42. Elorie
Elorie
Layers of cobalt satin blow in the breeze.
The first stir of the night offers some relief from a sweltering day, but I can hardly breathe with the corset hugging my ribs.
Beneath it is a lace shirt that reaches my neck, hiding my hanging heart rune.
Two white tendrils frame my face, while the rest is carefully braided and tucked to hide the blue ends.
The men outside Overlord Farseth’s gates step forward at my approach, eyeing me carefully.
“I come to see the overlord.” I hold my chin high, taking Perame’s advice.
In her trips to the Mortal Realm before the Arch closed, she spent a great deal of time around the royal family and lords. She coached me on what to wear. How to speak. What to expect.
Confidence is more valuable than silver.
Never glance at the ground.
Only curtsy for the highest title in the house.
Never let them see your true self.
Perame spent all day reinforcing every detail, making sure I was ready.
My hands are clasped in front of me. Shoulders relaxed and gaze unflinching as the men at the gate watch me.
“I’m here to request his presence for a meeting.”
One of his men smiles, his slimy gaze drifting to my feet before snapping to the man beside him. “I don’t recall him having any meetings.”
“This is urgent,” I press, not backing down. “Something only he can assist with. He and his companion. There are”—I glance around, pretending to check that no one else is listening—“things she can do. Are there not?”
The men both stiffen. The click of their teeth makes the hair on the back of my neck stand on end, but I don’t move.
“Please. I must see him.” My lashes bat once.
Twice.
Carefully luring their sympathy to get to their overlord.
The dark-haired man steps forward. With the renewed light of a torch nearby, I catch a cut through his eyebrow that reminds me of the mark on Greer’s.
How are she and Atlas faring?
Their mission is no less dangerous. If Malachi has caught wind of them searching for him, he’ll send the full force of his army out to get them.
I bite my tongue, reminding myself now isn’t the time to worry. If anyone can stand against Malachi, it’s Greer. And while she might not trust Atlas, I have no doubt he’ll do everything in his power to keep her safe.
“Wait here,” the man says.
He nods at his companion before turning to walk to the manor. The metal yawns as he pushes open the gates and disappears up the steps.
I stand silent, waiting for him to return. Not daring to let my gaze drift or to let an ounce of fear show. When there’s movement of his return, my shoulders pull tight. His strides are quicker now. His gaze has lost all amusement as he stops in front of me.
“He’ll meet with you” is all he says, jutting his head as they both reclaim their posts.
The moment I step past the twisted iron gate, the air stills.
A quiet pulse that is all too familiar hangs in the air.
Stepping stones mark the path through the overgrown shrubbery, and while the manor is grand, the greenery surrounding it is untamed and unkempt.
Wildflowers scatter the pathway, an unusual splotch of color in a dying realm.
Which is when I realize just how green this walkway is.
Greener than any forest I’ve seen since stepping through the Arch.
Could it be an illusion?
Is the overlord right in believing Esen is not the curse but the solution? Does she repel this rot they think the Fae spread through their realm?
Lush vines crawl the stone manor, smelling as alive and rich as the forest in Quietus. The flutter of wings draws my attention to a peak, where a raven sits watching me. The moon hangs like an ominous smile behind it, daring me to run.
Before I reach the door, it swings open, and a man in a fine suit steps out.
He holds the door open for me without a word, shifting to the side to let me pass.
The moment I step through the threshold, the scent of frankincense fills my lungs.
Incense swirls, tickling my nose and nearly making me sneeze.
The man leads me to a large parlor, where he leaves me to be judged by the portrait of a fair-haired woman hanging above the hearth. Fine paint lines capture the intricacy of her lace dress. Her lips are painted a surprisingly bright shade of red.
“I warned you not to come here.” Esen’s voice tickles my ear, but when I turn, she’s nowhere to be seen.
Overlord Farseth, however, strides into the room dressed as if he’s prepared to attend a ball. Far too fancy for a night at the manor. Maybe this is how he always dresses.
“Apologies for keeping you waiting.” He lifts my hand, pressing a kiss to the back of it as he stands before me.
The heat from the ring that ties him to Esen sears my skin, and I barely manage to hide my flinch as I rub my finger behind my back.
“I don’t believe we’ve met, Lady…” He eyes me curiously.
“Vale,” I offer with a slight curtsy. “Elorie Vale.”
“A beautiful name for a beautiful girl.” His smile is too sweet—his attention too keen. “My men said you have an issue you’d like to discuss.”
I nod, and he leads me to sit on one of the couches facing the hearth.
This close, I notice more gray sprinkled in his hair than on the day of the parade. It doesn’t match his smooth skin or enthusiastic young smile. He’s broad, tall. Mildly attractive for a man who makes my stomach churn as he sits directly beside me.
“Is your companion going to be joining us?” I ask as he rests an arm over the back of the couch, drawing closer.
“She’s preoccupied. We were… busy upon your arrival. She’s cleaning herself up.”
My teeth clench at his slimy smile, but I manage to mask my disgust. Breathing shallow, I now scent the smoky swirls within the frankincense. Esen’s scent lingers all over him.
“How can I be of help?” He hitches an eyebrow.
“I’ve heard whispers,” I start, lowering my voice and pretending to be careful about who might overhear. “Of the queen’s intentions, of what you can do to stop her from bringing back those vile creatures.”
I mock a shiver, wetting my lips. His gaze falls to my mouth, and I fight back the urge to move farther away.
“I believe she already has.”
His attention snaps to my eyes as he sits up straighter. “What have you heard?”
“Not heard.” I shake my head. “Seen. There were two Fae blending into the crowd during the parade. Watching from a distance. They used hoods to hide themselves, but I saw their ears.”
Overlord Farseth’s gaze darkens, his jaw clenching. “You’re sure?”
“They disappeared into the inn at the edge of town.” Leaning closer, I clutch his hand, fear dancing in my eyes. “Please say the rumors are true. That you can help. That she can… do whatever it is she does.”
“Ah, Esen, my dear.” He smiles over my shoulder, and I glance to see Esen walking into the room.
Her lace dress hugs her chest tightly, billowing out. Like Overlord Farseth, she’s dressed finely for this time of night. Her brown hair is choppy at her chin, with a single braid holding it back to better reveal the thin, weblike veins that draw dark lines on the side of her face.
Esen’s green eyes meet mine for only a moment, as if to scold me for being here. She only holds my gaze for a fraction of a second before turning her attention to him.
A small smile curls on her lips, but it doesn’t reach her eyes as she pauses in the doorway. “Something wrong?”
“Ms. Vale believes there might be.” A chill runs my spine with the emphasis he puts on my name, pulling my attention back to his malicious eyes. “I suppose we should go and see.”
As expected, Overlord Farseth doesn’t request that I leave while he takes Esen and a few of his men into town.
But while I hoped it would give me time to snoop, he assigns one of his men to watch over me in his absence, forcing me to sit and stare at the woman hanging on the wall, wondering what secrets linger in her eyes.
The furniture is dusty. Barely used. I imagine the manor was abandoned before Overlord Farseth came to stay here, and I’m curious what happened to the woman in the painting.
By the time the creak of the gates comes from outside, I’ve drifted so deep in my mind that I blink the room back into focus.
I stand, twisting my fingers in front of me in a failed attempt to stifle my nerves.
Walking into this, we knew our magic would be useless against Esen; the only chance we had was to subject ourselves to that weakness and hope alternative methods would work.
After all, magic isn’t all the Fae have in way of overpowering humans.
Between Callum and Perame, they’re stronger, quicker. We planned it carefully.
My information would lure the overlord and his men to the edge of town, where Callum and Perame would spark just enough of a flare in the woods to draw them away from the main street. From there, they’d overpower the overlord with physical force and remove his ring to break his tie to Esen.
Then, it would be my job to convince her to help us.
The moment Overlord Farseth steps into the room with Esen at his side—no Callum or Perame in sight—my stomach plummets. Something must have gone terribly wrong.
I’m careful not to break the facade. I hold my chin high, relaxing my shoulders even as he circles the room and pulls back the dark curtains to let in the night. His fingers grip the fabric, and I get a glimpse of the ring that binds Esen, firmly in place.
Esen watches his back, not daring to meet my gaze even when I look at her.
“Were they there?” I press, unable to stand the silence.
“They were.” Overlord Farseth turns slowly, his white teeth gleaming.
Candles on the table flicker, casting an ominous glow over his already strong facial features. Thick eyebrows. A prominent nose.
It takes all my restraint to wait for him to continue. To not shift on my feet when the soft satin will give away my every movement.
Overlord Farseth steps toward me, Esen tracking his every movement with her eyes until her gaze drifts out the window. In the moonlight, I almost swear I see her stoic expression break into a frown.
“They were dealt with.”
My heart races. The slightest twitch of my fingers draws his attention. “Dealt with?”
The words nearly catch on my tongue. Even with all his weapons and men, Callum and Perame are stronger. Smarter. We were prepared.
Unless…
My gaze moves to Esen, who finally looks at me.
What is she capable of that we don’t know about?
“They will no longer be a problem.” The overlord smiles wider. “Although, I suspect they weren’t anticipating that.”
His chin angles, and I catch sight of a scratch. The drag of a dagger, if I had to guess. So there was a fight, and somehow, the overlord won.
“Fae can be quite feisty when you meet them toe-to-toe. I learned that from my family’s records.
It’s rare a Fae wanders here now, but records of the past detail it quite clearly.
They came in the name of the royals, taking as they wished from our people.
Using us for their entertainment. Now, we don’t see much of them. ”
Centuries of anger spill out. Vile words dripping with poison.
“But you have seen them?” I ask, curious how the overlord could have seen Fae when the Arch has been closed longer than his lifetime.
“You seem surprised by that.” His head tilts. “They must not have been from your realm then.”
“My realm?”
“Did you think I wouldn’t know what you are—what you’re hiding?
How you flinched at my magic when I kissed the back of your hand, and my ring grazed your skin.
You were repelled like the grotesque creature you are.
I’ll admit, the rounded ears were quite confusing.
But I suppose not impossible like I once thought. ”
“You’re accusing me of helping them?”
“Drop the act.” His voice is cold; his gaze hardens. “We’ve been watching you for days. Since you tried to lure away my lovely Esen. But just like I noticed her slip away at the parade, I noticed you. Watching. Considering how you were going to strike.”
He glances back at Esen. From this angle, I notice a mark on her neck that wasn’t there before. A bruise that’s healing now. Purple and black marks peek out of the collar of her dress.
Anger has me clenching my fists as I turn back to him.
“Where are they?” I demand.
“I already told you. Your friends have been dealt with.”
More men enter the room, flooding from all sides. A spit of my magic sparks at my fingertips, but it won’t be enough. Not as Esen’s void reaches out, intentional or not, and mutes it.
“Ah.” He gleams, his gaze falling to my cheek, where the heat searing my skin has my eyes widening because I feel them—my freckles glowing. “There’s what I was looking for.”
I take a step back, but not fast enough. The two men at my sides grab my wrists, shackling them in obsidian chains.
“Like I said, we’ve been watching you.” The overlord steps close, dragging a hand down the side of my face.
He’s close but blurry.
The obsidian has my stomach lurching. I can barely contain the bile rising in my throat.
“We didn’t expect you to come to us; I appreciate the initiative.” He taps my cheek.
My vision flickers. The obsidian is worse than the thick press back home. Here, where there’s already not enough magic to breathe fully, it wraps me with the strength of a dragon’s grip around my chest.
“Her Majesty will be so disappointed to lose you.” Overlord Farseth grins, and with the obsidian muddying my thoughts, it takes me a moment to realize he thinks the queen sent us here. “But you’ll make such a lovely addition to my collection.”