Chapter 31 #2
The Sea fae temperament matches that of the ocean. They are capable of presenting a surface of absolute calm before rising into devastating force. Unlike other fae who burn at its touch, Sea fae are perfectly adapted to the salt of their domain.
Trust the Sea court exactly as you trust the ocean itself.
They are beautiful. They are ancient. They are lethal.
I think of Cairn standing at the edge of the water last night, with moonlight on his skin while the sea held still at his feet. I think of how quickly his mood can change, how still the air around him turns before he erupts into violence.
Sea Court suits him.
When I turn the page, an image of Nightward greets me.
The keep is shown from above, dark against the edge of the sea. Towers, walls, courtyards, paths. For a ridiculous moment, I search for the balcony I’m sitting on, half expecting it to show me sitting here with my tea.
It doesn’t.
The words settle beneath the image.
Then there are the ones who stand apart.
Beyond the Queens sits the Nightwild Guard.
They kneel to no sovereign and they hold no allegiance to a single Court.
The Nightwild Guard is seated in Nightward Keep, upon the black cliffs of Nightward itself, and commanded by the Eldráfn, Cairn Vaedráfn.
They bear the burden of enforced balance, standing as the immovable boundary between the four Courts. Their judgments are absolute and binding.
Without the Guard to hold the line, disputes fester, and power goes to whoever is strongest.
To understand the Courts is to understand the chaos of Underhill.
To understand the Guard is to recognize the only force capable of holding that chaos at bay.
I look at the image of Nightward above the words, then out at the sea beyond the balcony. Cairn told me that the Guard stood apart from the courts, but this makes it sound like they stand above them. Or between them and ruin.
The next pages show feuds and disputes between courts, each one unfolding in moving ink. Borders shift. Queens bargain. Armies gather, then withdraw when a dark shape appears at the edge of the page.
The Guard.
Again and again, they step between one disaster and the next.
I spend more time watching the images than reading the words.
Then I turn the page and go still.
Underhill without the Guard.
It takes me a second to understand what the image under the title represents, and when it does, a cold, heavy knot forms in my throat.
At first, it looks like a map. Four territories, each marked in different shades.
Mountain. Wild. Hollow. Sea.
Then the borders begin to move.
The Wild spreads first, green swallowing pale roads and bursting through the amber plains in a frenzy of violent growth.
The Sea rises to meet it, turquoise waters surging inland to drown the forests and drag whole stretches of shore into the abyss.
Mountain answers with jagged fissures splitting the earth, thrusting stone peaks up to crush everything in their path.
Beneath it all, Hollow opens, the ground rotting and giving way to massive sinkholes that swallow the warring courts into the darkness.
I stop breathing while the image keeps moving.
The colors bleed into one another until the entire page is a chaotic, grinding mess of shattered land and turquoise water. Tiny figures scatter across it, too small for faces, but clear enough for me to understand what they are.
Fae.
Running. Falling. Fighting.
Dying.
The words appear, blood red, bold with warning.
The Courts do not remain still when no boundary holds them.
Mountain rises. Wild spreads. Hollow opens. Sea claims.
Each Court answers the others until the land itself begins to tear.
I turn the page. Not because I want to, but simply because I can’t watch those tiny figures fighting for their lives.
The map appears again. I think it’s the same one, until the borders begin to move.
Mountain withdraws into its jagged peaks. Wild reclaims its deep, explosive green, sinking roots firmly into the earth. Hollow settles into a rich, heavy amber, the torn ground closing until only faint seams remain.
But Sea looks faded, its edges washed thin where it meets the rest of Underhill.
And throughout it all, Nightward remains untouched.
New words appear, rising through the page like blood.
With the Guard’s return, Mountain returns to its peaks. Wild returns to its wood. Hollow returns to its depths. Sea returns to its shores.
Yet the balance is no longer whole.
The Severing struck deep, fracturing the elemental balance of Underhill.
I’m still staring at the page, when a shadow falls over me. I look up and find Vel standing in the doorway.
“We need you inside.”
I set the book down by my side, and frown up at her. “We? Why?”
She doesn’t answer me, turning away and disappearing back into the room beyond the glass. Sighing, I get to my feet and follow her in, then stop dead just past the threshold.
Serath is standing by the fire. Vessara is crouched over an open chest in the middle of the room. Maerwyn stands near Serath, and Riahn is leaning against the door, arms folded.
Every muscle in my body locks tight, my heart kicking into a sudden, hard rhythm against my ribs at finding them all waiting for me. “What’s going on?”
Serath turns to smile at me. “Tonight you officially join the Guard.”
“Join?” I look between them. “I thought the magic had already done that.”
“It did, but this is more formal.” Vessara straightens, and crosses to me. “There’s a lot to do before the moon rises. Come with me.”
She’s already steering me toward the door that leads to my bedchamber, the others falling in behind me.
“Why are you all here?” I have to fight against the urge to pull free of her grip.
She doesn’t stop walking until we’re through the bedchamber and in the bathing room. The tub is already filled with water, the scent of unknown herbs and flowers reaching me.
“Get out of your clothes and into the water.” Serath steps forward, tugging at the hem of my tunic.
I catch her wrist before she can touch me. The room goes still.
“I can undress myself.”
Serath looks down at my hand on her wrist, then back at my face. For a moment, I’m very aware of what she is. What they all are. How easily she could move me if she chose.
Then she inclines her head, and steps back.
“It is easy to forget you don’t know our ways. If you wish to undress yourself, we will wait. We are here to help you prepare, that is all.”
I stare at her, then at the others.
“All right.”
They close around me, and I’m naked seconds later.
I hiss when I step into the water and sink down. There’s a strange faint hum under the heat that vibrates against my skin.
“Tip your head back.” Hands guide my head backward, and one of them tips a pitcher of warm water over my hair and works oil through the strands.
I stay still out of habit. I was bathed and dressed by other hands more often than I was left to do it myself. I know how to tip my head, lift my arms, and keep my thoughts to myself.
But this is different.
This isn’t Nella, or any of the other lady’s maids that I grew up with.
These are fae warriors who were kept captive by humans for three hundred years.
They have every reason to hate the sight of a human woman.
Yet here they are, washing oil through my hair, and talking and laughing while they do it.
“Is this really necessary?”
“Yes.” It’s Maerwyn who answers me.
“Helpful. Thank you.” I mutter the words beneath my breath, but Riahn snorts.
Serath flicks the tip of my nose. “I should accept your thanks and teach you a lesson.”
The rest of them laugh at my incredulous look.
They wash my hair again, slower this time, working the oil all the way through before rinsing it clean.
Vel takes one of my hands and scrubs beneath my nails with a tiny brush.
Maerwyn takes the other. Vessara tips something dark into the water, and the faint hum beneath the heat deepens until it feels like it’s moving through my bones.
“Can you feel that?”
They all go still around me. Worse, their heads tilt together in the same motion.
“Explain.” It’s Vel who breaks the silence. “Feel what?”
“There’s a hum. Can’t you hear it?” I tug my hand free from Maerwyn’s grip and place it on the edge of the tub. “It’s vibrating.”
They exchange glances.
“It’s nothing. Be still.” Maerwyn takes my hand again, and Serath pours more water over my hair.
It's clearly something, but every face around me has closed. I know that look. I’ve seen it on Cairn often enough. Fae, apparently, have many ways of saying nothing. Whatever it is, they’re not going to tell me any time soon.
“Stand up.”
I do, water streaming down my skin. They rinse the oil from my body, and Vessara passes something through the water with a low murmur I don’t understand. The hum sinks deeper, turning almost painful, then vanishes so suddenly I gasp.
No one reacts.
“Out.” Serath holds a large fluffy towel open for me and I step into it. She wraps it around my body, then turns me toward the door. “Into the bedchamber now.”
The curtains have been drawn back from the windows when we return to the bedchamber. Moonlight spills across the floor in pale sheets, bright enough to turn the room strange. At the center of it, suspended from nothing, is a dress.
It hangs in the air as if an invisible body already wears it. Silver-white, almost translucent where the moonlight catches it, with darker threads running through the fabric like smoke trapped beneath ice. The skirt drifts above the floor, moving in a breeze I can’t feel.
“You don’t really expect me to wear that?”
“Stand in the moonlight,” Vessara says.
Of course. Why answer the question when she can give me another instruction?
Serath reaches for the towel, and my fingers tighten around it before I can stop them. Vel’s hand closes firmly around my wrist.
“Let go,” she says.
I look at her. “I am getting very tired of being ordered around.”
“Be tired in the moonlight.”
I glare at her, then I let the towel go.