince sees me. But I am eager to wash the dried blood from my skin and soak my aching feet.
“If you tell me where to find my room, I will make myself more presentable.”
“I will do you one better,” Lanneth smiles, an expression I do not trust. “I will take you there myself.”
King Kaelus exhales. “Good. While you attend to our Jewel, Arax and I will discuss what happened on the journey from the mainland. I have heard a great many concerning things.”
His gaze shifts to Arax, who stands stoic and stalwart. “Yes, my King.”
King Kaelus kisses Lanneth’s hand once more, then tips his head to me before strolling from the hall, gesturing for Arax to follow.
“Now then,” Lanneth starts as the giant doors close with a resounding thud. “Time to prepare you for our prince.”
The way she speaks makes my skin crawl, as if I am a gift to be wrapped and presented for his enjoyment. All I want right now is to be shown my room so I can escape her.
We do not leave through the doors as I expect, but through a passageway unseen in the room’s corner between two columns. Queen Lanneth takes a torch from the wall and I follow behind her, weaving through a maze of dark, narrow corridors and passing several plain wooden doors before coming to a stop before one in particular. The queen leans into the wood and the door opens to reveal a bedchamber. When she closes the door behind us, I notice it appears as only a wall panel on this side.
I wonder just how many secret doors there are in this place .
“The castle is large, especially as you cannot fly or void walk. These passages will be helpful.”
I bow my head and give an appreciative nod, only slightly unnerved that she’s followed my train of thought. It’s also possibly the least condescending she’s been since we’ve met.
The first thing I notice are the arches that lead onto a wide balcony overlooking the vast stormy sea, with dark shimmering curtains billowing in the whistling wind. Beautifully carved and lavishly dressed furniture decorates the space. There are tables and desks, chaises and sofas and two crimson high-back chairs in front of a blazing seven foot fireplace with an ornate baroque mantle.
It is hard not to notice the enormous bed against the wall with its intricate headboard and wooden posts that twist like a serpent, and the black gossamer curtains draped around its sides. It is a reminder of just what I must do to seal this bargain, and a knot forms in my belly.
“Put your plant down there,” Lanneth instructs, gesturing to a round table by the arch.
Her suggestion is acceptable. Right by the open archway, my vine will get the sunlight she needs. I place her down and realize she has been quiet for some time. Perhaps the journey has exhausted her, too.
I glance at the bed once more, its dark covers piled high with cushions and scattered furs, but relief comes as the queen guides me into an adjoining room, away from the reminder that soon I will be someone’s wife and bedmate.
The next room warms me with the soft amber glow of a roaring fire. A clawfoot tub sits by the hearth, its water scattered with dried flowers and fragrant herbs and the soothing aroma fills the space, inviting a sense of calm to settle over me.
In The Grove, hot baths are not common. The weather is fine, so we wash in the river where the sun warms the water. You would certainly not find a copper clawfoot tub in the forest. But with my body sore and cold, I can not wait to throw myself into the steaming water and sink to the very bottom.
“Thank you, Your Highness,” I say, eager for her to leave.
But she doesn’t. Queen Lanneth stands still as a statue. Staring at me.
“Let me help you,” she says abruptly, pinching the leather ties of my bodice between her fingers and loosening them.
I gasp and take a step back. “I can undress myself.”
The flames from the fire reflect in her frighteningly pale eyes as her fingers continue to pull at my bodice. “Nonsense. Mothers bathe their daughters all the time. Did your mother not bathe you?”
I cannot find words as the queen pulls open my bodice and slips my dress off my shoulders. Instinctively, I cross my arms over my breasts and I can feel my skin glowing bright red, but Queen Lanneth seems disinterested in my discomfort. When my dress falls from my shoulders, it catches on my hips and the soft round of my belly, but without a second thought, she balls the fabric in her fists, wrestling it over my curves and down my thighs until it falls in a sodden pile on the floor.
I cross my legs, hoping to conceal my most private area, but still the queen shows no concern for my naked state and how strange this is.
“Well. Get in,” she says, as if I’m the one acting unusual.
I rush into the tub. At least if I’m underwater, my body is not on display. I sink beneath the flowers and herbs. At first the water is so hot it stings, but it is not long before I feel myself melting like candle wax, and as my eyes roll back in my head, an overwhelming sense of relaxation takes over me. I’m not sure where my body ends and the water begins. I close my eyes, content to lie here forever, then I feel the queen’s breath on my neck and the sound of dripping water.
I open my eyes and see Queen Lanneth soaking a yellow sponge, then squeezing out the excess before gently dabbing at my shoulders.
“There. Doesn’t that feel better?”
My unease immediately returns and the words fall awkwardly from my mouth. “Yes. Thank you, Your Highness.”
She moves the sponge up and down my neck, along my collarbone and when she dips below the waterline, dragging the porous sponge over my breasts, I squirm.
“Our prince deserves a bride, clean and free of impurity,” Queen Lanneth says as she washes me. “Don’t you agree, Amara?”
I swallow hard, unable to meet her eyes. Instead, I focus on the water as it turns dark, the grime and blood swirling away from my skin. “Your Highness,” I murmur, my voice barely steady. “The journey was long, and I was brought to you before I had the chance to make myself presentable.”
Queen Lanneth laughs lightly. “No, dearest. I’m not talking about the filth on your skin. We can wash that away. But there are some parts of us that, once soiled, can never be made clean again.” Her eyes search mine. “Do you know what I speak of?” I understand what she is implying, but when I do not answer quickly enough, she speaks instead. “The Keeper told us you are a Sister of the Vine.” She lifts the sponge from the tub and squeezes out the excess water. “Is it true a Sister has never known the touch of a man?”
I nod, my stomach knotting with discomfort. “Yes, Your Highness.”
She nods her approval as her eyes trail over every inch of my body, like I’m livestock at a market.
“Your face is comely enough. Not beautiful, of course, but pleasant looking.” She peers at me coldly. “And you are rounder than I expected, but perhaps such wide hips will be helpful for a human womb carrying a Fae baby.” Queen Lanneth gives a tight-lipped smile and rises to her feet, laying the sponge on the edge of the tub. “Let us hope any offspring inherit the fair skin of their grandsires. Not that your tint isn’t… delightful.” She wipes her hands on a nearby cloth. “I will leave you now to finish up. Your maids await you in your bedchamber when you are ready to dress.”
The seconds crawl by, each one stretching painfully until, just as I think I’ll finally be rid of her, she looks back. I quickly smooth the scowl from my face before she catches it.
“I am very glad you are here, Amara Tyne,” she says over her shoulder. “You will make a fine bride for our prince.”
Queen Lanneth closes the door behind her, and I finally release the breath I've been holding tight in my chest. The fire crackles softly, and the steady rhythm of rain drums against the stone, but I let it all fade away as I surrender to the silence beneath the water. My body sinks deeper, my muscles unwinding as I wonder what would happen if I stayed here, submerged, and never resurfaced.
It would be such an easy escape. But the Mordorin bargained for a bride, not a corpse, and without their protection, The Grove is lost. A single tear slips down my cheek, mingling with the bathwater, vanishing long before I rise from the tub.