Chapter 32
Hali slips out of the library not long after revealing her plan, as if she fears the books will record her words and reveal them to their next reader.
After what she’s told me, I understand the fear.
But the last glance she gave before she left revealed her resolve.
What Hali wants me to do is far more likely to end in failure than success. And yet, after learning the truth of what’s going on in Virendrell, it’s impossible to refuse her.
A small part of me, the part that wishes to avoid conflict with powerful, influential Fae, tries to say her words were exaggerated. That Hali’s story is just one side of what’s going on here.
But isn’t that exactly what the Elders did to women in Verdanthia?
They pretended to listen to grievances but chose to care more about repopulation than granting women protection from too-young marriages and neglectful or abusive spouses.
No. Dismissing Hali’s plight isn’t possible.
How Judan allows this injustice to continue is beyond my understanding.
Unless the God of Order is using me and Hali as his instruments to right this horrific wrong…
I leave the library, quiet and contemplative, and I run through the many possible ways this situation will blow up in my face.
I should ask for Rian’s help…
Ugh.
Unwanted images ambush me. Rian shirtless. Running through the maze with predatory skill and grace. Of him kissing Iris’s hand.
I grit my teeth and sidestep a maid carrying a basket filled with linens. She does a double take before hurrying away like I have the plague.
I dismiss the unusual reaction and refocus on the problem at hand.
Asking Rian for help is a mistake.
Silas is knowledgeable. Surely he’ll be able to help me follow through with Hali’s request. Especially knowing she’s Jaxon’s sister…
Thank the Gods Jaxon isn’t here.
As even-tempered as the Fae is, something tells me he wouldn’t be so calm were he to learn what’s happening in Virendrell. What’s due to happen to Hali...
Servants flood the halls and courtyard I pass, transforming the palace into a spectacle.
Crystal lights sparkle overhead. Satin ribbons spill from doorways. Flowers burst from gilded vases.
Everything looks wonderful, a deceptively perfect mask that hides the ugliness transpiring behind closed doors.
Magic trickles into my fingertips. I urge it to remain dormant—to continue to rest.
As an outsider, I draw enough attention.
If my true heritage is discovered—if Augustus and Helen learn the truth of the diluted Light Fae blood that flows through my veins, they will trap me in Virendrell. Just like Hali and every other skilled magic wielder in their population.
Rian wouldn’t let that happen.
I scoff.
The Shadow Prince is too busy playing whatever political game he’s set in motion.
I can’t rely on him.
I won’t.
By the time I make it back to my room, Thea is already inside, arranging cosmetics and hair accessories on the vanity.
“There you are, my lady.” She smiles. “We must prepare you for the evening.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to refuse, but then I think of Hali. She needs me.
I sit on the chair in front of the mirror without uttering a word.
Thea is talkative while she works, gushing about the finery expected at tonight’s event, speculating about the favor the winner of the betrothal contest will request from the mayor.
With every word, my anxiety grows.
Thea’s behavior is a stark contrast to the nervous woman who warned me not to let my guard down just last night.
“Mayor Augustus and Lady Helen arranged for the majority of servants to attend tonight’s feast,” Thea says, beaming at me through the looking glass’s reflection.
“How magnanimous,” I mutter.
“Isn’t it?” She pins a coiled strand at the crown of my head, allowing the end of the curl to hang down and brush the back of my neck. “This wedding is such a happy occasion for all of Virendrell.”
I bite my tongue.
When my hair and makeup are complete, Thea guides me to the changing screen. She wraps a thin, laced corset around my waist before helping me into my gown.
The powder-blue fabric is once again arranged into the unique toga style that cinches at my waist and exposes my arms. Crystals sparkle on the typically smooth fabric as it flows to the ground. Pale-white pearls dangle from my throat.
“I am certain Lord Leto will win,” Thea declares, sliding a stack of matching pearl bracelets over my wrists.
The marks on my arms shift as the cool beads brush against them.
“Especially with you on his arm. Though, remember what I told you. Take care not to appear too…willing.”
I frown. “What do you mean, with me on his arm?”
“Oh.” She waves a hand. “It’s nothing. Just a dance.”
A dance?
“I don’t under—”
A series of knocks cuts off my words.
“Oh goodness! Is it time already?” Thea hurries to the door.
My heart flutters.
I clasp my hands and squeeze in an effort to hide my nervousness.
When the doors open and reveal a blond head of hair instead of black, my stomach falls.
“Lord Anders.” Thea drops into a curtsy. “You’re early.”
“Apologies, Mistress Thea.” Anders dips into a low bow and rises with a grin. “I finished preparing myself and thought I would impose on Elara’s goodwill to keep me company before tonight’s festivities.”
“Oh, how charming.” Thea’s reprimand morphs into giddiness, and her blue skirt fans out as she rushes back to my side. “One moment. She is nearly ready.”
Anders meets my gaze across the room. He tilts his head in acknowledgement.
There’s no lingering glance. No admiring sweep of my body.
My guard lowers a notch.
The palace healer’s presence has never made me feel uncomfortable. Of all the Virendrellians who could escort me to the night’s event, I find myself glad it's him.
Thea helps me into a new pair of sandals. The silver chains that wind up my calves press into my skin. White pearls are placed on the straps across the top of my feet, and the cool metal sends goose bumps along my legs.
She secures the footwear with clasps that encircle my legs, above my knees.
“There.” She arranges my skirt back into position, concealing the majority of the sandals’ intricate design. “You’re ready.”
I swallow down the nerves that attempt to clog my throat. “Thank you, Thea. For everything.”
The kind woman dips into another curtsy. “It’s my pleasure, Elara.”
Anders extends his arm. “Shall we?”
My gown’s skirt sways as I cross the room and slip my hand into the crook of his elbow.
“You look lovely,” he says kindly.
I offer a weak smile. “Thank you. So do you.”
Anders wears a midnight-blue tunic, adorned with strands of brilliant silver down the length of the long sleeves. The pattern carries over to the sides of his matching trousers, all the way to his shining black shoes.
The style reminds me of those I’d find on the continent, but still unique enough that it fits in with the opulent fashion of Virendrell.
I press my lips together as we step into the corridor, waiting for one of the Shadow Fae to make an appearance.
“How was your day?” Anders asks.
“Uneventful,” I reply, forcing myself not to look back at the Fae’s doors that remain closed. “Yours?”
“Quite the opposite,” he remarks, an odd note to the words.
I don’t pry.
I have enough going on in my mind.
We descend the main stairwell, only passing a few finely dressed individuals on our way. The rest are servants, putting the finishing touches on the floral arrangements adorning the stair’s railing and adding leafy stems behind the framed portraits and landscapes hanging on the walls.
The palace decor has morphed into a garden. But rather than charmed, I find the fragrant scents and vivid colors overwhelming. Suffocating.
My lungs stretch as I inhale, but I cannot escape the stifling scent.
“Is everything all right?” Anders asks.
“Yes. I’m just tired.”
So, so tired.
We reach the bottom floor. Rather than lead me to the inner courtyard, Anders guides me in the opposite direction.
“Where are we going?”
“The party hasn’t started yet, and you look like you could use a breath of fresh air.”
I don’t deny it, and I don’t protest as he leads me toward the back of the palace.
We reach a balcony that overlooks the cliffs and the sea below. It’s the same one where I found Rian and Draven sparring. Right before we—
I cut off the thought and crumple it into a ball. I approach the white stone railing and imagine tossing the horrible memory into the waves crashing against the cliffs, desperate for it to stay there and leave me in peace.
I have to get over these feelings.
Anders props the balcony doors open before joining me, leaving two feet of space between us as he rests his elbows on the railing.
“Lovely, isn’t it?” He stares out at the water.
The moon’s choppy reflection stains the otherwise dark surface.
“It reminds me of the cliffs around Verdanthia,” I confess.
Though the mines and the knowledge of what happened in them always disrupted the serenity of that beautiful view.
And now this view is also tainted by the knowledge of a different leader’s depravity.
“I love the sea,” Anders sighs. “But I do miss the mountains.”
I watch him from the corner of my eye. “How old were you when you came to Virendrell?”
“Young, but not too young to forget the way sunlight made the snow glitter. Or how green and lush the trees and landscape looked in the spring.” His features slacken, lost in the comfort of a pleasant memory.
I tilt my head. “You once told me your magic is better suited for a place like Virendrell.”
He nods.
“Why? Don’t Mountain Fae require healers?”
He leans back and stares at the night sky. “Mountain Fae prefer males to be hunters. Warriors. When I showed no aptitude for wielding my magic in offensive or protective ways, it became obvious I would not be a respected member of society.”
That’s…sad.
“So your mother brought you here?” I ask in a soft voice.
“So my mother brought me here,” he confirms.
A moment of silence passes before I ask, “How long ago was that?”
A long breath blows past his pursed lips. “Nearly a century.”
Wow…
I drum my fingers against the railing. “That was years before the Shadow War started.”
“Yes, though…” His eyes grow distant. “While some years can seem never-ending, many of them feel far too short.”
I hum. “I imagine many Fae feel that way.”
“Yes. Part Fae, too.”
I blink. “Part Fae age differently than humans?”
“They do.”
My heart thumps in my chest. “But…but I thought they shared more in common with humans.”
I think of Hali. Of Leto.
They seem so…normal. Human.
None of the part Fae I’ve encountered possess the strange, otherworldly aura of the Shadow Fae or Helen. Or even Anders.
I can’t believe I never considered that they would share other characteristics with their more powerful ancestors.
“No,” Anders says. “Part Fae share life expectancies similar to Fae. Though, it is easier for your kind to succumb to injuries. Your bodies are much less resilient to traumas.”
Well, that sounds like a crappy—
Wait—
Your kind.
The world tilts.
Did he just…
My pulse roars. Magic burns in my chest. The marks along my arms coil and snap.
My entire body stiffens, and it hits me that I’m alone out here, too far from the celebrations to hope to be heard if I scream.
“Relax.” Anders drops his head, and his knowing, steady eyes meet mine. “I haven’t shared your secret. As far as the rest of Virendrell knows, you are a human with magic.”
I step back, heart racing. “How did you—”
“I didn’t at first,” he interrupts. “Not until you showed me the diary.”
Shit.
I knew it.
My blood runs cold. “Did you tell Augustus?”
Is Hali’s plan going to fail because of me?
“No,” he answers, voice even.
My eyes narrow. “I-I don’t believe you.”
Anders works for the mayor. For Helen. Why would he not tell them the truth about what I am?
“I assume, by this point, Hali has lifted Virendrell’s glittering veil from your eyes?”
I jerk.
Anders’s lips twitch. “I’ve always admired Hali’s boldness, but her lack of subtlety leaves something to be desired.”
My gaze darts to the open doors.
Could I run? Or will Anders be able to catch me before I step foot inside the palace?
“Mother, help me.” He rolls his eyes. “Don’t look so scared. I’m not your enemy.”
“I don’t know what you are,” I snap and take another step back.
So much for thinking I can trust the palace healer.
Anders crosses his arms, but he doesn’t make a move to close the distance I’m slowly putting between us. “I want to help you, Elara”
I scoff. “Help me?”
“Well…help Hali.” His lips turn down. “And the others.”
My sandaled feet stick to the balcony. “W-what?”
“Hali is not the only one who objects to Helen’s actions,” he reveals.
Helen’s…
Not Augustus’s…
He continues, “And many are discontent with being walled away from the rest of the world.”
“But you’re Fae. One of the few full-blooded Fae left,” I remind him as blood thrums forcefully through my veins. “Why don’t you stand against them yourself?”
“Because it doesn’t matter what wrongs Helen commits. There are too many loyal citizens who stand by her. I would lose all of my influence the moment I speak out against her.”
“But Augustus is the mayor,” I object. “Shouldn’t he—”
“Augustus is wrapped around his wife’s finger. He is a good ruler, but you’d be a fool to think he’d go against Helen. He hasn’t yet. And trust, many have tried to persuade him.”
My hands shake as I curl them into fists. “So…what? You want to help Hali. Do you even know what it is she wants?”
“To leave these shores,” he answers evenly, “before she’s used as a breeding tool.”
My stomach clenches at the descriptor, just as strongly now as it did before when Hali revealed the ugly truth of what happens in Virendrell.
“But that’s not all, is it?” he asks, studying me with the patience of someone who already knows the answer.
My throat constricts even before he says—
“She wants to take the children with her.”