15. Chapter 14
Chapter 14
T he shadows are my cover as I slide along the walls and behind the dais to keep hidden from sight. Fortunately, the thrall houses are too preoccupied with gossiping about me to actually care whether I am present or not.
I approach the arch where Daedalus vanished, only to be blocked by a Reaper stepping into my path. At first, I think Arax has found me, but when the helm is removed, I find myself staring into Frane’s piercing violet eyes.
“Are you lost, Princess?” she asks, her voice laced with a hard edge.
“No,” I reply, straightening my shoulders and feigning confidence. “I’m just exploring.”
“Hasn’t anyone told you that wandering through Baev’kalath is dangerous? This fortress is so vast you might vanish forever, or tumble off a balcony and plunge into the ocean if you’re not careful.”
“I’m aware,” I snap, irritation bubbling to the surface at her attempt to intimidate me.
Her eyes skim over me, a look of distaste crossing her face. “I don’t understand what all the fuss is about. Of all the humans he could have chosen, what makes you so special? Was there really no one else?”
“I thought the same when I learned you’d taken Arax’s place with the Reapers. Mordorin stock must be in dire straits if you’re the best they can muster.”
Frane's fist clenches, the metal of her chain mail grinding ominously. She speaks through gritted teeth. “I should have thrown you off the ship when I had the chance. I may not be a lord, but I stand with their concerns. You will be the downfall of House Mordorin.”
I tilt my head, a smile playing at the corners of my lips. “Well, that’s wonderful news, isn’t it? Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have more exploring to do. Or would you prefer I summon my husband, the prince, so you can voice your concerns to him?”
Frane swallows hard, her glare faltering beneath her helm as she pulls it back over her head. She bows sharply, then turns on her heel, rejoining the banquet.
I release the breath I had been holding, though it sputters out, the corset squeezing me tight. I return to the archway and find a heavy, deep blue tapestry draping over the doorway. At the center of the fabric, a large ivory eye watches over several winged figures kneeling in prayer. The Pale Eye, no doubt.
Fae gods are mysterious things. To some, the Fae themselves are fit to be gods with their strength and their magic. So a being who can bring them to their knees must be a magnificent thing indeed. The Pale Eye and the moon are connected, I’ve deduced that much in my time here, and as she resides in the sky, she must be the mother above. Then who is the Father Below? Arax called him that. But did not give him a name.
My stomach churns and my throat goes dry. Or have I heard the name already? Gygarth .
I close my eyes, reluctant to recall the horror emerging from that impossibly black abyss, but when I see the flash of teeth and feel the heat of its breath on my skin, I gasp and my eyes open wide, watery with fright. Gygarth. The Father Below. Too terrifying for any tapestry or painting, and too nightmarish for even the Mordorin to idolize.
The smallest gap allows me to peek into the room behind the tapestry. There is no one inside the small square space, but there is a door leading to a second room. I slip past the tapestry, again keeping to the sides, my every step light and deft as a feline, even though the weight of my dress makes me feel more like a tiptoeing ox. The door is every so slightly ajar, enough for flickers of candlelight to dapple the floor and the low thrum of voices to drift on the air.
With my back hard against the wall, I notice a mural on the wall across from me. There is not enough light to see things clearly, but I strain my eyes to make out a backdrop of waves and several islands crowned with castles. The island at the center is the largest, with Baev’kalath written in cursive beneath it. The surrounding islands are much smaller, some close, some in the very corners of the mural.
Mor’Thravar. Eyr’Drogul. Thal’Morven. Fyn’Rothar. Gryn’Velcor. Jor’Thalas.
The islands ruled by the thrall houses of the Mordorin, all sworn to King Kaelus.
Mor’Thravar and their Lord Modok, who somehow escaped the banquet with his head still on his shoulders, are the most remote island, and much larger than the other thrall houses.
This must be why he is needed.
I stand as close to the door as I dare and hold my breath.
“What use is an alliance with the humans,” Modok snaps. “Do they have an army? Something of worth?”
“No,” I hear Kaelus grumble.
“Then what!” Modok roars. “The prince should have been married to one of my sisters. My warriors are second only to the Blades. You know this.”
“Unfortunately, your sisters have proven themselves untrustworthy,” Kaelus replies curtly.
Modok goes quiet for a moment before muttering. “And she has been dealt with, has she not? I have others.”
“Can you remember the last time you saw a Fae baby, Modok?” Lanneth questions tersely. “House Mordorin doesn’t just need brides, it needs heirs. A human womb is easier to seed. After all these centuries, I would wager that Fae bastards outnumber we pure Fae.”
“So your selfishness would see our glorious Mordorin bloodline tainted with mongrels, then?” Modok snarls.
“Everything I do, I do for House Mordorin,” Lanneth replies, her voice a guttural whisper. “You can not dare to perceive the things I have done.”
“I don’t care,” Modok spits. “This marriage is treachery to our kind. As long as she is princess, Mor’Thravar’s wings stay sheathed.”
“You pledged an oath to serve!” Daedalus booms, his voice sending a shiver through me. “You will fulfil that oath or I will see your house burned to the ground.”
“Burn us to ash then,” Modok replies with venom. “And see all Mordorin fall to the Legion like the other houses.”
Even without seeing his face, I can feel the ire swelling within Daed, his voice a deep, gravely growl. “Or perhaps I cut you down right now? Maybe your sisters will hold true to their oaths when I serve them your head.”
“Enough!” Kaelus grunts. “Modok. Your king needs you. What price must be paid?”
“Banish the human, and Mor’Thravar remains yours to command, my king.”
Modok speaks so carelessly of me, as if I am property, not a person, and his request is such a simple thing. My heart beats so hard in my chest I fear its thumps will give me away. It feels as if a lifetime passes before anyone speaks again.
“Let us consider your bargain, Modok,” Kaelus finally replies in a slow exhale. “We will have an answer for you by morning.”
Without warning, the door swings open and Modok strides out. I throw my hand over my mouth, burying myself as deep into a darkened corner as I can. Fortunately, Modok has such fury in his step that he storms through the room, pushing his way past the tapestry without looking back.
I hold the sigh of relief in my chest. I won’t let that little breath be my undoing. But now the door is wide open, filling this room with candlelight, allowing no pockets of darkness for me to hide in. Do I sneak out, hoping that Daed and his parents do not walk by the door and see me? If I stay put, I will surely be found when they decide to rejoin the banquet.
I must try to make my escape.
“Your combativeness does nothing to keep the peace between us and Modok,” Kaelus says. “You know our position.”
“I do not understand why we are even negotiating with him,” Daedalus argues. “We are their lords.”
“It’s not as easy as that. Not now,” Kaelus says. “What would you have us do? Destroy them? We might as well destroy ourselves.”
I bite my lip, preparing to take a step towards the tapestry, but the next words from Daed’s mouth freeze me in place.
“Send her away,” he mutters, his voice barely a whisper. “Put her on a ship and send her back to The Grove.”
A pang strikes my heart and I’m suddenly cold. He is saying the words I’ve longed for since I first arrived in Baev’kalath. So why do they hurt like a dull blade through the chest?
“You would send your wife away with such ease, Daedalus?” Lanneth says.
All thoughts of escaping this room vanish as I press my cheek on the stone wall and wait for his answer.
“Yes,” he replies. “I do. Let me be rid of her now.”
The words pierces through me. His coldness towards me has always been clear, the distance and loathing in his eyes. It wasn’t so long ago that I loathed him myself, that his arrogance and cutting words stirred only anger in me. But somewhere in the midst of our clashes, something changed. Words slung in anger would spark and ignite in the air between us. It has been maddening… and intoxicating, but I’ve grown to crave those moments, those heated exchanges that leave my heart pounding long after he’s gone.
I thought—I dared to hope—whatever this is that he felt it too. I was wrong. Even in our most intimate moments, where my body silently but desperately yearned for his touch, it meant nothing to him. I was nothing to him. A burden. A nuisance. How could I have let this happen? I’ve been falling so fast I can’t even remember when I jumped.
“It is not as simple as that,” Lanneth says, her voice hollow in my ears. “We need her. You know this .”
“Then these are your problems to solve,” Daedalus replies sharply. “You are the ones who burdened me with this human wife.”
“Would you rather it had been a Fae bride?” Lanneth exhales. “Like she was?”
My ears prick and my hand grips the wall, my fingernails digging into the grooves between the stone.
What did she say? Like who was? Am I not the prince’s first wife? I recall the portrait over his mantle and the very thought of it fills me with a sadness edged with jealousy.
I am no longer thinking about escaping. I’m not thinking about anything at all. All I want to do is hear more. I take a step forward, closer to the door, but as I move, my foot gets tangled in the beaded hem of my dress. I brace myself on the wall, catching myself before I fall, but all I can do is watch when the string of beads snaps, and dozens of tiny black orbs hit the ground and roll across the stone.
The voices fall silent, and my entire body pulses with every boot step that thunders towards the door.
There is nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide. They will walk in here at any moment, and soon know that I have heard many things. Things I should not have heard. Compared to what I fear they have in store for me, sending me back to The Grove would be a blessing. All I can do is wait.
Suddenly there is a pop in my ears and a burst of smoke fogs my vision. A chain-mail glove covers my mouth, muffling my stunned squeek, and a second later, I am swallowed up into a black void before reappearing in the familiar surroundings of my chambers.
I keel over, stumbling forward and bracing myself on the bed. The nausea is too intense this time, but I’m aware enough to grab a vase hurriedly from the side table to use as a vessel. I drag my sleeve across my mouth when I’m done, my chest heaving with shallow breaths.
“Are you alright, Your Highness?” Arax asks.
With my head still bowed, I return the soiled vase to the table. “No. Not really,” I mumble, wrapping my arms around the bedpost to keep steady. I glance around my chambers in a haze. “You can void walk such a great distance?”
“I have been wielding the void long enough to know it better than most. You shouldn’t have been in that room,” he grumbles, the disappointment evident in his tone.
I give a floppy nod. “I understand that now.”
“What did you hear?” he asks.
I turn my head to take in his face, his brow furrowed, his hooded eyes staring at me beneath his bushy gray eyebrows. Even though Arax has shown me some semblance of kindness, I can not let myself believe he is someone to be trusted. Nothing is real in this place.
“I didn’t hear anything,” I mutter, slowly standing on my own two feet.
His eyes narrow. “I don’t believe you.”
I shrug, meeting him with an unflinching glare. “So what happens now?”
Arax rolls his broad shoulders and weighs me up in his stern gaze. “Now I return to the banquet to tell the king and queen that the food did not sit well with you, so I escorted you back to your chambers. I’ll find Solena to help ready you for bed.”
I nod my agreement, but keep my face impassive, my mouth a straight line.
Arax bows, then turns on his heels, closing the doors behind him as he leaves me alone in my chambers. As soon as he’s gone, I slump forward, bracing my hands on my knees as I draw in as much air as my lungs can hold. My relief makes me dizzy, but still my nerves and fear knot in my stomach. Arax saved me. He saw I was about to be caught, but rather than raise the alarm or simply watch and do nothing, he aided my escape. Now he goes to lie on my behalf. Those are not the actions of someone who means me harm.
The doors to my chambers swing open, and Solena slips into the room, her expression a mix of concern and curiosity.
“What happened? Where did you go?”
I remind myself to keep my thoughts guarded for my own protection. “I felt unwell,” I reply, continuing the lie Arax spun.
“What a shame. I had hoped that now your hand is healed, you might feel better.”
There’s a genuine warmth in her tone that eases some of the tension coiling in my chest.
“Lord Reon was looking for you,” Solena says, a teasing lilt to her voice. “He wanted to request a dance.”
My brow furrows in confusion. “Really? Why?”
“Why, because you are beautiful, Your Highness?” she grins, mischief dancing in her eyes.
I frown skeptically. “He did not seem to think that highly of me.”
“Your first mistake with the Fae is assuming that if a male seems to dislike you, he doesn’t also want you in his bed. The line between disdain and desire is a very fine one.”
Her words ring with more truth than she realizes, settling heavily in the air between us.
“Well, I’m glad I wasn’t there to accept,” I say, trying to brush off the unsettling implications.
“Probably best for both of you. If the prince had seen you, he would have likely served Reon’s head for dessert.”
“The prince wouldn’t care,” I mutter, skepticism coloring my voice.
“I doubt that’s true,” Solena replies, her tone firm. “This may be an arranged marriage, but any Mordorin bride is treated the same by her husband. It’s law.”
“And what law is that?” I ask, curiosity piqued.
“You are his,” she says nonchalantly. “His wife. His confidante. His lover. No man may look at you, touch you, or even think about you. Any who does issues a challenge to the prince.”
“Even a lord?”
“Especially a lord,” Solena affirms. “I can only imagine what would happen if Prince Daedalus returned to find you in Lord Reon’s arms. The prince has a temper.”
Images of last night flash through my mind—Daed’s eyes completely black, his voice twisted and foreign, as if something dark controlled him.
“Can the moon really make the Mordorin act… differently?” I ask, avoiding her gaze, hoping to conceal the turmoil brewing within me.
Solena eyes me suspiciously. “It can. The Pale Eye has a profound effect on the Mordorin Fae. She brings us into the world and embraces us when we leave. Her phases empower us, stir our memories, and ignite our passions. We like to believe the Mother Above is the reason the Mordorin survived the Betrayer’s Battle when all others faded.”
“Would she make your eyes turn solid black? Make you act so differently that you become unrecognizable?”
Solena’s curiosity deepens, and she furrows her brow. “No. The Mother doesn’t cause black eyes. That belongs to something else—something darker.”
“The void?” I gulp, the word hanging heavy in the air.
She nods, but her expression remains guarded. “You’ve heard of the void, then?”
“Arax mentioned it in bits and pieces.”
“He seems to have taken a liking to you,” Solena remarks, her tone edged with surprise. “Which is rare, especially considering he lost his position because you saved his life.”
“That isn’t fair, and I’ll tell that to the king. Arax shouldn’t have to suffer because I didn’t want him to die.”
“Why didn’t you want him to die?” Solena asks, her voice sharp, as if this question has been weighing on her mind for a long time.
I sink onto the bed, taking a deep breath to steady myself. “Because death is frightening and final, and I have the power to prevent it. What good is this gift if I don’t use it?”
“But why save a Fae?” Solena presses, her intrigue evident.
I ponder her question, feeling the complexities swirl in my mind, making the answer elusive. At last, I reply, “I didn’t see him as Fae when I acted. I just knew he was dying, and I could help.”
Solena studies me with her thoughtful eyes, assessing. “I think I may have underestimated you, Princess Amara. You’re not the simple, treacherous, cowardly human I once thought you were.”
I frown, unsure how to take her words. “Thank you?”
She dips her chin slightly, as if to acknowledge my gratitude, but I sense she doesn’t realize her compliment isn’t as kind as she believes.
“Now, if you are feeling unwell again, would you like me to help you get ready for bed, Your Highness?” she asks, shifting the conversation.
I nod wearily and she hurries to my side and begins undressing me. I’m not concerned anymore with modesty or my dislike of being attended so preciously. I just want this dress off. She pops open each button, easing the dress of my shoulders until it falls under its own weight and it crumples around my knees. Solena tugs at the strings of my corset and when the last one comes undone I can finally hunch forward and breath a little easier.
Solena fetches a thin, silk nightgown from the wardrobe and slips it over my head before gently tying the delicate ribbon at the bustline, cinching the ivory fabric snugly against my chest. She guides me to the dresser and sits me down, disassembling my hair, removing the emerald comb and then softly and methodically brushing it through.
I lose myself within the comb’s glinting prisms. It’s like another world within the hard gem and seems so still and so safe that I foolishly wish I could shrink and runaway there to escape all this. Solena lays the brush on the dresser to signal she is finished, then strolls to bed and pulls back the covers.
“Will that be all, Your Highness?”
I rise and drift toward the arch, dodging the falling rain as I gaze out at the rolling ocean. The sounds of festivities float through the air, laughter and music echoing off the stone walls. My mind feels like a prism, fragmented like the emerald in the comb I clutch. Thoughts and feelings swirl within me so intensely that I can’t focus on any one thing. Instead, it’s a chaotic blend of smoke and ash, moonlight and shadows, desire and despair.
Life was so much simpler before I set foot on that ship—perhaps too simple. Now, I feel utterly unprepared for what I’ve endured—mentally, physically, emotionally—and even more so for what lies ahead. I know nothing of the houses or the Fae laws, nor what is expected of a Fae wife. I don’t know how to respond to a husband’s touch, whether to refuse him or to surrender myself completely.
I am the Jewel of the Tenders, chosen among my people to serve and guide. Yet here in Baev’kalath, I can’t shake the fear that I am merely the frail human they perceive me to be.
“Your Highness,” Solena calls again, her voice cutting through my thoughts. “Are you alright?”
I offer a smile, but little else. With the weight of the weeks dragging me down, I trudge to bed, shoulders slumped and head low, suddenly too tired to care about anything else but the relief of sinking between the sheets. I lie down, immediately cradled by the plush welcoming mattress, and I pull the covers up to my chin. The doors softly click when Solena leaves and my chest fills with warmth as I stare hazily at the canopy above the bed, my eyes struggling to stay open a second longer. But sleep escapes me. My head falls to the side and I stare at the empty pillow next to me. I imagine Daed there, the silk sheets crumpled at his waist while a tattooed hand rests on his muscled chest, his gray eyes stirring a desire in me I cannot reconcile.
How can I consider myself fiercely strong with sound judgment while I lie in the bed of my enemy, desperately craving the touch of a man who wants nothing to do with me, so much so that he would send me back across the ocean from where I came?
I picture his smile, full soft lips drawing back to reveal sharp canine teeth that scrape against my skin when he kisses my neck. Did he make her feel this way? The Fae woman Lanneth spoke of. I know nothing about her, but just the idea of her fuels me with an anger that has me thrashing my legs restlessly against the silk sheets.
Who was she? A dull ache strikes me through the chest. Did he love her? I am so exhausted, so conflicted, so bitterly lonely, that even a visit from the apparition would be welcomed. Anything to take my mind off the fact that Daed despises me, and the indigestible realization that I do not despise him as I once did. But the apparition does not come, and when my eyes finally fall shut, it is Daed’s face that follows me to my sleep.
It feels like no time has passed at all when I feel the cold blade against my throat.
“Get up, human,” a voice snarls, hard and rough like gravel.