Chapter 3 #2
Varyth seemed on the verge of saying more. His mouth opened to continue, but he hesitated. He looked me over again, taking in the dirt, the scratches, the weariness. He sighed, the faintest crease of frustration appearing between his brows.
“Your wounds will heal faster here, as they do for all fae,” he sighed. “But even magic won’t cleanse the dirt and smell clinging to you now.”
I bristled, my exhaustion mingling with a surge of irritation. “Sorry I didn’t spritz on rosewater while fleeing for my life.”
A scoff escaped him, but his jaw tensed, forcing the amusement away.
“Step out that door,” he said, returning to detached formality. “You’ll be taken to your children. To a bath. A bed. Rest.”
“Thank you.” I inclined my head just slightly, acknowledging the strange mercy he offered, even if I couldn’t be sure of what lay behind it.
Varyth turned with a dismissive gesture. I slipped out of the room, the weight of his presence lifting from my shoulders. My heart pounded, not in fear, but in the strange relief of being dismissed instead of destroyed.
A servant led me down the hallway, our steps echoing against the stone floor. The faint scent of lavender and wild mint reached my nose, and as we entered the bathing chamber, Mireth’s delighted giggles filled the air.
Inside, the room was spacious and warm, with two large steaming tubs against the far wall. Mireth’s silhouette danced behind a screen, splashing happily in a tub full of bubbles.
Lira greeted me with a sympathetic smile. “These are for you,” she said as she gestured to a set of clean clothes folded neatly on a bench. “And some for little Mireth as well.”
I peered around the edge of the screen and couldn’t help but smile as I watched Mireth, her hands gleefully swishing bubbles through the air. Her face was full of an emotion I hadn’t seen in months—joy.
“I added a healing tonic to her bathwater,” Lira explained. “It’ll help with any scrapes and aches. She won’t even notice. But she’ll feel better.”
Shame brushed over my face, but before I could respond, Lira’s hand rested on my arm, “Mireth’s been telling me about her mother.” She squeezed my arm. “How brave you’ve been.”
A lump formed in my throat. It was easier to nod than to argue with kindness. But I knew the truth, there had been so many moments, when I had failed them. When I had been too slow, too weak.
Too tired to protest, I allowed her to help me peel off the tattered remains of my clothing before sinking into the second tub.
Heat hit me like mercy, and I barely held back tears of relief. The water swallowed me whole. It soaked into bruises, curled around wounds, unwound knots in muscles I hadn’t even realised were tense. I let out a sound that was half sigh, half groan.
Gods above. If this is magic, I may like it after all.
For a few blissful moments, I lay there, letting the water seep into my bones. I scrubbed away the dirt and grime, each pass of the washcloth rinsing away the months of running, of fear.
But some things wouldn’t come off. Not with water. Not with magic.
A flurry of footsteps snapped the stillness. Mireth burst around the corner, towel clutched like a cape, suds clinging to her fingers.
“Mama, look! Bubbles!” Mireth’s voice was breathless with wonder. She grinned as she held up a handful of foam as if it were gold.
It had been so long since I had seen anything so simple make her this happy. Since I had seen her this bright. This carefree. I almost didn’t recognise it. Almost didn’t trust it.
But I couldn’t help it, a laugh escaped my lips.
I stood and wrapped a towel around myself before scooping Mireth up in a tight hug. She squealed, squirmed and giggled in my arms, and the warmth of her little body brought a surge of fierce love that I couldn’t contain.
After a moment, I set her down, both of us beaming as we dressed in the clean clothes left for us. The fabric was finer than anything I’d worn in months. Mireth spun on one heel, arms wide, her nightgown billowing.
I marvelled at how peaceful, how wonderful she looked.
Lira appeared once more, her kind smile back as she offered her hand to Mireth. “Shall we?” she said, leading us through a door into a small adjoining room.
Eryx lay sound asleep in a cot, his chest rising and falling with each breath. “He’s been changed and hasn’t stirred once.” Lira gestured to a large bed in the room’s centre. “I thought you’d want them close tonight,” she said, “but we can bring another bed for Mireth tomorrow if you wish.”
Gratitude swelled within me as I looked at Lira. “Thank you.”
Lira nodded and offered me one last smile before she slipped quietly out of the room.
I crossed to the cot and gathered Eryx into my arms, holding him close as I made my way to the bed. Mireth crawled up beside me, and we tangled together, their small bodies tucked close.
At first, my body resisted. My muscles trembled, bracing for danger, for the sound of boots, of breath, of death—
But there was nothing. The tension bled from my spine, my limbs grew heavy and my mind drifted. My fingers twitched, reaching for a weapon that wasn’t there.
I blinked hard as I fought the pull of sleep, but my eyes drooped closed anyway.
And for the first time in forever, I slept deeply, the shadows of the past few months fading. Not gone. But quieter.
My eyes flew open. Heart pounding too fast, too hard. All wrong.
My body knew before I did, this wasn’t safety.
Idiot.
How could I have let myself sleep so easily?
We were in the heart of the fae realm, surrounded by powerful beings with motives I couldn’t fathom.
The stories had warned me. Every human child knew them.
Fae with their silver-tongued tricks, their twisted bargains, their honeyed lies that tasted sweet before turning to poison.
I had been lulled into a sense of security by a warm room, a soft bed, exhaustion. Had they whispered some spell into the air, stitched magic into the seams of my clothes?
Had they gotten into my head?
Gods. Had they already won?
I pushed the thought down. I still had time to be smart.
Silently, I slid from the bed with a glance back at Mireth and Eryx’s sleeping forms. I brushed a gentle hand over Mireth’s forehead, then wrapped myself in the night cloak left nearby.
Steeling myself, I opened the door and slipped into the dimly lit hallway.
I needed a way out—one we could follow swiftly. Not if this turned. When.
I moved like a shadow. Or tried to.
I slipped deeper into the unfamiliar corridors, senses stretched taut as I catalogued everything. The only sound was the echo of my footsteps, and I cursed myself for each slight noise. I tracked turns, noted windows, anything that might become an escape route.
The castle was large, cursedly unfamiliar. But when this all turned against me, I wouldn’t be caught a fool.
A glint of metal caught the light like a promise. A dagger. Laid carelessly on a table near an open doorway.
My fingers were already reaching before my mind could catch up.
No weapon worth stealing should sit unattended.
A prickle ran up my spine. The air shifted. I hesitated.
If I took it, they’d know. If I didn’t, I’d be defenceless.
A voice shattered the silence.
“Looking to redecorate? Blood is a bold choice.”
I whirled, my heart thundered in my chest, my body locked up, muscles tensing in that split second between fight and flight. But neither would save me now.
He was already there. Watching. Waiting.
Varyth stood in the doorway, one shoulder against the frame, his eyes reflecting the lanternlight.
His shoulders were relaxed, so casual it made my blood spike. I forced myself to steady my breathing, to school my expression into neutrality.
His gaze dropped to the weapon, then returned to me.
He raised a brow, slow and deliberate.
“A dagger,” he said, drawing the word out. “Charming. And here I thought I’d earned a semblance of trust.” His lips lifted at one corner, an almost pitying grin.
Expectant. Like this was always going to happen.
I dropped my hand as heat rose in my cheeks.
“Trust,” I echoed, with a shake of my head. “Forgive me if tales of fae hospitality have left me… disbelieving.”
“The stories you’ve heard, no doubt, are one-sided. Mortals do love tales of villains lurking in the dark.”
I didn’t so much as blink. “Perhaps because they’re often true.”
He stepped closer. “Perhaps. But you’re in my realm, Isara. Under my protection,” he said. “If I wanted to harm you, I wouldn’t need a trick or a trap.”
A shiver clawed up my spine, my fingers clenched but the tremor didn’t stop.
Not because I thought he was lying.
Because I knew he wasn’t.
“Is that supposed to be reassuring?” I bit out.
“Take it however you like,” he said, “but it’s the truth.”
I studied him. He wasn’t trying to convince me. That made it worse.
I lifted my chin. “I’m supposed to trust the word of a fae High Lord?”
“Trust is earned,” his voice came low, taut, as though the sentence had teeth he’d filed down. “I have no illusions about that.”
Then he let out a weary sigh. “Keep the dagger, if it helps you sleep.”
“You’re only saying that because it’s useless, aren’t you? Fae can’t be killed.”
His face tightened, irritation slipping through his composure for the first time. His wings twitched, whether it was out of instinct or annoyance, I couldn’t tell.
“Maybe,” he said, “you shouldn’t believe every fairy tale you’ve ever heard.”
“The stories came from somewhere,” I shot back.
His nostrils flared, subtle but deadly. “Not every story is true, Isara. Surely you know that.”
“Some of them are.” I held his gaze, defiance burning low in my chest. “And I don’t hear you denying it.”
“Fair point.” His frown disappeared, replaced by a wry and knowing look. “Though you could wait until breakfast, at least, before deciding to kill us all and make your grand escape.”
“And what if I decide not to wait?”
He sighed, stepped back, and gestured toward the hallway. “Then by all means, proceed.” With a wicked, deliberate smirk, he added, “But you’d be missing out on the best bread in all of Luceren.”
I hesitated. His abrupt shift in tone threw me off-balance.
“Go on, then,” he said, his tone half-amused, half-commanding. “Back to bed, little human.” His smirk deepened. “I’m sure the dagger will be enough to keep the nightmares away.”
I picked up the dagger, my fingers wrapping around the hilt as I cast him another wary glance. His eyes glinted in the light, daring me to flinch.
Without another word, I turned and strode down the hallway.
I slipped back into the room, the dagger in my hand, cautious not to wake my children. The encounter with Varyth left me unsettled, a prickle of suspicion and something else—something I couldn’t quite name—threading through my thoughts.
I settled back onto the bed beside Mireth and Eryx, but peace was a distant concept.
In the dim light, I twisted the dagger in my hand.
A hum curled through the air.
It was nothing. Just tension, exhaustion.
Nothing.
But it remained. The sound threaded through my ribs. Coiled in my blood.
Waiting.
My body couldn’t relax.
The bed was too soft. The silence, too clean.