Chapter 23
The halls of Blood House felt melancholy late at night.
It was one of the nebulous hours before dawn when time seemed to stretch out impossibly long.
Kallen had worked me into exhaustion during tonight’s lesson, testing my defensive strikes until my arms and legs were trembling, but sleep had eluded me afterwards.
As I walked the empty ground floor, the leather satchel at my side brushed softly against my skirt.
It held scrolls from Hector and Drustan; if I had to be awake, I might as well make use of this time.
In Earth House, there would have been a few faeries around at this hour—some of the Noble Fae rose with the twilight and slept with the dawn—but most of my house members followed the schedule of servants.
I would probably wake early with them, regardless of tonight’s insomnia.
That had happened frequently when I’d been serving Lara—up late for one of her parties, then rising early for my chores.
I’d gotten too used to getting by on scraps of sleep.
At least being awake had one benefit. The last few nights, I’d listened for Anya’s nightmares and was relieved when she seemed to be having fewer. She still looked exhausted, and she was still avoiding me, but Triana was keeping an eye on her, so I was trying my best to leave her alone.
For the most part. I stopped at the kitchen to grab a hunk of cheddar cheese, sliced it carefully before covering it with cloth and placing it on a silver tray, then detoured to a nearby study to grab a book I’d noticed the other day.
It was a small illuminated manuscript filled with Fae poetry, with tiny, complex illustrations around each initial letter.
Anya had dreamed of learning how to illuminate manuscripts; maybe this would remind her of that hope.
I returned upstairs to leave the tray outside her door.
The blanket I’d left in the morning was still there, along with some sachets of bath herbs from the previous night’s offering, though they were positioned haphazardly, as if she’d inspected them before tossing them aside.
My heart ached as I nestled the cheese and book beside them.
If she didn’t want to talk to me or accept my gifts, at least she knew I was thinking about her.
I returned downstairs. The ceiling crystals provided a faint red illumination wherever I moved, dousing behind me. It made the violent colors of the tapestries look even more saturated, and the veins in the marble floor, which appeared garnet red during the day, seemed black as ink.
I finally heard signs of life—splashing and laughing, the delicate sound of a lyre.
I followed the sounds to a bathing room I hadn’t had a chance to linger in yet.
The tiled floor was slick, and steam rose from three hot springs, thickening the air.
Carved gargoyle heads poured water into the pools, and a curtain of blood cascaded down the back wall before disappearing into the hidden channels that circulated through the house.
An Illusion satyr was seated beside one pool, plucking a lyre for a dancing Light nymph who was splashing in and out of the water, the glow of her scantily clad body making the drops of water shine like diamonds.
At the next pool, three people were soaking their feet.
The first was our new head servant, Nadine.
The chatelaine at the dryad’s belt sparkled in the humidity, and with her skirt hiked up to her knees, I could see lines of brown bark swirling over her golden skin.
I was surprised to recognize Maude beside her, dressed in a voluminous nightdress like she’d been tempted from her bed for an after-midnight soak.
Next to her was her friend Bruno, with his distinctive white beard and shiny bald head.
They spoke in quick flickers of their fingers while Nadine watched with a smile on her face, laughing periodically at Bruno’s jokes.
Like many servants, the dryad had learned the language of the humans in order to work with them.
My melancholy eased. The five of them had come from different backgrounds, yet here they were, enjoying one another’s company.
Even Maude had softened, relaxing more with every day of rest and security.
Seeing her with the Underfae was evidence of what I’d known about her since the day we’d met—that as wary as she was, she would still take a chance on a stranger.
The nymph saw me and squeaked, nearly toppling into the pool. The satyr abandoned his lyre to steady her, and then the three Underfae scrambled to their feet. Maude raised her brows and kept soaking, though Bruno made a brief attempt to rise before grunting and signing, “Damn my knees.”
“Princess Kenna,” Nadine said, curtsying deeply. “How may we serve you?”
I held up my hands, dismayed to have ruined the moment. “I was just walking by. Don’t let me disrupt you.”
“You must need something,” Nadine said.
I forced a smile. “No, thank you. Please, return to what you were doing. I’m just heading to the library.”
I turned and left before she could ask whatever question was hovering on her lips. Will you need a drink in the library? Are you satisfied with the selection of books? May I bring you anything additional?
A bruised feeling settled in my chest. I wasn’t one of the servants anymore. I couldn’t plop down next to them and soak my tired feet while we gossiped about the Noble Fae.
The library was a cozy one, with shelves taking up every inch of wall space and a seating area in the middle. I sat on a striped red-and-gray couch and pulled two scrolls out of the bag, then cracked the orange seal of the first letter and started reading.
I’d asked Drustan and Hector to be specific about their plans for the humans who lived in Mistei, as well as how they intended to interact with villages like Tumbledown now that the borders were open.
Both had good policies, I was pleased to see.
There would be no more forced servitude or mutilations, and the humans already in Mistei would be given the opportunity to return home laden with gold.
Both offered assistance with the evacuation, so long as it was done quickly.
Every faerie would be needed once the battle broke.
The humans could leave Mistei as soon as tomorrow, now that escort had been arranged.
I wondered if Maude would decide to leave, after all.
If Triana would, or if her kindness and perpetual desire to be useful would make her stay to help those still in need of shelter.
There were humans in Mistei who hadn’t defected to Blood House, people who would never believe anything a faerie said—even if that faerie offered escape.
Hector and Drustan anticipated that as well, and both proposed that any humans who remained be compensated for their continuing service.
Drustan was of the opinion that each house should be responsible for sheltering and paying a portion of them, while Hector believed the humans should be housed separately, with their salaries paid by the crown.
I traced my fingers over the slanting lines of Hector’s writing and the elegant curl of Drustan’s, torn between the two points of view.
Hector offered them a measure of independence, and I would fear for any human assigned to Light or Illusion House.
But Drustan argued that each house should be actively involved in rectifying the damage they’d done.
So long as someone continues monitoring their welfare , he wrote, I believe accountability is the best path forward.
Ultimately, I decided Hector’s path was the wisest. Even with someone checking on the humans, the Fae were too cruel and duplicitous to be trusted. If someone like Torin was responsible for the upkeep of those servants…I shuddered to think what might happen to them.
The second half of each letter delved into their approach for building relations with humans outside our borders.
Hector was open to reestablishing contact with the villages across the bog as soon as the upcoming civil war was over, but Drustan was more cautious, saying the patterns of abuse were so entrenched in Fae thinking that we needed time to address that before risking more lives.
And in that instance, I found myself agreeing with Drustan.
Dismay crept over me. The answer to who I should choose as king hadn’t come any clearer, and it had been this way with every policy I’d read so far. I tossed the paper aside, then rubbed the heels of my palms into my gritty eyes. “I’m not equipped for this,” I muttered.
Caedo tightened affectionately around my arm. It’s boring.
“Boring?” I laughed tiredly, dropping my hands. “I suppose you prefer other activities to reading.”
There are better stories to be read in the spill of entrails .
I made a face. “I would prefer not to gut my allies.” Then I sighed and leaned my head back against the couch. “Why can’t I just choose?”
Because if I chose wrong, people would die. Our armies might fight differently, depending on who led them. Our alliance might splinter.
You are struggling with this role. This voice in my head was different, coming from a distance, and I twitched in surprise. The Blood Shard was usually maddeningly silent, answering occasional questions but mostly seeming content to let me fumble my way forward unaccompanied.
I hadn’t been communicating actively with the Shard, and the reminder of exactly how powerful it was unsettled me. This was a sliver of a god. Even as an echo of something greater, it could peer inside my head and pull out my thoughts.
Oh, now you’re interested in how I’m doing in this position? I asked mentally, feeling the sting of resentment.
I am always interested.
But now you’re willing to intervene.
I don’t intervene in Fae matters.
I ran my hands over my face again, dragging the skin under my eyes down with my fingertips. I don’t understand. You intervened in the trials.
That was different.