18. Chapter 18
Chapter 18
E very morning since I’d returned to the warrens, I woke to a wooden charger of rich, thick, honeyed cream, a milúll, sliced and bleeding its burgundy juice into the wood, and a loaf of crusty bread.
Hidden in my alcove, I would find another brass star bead to add to the rope that the Bandrui had given me. As quickly as possible, I would slip the small bead onto the strand and hide it on my person. It was difficult at first, having only a shift to wear, as there weren’t many hiding places.
It was Violet who strode into my alcove that first morning and laid the dress on my bed. I had never had fine things in my life before Magh Meall, so I was not expecting or needing much, but the dress I wore and its associated pieces had made me sit down on my cot and stare.
There were so many layers. First, like the Bandrui wore, was a creamy white cotton chemise with billowy gathered sleeves that boasted matching embroidery around the bib of the neckline and all along the hem. Even the lace holes were delicately embroidered to give the ties at the wrists and neck added strength. Then came the warm orange under kirtle that reminded me of autumn leaves and had acorns stitched along the decorative, heavy hem. Over that was a shorter green tunic of fresh spring grass. This piece had no adornments to mar its beautiful color, and it took my breath away with the softness of the linen.
“They are no finery like the Fae wear, but they are comfortable. The linen is the softest I’ve seen in a long while,” Violet had chirped with the glee of a grandmother gifting her favored grandchild with a new bike for Christmas. “When you return from your duties today, I will teach you how to carve some buttons from bone and stitch them on. You know how to sew, right, Cricket?”
I chuckled. “Not even a little.”
“How did you make your clothes, then, girl?”
The scandal in her child’s voice was a never-ending bounty of ironic hilarity.
“I bought them, Violet. No one sews anymore.”
“Psh. Women have gone soft and lazy in Human. Better I stay here, then. They’d string me up by my toes for hollering about their poor rearing. Well, either way, you have no buttons for the day. Be sure to roll up the sleeves if you need to. I’d wager I’ll need to teach you how to wash your chemise, too?”
“Sadly, yes. We have machines for all of that.”
“Machines.” She harrumphed.
We joined the small wave of humans going up the staircases to flow into the palace at the break of dawn, off to serve the Fae as they were assigned. When we parted ways, I saw the worry in her porcelain face that etched deep fissures into the cracks. They were chased away when she noticed me watching, though.
Taking a deep breath, I steeled my spine and readied myself, joining the small group of humans bound for the royal wing of the palace. Ten of us made our way under escort of the guards, but I felt as if I were a dinghy adrift at sea, bouncing around in a lonely blackness with no hope of ever finding moorings. My eyes lost focus as I struggled to stay above the rising anxiety and panic churning in my stomach.
The brush of leather against my palm brought me skittering back to the stone hallway lit by warm sunlight peeking through lead glass windows. My gaze darted down to the black leather glove that brushed me with every other step and then up to its owner.
The Raven did not look at me but simply quietly walked at my flank like a silent sentry. When my pace slowed, his did as well. When I turned to address him, he pointedly ignored me, and I let my question fall just as quiet as he was.
A gentle warmth filled me from somewhere behind my ribs and washed slowly through me. It felt like easing into a hot bath on a winter’s night, enough to soothe my nerves. I relaxed into it as we marched the halls until, once again, we were standing at that cursed carved oak door.
The others fell away, bound for their own duties. It was I alone who was assigned to attend the Ard Rí’s chambers. My heart was racing with the memories that were kind enough not to become crystal clear but were painted along the landscape of my nightmares nonetheless.
We stood there, him breathing loudly but in a slow rhythm, and me clawing at my lungs, trying to match his measured pace. Neither of us moved, both of us staring at the door as if, at any moment, it would burst open and attack us. It never did, and instead, we seemed like two loons stalking a closed door.
“He is not in there, Cricket.” The gentle thunder of his voice didn’t spook me. I had been waiting for him to speak. Waiting for his rich baritone to wash over me and remind me that the two of us existed in a material plane instead of in some horrific nightmare. He forged on, as if sensing the way his voice soothed me. “He spent the evening with one of his many mistresses. I’m not sure which one, but he was not in his Lady Betrothed’s bed this morning when she rose.”
“So, he’s engaged and still a problem to all of womankind,” I whispered with snark.
“And when they are married proper, he will still be so. Such is his way.”
“Is that common for your people? To take marriage so flippantly?”
I wanted the question to bite and dig in, to ruffle him as deeply as standing in front of this door was ruffling me. I wanted him to fall over the edge of fear with me . . . so I wasn’t feeling it alone.
He remained steadfast, though. A lighthouse in the fog, steady, even, reliable. His eyes never left the door. His hand, hovering fractions of an inch from mine a mere promise between my hand and his, never moved .
“It wasn’t always so, but, yes. Our marriages are mostly political alliances. Marriages in name only.”
“What woman would accept her husband fucking anything and everything that moves?”
“Our Lady, The Sapphire Speaker. Heir to the House of Magic. They’ve been betrothed since she was a babe.”
His voice remained soft, pitched in a conspiracy to build syllable by syllable, an illusionary world where it was just the two of us in a warm, comforting, peaceful meadow.
“I thought the House of Magic was dead?”
A soft smile played across his lips.
“You’ve learned so much of our ways so quickly. Yes, the House of Magic was destroyed and every member of its court with it. All except her. She is the daughter of two gods and was freshly born when the court was destroyed. She could not have been guilty of the crimes against magic the House was accused of. His Majesty saved her and only her.”
“And that doesn’t seem gross to you? He manages to save her as a baby and then raises her and gets engaged to her?” My brow furrowed in judgment as I finally turned to look at him. Placid calmness laid on his stunning features, but he kept his forest gaze from me, settled on the door. “Where I’m from, we call that grooming.”
“I’m not sure what that has to do with hygiene, but it is not . . . unheard of here. Of course, the bride to be is usually kept from the marriage bed until she is of maturity, but it is not unheard of for Fae nobility to betroth their children before they can even walk.” He sighed heavily, shame flitting across his features for but a moment before he reined it in. “If she was not engaged to His Majesty as the sole heir to the House of Magic, she would have been a political pawn and a weapon that could have been wielded carelessly against others. She would have been chewed up by the scheming of the courts and, most likely, wouldn’t have lived to reach maturity let alone mature in her magic enough to raise the House of Magic and rebalance it. So, His Majesty bound her to him when she was still in tail clouts with the express purpose to heal the land when she comes of age. ”
“And how old is she now?”
“A little over two hundred.”
“And when exactly do Fae reach the age of maturity?”
“When they can wield their magic.”
“And when was she able to do that?”
“As far as we are aware, she hasn’t been able to yet. The drui believe that whomever killed her father might have cursed her. It is the sorrow of the entire realm.”
I snorted and turned back to the door. “Sounds fishy as fuck if you ask me.”
“No one asked you, Cricket.”
I slapped my palm on the door and pushed it open, striding in and turning to him. “Yeah, well, maybe someone should because sounds to me like you’ve all lost the fucking plot. Now, go away, Raven. I have cum stains to wash or some shit.”
He smirked, finally gracing me with his regard. The dark emerald of his gaze pierced me. It stripped me down to the bit of cloth braided around my waist and held the favor the Bandrui gave me. It caressed over my face and body like a lover’s touch, hot and heady, as if waiting with panting breaths for me to lean into it. “I’ll be down the corridor if you need me, Cricket.”
“I won’t,” I snapped back, taking in the catastrophe of debauchery before me.
The sitting room where the worst of it had all happened was in complete disarray, as if a herd of pissed-off rhinos had run through and trashed it.
“Nevertheless, I will be at the end of the hall. Just a few yards or so away.”
He was backing out of the room, the leather of his uniform creaking as he did so before I turned on him.
“Wait. Why will you be at the end of the hall?”
A lock of his dark hair fell into his face as a smirk of triumph flashed across his full lips. “I’m Captain of the Guard, Cricket. I guard. It’s pretty simple. I’d have thought you’d have figured out from the name what my position was. ”
Was . . . was that snark being pitched back at me? I shouldn’t have liked that. I definitely shouldn’t have liked the way that devilish grin stole inside of me and lit a dark ember within me that melted my bones. “Oh, it did. I just didn’t think—”
“You think too much.”
His quick response was husky, thick, and rich.
“I just didn’t think you’d guard an empty room,” I whispered as the air seemed especially thin.
“I’m not.”
“Then, what are you guarding?”
When had he drifted so close to me? When had I drifted so close to him?
“You.”
His breath was warm on my cheek, followed by the gentle stroke of his soft leather gloves.
The urge to lean into it was almost irresistible.
“Afraid I’ll light the bed on fire?”
“Oh, I’m sure if you were in that bed or any bed, you’d light it on fire, Cricket. But, no . . .”
“Then, why?”
He leaned down, his scent wrapping around my head and dashing all thought from me. “You know why,” he whispered, hot against my ear.
Two rabbits took up residence in my chest and beat against my ribs, kicking the air from my lungs and stealing any semblance of peace from me.
The calloused tip of his bare finger pushed my long hair behind my pointed ears, and I swayed. Lightning rushed through me, sparking in my blood and coruscating a dangerous, delicate path to settle in a crackling, popping ball at my core. My toes curled, and a galaxy shimmered behind my closed eyes.
And then he was gone. Leaving me standing in a shattered room, with my shattered consciousness, holding vigil for when he returned.