Chapter 46
Forty-Six
ALLETTE
After my conversation with Braith, I had every intention of asking Senan his plans for after he weds, but then he returned all shirtless and glistening, and I threw myself at him like some rabid beast. On a positive note, at least this allows us to pretend for a little longer.
When dinner is over, we will discuss plans for our future, but for now, I will simply bask in the excitement of attending a grand event at Kumulus Castle instead of just serving at one. Part of me wonders what the other servants might think. Then again, our relationship became common knowledge the day Senan sent his guard to retrieve me.
Braith helps me into a black silk gown with long sleeves that gradually fades to silver at the hem. The crisscrossed pattern over my chest and waist accentuates my small breasts and the flare of my hips.
At first, I feel beautiful. But the longer I stare at myself, the less confident I become. “Are you certain you can’t see my scars?” It’s difficult to tell from this angle.
“I’m certain,” Braith says with a sigh of exasperation. “I chose this dress specifically for the higher neckline.”
The neckline is high, but there are other dresses that go higher. “Perhaps I should change into the red one.”
“This dress is perfect, Allette. Just like you. Now, stop fidgeting and let me finish your hair.” She twists the pieces at the front back from my face and fastens them at my crown with a silver clasp.
I don’t know about perfect, but it’s nearly dinnertime, so there really isn’t time to change. Plus, the kohl she has skillfully applied along my lashes and the silver shimmer on my eyelids wouldn’t suit the red dress at all.
“All finished.” Braith steps back to admire her handywork and gives me a nod of approval. She truly is a miracle worker. With the subtle touches of makeup and rouge, I don’t look as if I’ve spent the last four years far from the sun.
I press a hand to my stomach, willing the flutters to calm. Although I look the part of the noblewoman I once was, I still feel like a servant. “I’m not sure if I can do this.” With Senan by my side, it feels as if I can take on the world, but the moment he leaves, my doubt returns tenfold, screaming with a vengeance.
To step out of this room all alone is to expose myself to a world that will shun me if it finds out who I am—what I’ve become. A Tuath in Scathian clothing. An imposter.
“Look at all you’ve been through. All you’ve survived. You deserve to be out there among your people,” Braith says, straightening a wrinkle along my silken sleeve. “Do not let them make you feel less than what you are.”
I need to be strong, to take charge of my own destiny. To stand by my word. “I don’t suppose you’d like to come with me? There are plenty of dresses to choose from.”
She laughs. “I don’t think the Scathian nobility is ready for what I have to say. But if you need a bit more time, we could always take the servants’ stairs.”
“That would be brilliant.” I’m not even sure how to get to the solar from here.
Together, we step through the servants’ entrance and into the musty hallway. I grasp my skirts in my fists, lifting them high enough so that I don’t trip as we descend flight after flight of stairs until we reach the corridor that connects the towers. Down more stairs, through another tight hallway, and up another set, and we’re emerging into a room lit by the falling sun, where Senan’s voice pierces the silence. “You owe me.”
“Do not speak of what you don’t know,” a deep voice returns.
“What do you think they’re talking about?” Braith whispers in my ear.
“I don’t know,” I mouth back. Together, we tiptoe into the room until we reach a set of high shelves filled with stone sculptures.
When I peer around the shelf, I find my prince speaking to a man who looks about the same age, but broader in the shoulders and not quite as lean. His black hair skims tight at the sides, showing off the rings along the points of his ears. This must be his brother Aeron. Braith peers around the shelf as well, and I hear her harsh intake of breath.
Senan’s hands flex and stretch at his sides as if he wants to strike his own brother. “I know all I need to. You were meant to deny Boris and yet you caved like a deck of fucking cards.”
“That isn’t what happened?—”
My hip accidentally grazes the shelf, and the bloody sculptures start to rattle.
The two princes whirl toward me. Aeron scowls, his lips drawing back with derision. He looks at me with such disdain, I feel like a tiny ant about to be crushed beneath his boot.
His head swings toward Senan. “You’re going to regret this.”
Senan’s eyes darken. “Will you do it or not?”
“She’s here now, isn’t she?” Aeron waves at me as if I’m a Pegasus to be auctioned at market. “I’m hardly going to say no.”
I have no clue what is going on between these two, but whatever it is makes me want to turn and run in the opposite direction.
Senan gestures me forward, and I step into the light. “Lady Wynn Simon, this is my brother Aeron Vale, Prince of Kumulus and now of Stratiss.”
He is using a false name, so Aeron must not know everything. And from the way they were arguing, he clearly isn’t on board with bringing me to dinner.
“I am truly sorry for putting you in this position,” I say, meaning every word. “I don’t mind returning to my rooms.”
Aeron shoots Senan a stern frown, then turns back to me. He doesn’t quite smile, but at least he no longer looks like he wants to commit murder. “Nonsense. I’d rather escort a beautiful woman to dinner than spend the evening chatting with a bunch of preening pricks.” He offers me his arm, and I take it.
“You don’t have to do this,” I say under my breath so that only Aeron can hear. Senan knows how it feels not to have a choice. Aeron should be allowed to refuse if he wants.
Aeron shakes his head, and what sounds like a resigned sigh pushes through his lips. “Senan is right. I do owe him.”
“Lady Wynn Simon,” Aeron says, introducing me to the tenth dignitary of the night. There are so many people stuffed into this dining room, it’s difficult to move without bumping into someone else. Even when I was serving, there hadn’t been this many. I can only imagine how full the room would be at one of the grand balls.
Or a wedding .
“I assume your wife is back in Stratiss,” the man whose name I’ve already forgotten says to Aeron with a smirk.
When Senan suggested I accompany his brother, he failed to mention that Aeron was married. Not one person I’ve met has batted an eye at the idea of a married man swanning around the dining room with a woman who is not his wife. Like this is an everyday occurrence.
Fae lights dance in golden sconces between wide windows and in candelabras along the longest table I’ve ever seen. Each place is set with delicate porcelain dishes edged in gold. Champagne and white roses spill from ornate centerpieces. Clearly, they are already preparing for the wedding celebrations at the end of next week.
What are we going to do?
Don’t settle for shadows, Allette.
Everyone deserves to be loved in the light.
Braith’s words are a haunting melody playing in my mind.
From across the crowded room, my gaze meets Senan’s where he stands next to his fiancée, arms clasped at his back, black wings tucked in tight. The bond between us urges me to go to him, but I must resist.
My gaze drifts to the woman on his right. Her glossy, violet hair contrasts beautifully with her silver gown and white wings.
Aeron lifts his champagne flute to his lips, muttering, “If you do not want the entire room to know you’re fucking my brother, then you need to stop staring at him.”
My own glass trembles in my clenched fist at his crude language. “I am not staring at him.”
“I’ve caught the two of you making eyes at one another at least ten times, and we’ve barely been here an hour.”
When Senan had offered Aeron as my escort, I had been under the impression that the man would be as charming as his brother. It would seem that is not the case. Aeron is curt and clipped and downright rude. And he definitely doesn’t like me, which is fine, I suppose, because the feeling is quite mutual.
Contempt rolls off his body, seeping into mine.
What was meant to be a whimsical evening has turned into a downright slog. Yes, the dining room is beautifully decorated, and the colorful gowns and ornate hairstyles are stunning, but that is where the pleasantness ends.
No wonder Senan never wanted to attend castle events all those years ago. The women come off as vapid and vain, and the men gawk or sneer. It’s awful.
Aeron glances sidelong at me, his silver eyes hard as steel. “I love Senan, but he has always been such a fanciful fool, believing any of us have a choice in our fates. If you know what is good for you, you’ll leave tonight and forget you ever met him.”
I am a grown woman, capable of making my own choices. If I choose to leave when Senan marries, then it will be because it is what I believe is best for me, not because some man who doesn’t even know me tells me to. “And if you don’t want this champagne poured over your head, I suggest you keep your opinions to yourself.”
I slip free of his gasp and guzzle what remains in my glass. Somehow, I manage to keep my false smile in place as I move between couples and groups of men toward the servant carrying a tray with more champagne. The only way I’m going to survive this dinner is to arm myself with alcohol.
Perhaps this night is a blessing in disguise. A much-needed dose of reality. Do I really want this to be my life? It’s clear that everyone we meet believes I’m sleeping with Aeron, and my escort has done nothing to alter the narrative. The men we meet leer at me, probably because they assume I’m a woman without morals. The women glower, likely wondering if I’ll set my sights on their husbands next.
This is much worse than feeling like an imposter. I’m a bloody pariah.
I discard my empty glass on one of the many high-top tables scattered around the room and catch up to the servant when he slows to avoid running into an elderly gentleman’s cane. I snatch a glass like a lifeline. Champagne in hand, I inhale a deep breath and drown my sorrows with a bubbly gulp.
It’s impossible to pretend when Senan’s future is literally unfolding in front of me like a play on a stage.
“Allette?”
It’s loud in here, so I cannot be certain, but it sounded like someone said my name. Not wanting to give myself away, I take a few more steps before turning casually and finding none other than Lord Philip Windell staring straight at me. It’s so absurd, I almost laugh. Of course fate would choose this moment to intervene.
He hasn’t changed a bit. Same mousy brown hair. Same thin, slightly crooked nose. My gaze falls to the paunch testing his waistcoat and trousers. Well, most of him hasn’t changed.
Lord Windell takes a halting step forward. “By the gods, it is you.” His nose wrinkles. “What have you done to your hair? It looks dreadful that color.”
His face looks dreadful that color, but you don’t see me saying that out loud, do you? Still as much of a pretentious pig as ever. “I’m sorry, do I know you?”
He presses a gloved hand to his chest. “Lord Philip Windell. Don’t you remember?”
“I’m afraid you must be mistaking me for someone else. I’ve never met anyone with the last name Withell.”
“Wind-ell,” he corrects. “Wind, like a breeze.”
If I still had my elemental magic, I’d breeze him right out of this room. “I’m sorry, sir, but I do not know you.”
His eyes narrow, and he shifts closer. His thick fingers lock around my wrist, keeping me here. The stench of cigar smoke assaults my nose when he speaks again. “Are you playing me for a fool?”
“I see you still have trouble keeping your hands to yourself, Windell.”
Philip drops my hand like it’s on fire. Excitement floods my stomach when I find Senan standing behind me. That is until I realize he still has his perfect fiancée in tow.
I’ve never seen a smile as false as the one Philip offers my prince. “Ah, Prince Senan. Always such a pleasure to see you.”
“Such a pleasure,” Senan drawls, silver eyes sliding to mine. “Are you enjoying yourself, Lady Wynn?”
Philip’s gaze bounces between us, his brow tightening. Stars, this is like deja-vu. Except instead of my best friend Wynn at my side, there is a Nimbiss princess.
The princess glances at me through curious eyes, her ruby lips slightly pursed, before she turns to Philip. “Princess Leeri Eadrom of Nimbiss,” she says in a velvety voice with the slightest accent, holding out her hand. “And you are?”
“Lord Philip Windell, your highness.” Philip makes no attempt to hide the fact that he is leering at the princess’s chest as he takes her gloved hand and presses a kiss to her knuckles.
The princess watches me through eyes so pale, they look almost glacial. “And you are?”
I curtsy, keeping my head bowed. “Lady Wynn Simon.”
Senan’s eyes sparkle. “It is good to see you again, Lady Wynn. My brother has been singing your praises.”
I smooth my hands down my skirts even as my face warms under his hypnotic gaze. What game is he playing?
When he turns back to Philip, all hints of humor vanish. “I didn’t realize you would be joining us, Lord Windell. How is the new wife?”
Philip got married? That poor, unfortunate woman. I bet he gave her a rabbit pelt as a wedding present. Hopefully she likes pistols.
“She is quite well, sire. Thank you for asking.”
The princess clutches Senan’s arm like she owns him. “Come, my love. Let us take our seats. They’ll be announcing dinner any time now.”
Senan’s smile turns wolfish. “Walk with us, Windell. I would love to hear all about life in Gallus.”
Although he looks as if he wants to protest, Philip follows Senan over to the table. Thank the stars the prince intervened. That interaction could’ve been so much worse.
Senan jokes and laughs with his littlest brother while Prince Aeron and I sit in stark silence across the table. He is so enigmatic, how could you not love him? I try to focus on the food, really I do, but my gaze always finds its way back to Senan.
Masked servants come and go, refilling wine glasses and clearing one course before returning with another. One maid wedges herself between Aeron and me, her hip ramming my shoulder so hard, I drop my fork, splattering red sauce all over my bodice. She doesn’t apologize either, carrying away a tray as if nothing were amiss.
My bad luck doesn’t end there.
Out of nowhere, a candle tips over, and I scorch my fingers on hot wax trying to right it. I burn my tongue on the tuna and corn salad—a dish meant to be served cold—and my bowl of potato and leek soup is cold as ice.
There are mealworms squirming in my slice of brown bread, and I nearly break a tooth on what looks an awful lot like a stone inside the sherbet.
No one else appears to be having any issues with their food, which makes me believe this is deliberate. My fellow servants have turned against me, and I can’t even blame them. What must they think of me, sitting here in this gown, pretending to be something I’m not?
This dinner cannot end soon enough.
Before the dessert is served, a servant brings us a fresh bottle of wine, but when he goes to set it down, the bottle slips and spills red wine all over my place setting and my skirts.
The whole table gasps, and a few guests titter behind their napkins, like watching me try to clean up the sopping mess is the most entertaining part of their night.
The man beside me starts to offer his serviette, but then his wife catches his hand and pulls him back.
With my cheeks ablaze, I search for my own serviette, but it must’ve fallen somewhere?—
A clean white cloth appears in front of me. Prince Senan extends a handkerchief across the table, his initials embroidered on the corner. The princess watches him with a look of abject horror on her face.
The room goes so quiet, you could hear a pin drop.
I take the cloth with a quiet word of thanks and dab my skirts. What I wouldn’t give to be hidden behind a servants’ mask right now.
“Are you all right?” Aeron asks under his breath. The question would have made me feel better if he didn’t sound so bloody irritated.
No, I’m not all right. I feel humiliated and foolish. Why didn’t I take his advice and leave when I had the chance? “I think I need to go back to my rooms to change…”
He doesn’t appear to care either way when I rise from my chair and quit the room. The guards outside snap to attention, but none of them seem bothered by my presence. Without wings, it takes far too long to reach the central tower. When I finally make it to my room, all I want is to strip out of this dress and crawl beneath my covers. The thought of returning to that dining room makes me want to scream.
But then I step inside, and my heart stops dead.
All the gowns Senan gifted me are spread across the floor, the colorful fabric shredded and torn. Above my bed, someone has written the word “WHORE” in bright red paint that drips like blood down the pristine wall.
I don’t belong with those awful people in the dining room.
I don’t belong in the caverns.
It’s beginning to feel like I don’t belong anywhere.