Chapter 15
ARLET
And…suddenly, my life is reduced to the space between now and the wedding. Two weeks. A short eternity spent in this infernal palace, in a room where I was nearly killed.
With Thorne promising to help me and asking me to trust him, I am left with few options. But I cling to what he said.
If you die, I die.
After the dinner last night, it was incredibly hard for me to sleep.
Inky blackness slowly gave way to the brilliance of dawn, and I am still looking outside, sitting at the windowsill.
I watch, only dressed in a chemise and wrapped in a thick, stuffed blanket.
The gown I wore hours before is neatly hung in the dressing corner of the room.
There is an abundance of early-morning workers who begin before the sun rises, tending to the gardens, straightening the pathways, and hurrying back and forth with armfuls of goods.
Sometimes I make out vegetables or platters of arranged food; other times, I find it difficult to understand exactly what I’m looking at.
All of them, thankfully, are elves.
I really don’t want to see anymore humans after what happened with the dressmaker.
The silken blanket is soft against my skin, and I pull it tighter as my thoughts encroach on my solitude. The first few hours, I was numb, and now, I am faced with my new reality once again. This time equipped with better information, but just as desperate as before.
A deep ache inside of me longs for home.
My throat tightens when I remember the easy, simple friendship I’d made with my community.
I think of my students. Small hands patting my thighs.
How it healed something in me to be with children.
Was it really just months ago that I was at the mating festival, still hoping to find someone?
That memory reminds me of Diego, the first man the curse made me kill. Resentment and regret flood through me, along with the feeling of violation that continues to linger in my insides, and now even on my lips where Arion kissed me.
I can’t look forward to children anymore, even though I’ve never been closer.
Cursed One is silent. Content to listen and watch as my mind churns.
I have already given so much of myself to Arion. Would anything be left at the end of these two weeks?
The door opens without a knock. Silk whispers and perfume cut through the morning chill as three women sweep into my space.
I immediately recognize the three ladies-in-waiting I was introduced to yesterday. Each holds herself with an air of grace and beauty that belies her magical heritage. I watch them, a little jealous of the way they fit into this place.
Gratitude that I have been spared the need to bribe one of them washes over me. But these women are still important. They can teach me to fit in, which would afford me another measure of safety.
Merlina does not bother with a greeting. “On your feet,” she says, eyes flicking over the blanket at my shoulders, the bare curve of my ankle where the chemise rides up. “You have a full morning.”
Slowly, I stand, feeling stripped bare by their demanding tone and abrupt requests.
Kiala closes the door with a click. Eslina lingers near the hearth, gaze dropping to the gown from last night hanging like a green river over the dressing stand.
Who hung it up after the attack? I wonder.
“I hope you are happy with your choice,” she says, almost to herself.
I stare at the gown, thinking. Remembering. Palms sweating.
“The gown is beautiful. I’m very…satisfied with my choice,” I lie, standing. The cold stone shocks the thin soles of my feet. “What do you mean, a full morning?”
“We will be spending the morning with your preparation,” Merlina replies. “Presentation follows preparation, and your first formal presentation is imminent.”
“My presentation?” Wasn’t that last night? I met so many people. Even if I didn’t know who everyone was, I was almost sure that’s what was done.
Kiala’s mouth shapes something like a smile.
“That was merely a dinner. Your presentation to the court should be a more formal occasion. The king has planned a masked ball.” Then she points toward the dressing area, and I walk behind the privacy screen.
I find another gown, one much simpler in design but still elegant, with deep purple hues and small silk flowers.
I hadn’t noticed it before, and I wonder how it got there.
As I dress, I think of the masked ball. I’m not unfamiliar with the concept. Many people throughout the ages have turned to costumes to dress as members of their lore or legend. So that is what the king had meant when he mentioned the celebrations leading up to the wedding.
Wearing pretty gowns is easy, but it’s rarely all that’s expected of you on the arm of a powerful man.
As I slide the new dress over my skin, a task I wonder if the others are supposed to help me with, I envision dancing with Arion again, as we did the first time we met.
Teo had asked me to help convince the Elf King that the humans were valuable and that he would need help protecting them, so we could be relocated from our slave-home in Zlosa.
Arion was meant to look at the humans and find value in us so that he would lend the Enduares troops. I was meant to charm him.
It’s ridiculous to consider that now. What began as accompanying him to Estela’s wedding, something meant to end in dancing, had quickly turned into something awful when he betrayed us for the first time and let in a group of giants to destroy the city.
All of this, before and now, is a dance.
A game. I need to pay attention and learn the steps.
As I step out from behind the privacy screen, I feel as though I’m held in place, this time by three elven women who despise me.
Merlina claps twice. Two servants slide in, carrying a lacquered wooden case, a narrow stool, bundles of combs and pins, a coil of ribbon. “It’s time to go,” she quips, already turning.
And then we are out the door, with my hair still unkempt. I can only imagine what my face must look like after a night without sleep. Did they disapprove of my freckles?
The corridor air pricks gooseflesh along my arms and legs. We move down a hall I recognize, and then I am taken through a private passage and into a long arcade where the morning light pools across the floor in white rectangles. Beyond the arches is a courtyard already in full movement.
A ring of courtiers has formed beneath a tangle of climbing roses, and my skin burns seeing their perfect faces and knowing how changeable and unattractive humans look in comparison.
My thoughts on my appearance disappear the second I hear the sound of metal against flesh. It doesn’t take us long to get closer, and I see two elves circling each other inside the ring, bare-armed, blades glinting.
I blink. Wielding blades while wearing no protection?
I’d like to see this, my companion chimes in, sliding through my thoughts forcefully and causing me to flinch.
“May I watch a little?” I ask my ladies-in-waiting. Merlina stops first, exchanging a long-suffering look with the others before nodding.
“Only for a little while—we have much to do.”
I nod and turn my attention back to the spectacle. Something uncomfortable churns in my gut.
These elves look different from the courtiers. Their skin is marked by the sun, and their movements are rougher. One feints, and the other answers in a blur, resulting in a yell and a stream of red flowing down the other man’s face. A small thud in the rocks beneath him draws my eye.
A severed ear sits atop a small rock.
My mouth falls open and my heart skips a beat.
Applause rises, delicate as rain. A lady in a saffron gown tosses a coin that flashes before disappearing into the gravel. No one flinches at the blood spattered on the petals, nor the missing body part.
“What on earth was that?” I ask Eslina.
She casts me a pitying look. “This is just how we are, my lady. Be grateful you haven’t been forced to watch what the king does to those who commit treason yet.”
I clench my hands. “What does he do?”
She purses her lips. “Usually the guilty parties are forced to fight others—people, animals, you name it—to the death. I don’t find joy in it like others.”
A shiver skitters down my spine, but we continue a few paces.
Near the fountain, a boy stands with his hands clasped behind his back. A blindfold covers his eyes. Each time a bell chimes, he takes a step forward, and each time his foot lands on a chalked square out of sequence, a waiting gentleman flicks his switch across the boy’s calves.
“Training,” someone murmurs contentedly, as if talking about the shaping of a hedge. “He’ll be better for it.”
I slow without meaning to. Eslina’s hand touches my elbow. “Do not stare,” she whispers. “They will think you are inviting comment, and I don’t think you are ready for simple chatter.”
“And what is the purpose of all of this? Punishment?” I try to keep my voice down, still thinking about the brutal fighting Eslina had mentioned just moments before.
Merlina does not lower her tone. “Entertainment,” she says. “It is fashionable to begin early. Birds sing better before noon. Servants cry more easily on an empty stomach.”
“This happens every morning, then?” I respond. Cursed One hums, pleased, but I feel disgusted. These are not performers, they are akin to animals kept in cages and taunted with fire and sharp objects.
This is…brutal. How does this exist in the same place with those who appear so beautiful and evolved? They watch as if they are watching someone paint. Elves are meant to care for nature; how can they not extend that same care to their fellow beings?
“Do not show your emotions. If you do not like it, keep it to yourself,” Kiala says.
I hadn’t even realized how deeply I frowned.