33. Elorie
Elorie
Callum and Perame stay back while I pay for a room at the inn.
We expected the void to be an object. Something we could quickly find and bring back with us.
The void being a person changes everything.
This mission won’t be as quick as we hoped, which means we need to find somewhere to set up a base while we figure out what to do next.
Idunn mentioned the void could be any form. But that of flesh and blood?
How are we going to use the void to pacify the orb if the void is a person of thought and free will?
I slide three silvers across the counter to the innkeeper.
Perame snagged them from a man’s pocket when we cut through town.
He won’t miss them considering his perfectly tailored suit and decorated carriage.
And he doesn’t deserve to have them, given the sneer he gave a starving family as he walked past. So Perame slipped a few silvers from his possession to get us a room, and then a few more for the family.
The innkeeper’s sharp green eyes cut to Callum and Perame, who hang back while I pay for the room. “Are you new to town? I don’t think I’ve seen the three of you passing through before.”
My gaze follows the innkeeper’s as she continues to watch Callum.
“We’re from farther south. We came to meet a friend who is traveling this way.”
“Ah, you’re with Overlord Farseth’s group? I heard they were staying through the week. Their arrival has caused quite a stir. Although I believe they’re staying at the Heinrich Manor on the other end of town, so you might want to check there.”
The innkeeper’s suspicions fade as she decides we’re with this Overlord Farseth. She pulls back her strawberry-blonde hair, curiosity blooming in her gaze.
“That’s very helpful, thank you. We weren’t sure where they’d chosen to settle for the next few days, since we just arrived.” I give her a cautious smile.
“Of course.” The innkeeper leans closer. “Have you heard he brought the girl this time?”
“The girl?” The moment the words are out, I regret the curiosity piquing in my tone.
Thankfully, the innkeeper is too distracted by her own excitement to notice. “The girl who survived. I hear she travels with the overlord from time to time. Although I’m not sure why he keeps her around when death follows. It seems there’s more he knows that he isn’t sharing.”
“Oh yes, the girl.” I pretend to know what she’s talking about. “The one with the mark on her face.”
I think back to the black spiderweb that marked the girl’s face in the crypt. This must be who she’s talking about.
“I’ve heard it’s quite frightening.” The innkeeper frowns. “I don’t know why he’d bring her here when the forest is in shambles. The girl will only make it worse. I hope they’re leaving soon. Did your friend mention how long they’re staying?”
“Not that I recall.”
She slides the key across the wooden countertop. “Third floor. Third door on the left.”
I nod, smiling my thank-you as I turn to Callum and Perame. They’re already headed up the stairwell when I reach them. Callum glances at me from the corner of his eye, no doubt catching what the innkeeper said, even if his hood might have muffled some of our conversation.
We don’t dare speak about it out in the open.
Our room is at the end of the hallway on the third floor. The inn is small and quiet, tucked in the trees at the edge of town. Muffled voices come through the walls, hinting that we need to keep our own down so that we aren’t overheard.
When we step into our room, we find two small beds and a cot, as the innkeeper promised. Setting our bags down, Perame and I drop onto one mattress while Callum sits on the other, facing us.
“It has to be her.” I tug at the end of my braid, unraveling my hair and appreciating the relief on my scalp.
“What do you think she meant about the girl making the forest worse?” Perame’s eyebrows pinch.
“Even in a realm with little magic, there is still some. The void will mute what little the realm holds. I can imagine that’s what’s making the vegetation suffer.
” Callum drags his fingers through his hair, glancing out the window.
“This changes things. We came here assuming the void was an object, something we could carry back home. But a person?”
“Maybe she’ll come back with us willingly,” Perame says hopefully. “We have to try.”
“Then we need to find her and convince her,” I agree. “If it’s true that she’s traveling with this Overlord Farseth, then he may not stay here long. We need to locate her and talk to her before they leave.”
Callum stands, ringing his fingers in front of him and popping his knuckles. “There was a bar not too far from here. I’ll grab us food and see what rumors are spreading through town. If the innkeeper’s curiosity is any indication, she can’t be the only one talking about their visit.”
“Be careful out there,” Perame warns. “We don’t know the state of the realm or how they’ll react to finding out that Fae have wandered through the Arch. Things are clearly different from the last time I was here.”
“In what way?” I ask.
“For one, the trees were green then. But it’s more than that. It’s the humans. The towns. Everything is—”
“Falling apart?”
Her lips press in a firm line as she nods.
The Mortal Realm was our hope. Salvation for the humans if the aeraliss fails. But if it’s true, and this realm is dying like the others in our constellation, there is imminent death no matter where they are.
My stomach sinks at the thought of what that might mean for Letia.
“I’ll see what I can find out.” Callum throws his hood over his head before leaving the room.
With him gone, Perame takes the opportunity to bathe. She pulls closed the sheet that sections off the tub in the corner so only the sounds of splashing water can be heard. Scents of honeysuckle and rosemary fill the air.
I move to the window, peeling back the curtain to peek through. Our room sits with a view of the main road, so I’m careful not to widen it farther. But I can’t help watching the humans bustling about.
Unlike on Alyssium, where humans had taken on many of the Fae’s customs, everything here feels like another place. A different culture and design.
The homes have sharper angles. They’re simpler, built with purpose in mind, not creativity.
The clothing is a mix of Alyssium and the Ley Court, but the fabrics are thicker.
The corsets have hard lines and bones that hug the ribs uncomfortably, restricting breath.
Wool outweighs leather. Shirts hang with weight on the sleeves, barely blowing as they move about.
Horse-drawn carriages pull people down the road. With each bump, they jolt, so it doesn’t look comfortable. Everything is duller here, even the horses. They’re not like the ones in Tempest that had shimmering manes.
With a clear sky overhead and sunlight breaking through the trees, everything is dull in a way that is similar to Alyssium.
There is color—in the fabrics and painted signs.
But the lack of magic is palpable. It changes the air.
And like when we wandered through the forest in search of the void, I continue to feel that pulse.
Summoning me.
Or does it summon my magic?
A man in a black hat glances up, and I shove the curtains closed before he sees me. Just in time for Perame to be done bathing.
“It’s bitter cold.” She shivers, pulling on a fresh outfit.
Clothes were another thing Perame slipped into our bags as we passed through town.
Callum and I distracted the shopkeeper so she could replace our outdated wardrobe, helping us blend in better.
Thankfully, not all women seem to wear dresses here, so the clothes Perame snagged look fairly comfortable.
“I refreshed the bathwater when I was done, but it’s no warmer than the first bucket.” Perame rubs her hands on her arms.
“A warm bath was something I didn’t know until the Ley Court,” I tell her. “After experiencing both, I can confidently say there is no going back once you know the comforts of warm water.”
Perame chuckles. “I suppose your fellow humans agree. They’ve claimed bathing chambers in that part of the palace.”
“They were born and raised in snow and ice. I don’t blame them for soaking in every drop of warmth they can get.”
Letia told me the villagers were in awe of the sky, but even more so of the warm water for washing. While we managed to make it lukewarm back home, it was never as hot as it is in Vaelier. Where steam curls around your ears like a blanket that hugs your entire body.
I pull back the sheet to the bathing area, facing the cold bucket of water that will have me missing those warm baths now.
Perame grunts from the other side of the sheet. “These clothes are terrible. Stiff. Itchy. I can hardly bend my legs.”
I chuckle because they aren’t nearly as comfortable as starlight silk, but they remind me of home. Of the thick cotton layers Mabel would stitch. Fae and their niceties have left them a bit spoiled.
Not that I say as much while Perame continues to grunt about it. It’s not really the clothes that are bothering her. It’s this unsettling place. I expected it to feel like home, but it doesn’t at all.
The bed creaks, telling me Perame must be lying down, so I start on my bath. The room is already chilly, and the water makes it worse.
The reek of something I can’t quite place hangs on my skin. A wooden musk that isn’t that of the forest we traveled through to get here. It’s remnants of the void that swept the room as the woman disappeared.
Woman feels like too big a word for her when she was so young. Her cheeks were round, and a faint blush added life to her otherwise pale skin. Nothing about her was old except for her eyes. They were deep, unlike anything I’ve seen.
Ancient.
I run the cold cloth over my skin, washing myself clean the best I can, replacing the scent of death with honeysuckle.
As I slip on a fresh set of clothes, I find Perame was right.
Every piece is stiff and unmoving. I’d almost prefer a dress from the Ley Court when my arms don’t bend properly, and the weight of the fabric hangs heavy.
Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath and let my discomfort go. I grasp the thread of light in the darkness and follow it as far as I can travel. Back to Vaelier.
Back to my mate.
Wilder was right. The distance between us has grown here. There’s not even a spark at the other end of the thread.
My fingers grasp the cool emptiness of our bind, and I pour myself into it. I send him what little light I cling to, hoping all is not lost. Hoping with my whole heart that I’ll see him again.