Chapter 13
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
EMYR
“Where are we going?”
A healer leads me through a darkened corridor. Goose bumps cover my arms as the air of the untouched space leaves me chilled to the bone. It’s rare for me, or any other royal, to visit this wing.
Something is wrong. It must be.
The healer’s pale hands are clasped together. She doesn’t spare me a look as her shoes click against the stone floor. “To the infirmary.”
The infirmary was once a rarely used wing, but with the curse spreading, it’s become a terrifying place—one I avoid. Everyone does. The shadows are darker here, bringing me down with each step. Toward the end, I’m dragging my feet along.
It seems the healer is less affected by the shadows. Her black feathery wings tell me she’s from the Saturn Palace, a palace accustomed to the darkness and curses. While our ties to the palace are feeble, her nature makes her good at her job.
“This way,” she says.
I step inside, and my stomach curdles. No one here is ill—not really. They are cursed. Corrupt. If the curse were only to make our land darker and colder, that would be acceptable. It would be livable. I may miss the sun whenever I’m home, but I can live without it.
These poor fae cannot live at all.
This is the other side of the curse, the side not many can witness. Fae may be conniving and tricky on occasion, but we’re not bloodthirsty. This curse… it changes the very nature—not of higher fae, but of the common ones, which were once plentiful.
These poor beings are caged, ravenous, snapping at the bars. They are kept here for their good and the safety of everyone else. That’s what my father tells me, but it does little to ease my guilt.
This is not an infirmary at all. It’s a prison, and one that is needed. If it weren’t for this place, all these fae would be killed—or become the ones doing the killing. These poor, out-of-control creatures are the reasons for the deaths of mortals and fae alike.
A brownie with wrinkled skin and pointed ears snarls at me from behind his bars. He wears only a simple cloth to cover his petite form. “Let me out, princeling. We shall see how strong you are when this iron is not weakening me.”
That explains how exhausted I am. My hands shake, only partially from anticipation of what may come next. I hardly want to breathe in the dusty air—and I hardly can, each breath harsh and forced.
My heart thumps erratically in my weak chest. “Is that…?”
“Yes.” The healer nods stiffly. “A harmless kitchen fae turned into a killer. He was found covered in blood.”
I shudder. “Why did you bring me here, Miss?”
It feels cruel to force anyone to be here, although she does it for her work. Perhaps we shouldn’t make anyone come down here. There must be another way…
If I can’t break the curse, I can find a way to cure the corruption. This is why I study the arcane. There must be something, even if I have not uncovered it yet—some sort of alchemy or magic I can learn.
“Because someone you care about is here,” she says plainly. “Come along. He is in a private suite.”
“What…? Who?”
My heart races. Only mundane fae have been harmed by corruption so far, but what if that’s changed? What if my father goes on a murderous rampage? What if Tibalt tries to lodge a knife in my back?
Who is waiting for me?
Rather than answering me aloud, she leads me to the back; it’s no prettier here.
Cobwebs hang in the corner, telling me this suite, as she called it, is not used often.
In the middle of the cell, larger than the last, lies Spark.
But it’s not the Spark I know, and he’s not at rest. His ears are folded back.
His tail swishes menacingly, sharpening into a point.
He’s been known to hiss occasionally, but it’s nothing like how he snarls at me now—as if I’m a stranger.
I clutch the wall. My ears ring.
“Your highness?” the healer says, though I barely hear her. “What would you like to do about this?”
“Me?” I yelp. “What am I to do? I don’t understand. I’m not a healer.”
“He is your companion, is he not?”
It’s too much like what happened with Carwyn. I’m losing him again. Spark growls at me from the cage, but I don’t see him.
Bones. I am staring at my brother’s bones once more.
“Yes.” I clutch my chest. “Yes, of course, he is.”
“Then you must make a decision.”
Even with my old friend behind bars, put there for his safety and mine, he’s still my friend. He growls at me like he hates me, but there must be a part of him that longs for help. He needs me to save him.
I’m the only one who can save him.
“What are my choices?” I ask, dreading the answer.
“Would you prefer him to stay in this cage, or shall we put him out of his misery?”
Tears blur my vision. I can hardly see as I turn to look at the healer, my brows furrowing. “We will be doing no such thing! There must be another way.”
“There is not. Those are the options.”
“You’re a healer,” I shout. “Heal him. Please, heal my friend.”
“I cannot,” she says, each word sharp. “Do you think I haven’t been trying? I was brought here for my expertise in curses, but there is nothing… this one must be undone by the one who cursed this land to begin with. I have told your father, time and time again.
“Stop. No one has seen that sorceress in over a century. For all we know, she’s dead.”
She sighs, as if she’s tired of having these conversations. “The curse would likely be broken if that were the case, but that is beside the point. You have a choice to make.”
“Why? Why, in all the realms, must they take the fae who means the most to me? The one who has comforted me through lonesome nights? Why him? Why me?”
Her eyes narrow. “It is not just him, Your Highness. Look out there.” Her voice drops.
“Do you think the fae out there do not mean something to someone? To this world? Those are only the ones who were captured this week. This curse is spreading, and if I am the only one who takes these matters seriously, it will never come to an end. More will die. Mortals. Fae. Others.”
“No,” I snap. “You’re not the only one who cares. I’ve studied this curse for half of my long life.”
It will never be enough. Not until I break it.
“Then you know how severe it is. You are to be the future ruler of this land, and you will face hard choices such as this one. This is your chance to prove that you deserve the crown. Make a decision.”
I look at my old friend. We’ve traveled through different palaces, spending centuries together. Spark has always been by my side, and he protected me when no one else did. Most of all, he’s always been a warm and companionable presence.
The one who looks at me now is a stranger, but I can’t give up on him. He didn’t give up on me when I was lost in the drink or my studies. When I was reckless with my own life, he was there to ground me. To make me want to keep living.
Spark is my most faithful companion, and I won’t put him in more pain—but I can’t give up on him. Not yet. I’m a magician; there must be something more I can do.
I’ve always worked well under pressure.
“Bring him out of the cage,” I whisper. “Let me try to speak with him, to reach him. Please.”
The healer’s features remain still. She shakes her head, her jaw clenching. “You know I cannot do that. It does not work. We have tried it before.”
“Please—”
“Your Highness.” Her eyes flash dangerously, her irises darkening until they are nothing but the black of the night sky.
“I said no. Do not force me to repeat myself a third time. You may be the prince of this land, but I am in charge of this wing, and I will do what I must to keep every fae here safe. Including you.”
My shoulders slump. “Fine. Do what you must.”
“I am sorry. It is for your safety, Your Highness.”
I wipe a tear from the corner of my eye. “I know. I shouldn’t have put you in that position. Apologies for asking.”
I meet Spark’s cold gaze. There’s not a glimmer of hope or recognition in them, but he must be in there somewhere. I’ll find him.
“Give me time,” I say. “Allow me to see if there is something I can do. Anything.”
“All right.” She doesn’t seem particularly surprised by the answer. “I will be waiting here, should you make your decision. The longer you wait, the more he fades.”
OPHELIA
“Did you hear?” a maid whispers, younger than the rest, with blonde hair and bright eyes that are usually full of life. Her gaze lacks the sparkle now.
The maids often gossip with me, and sometimes, I welcome it. It’s the look in her eye that makes me wary. There’s no giggle, no conspiratorial glances—just a glum nature about her.
Gossiping with Helena is much more enjoyable than this.
“I can’t say whether or not I’ve heard anything if you refuse to tell me what it is.”
“The prince.”
I haven’t heard from him in days. What should I feel—despair that he could be unwell, or hope that there may be another sort of news… news relating to Minetta?
I’m a terrible person after all. My stepmother was right about me.
I lean in closer. “Is there news of him? Of his wedding?”
“No, no… it was his pet. His dear friend.”
My lips part. “Spark? Did he…?”
I’ve never had a pet, not in the traditional sense, but I enjoyed the chickens back home. It’s not the same, but I know what loss is. The loss of my father cannot be compared to a pet, and is perhaps greater—it’s the most tremendous loss I know.
“Worse. It is the curse, Ophelia. I know it is.”
I’ve heard whispers of a curse, and one look around the palace lets me know there is an arcane influence, but no one will tell me what the so-called curse does. Each time someone mentions it, my curiosity grows.
Now, my interest is accompanied by concern.
“What has the curse done to his poor friend?” I murmur.
“The same thing it always does.” She shakes her head and looks away. “It corrupts. It turns common fae into evil, twisted creatures. Each day, I wake up and fear for the friendly fae in my garden. The corruption could take them, and they would eat me whole.”
“Oh…” My head swims. “That… that is terrible.”
“We must speak no more of it.” She presses her lips together. “That will only strengthen the magic.”
“But the prince—”
“It is a sorrowful day for him indeed. He will be in my prayers. That’s all we can do.”
That’s the last she’ll say on the matter. I’ve always assumed this maid to be younger, but when we part ways, she seems ancient.
Nothing in this darkened palace is as it appears.
I’m ravenous. I must know more. Thinking of the gentle beast who follows the prince around the castle halls, always looming close to his feet, in such a corrupt state…
My heart sinks. Poor Emyr. We’re friends, and I suppose I’m allowed to see if he is all right. But first, I’ll gather information from the others. This maid may not be willing to tell me, but I know one fae who will always share more than she should.
I corner Helena in the kitchen as she washes dishes. “You must tell me about the corruption.”
She turns to me with a look of shock. “Hush! Someone may hear you.”
“And what if they do?”
“We don’t talk about the curse, and for good reason. If you don’t trust me about anything else, you have to trust me about this.”
This curse may be serious if the one willing to speak on everything is unwilling to tell me about it, even for a moment. The heavy feeling in my body grows heavier, another stone added to press me into the floor.
“What good will it do to pretend it doesn’t exist? The prince’s companion is ill now, and the others say it’s the curse.”
Helena grabs my elbow with a wet, soapy hand and pulls me to the hallway. “Words are magic. Attention and intention are magic. Why should we draw attention to such a… such a vile thing?”
A chill runs up my spine. “Because the prince’s companion is ill, as I said, and I must know what that means.”
“You truly know nothing of this palace, do you?” She chokes out a laugh. “The Sun Palace has been living in the dark for centuries.”
She gives me answers, and I grip onto them, desperate to understand Emyr’s pain—and Helena’s, too. “In the dark? What does that mean?”
I suppose I know what it means—the shadows that linger in the corner of this room, even now. But there must be more to it than that.
“There’s something in this land that grips the fae and turns ‘em into blood-hungry beings. There’s nothing like this among any other palace—it’s only ours.”
“Helena—”
“And I can’t escape.” Her breaths come out in harsh, hungry pants, as if she cannot get enough air. “Others leave in droves, flee to the other palaces, but I can’t afford the way. Not for me. Not for my family. I can’t leave.”
“I’m sorry, dear friend.” I touch her shoulder gently. “I didn’t know you had a desire to leave. If I could help in any way—”
“Well, you can’t, so it’s best not to speak of it.”
I understand now. Perhaps it’s true that the inhabitants of this land prefer not to speak of the curse or give it their energy, but for Helena, it is more than that. This curse traps her.
Though she remains uncursed, perhaps it doesn’t feel that way.
My curiosity should end there, but it doesn’t.
It follows me, and to no end, for no one else will speak to me on the topic.
Lucille brushes me off, tells me to continue working.
The cooks nudge me out of the kitchen. The other maids look at me as if I have gone mad, and perhaps I have.
Emyr and his darling beast are all I can think of, and I can’t help them.
The night finally falls. I consider looking for Emyr around the palace, but he may not wish to speak with me. He has his betrothed for support, and his family, but…
He may want another friend, and we are friends. Aren’t we?
“Come on,” Helena says the instant I enter our bedchamber. “We’ve worked too long. I can’t stay inside these palace walls for another bloody moment.”
This is all my doing; she must be in a sour mood from our earlier conversation. I’ve rarely seen Helena so stir-crazy. She ambles around the room, collecting items and throwing them into her reticule.
I shift my stance and rub my cheek. “Where are we going?”
“You shall see, and you’ll enjoy it. Let’s leave now, before Lucille finds more work for us to do.”
“All right.” I am not in the mood to drink, but for her… “If you require a companion, you have one.”
Helena smiles—a tired smile, but a smile, nevertheless. “Have you ever drunk fae wine, Ophelia?”
Of course not. Until I came to the Sun Palace, I was told that fae drink and food are used to control the mind. That’s not the case, or at least it hasn’t been my experience, but those old fears are hard to kill.
I shake my head. “Not yet.”
“Then you’re in for a treat. C’mon.”