Chapter Three
The following morning, Eve finds me as I meander through the halls on my way to snag breakfast.
“You look like hell,” she greets with an impish grin.
“I slept terribly,” I admit as she loops her arm through mine.
“Because of Rowen?” she asks, the concern in her voice genuine.
I shake my head. “No… but yes.”
The look she gives me tells me she understands.
“It’s a lot,” she says in a sigh as we round the hall together. “But don’t let it consume you. We’ll figure it out.” She offers me a smile.
Since my return, my nights are restless.
It’s hard to fall asleep.
And harder still to remain asleep.
When I do find respite, I dream.
Strange things. A forest of white.
And cold.
Bright morning light streams through the skylight glass and windows littering the grand foyer as we begin down the stairs. It’s strange… I’ve spent the last few months here in Castle Erus and, while I’ve come to learn it, it doesn’t feel anything like the temple did.
There are no black and silver robes bustling about, going on with their daily tasks. There’s no inner sanctum speckled with a silent few in prayer. Nor is there the overwhelming sandalwood and musk scent of perpetually burning incense.
In that time, Celesta’s devotees went on about their lives regardless of my presence. And in a few weeks, that became comfortable. For the most part, I could move unnoticed through the halls, the library, or garden.
Here, there’s an abundance of black-clad castle staff who steal glances in my direction but never speak. There’s rarely laughter in the halls. Much of the time it’s silent. If I happen to catch quiet conversations or hushed laughter, it’s swept away as soon as I’m noticed.
They hide their lives.
Or hide from me.
If the latter, I suppose I haven’t helped matters. The life I’ve built is one of seclusion.
I hide, too.
From the Sovereign Kings, from the general public—I rarely approach staff and I never strike up conversation.
If I’m not in the company of Ryc, Eve, Lilith, or Cyran, I keep to myself.
I’ve no doubts they know who I am—or at least they know the nature of my involvement with Ryc.
But whether they keep quiet out of respect for him, or fear of me…
I’ll not ask. I’m fairly confident open secrets are nothing new to them.
I know I’m not easily approachable. It’s easier that way. Why bother letting others get close when it’s all going to change once they learn who they’re placing upon the High Throne?
Reaching the ground floor, Eve and I swing around the stairs, my pace a leisurely one. While I’m hungry, I’m in no rush to sit in the same room with Lilith and Eve who tend to rub one another raw—not in a good way.
More sunlight streams through the eastern windows lining the hall, casting bright stripes along the floor and opposing wall. The flashes of warmth on my skin, on my face, followed by the cool of the shadows is a strange cyclic sensation.
“Have you thought about what you’re going to do?” Eve asks, and I can tell she’s been trying to hold off asking since finding me.
“I’ve thought on it,” I admit with a slow nod. “Vaelyn has made it so that I must side with Rowen.”
Her dark brows pinch with confusion.
“I can’t let him take some of the most powerful souls of this realm in a broad sweep,” I say. “He’ll have to figure something else out to impress the Layer Lords.”
Eve’s confusion vanishes from her face, melting into a flat glare. “I thought this was for souls. Are you telling me he’s trying to incite a war to impress demons?”
“Archdemons,” I correct with a feeble, close-lipped smile. “But yes. They wanted me to replace Netharis. Not Vaelyn.”
“So they’re spiteful,” Eve says, her annoyance clear.
“Possibly,” I shrug.
Truthfully, more than likely.
“Rowen should have made better choices,” Eve replies. Light blazes across her eyes from the window as she glances at me. She lifts a hand to block it, grimacing with the motion. “Maybe he wouldn’t find himself in situations where the god of death is hunting him.”
“Defending Rowen from the repercussions of his choices is the last thing I think he deserves,” I say, heaving a sigh. “But Tanila doesn’t deserve to be punished for her father’s actions.”
Eve’s brows lift before she turns her face forward, unable to bear the light. “I doubt she would grant you the same kindness, Ves.”
“What makes you think I plan on letting her forget it?” I retort and she laughs.
Swinging right, we enter the hall leading to the breakfast parlor.
The light here is much less intense, and Eve turns her attention to the windows, to the view of the lawn.
Wind pulls more of the colorful leaves from the trees, scattering them on the grass and carrying them into the courtyard beyond the curtain wall.
Autumn continues to press itself upon the land, forcing summer to leave.
“I’m glad I’ll never swear to serve a crown,” Eve says with a scoffed huff. “I don’t need demons like you holding deeds against me.”
“You’re a little late for that,” I quip and she jabs me in the ribs with an elbow. Our laughter trails through the hall.
Eve, while in Ryc’s employ, isn’t considered an official member of the Royal Guard—despite having all the same access and privileges of one. Ryc offered, she refused. She won’t take the pledge to serve the Witherhorn family.
I can’t say I blame her.
Should Druka ever release her from her contract, she won’t be beholden to Erus. Or anyone for that matter.
Unweaving her arm from mine, Eve steps ahead, pulling open the door to the parlor. She holds it open, giving me a wink as I walk through.
And my steps slow…
The parlor has been filled with flowers.
And… not Olloran flowers.
Confused, I wander farther into the room.
These are bright and vivid and loud. They threaten to consume the room.
White lilies, along with orange and yellow trumpeted flowers I can’t name.
Bold and broad deep green leaves pull everything together, carpeting the center of the long breakfast table.
I’m reminded of the desert oasis of Solis, of the veranda gardens and white-washed stone and flowing fountains throughout the fae city.
If this is a bouquet, it’s the largest I’ve seen.
“What’s the occasion?” Eve mutters low beside me.
Lilith’s hazel eyes and crimson hair pop up from behind a slitted leaf twice the size of her head.
“Good morn!” she sings with an enthusiastic wave.
I stifle my groan.
Eve does not.
Lilith is brighter than usual today. Which means breakfast is going to consist of me sitting between two prickling personalities.
“Good morn, Lilith,” I reply, unable to match her enthusiasm and my attempt at a warm smile doesn’t quite hit the mark. It feels a lot more like a grimace.
Dragging Eve by her elbow, I approach the table.
“What is all this?” I ask.
“A gift,” Lilith chimes. “Flowers from Solis.”
I was right then.
The smallest, sharpest pinch of jealousy plucks at my heart.
“Who’s sending Ryc flowers?” I ask, stopping at the end of the table to admire one of the lilies.
Lilith’s golden laughter fills the parlor. “No, Ves, not Ryc. They were sent to me.”
I lift my eyes to hers and she gives me a dazzling smile.
Who would send Lilith flowers?
And why?
Is it a ploy for power—access to Ryc—or her heart?
Lilith’s never made mention of interest in a partner—casual or otherwise. I’ve not seen her take the company of any man or fae. Of course, I don’t know her every waking moment. Even so, in her position, it would be one thing to take casual partners, another to chase romance.
With a gentle push, Lilith’s chair groans against the floor. She swings herself around to me, and grabs me by the arm. Before I can argue, before I can breathe or blink, she’s pulling me with her.
And subsequently, Eve.
Lilith pulls out the chair beside hers, ushering me into it. I glance at my usual seat at the head of the table, already mourning the loss of typical distance between Lilith and I. Eve slides past, claiming my forcefully abandoned seat for herself.
“There are a few matters I’d like to discuss,” Lilith says as she seats herself.
My brows furrow as I pour myself a glass of water. “Discuss?”
What could Lilith possibly want to discuss with me?
I’d much rather be left to eat breakfast.
Ideally, in silence.
My stomach twists, making a sharp growl as if to second the thought.
Eve, across the table, lifts her chin, drawing my attention as Lilith shifts in her seat to face me. She drags her eyes to the table and dips her chin. Following her silent beckoning, I find a letter upon the table.
It’s addressed to Lilith in a rather impressive script.
The flowers are a gift. Accompanied by a letter.
“Who’s expressed sexual interest?” I ask, and Lilith’s brows shoot high as Eve stifles a laugh behind a fist.
Lilith stammers. With a deep inhale she swivels in her seat and reaches for her glass of water, her porcelain cheeks taking on a bright pink stain.
“I think you mean courtship, Ves,” she says.
“I fail to see the difference,” I rebuke. “I—”
I stop myself short as the doors behind us swing open and my head whirls. The tantalizing scent of the kitchens reaches me faster than what should be possible and my stomach twists again. Staff sweep into the room, carrying silver covered trays.
Breakfast, and thank the gods for it.
I’m ravenous.
And Lilith’s sudden silence is welcome as trays are set before us and lids whisked away. A meal of fried eggs, topped with diced tomato, fresh spinach, and some sort of triangle-shaped, golden crusted thing—I cut into it with my fork.
Potato?
Whatever it is, it smells amazing.
All of it.
This is the one thing Castle Erus will always have over temple life. Good food. Even if it goes cold.
As swiftly and silently as they had appeared, the staff leave, and I waste no time in fully appreciating the labor of the chef.