Chapter Six
A week passed, and The King said nothing more of spies, war or freedom. Instead, I was swallowed whole by the court.
It was not the romantic kind of suffocation, no balls beneath glittering chandeliers, no jewelled hands brushing silk whilst nobles plotted murder behind my back.
This was a slower kind of suffocation. Duller and far more cruel.
Every morning, Penny woke me before dawn.
I was scrubbed until my skin was raw, brushed and braided until not a single strand dare defy its place.
My gowns were chosen with care, rich fabrics in muted shades meant to soften me, to make me seem more ornamental, than a human out of place.
She had stopped trying to cover my scar after two days, tired of watching me pull the fabric down anyway.
By the time I was marched through the corridors I felt less like a person and more like a trinket. A well dressed shadow, silent, decorative and achingly bored out of my skull.
My bruises and scars had softened thanks to Penny’s constant use of oils and salves, although my lip was still split. It was healing, just very slowly as was expected for my human body. The only one that had not changed was the burn on my neck. Every time Penny saw it, she looked at me with pity.
Pity was something I did not want nor need, so I often ignored her, shoving the sponge away or snatching it from her hands to wash the puckered skin myself.
The first few days, I tried so hard to pay attention. Fae politics glittered with hidden blades, alliances and insults were woven together it was almost an art. If I was going to survive, to do as The King asked, I would need to understand all of it.
By the third day, I would have gladly thrown myself into a dragon's nest, if it meant avoiding listening to another debate, over trade routes or the sanctity of long dead bloodlines.
By the fifth, the thought of driving a decorative fork into my own head; at dinner, began to feel almost reasonable.
Each evening, I sat at one end of an ornate wooden table, long enough to seat ten, whilst the Fae King occupied the other. We ate in silence, beneath chandeliers shaped like frozen lightning. The quiet was not comfortable, it was a chasm.
I was bored. Dangerously bored.
That was how I found myself hiding in the library. Not the grand one, crowded with perfumed nobles, pretending to read books. Whilst whispering about who had been seen coming from whose bed, in the early hours of the morning.
No, this space I had claimed as mine.
I had found a narrow door, concealed behind a tapestry of some long dead queen, which led to a forgotten tower of shelves, layered in dust. The shelves stretched upwards until they disappeared into the darkness.
The air was filled with the scent of dust and parchment.
It was thick and musty, a smell I was sure Penny would complain about, if I stayed too long.
I could endure the smell, as long as I got the silence I so desperately craved. I had smelt worse, I myself had smelled worse.
I claimed a small alcove between two towering shelves, curling into the seat as though I could fold myself out of existence. Here, no one could demand that I smile. No one to watch for insolence in the tilt of my chin.
If anyone realised I was missing, there would be panic. I was sure Rhael would hunt me down, question my guards and confine me to my rooms. But the risk was worth a fw stolen hours.
I leaned my head back against the cool stone, sunlight filtered through a cracked stained-glass window.
Red and gold light scattered across my plain green dress.
I watched dust mites swirl in the light like microscopic stars over my head.
Thinking of how strange my life had become in the span of a week.
I had learned that the Fae King had a sister. I had only seen her once, during one of my sessions in the main library, whilst I tried to find somewhere to hide.
She entered the room like the hot sun hitting ice. A complete opposite to what those around her were used to. Conversations around the room had stilled, the pretend reading halted as everyone strained their necks to look at her.
She was beautiful in the effortless way all fae were.
Tall and slender, draped in a gown of soft blue that shimmered like water beneath sunlight.
Her hair fell in deliberate glossy curls.
She was lighter than Rhael, shadows did not follow her like they did him, and people smiled rather than recoiled when they saw her coming.
Her name was Olesia, from what I had heard. Although few dared use her name. ‘Princess’, ‘Your Highness’, those were safer.
She had moved past me without a glance, selecting a book before departing–as gracefully as she arrived–not pausing to give anyone a second glance. I had not expected her to notice me, the small human in the corner was surely below someone so coveted.
“Elara,” a voice sounded, cleaving the silence in two. I knew that voice, it was infuriatingly recognisable. Rhael had found me. For a moment I closed my eyes, considering the possibility of pretending not to hear him.
It did not work, I could still feel those eyes staring holes into my skin.
So, I sat up slowly, the book in my lap little more than a prop.
When I finally lifted my head and opened my eyes he was standing, leaning against the wooden doorframe – taking up the entire entrance – filling the already small alcove.
His silver eyes pinned me in place as though I had been caught with a dagger in my hands, aimed at his ribs. Rhael Sorenthis, destroyer of my brief bout of peace, looked ready to tear me apart.
“This part of the library is off-limits,” he said, stepping forward. His voice remained calm, there was no need for him to raise it. The words carried the full weight of his displeasure, as if his face didn't already have that mastered.
“Then you should’ve put up a sign,” I replied, folding my arms. I kept my eyes on him, even as he towered over me in the small space that was much too cramped, for the both of us.
“The door was hidden. That should have sufficed.” he said flatly, as he looked around the alcove before returning his eyes to mine. “Although the fact you are the one I find here is concerning, not that I should be surprised”
“Why? You did not think humans could read?” I asked, sarcasm dripping from my tone, my fingers tapping on the book before me. My expression mirrored the one I had seen him wear several times in the last week, one eyebrow raised, my mouth twisted in a smirk.
The truth was, we both knew I had not been reading, the book was an excuse. Not that I would ever admit that to him. I would rather read every book in both libraries before I ever admitted anything to the King of the Fae.
“No, because you are somewhere you should not be,” he sighed, his tone almost as if he was speaking to a child. I noticed he did not ask me why I was there. It didn’t matter to him, Rhael did not care about the why.
“I am always somewhere I shouldn't be,” I replied, almost mocking him.
It wasn't entirely a lie; since I was a child, I had always found myself in situations most would have found concerning.
My own mother had scolded me for my ability to find chaos since the age of five.
Becoming a slave had not changed that part of me.
“That…” he muttered, pinching the edge of his nose, “is precisely the problem,” he explained as if I was giving him a headache. Good. I hoped it left him aching for days.
“Charming,” I almost laughed. The bitterness of the word on my tongue, only ignited the anger I felt towards him. It was clear Rhael saw me the same as everyone else in this gilded prison did, a problem to either be fixed or removed.
If the Fae King wanted problems, there was a lot worse I could do than hiding in a dusty old library.
“Save your sharp tongue for someone who has the time to care. Perhaps it could be used on the Wolf King should he irritate you.” Rhael said coolly, his annoyance replaced by the smirk that usually meant he knew something I did not.
Upon hearing the mention of another of Alasgad’s kings, my stomach dropped. Everything about the King of Lycanthyr was said to be primal and dangerous. Humans were not even welcomed in his land as slaves, they were pests.
“Excuse me?” I asked, my eyebrows raising genuinely.
“We leave for Lycanthyr tomorrow.” he told me, leaning against a wooden pillar casually, unbothered by the dust that clung to his dark jacket.
“We?” The word caught in my throat, that sick feeling in my stomach twisted deeper, turning into dread.
“Yes. Have you forgotten our arrangement so easily?” Rhael asked, a cruel smirk forming on his lips. He enjoyed watching me squirm, as much as I enjoyed getting under his skin, and the game had just tipped into his favour.
“I never agreed,” I argued. The point was feeble and I knew it, but reminding him that I had never formally agreed to the arrangement made me feel, at least a little bit… better. Even if only for a moment.
“The coin I paid for you would suggest otherwise,” Rhael remarked. We both knew the words were unnecessary. Yet he spoke them anyway, a reminder of my position as a slave. No fancy dress or boredom within a grand castle would change that.
“Why me?” I demanded, “Surely you have advisors more suited to diplomacy?”
“You are my companion,” Rhael replied, speaking the words as if they were a simple explanation. “It would be strange to arrive without you, and the wolves see humans as lesser than even we do. You will go unnoticed. You will listen to them without speculation.”
“I assumed the companion title was just a ruse, an excuse,” I said as I leant back into the alcove. The wood dug into my shoulder blade, but shifting my position was not an option. I would not fidget, it would have made me look uncomfortable.
The last thing I wanted was for Rhael to know just how deep he had settled under my skin.