Chapter Seven #4
“I—” Hesitating, her frown softened. “I know, I know. Forgive me. Bradach did well today. He showed bravery I didn’t know he had in him, and put your safety ahead of his own. He just... scared me,” she said under her breath. “And surprised me. I don’t like it when he does either.”
It was funny, but I knew exactly what she meant. Alisdair both scared and surprised me that day too, and hours later, I couldn’t sort through my jumbled feelings to understand why it unsettled me so much.
After Alisdair chased Bradach out into the village and sent him flying for the mountains, court was closed.
I spent some time catching my breath in our freezing bedchamber, before changing and heading down to the war room.
Part of me thought that Alisdair would breeze in while I studied the maps of all the places I dreamed of going.
It was Aeris who finally stuck her head in. She summoned me for a bath and dinner in my dressing room—alone.
Alisdair and I left things in such an odd place. He went from furious at me, to saving my life, then trying to kill an innocent man for touching me. What was I supposed to make of all that? What would I say to him that night when he came for me?
“Aeris, can I ask you something? What is this?” I produced the purple flower I tucked into my pocket that morning. It was so pretty, I couldn’t resist. Part of me hoped to bring it home to Mama and my faywens, and plant a whole bush of them on our patch. “I’ve never seen a flower like this.”
She glanced up, eyes bugging.
“It’s obviously a magical flower but—”
“My lady!” Her shout made me jump. A quick wave of her hand, and the flower crumbled to dust.
“Aeris,” I cried. “What was that for?”
“I’m sorry, Lady Ana. I didn’t mean to startle you. It’s just that by law, we have to destroy those flowers on sight.”
“Wait, what?” I slapped at my hand. “Is it poisonous?”
“Not to us,” she muttered.
Aeris tipped my head down, going for the braids along my neck. I wanted to ask her why she went through the trouble of doing my hair into intricate braids in the morning, only to undo her work that night. I wanted to ask, but I sensed I already knew.
The life of a paper princess is as tedious as a paper queen. We did all these pointless, time-wasting tasks to distract me from the fact that this kingdom survived without me for a century, it continued on during my presence, and would carry along just fine long after I left.
“That flower is poisonous to our Lord Shadowsoul.”
My body went rigid. “Excuse me? What did you say?”
“The All Mother demands a balanced world. All things are born. All things die. She will not stand for an immortal being—although many have used magic and curses to achieve that very end.”
I stared at my lap, listening close.
“Lord Lumenfell may very well be the most powerful being in this land or any other, but Meya always has the last word. Whenever he uses great amounts of magic—those flowers spring up. As I said, they’re poisonous to him.”
My mind spun. “Are you allowed to tell me this?”
“If you were anyone else, no. But you are his queen,” Aeris replied. “You have to know so that you can protect him in battle as he will protect you. Husband and wife. Mate and eternal mate. Your weaknesses end where the other’s strength begin.”
“Too right you are,” I murmured, gazing at the ash. “Thank you for telling me, Aeris. Thank you very much.”
Soon Aeris finished combing my hair, then braided it into a single braid for bed. Meya knew the mattress called to me louder than it ever did before. How could it not when I spent the last two nights beneath Alisdair, instead of beneath the sheets.
I wanted sleep, but that would have to wait.
I paused at the threshold. “Eadaoin, are you coming with me?”
“I am, my queen, but if I smell him coming, I will have to leave. I may be your guard, but you made promises to your mate before Meya. No one is allowed to come between that.”
It’d be a long time before I got used to the word mate. These were such old words, for old traditions, borne in an ancient world we left behind when we left the forests and decided we wanted to live like the humans.
“I understand. This is between me and Alisdair.” Bradach flashed through my mind. “I don’t want anyone else hurt for standing between us.”
I set off, knowing Eadaoin would follow.
“Will you be running through the village?” Eadaoin asked. “I’m sure all the plotters were taken out in the attack, but in case there are more lurking in the village, a disguise wouldn’t go amiss.”
I shook my head. “I’m not going into the village. I’m not running at all tonight.”
Her white whiskers twitched. “You’re not?”
“No need. I’ll be on my way tomorrow night. I’ve waited this long, I can hold out for one more night.”
“Then where are we going?”
“I was hoping for a tour of the castle. More specifically, the servants’ quarters.”
She gave me a funny look, but shrugged. “As you wish, my queen.”
EADAOIN LED ME THROUGH winding halls, reaching staircases, and grand rooms.
I asked to see the servants’ quarters, but she took her time, leading me on a tour of the castle. With every minute that passed, I relaxed... because Alisdair wasn’t coming.
There was no way he couldn’t find me. I wasn’t hiding or masking my scent.
He was free to pounce and straddle me any time.
Either he wasn’t because arguing with him about the fox boy and granting Meallan his favor pissed him off so much he wanted rid of me.
Or, he was seriously injured when he shielded my body from an avalanche of falling stone, and he was holed up somewhere recovering.
I wasn’t sure which truth I wanted it to be.
“—and this, my queen, is the servants’ hall.” She threw open double doors. “This is where we take our meals and our breaks. Although, we don’t have to break in here. Our lord gives us freedom to roam the castle. I myself prefer to lunch in the gardens.”
“Uh-huh,” I croaked, eyes darted around. “It’s nicer here than I expected. The servants’ quarters in the castle Lyrica is— It’s— It’s—”
I tried to speak of the plain, undecorated, utilitarian space I was forced in that fateful night in the castle, but the words wouldn’t come out. That’s when I realized Emiana had no idea what the servants’ quarters were like in her own home. She never bothered to look.
“I don’t know what it’s like,” I finished. “But I’m going to guess it’s nothing like this.”
“Hmm. Because the bookshelves, couches, and art?” Eadaoin asked. She gasped. “Or are their quarters even grander? All of Elva knows nothing can rival the beauty of the Crystal Palace.”
“Uhh, no.” I flushed hard. “That wasn’t the difference I was thinking of.”
The faeriken man finally lost—or won?—the tug-of-war with his cock, and threw his head back, glutes tightening.
He perched on the dining tabletop, roughly ejaculating on the face of a pretty young woman with brilliant white feathers where hair should be.
Said woman bent over the table, balancing on tiptoe, while another guy pounded her ass from the back.
It had been like this in nearly every room we walked into, and more than a few of the open hallways. Faeriken in heat going at each other like the continuation of the species depended on them.
Continuation of the species? a voice scoffed. Unless these three need a conversation from their mamas on where babies come from, they know full well none of the things they were doing would result in a baby.
This wasn’t out-of-control heat cycles driving them to reproduce. This was sex. Pure and simple.
The man behind spread her legs apart even farther, and started pumping like a madman—ratcheting her moans to deafening.
I tried to look past them, and the couple on the couch in the corner, and commit this room and its place on my mental map to memory.
It was quite nice with its long, communal table, overflowing bookshelves lining the far wall, comfy couches to recline, and paintings of rolling green hills and verdant forests.
“It’s a good thing that I haven’t seen any children yet,” I remarked, “but where are they? Do you have your own rooms? Would a child servant have his own room? Or do you share living quarters?”
“We have our own rooms,” Eadaoin replied.
Begs the question of why these sexual proceedings aren’t taking place in their rooms.
“But the children don’t, nor do they share a living quarter.”
“Then where are they?”
She gave me a knowing look—decipherable even under her orange fur. “I know who you’re looking for, Lady Ana, but I don’t know where he is. Sometimes my lord employs children to work in the castle, but they never do.”
“Never do?” I stopped dead. “Never do what?”
“Work.” She looked away. “I’ve never seen them making beds, sweeping floors, or bringing down food trays. They’re never running through the gardens, or clearing snow off the paths. Children come to Castle Riagin, and then they just... disappear.”
I stared at her, trembling. “Disappear? How can they disappear?”
“I don’t know, my queen. This castle has many secrets. That is one of them.” She turned around and continued on.
I glared at her back. “What does he do to them! What does he do while you all hide your heads and sing false praises!”
She whirled around, glaring right back. But on her, with her two-inch fangs, it was more effective. “I don’t know that he does anything to them,” she snapped, “and neither do you, so I’d refrain from impugning my honor and the honor of our lord.”
I clenched my teeth, throat burning. It wasn’t the first time it struck me that the servants in Castle Riagin were much more comfortable speaking to their royals as equals. Kaelan was Emiana’s lover, and he still snapped his jaw shut on a single look from her. Faeriken were not so cowed.
Of course they weren’t. Dozens of them just tried to assassinate me in front of Alisdair.
Swallowing my anger, I spoke in a more even tone. “Where could they be if they’re not in the castle? How do I find him?”