Chapter 10
CHAPTER TEN
OPHELIA
Irub my chest, fighting off the blossoming soreness. With my body so bone tired, I should be able to sleep with ease, but I can’t.
My stepsisters. Are they all right? What is the chance their mother is taking her frustrations out on them? That would be my fault. If something happens to them, I’m to blame.
What about the rest of our little town? What about Ethel, the woman who was supposed to be the love of my life and dearest friend? Has she truly turned against me, like everyone else, or was she acting in the heat of the moment?
I suppose I’ll never know.
My secret ruined my last courtship, and I’m still keeping secrets, but it’s easier now. With my glamour down, I look the same as any other fae. Some have smaller ears and lesser abilities, like me.
I’m safe now.
But my chest aches. It’s a weight pushing. In the same breath, my heart threatens to explode. I inhale, sharp and desperate for air.
Calm down. Please.
My exhale comes out shaking, ragged, forced.
“Ophelia?”
My eyes open wide at the sound of Helena’s voice.
She’s a good roommate. Helena may be more talkative than I’m accustomed to, but I don’t mind the chatter. She’s tidy, knows when to be quiet, and has done a good job showing me around the castle.
Usually, she looks at me with a smile, but terror wells in her mossy eyes now.
An orb hovers over me like a rain cloud, casting the room in blue light. Harsh. Heavy. Weeping… and magical.
“What is it?” I sit upright, clutching the thin blanket to my chest. “Did something happen?”
“It’s your magic, dear.” She frowns and sits on the edge of the bed. “Is it always so unruly?”
My magic? Helena can’t know that I have no magic. She can’t understand what I am, lest she look at me with the same terror for the rest of our days together. Perhaps she’ll even tell Lucille that I’m a halfling, and I can’t risk being exiled once again.
I shake my head. “I’ve never—never known it to do such a thing.”
“No? I’ve heard of empaths losing control before—”
“Empaths?” I rub my forehead. “Is that what this is?”
Her eyes narrow. “It’s a pretty common gift for Moon Fae, yeah. An emotional sort of magic. You can harness feelings and use ‘em, I suppose—just don’t use mine without permission.”
She finally smiles, but I don’t have the energy to return it. Perhaps she can’t know all my secrets, but… there are a few I can share.
“I would have to know how to use the gift to do that. Mortals raised me, and they never taught me to use my gifts.”
I hold my breath, anxiously awaiting her response.
“Ah.” She clicks her tongue. “Sometimes it even happens the other way ‘round—fae with mortal babes.”
There’s more I long to say. To have one living person who knows I am half mortal may take some of the weight off my chest. The thought alone makes the blue orb grow, shaking, nearly losing control.
What will happen when it bursts?
“I don’t know how to get rid of it,” I whisper. “I’m sorry.”
“Let me help. I may not know much about moon magic, but… I can give it a little company. Sometimes that’s all we need.” She waves a hand, channeling a ball of yellow light. “The moon and the sun are partners, y’know?”
With a flick of her wrist, her orb glows and joins mine.
I peer up at the pulsing magic, and though hers does little to lessen my intensity, she’s right. Having a friend at my side feels better.
“Can you feel it? The energy…”
“I’m afraid I can.” She shudders. “It’s heavy. Is there something you’d like to chat about?”
“No, no. Only the woes of leaving my family behind.”
“You can tell me more about that, if you’d like. I understand better than you’d think.”
As kind as Helena is, it would be foolish to trust her. I shake my head. “That’s all right. I’m not ready to speak of them yet.”
Having someone by my side already does more to lessen the pain. The blue orb is still present, but it shrinks, and hers does as well.
“Is your magic like mine?” I ask.
“Nah. Mine is a trick of the light, nothing more. No feelings involved.”
“Lucky you.”
“There’s got to be some good in your magic. You’re a powerful fae. As far as the Sun Fae go, I’m one of the weaker ones. All I can do is my little light tricks. I could probably learn more if I put my mind to it, but… there’s always work to be done. Keeps me busy.”
“I understand that better than you know,” I say, an echo of her earlier words.
She squints at me. “What brings you to the Sun Palace, anyhow?”
“Well… I needed a job.” And there was nowhere else for me to go, but I keep that to myself.
“You have no ties here, right? None at all?”
“Well—I sort of know the prince.” The words fall past my lips before I can think better of it. I clap my hands over my mouth, my eyes widening.
She matches my expression. “You what?”
“Just once!” I rush to amend. “We only met one time.”
So much for not spilling my secrets.
I’m not here for the prince, but is it a better lie than telling her I was kicked out of my home? That would have been safer—and truer. I would be fine never seeing the prince again.
She continues gaping at me. “How in blazes are you working here if you’re close friends with the prince?”
“I did not say we are friends.” The orb above my head shifts—pink, surely a sign of my embarrassment.
Her attention moves up to the pink light, and her expression brightens, nearly rivaling the light of her magic. “Ophelia! You like him, don’t you?”
“No! He is betrothed—”
“The heart wants what it wants,” she says in a sing-song voice.
“My heart does not want him! It wants nothing. My heart is pleased to be alone, thank you very much. Delighted, I would say. I am delighted not to worry about courtships and ceremonies.”
“Uh-huh.” She snorts and rises to her feet. “Well, your heart does seem a good deal happier now, so I’ll leave you to sleep. Hopefully, you dream of princes now, rather than whatever was on your mind before.”
This was all a terrible idea. I never should have told her about my past; it opened up the door to this—this teasing. I shake my head profusely. “I will dream of nothing! Nothing at all.”
“We’ll see. I’ll be keeping an eye on those orbs of yours.”
“No! Not my orbs.”
“I reckon the pink color means you’re flirty. What d’you think?”
“No! It means nothing of the sort. Embarrassment, perhaps—but nothing else. Nothing like that.”
“If you insist.” She chuckles. “Good night, Ophelia.”
The room goes pitch black after a few moments of silence. Despite my efforts to think of anything else…
The prince is on my mind when I finally drift to sleep.
Helena’s voice cuts through the quiet of the early morning. “Ophelia! Quick. I need your help.”
The rest of the castle sleeps while the workers attend to their duties without anyone to get in the way. It’s easier to clean when there’s no one tracking mud inside.
What could make my independent, hard-working friend yell for help?
I run through the candlelit hallways, and I’m out of breath when I find her standing outside a darkened bedroom. Her wide eyes perfectly match her shrill, terrified voice.
“What?” I ask, laughing breathlessly—nervously. “What could possibly be so urgent?”
“There’s a rat in there. I need you to get it.”
My face falls. “What are you—”
“Please.” She bounces, her wings flouncing with each movement. “Ophelia, you’ve got to. I have an awful fear of the things, and Lucille is already pissed at me for slacking off from laundry duty last week.”
Even if I’ve been delegated the task of catching mice, this is better than waiting hand and foot on my stepmother.
I shake my head. “Lucky for you, I don’t have the same fear.”
As I stride into the room, the candles flicker on to illuminate the space.
A bedchamber.
I am in someone’s bedchamber.
Gold still lines the furniture and paintings, but that’s the only thing about this room that matches the others.
It’s a cluttered chamber, unlike so much of the tidy palace, with books, quills, and crystals littered about.
A red duvet covers the vast bed, and matching curtains keep the sunlight out for whoever sleeps here.
In the middle of it all sits a large, tall form—a person. A man. It takes a moment to spot the white hair, hidden behind a thick book. To my surprise, the door clicks shut behind me. I move back and jiggle the cool, golden doorknob once.
Twice.
Then, over and over, desperately.
It doesn’t open.
“My apologies for disturbing you,” I squeak. “I must have been sent to the wrong room.”
The book lowers, and a familiar face comes into view. An angular nose and pale ocean eyes. Slender fingers run over the book cover, and his lips tug up at the corners.
Blast it all. Why is this happening to me?
“I must say,” Emyr murmurs, “I’ve dreamt of you in my bedchamber before, but it was never like this.”
He’s joking—he must be joking.
Waves of laughter fall from my treacherous mouth. I must leave before he embarrasses me further.
No, it’s Helena doing the embarrassing. This is all her doing. I told her of my meetings with the prince, and she meddled. I would nearly take Raia’s meddling over this.
I wiggle the doorknob, trying to pry it open, to no avail.
“Helena?” I call, whipping around to face the door. “Why can’t I open this bloody thing? There’s no rat in here.”
“Oh no!” Her gasp sounds artificial—too loud and entirely over-the-top. She isn’t such a good actor anymore, is she? “Must be a problem with the lock.”
“Why does it lock from the outside?”
“No bother.” She continues as if I said nothing at all. “I’ll fetch someone to rescue you. You stay in there with the prince.”
What a little devil. I always knew fae enjoyed their tricks, but I never imagined they played them on each other. It appears that no one is safe from such meddling.
I press my fingers to the door. “Please…”
If she hears my weak plea, there’s no response.
“Well,” Emyr purrs, “it seems we’re going to be here for a bit. Make yourself comfortable, little halfling.”