Chapter 4 Paeonia
?PAEONIA
Paeonia didn’t return to her chambers until well past midday.
What should have been a simple walk had turned into a maddening maze, the castle twisting around her like a living labyrinth.
Every corridor seemed to shift beneath her feet, familiar turns changing before her eyes, and the paintings—she could have sworn—migrated from wall to wall like restless spirits.
By the time she reached the heavy oak door etched with the curling branches of an alder tree, she was moments away from tearing out her hair.
Inside her quaint room, she uncovered a new dress draped across her kept bed. She had yet to see anyone else in the castle, but she highly doubted Rowan had taken time from his brooding to deliver dresses to her door.
Her fingers brushed over the soft velvety fabric, admiring the dusty rose shade.
It was unadorned yet undeniably lovely. It lacked embellishment or grandeur.
Something about its simplicity made her ache to wear it.
A gentle panel of lighter blush ran down the center of the bodice, with wine-hued ribbons meant to lace up the back.
It wasn't extravagant by any means, but when she slipped it on, the elegance came alive.
A glimmering pair of pink earrings sat atop her dresser.
They weren’t covered in dust like everything else in the room, making her think they came with the dress.
She slipped them in her ears after she finished wrapping the dress around her body.
She found a bucket of lukewarm water by the smoking fireplace.
She sighed after splashing her face, sinking to the floor in her new dress, gazing blankly at herself in the dingy mirror.
“Do you like it, dear?” a female voice whispered.
Paeonia started, her hands catching herself behind her with wide eyes, searching her room for the intruder.
“Was worried you might not be fond of the color. Didn’t have the chance to ask you your wills and won’ts yet.”
She turned around and clasped her hand over her mouth to stifle the scream.
Standing a good ways behind her, fluffing one of her pillows, stood a woman made entirely out of what appeared to be stone.
She glanced down at her gray attire before locking eyes with her—though Paeonia couldn’t quite tell if she was looking directly at her, her eyes entirely one shade of slate, just a hint of silver in the center where her irises might be.
“Apologies. I haven’t met a real person in ages. Well, a new one, that is. I tend to forget the startling nature of,” she paused, her arm bending as she moved about the room, the sound like two rocks scraping across one another, “my complexion—or lack thereof.”
Paeonia stood on wobbly legs, backing away so her hands laid flat against the brick fireplace mantle. “You’re—” She shuddered, trying to make sense of the woman before her.
“Made entirely out of stone,” the woman finished, with a bit of mirth.
Paeonia blinked several times, her jaw still unhinged. The woman smiled, and the sound was like crunching gravel.
“Apologies for frightening you, dear.” She lit a sconce and fluffed the duvet.
“How—? Who—?” Paeonia gaped.
“How terribly impolite of me,” the stone woman fussed. “I’m Ren, from the northern
borough of Dawnly. Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lady Paeonia.”
Paeonia’s brows furrowed as she attempted to make sense of her sight. She knew Dawnly, and though she had never ventured that far north, merchants from that borough had always made it down to Findale and neighboring towns.
“Yes,” she muttered. “A…pleasure.” She curiously walked a bit closer to Ren as she continued to light the candles in the room. “You’re the…the maid of the castle?” she asked, trying to keep her face straight and not shocked with impolite curiosity.
Ren chuckled, turning to face Paeonia, her features all the same gray hue. She moved so slowly and subtly that Paeonia was unable to decipher much emotion. “In a way, I suppose I have become the lord’s maid.” Her lips went tight in thought. “There are plenty of us here.”
“Plenty,” Paeonia mumbled to herself. “Like those statues I’ve seen in the garden?” She remembered how lifelike they appeared. Then she glanced out at the balcony, those two statues still unmoving.
She wasn’t sure how she could tell, but Ren’s face seemed to sink slightly. “No,” she
breathed. “Not entirely. They were at one point in time. But not any longer.” She shook her head and grinned, noticing Paeonia’s glimpse at those on her balcony.
“Not that lot either, I’m afraid. But there are many other Stoneborne residing here.
” She turned to the side, slightly out of Paeonia’s direction.
“Not entirely our choice, but that’s beside the point. ”
Paeonia shook her head, her fingers finding her hairline. “So, there are plenty of you here…other stone people—Stoneborne? But some of you are truly just statues?”
Ren pursed her lips, brushing her fingers down her dress’ skirt, grating bricks rubbing together. “Never mind that. The lord will want to have you for dinner before it gets dark. You better be off.” She fluttered her hands forward in a motion to get Paeonia to leave.
Paeonia seemed unable to argue.
“You’ll be needing to complete the outfit.” Ren reached for a small jewelry box on the dresser, revealing a delicate pearl necklace. She gestured for Paeonia to put it on.
She glanced in the mirror, her fingers tracing her mother’s locket, then across the pearls of her new necklace.
Her hair still hung a bit messily down her back, but she hadn’t the effort to tie it off her face.
Instead, she tucked her blonde hair behind her ears, her bangs framing her forehead, and turned to Ren, studying her.
She couldn’t tell her age, unable to spot wrinkles or fine lines.
Her hair was all one shade of slate, so it was impossible to know if she had been graying with age.
“I’m afraid I don’t remember the way.” She knew she’d be late to eat if she attempted to make her way on her own.
“Yvette!” Ren called out. A few moments later, the door to her room swung open, and a small Stoneborne child stood on the threshold. “Could you escort Lady Paeonia down to the dining hall?”
The child nodded and smiled, stepping to the side, waiting for Paeonia to join her.
Paeonia tentatively walked toward the Stoneborne child, peeking over her shoulder at Ren who continued to fluff and pick at her room.
Just yesterday, Paeonia thought humans were alone in this realm, and now, she felt she had been torn from her daydreams, spiraling down like she’d been shoved from a tree, faced with the reality that fae and other odd creatures were far closer than she thought.
A simple run through the woods, and she bumped into dreamland beings left and right.
Yvette skipped down the hall, seemingly happy. She wondered if she was born made of stone, or if something had happened to make her skin turn gray.
“Miss Yvette,” Paeonia began. “What a pretty name.”
The girl ignored her, humming a tune to herself as she crossed down several corridors.
“Do you have parents, Yvette?”
Silence.
Paeonia, unable to map out the path in her head, descended the stairs two at a time after the girl, until they reached a deep mahogany set of doors. Yvette gestured her head toward them.
“Can…you not speak?” Paeonia asked her quietly.
The girl finally made eye contact, her smile sinking slightly. “I can speak,” she whispered, her voice rough but childlike.
Paeonia’s brow furrowed, her hand wanting to reach out to the girl, to show her sympathy—to show her any sort of emotion—but before she could, the doors flew open, and a tiny hobbled creature glared at her.
Paeonia straightened, the male short, his stature almost to her hip, his skin a sea-glass green, his eyes narrowed—several eyes for that matter—and his clothes tattered but well-loved. Her lips parted, her head tilting.
The creature spoke before she could fumble over her words. “Dinner is served.” His voice startled her, the lilt of it marbled and filled with sludge.
She sucked in a breath, looking beyond the tiny fellow. “Thank you,” she responded kindly but still with unease. He raised one brow before sidestepping so she could enter, closing the doors behind her.
Paeonia clasped her hands in front of her skirts, taking in the room’s weathered appearance. If Rowan had so many servants in the castle, she questioned why rooms like this still had cobwebs and moth-eaten holes in the tablecloth.
Spiderwebs laced amongst the sconces, the candles on the table dripping and melting across it. It all seemed trapped in time, like Rowan refused to move forward.
Perhaps he enjoyed the decay.
“Sit,” an unfortunately familiar voice growled.
Rowan entered through another door across from her. She stole a breath before doing as she was told, approaching the closest chair.
Rowan donned a navy jacket that accentuated his tanning skin. His hair had been pushed back, but it was still a mess of dark waves. The better lighting let her easily trace over the right side of his face, the scarring intense, his left eye having a slash that stood stark.
Paeonia sat down and fluffed her new dress, gawking at the intricately embezzled silverware. “Thank you,” she muttered. When Rowan didn’t respond, she explained, “For the dress.” She glanced at him as he took a seat across from her. He almost appeared confused before his features flattened again.
In the center of the table, a spread of wild berries, cheeses, bread, and a pile of bronzed meat were warm and waiting on ornate silver trays. She swallowed hungrily, realizing she hadn’t eaten since yesterday. Her fingers twitched in her lap, waiting.
Rowan reached forward and piled food onto his plate before pausing mid-grab, making Paeonia’s cheeks warm. “What are you waiting for?” he bit out.
“Oh.” She gently shook her head. “Sorry. I was… I thought you’d want to…”