Chapter 42
I open the door, finding a guard sitting just outside. He unfolds himself, his gray uniform crisp and flat, his face lined and reserved. He doesn’t look me in the eye, gaze settled instead on what’s clutched in my hand. “You have your letter, miss?”
My fingers tighten around it. “Yes, but . . . I’d like to go with you to take it to the messenger myself, if that’s okay?”
He frowns. “That wasn’t my order.”
“Please?”
After a moment, he shrugs. “Alright.”
Relief and surprise whoosh through me. “Thank you,” I say as I pull the door closed behind me and follow him.
My fingers stroke the letter, going over every crease.
The guard takes me all the way down to the bottom floor and through the main doors. Outside, gray steps lather against the trimmed grass of the front lawn. I look around, noting a few horses and people milling around, and there’s a man with his back facing me—
Oh.
Piper turns.
He looks at me before his eyes drift over. “Thank you, you can go inside,” he says.
“Okay,” I blurt, starting to spin around.
“Not you.”
“Right.” I watch the guard leave. “What are you doing here?”
“Had a missive I needed to send to another Govern.” He gestures to my own letter. “That was fast.”
“Yes.”
He studies me for a moment. “You didn’t trust me to have it sent.”
I shift on my feet guiltily, rubbing the sole of my shoe over the worn stone. “It’s not that. I just wanted to hand it straight to the messenger. I didn’t want any chance of it being lost or . . . not sent.”
“I understand.”
My brows lift. “You do?”
“Yes. It’s very important to you.”
He turns and motions to someone, and then a young man—a boy, really—comes racing over. He’s tall and spindly, all elbows and knees with a flop of scraggly blond hair on his head and a row of crooked teeth.
“Govern, you had a message?”
“Yes, Henry. It’s for my companion here.”
The boy looks at me in earnest, and his stars appear in a blink, right over his left eyelid.
Has a positive outlook. Enjoys comforts. Dependable.
The stars blink out.
“What was that?”
My gaze flicks to Piper. He’s looking around with dubious puzzlement, eyeing the horses and the guards, then the ivy-crusted walls beside us around the open door.
Then his gaze lands on me.
A frown pulls at his brow. “It was coming from you.”
I blink in shock.
Did he just . . . sense me reading Henry’s stars?
My voice wavers to a whisper. “You . . . you felt that?”
Piper stares at me. “Henry, give us a moment.”
The boy nods and moves away, and Piper steps closer. “I know what magic feels like, and that was magic.”
“But . . . how?” I blurt, but then it dawns on me. “The latch.”
“You have magic?” he asks quietly, his gaze intensely focused on my face.
I swallow hard, my mind reeling. I feel like the ground just opened up beneath my feet, but I find myself confessing another secret to him. Lying now would feel wrong, when we just agreed to aim for trust. “It’s just something I started seeing when I was a girl.”
“What do you see?”
“When I meet someone’s eyes for the first time, I sort of . . . read their stars.”
He pauses. “You read their stars.”
I nod. “A little constellation of stars will appear on someone’s face, and I’ll read them.”
“Like their fortunes? Their future?”
“No,” I say, shaking my head. “Nothing like that. It’s really nothing more than you can pick up from someone just by learning their personality. It’s more like . . . their stars tell me what kind of person they are. Their traits.”
He’s quiet for several seconds, ingesting my words. “And you’ve been able to do this since you were a girl?”
“Yes.”
He runs a hand over his mouth, scraping it in thought. “Do you know of any other fiends who have magic like this?”
“I don’t know. I tried asking Kaetir once, but he seemed sort of confused, so I dropped it.
I always thought it was best to keep it to myself.
Fiends are hated enough as it is. I didn’t think anyone would appreciate it if they knew I had magic, as inconsequential as it is.
It’s nothing like Core fae magic, of course. ”
Piper cocks his head, looking me up and down with a soft sort of appreciation in his gaze. “You know, every time I peel back another layer to you, I find something even more enticing. You are fascinating.”
My face heats.
He leans in slowly, deliberately, and I suck in a breath as his rough stubble grazes my cheek. I go perfectly still as his voice strokes against my ear. “I want to peel back even more of you.”
Fates.
Piper straightens again, and when he sees the blush on my face, he smirks and then turns around. “Henry, you can come back.”
I struggle to roll up my reeling thoughts as the messenger boy comes loping over. Henry looks at me with a tilt of his head. “Alright, miss?”
I press a hand against my flaming cheek. “Yes, I’m just . . . a bit faint.”
Because somehow, Piper can unravel me from stars to soul in a single second.
“I bet I know why,” Henry chimes. “S’posed to be a veil moon tonight. We’ll be able to see the spirits passing into the afterlife. It’s making everyone feel a bit like you got a shiver down your back, if you ask me,” he says matter-of-factly.
“Yes,” I reply, gripping on to Henry’s words so I can try to regain my footing. “I haven’t seen a veil moon in ages. I went up on my roof to watch it once when I was a girl.”
“Me too,” Henry tells me with a toothy grin. “Rolled right off the edge when I was seven and broke my finger.” He holds up his slightly crooked pinky. “Never did straighten out all the way.”
A laugh escapes me and I glance from him to Piper, only to find his gaze locked on my face intently. “You have dimples when you smile,” he says.
My smile slowly drops beneath the ardent look in his eye. It occurs to me that he’s never really seen me truly smile. Not without the layers of disdain or mockery or distrust.
His lips twist up as my cheeks pinken again. “Estinya, the letter.”
I blink like I’m snapping myself out of a daze. “Oh, right,” I reply, though it comes out a little breathlessly.
Henry takes it as I pass it over, and tucks it into a very official-looking pouch buttoned at the front of his waist. “Where’s it going?”
“Hamelyn,” I tell him.
He nods. “Is it Plagued?”
“It shouldn’t be . . . anymore.”
“Alright. And you want me to wait for a reply?”
“Yes, please.” I hesitate. “If you could . . . I mean, it might be hard to find her. But if you ask about the owner of the paper mill, they should point you in the right direction. Her name is Lenna Calyx.”
“Will do.”
I look at Piper. “He’ll use the leyline?”
He nods.
“And be back by . . . tomorrow?” I ask hopefully.
But he shakes his head. “Even with the leyline, it will take him a day just to get through the forest,” he reminds me. “Then he’ll have to gain access across the bay and into the city itself.”
“But it’s not Plagued anymore. They will have opened the gates, right?”
“They should. But cities are sometimes strict after a Plague has ended. They will only let so many people through. He could be held up until they allow it.”
I let out a frustrated breath.
“Don’t worry. Henry will get in.”
“Of course, miss,” the boy offers, puffing up his chest. “I’m the best messenger his lordship has. I won’t let you down.”
“Thank you, Henry. I really appreciate it.”
He gives me a nod. “’Course. Happy to be of service.”
Piper looks at him. “If the city’s gates are still closed, come back and alert me. Take a guard with you.”
“Yes, Govern.”
“Good lad.” Piper digs into his pocket and I see a flash of coin as he hands it to Henry. “Safe travels.”
With a wave, the boy turns and heads across the grounds. I watch him until he disappears from view, feeling even more anxious than I did before.
Because he holds my heart and my hope right there in his messenger pouch.
“Thank you,” I say to Piper as I blink away the wetness in my eyes. “For doing this.”
“It’s my pleasure.”
There’s a purr in the word pleasure that gets stuck against my skin.
“I’ll send someone to bring you down to dinner when it’s time.”
“Okay,” I say quietly.
He nods and I turn and start to make my way up the steps toward the castle, where the guard awaits inside.
“And, blight?”
I pause but I don’t turn around. “Yes?”
“Don’t be late.”
A zip goes down my spine and I nod before scurrying off. But even when he’s no longer in sight, I can still feel that purr on my skin.
* * *
Unfortunately, Wend is the one who comes up to my room to help me get ready for dinner.
She sits me like a pincushion in front of the fire while she jabs at me.
Barely a word leaves her lips, her entire demeanor puffed with disdain.
Though, it’s impressive how much she’s perfected the ability to do her tasks without touching me.
Only the sponge made contact with my skin while she scrubbed me down in the bath.
For my hair, the only thing that touched me was the comb and pins.
She even twisted small chunks on either side of my head with the end of a brush to make some loops, all without her fingers ever actually touching the strands.
Now, she’s using a soft bit of cloth to apply tint to my eyes, making them look darker, and adding color to my lips. She covers the starry freckles near my eye and on my nose, blotting over them with powder like they’re blemishes she needs to hide.
I press my lips together but say nothing.
“Finished,” she says, speaking for the first time. “Will you be needing help getting dressed?”
She sounds like she’d rather yank off her toenails.
I shake my head. I don’t actually know if I need help getting dressed, but I’d much rather do it myself. I can only take so much of her silent dislike. Especially right now, when my nerves are all crooked.
Before she turns to leave, I stop her. “Wend?”
Her slightly hunched back stiffens. “Yes?”
“Frena—is she okay?”
She looks at me over her shoulder, her thick veillet stark white, her blue eyes as chilled as ice. “Frena is now relegated to working in the kitchens,” she spits.
I slump, guilt gnawing at me, and Wend says nothing more before she leaves the room, closing the door hard behind her. Great. The one servant who was nice to me has been reassigned because of what I did.
Turning, I plait a few small braids throughout my loose hair and then go to the bedroom where I saw Wend leave a dress for me earlier. Walking over, I expect to find another linen frock, but when I get a closer look, I gasp in surprise.
My fingers trail over the fabric. I’ve never seen such liquid-soft material before. Didn’t know a thing like this existed.
I slip off the robe and pull on the dress with tentative fingers.
There’s a separate bodice that I place over it, lacing it carefully up my torso, though not too tight.
I’m wrapped in fresh bindings, but I don’t want to aggravate my wounds.
As soon as I have the dress and bodice secure, I walk into the washroom, making use of the mirrored wall to see how it looks.
I come to a stop in the soft light, and my eyes widen.
It’s romantic. Gorgeous.
The frock is the faintest blush color, with slightly off-shoulder sleeves that hug the tops of my arms before flowing out and securing at my wrists.
The skirts are layered, flowing with blush and sage colors, so light that the fabric drapes in billowing blends of elegance and moves weightlessly at my feet.
The fitted bodice pulls it all together, laced up at the front and tied in a crisscross pattern.
It’s sewn with dainty flowers in the same colors as my skirts, each one no bigger than the pad of my thumb.
The bottom of the bodice sits at my hips, while the top pushes up my full breasts, but not obscenely so.
I’ve never in all my life worn something so luxurious.
Something so expensive. And what’s even more incredible is that it fits me perfectly, right down to the hem that gently skims the tips of my toes.
A dress like this must have taken ages to make, and cost a large amount of coin, and yet, Piper gave it to me.
Even my bandages are mostly covered, with my hair hiding the rest.
Going back to the bedroom, I find matching slippers and a white veillet laid out too.
The hair veil is made of the same liquidy light fabric and is quite sheer and delicate.
When I look closely, I find two silver rings at the top of it, and I frown.
I’ve never seen a veillet like this before.
I place it over my head . . . and the two rings settle perfectly around my horns.
Rather than hide my black horns, it’s displaying them.
The silver rings look like crowns at the base of them. The flowing fabric stretches between them across my head and then drapes down all the way to my hips, where my long black tresses curl up at the ends and peek out from the pointed taper at the bottom of the veil.
I look at myself in the mirror, at the full expanse of me from head to toe.
I’ve never looked so beautiful.
I’ve never looked so utterly fiend.
And now, I’m so nervous it’s hard to breathe. Because I have to go see Piper, looking like this. Somehow, it’s worse than being covered in mud and blood. This feels far more vulnerable.
Because I realize, I want him to think I’m beautiful.
Nervously, I flick apart the fringe at my forehead, trying to tame the slight curl at the ends to no avail. Then a knock sounds at the door.
I swallow hard and leave the washroom, padding into the sitting room with my heart threatening to leap up through my ribs.
I take a calming breath before pulling open the door, finding a guard waiting there.
His eyes fall to my horns before he jerks them away to look past me. “I’m to escort you to dinner.”
I nearly run back inside the room and lock the door, but I remember Piper’s words: Don’t be late.
There’s no doubt in my mind that he would come up and get me.
Besides, I’m being foolish. It’s just dinner. We’re simply getting to know each other better. I can sit at a table and eat with him. It’ll be easy. Inconsequential.
Or . . . completely consequential.
With lots and lots of consequences.
But, as I follow the guard downstairs, I can’t help but think that when it comes to me and Piper, the consequences started long before I put on a pretty dress.