Chapter 41
Forty-One
Cold water splashes over my hairline, running down my forehead and cheeks. My chest tightens, and I gasp for air as my eyes flutter fully open.
“We don’t have time for sleep,” urges Ashland, impatient and hoarse. “Tell us what you saw.”
Droplets fall from my jaw, wetting my neck and shoulders. He uses his rough hand to wipe the rest off, and I shiver.
Ivory trees dance in the dark sky above us, stars winking down from their partition of night. The bitter smell of the smoldering ashes irritates my nostrils.
Feeling out-of-body, I look around slowly yet frantically, searching for something I can’t name. Ashland’s face drains of color as he grabs the swells of my cheeks to keep me from moving. He stares into my eyes, disbelief weathering his square jaw as he frowns down at me.
I want to care.
I should care, but there’s too much power coursing through my veins, making it hard to grasp reality.
I’m here. In the stone circle. In his arms.
My body recoils. I kick and thrash until Valora restrains me with her tightening grip. He peers down with that strange expression again, the dark circles under his eyes more pronounced than ever.
Despite her closeness, Valora practically shouts, “Ash—her eyes—they’ve turned silver.”
I vomit down my bodice and into the folds of my skirts before I roll away onto the grass. The circlet digs into my scalp, and my hand flies to the ring of metal as I struggle to believe it truly belongs to me again. But that thought is quickly replaced by another.
Silver?
My stomach churns again, and I try not to clutch and rip at my once-gray eyes.
“What did you see?” Valora asks, echoing Ashland as she hands me a pouch of water. I drink greedily. It sloshes and mixes with the putrid mess down the front of my clothing as Ashland folds his arms, still watching me.
I wipe my mouth, choking on my answer. “It’s General Metalla’s men, just like I told you.
They’re transporting the missing women in a prison wagon along the Hetaira.
Some sort of power is assisting them. Their horses move too fast—unnaturally fast—but they’ve stopped for the night.
” Tears spill down my cheeks, blurring my vision.
“I’m so worried for them. They’re hurt and scared—”
“The river runs along the Port of Alexandria.” The hood of Valora’s cloak whips free of her head, and she murmurs, “I’ll bet anything they’re being loaded onto ships as cargo.”
Ashland swears before turning to his closest soldiers.
“Feed and water yourselves. Rest while you can. We leave in one hour.” He strides to the camp, ensuring everyone hears his bellowing orders.
I sit in the grass and watch as he inspects horse hooves and directs the men assembling tents to switch to disassembly.
I don’t budge from my spot.
My soul is still trapped on that wagon.
“Come on, girl, it’s time to move. You’re covered in sickness.
” Valora tugs on my arm. “There’s a hot spring on the other side of this hill.
Go wash up. It’ll make you feel better. You don’t know when your next chance will be.
” She rummages in the crossbody satchel she’s wearing and pulls out a yellow bar of soap, pushing it into my hand. It smells of lemons—just like her.
But washing up wouldn’t erase the horror I witnessed. The terror of those women would still be imprinted in my mind, no matter how clean my skin might feel.
Despite that, Valora is right. I’ll stink even worse tomorrow if I don’t comply. I rise to my feet and stumble in the direction Valora pointed.
A single ray of moonlight pierces a gap in the trees, giving me a brief glimpse of where I’m headed in the ivory woods.
As I draw closer, steam rises from behind an outcropping of rocks and leafy ferns, marking a short path to the water.
I stop there, pull my boots off, then my stockings, and lay them neatly on a boulder for safekeeping.
Swiveling around, I search for the presence of anyone else, but there’s no one except the silvery, luminescent insects that fly about the hot springs’ flora, illuminating the water. Everyone is too busy readying for the hasty departure, the noise and commotion traveling over the night air.
I sigh with tired relief, stripping out of my soiled clothing.
With the help of a rock and the soap Valora gave me, I scrub my dress as clean as possible in a shallow pool near the entrance.
However, the stain is stubborn, and I’m near tears by the time I give up and hang the dress from a tree branch.
I return to the edge of the pool to brush my teeth and wash my hands, but afterward I pause as the water deepens to my ankles, my toes digging into the silt. The warm, calming sensation makes me stand still, releasing some of the earlier stress. My breathing slows.
Studying the camp’s noise, I figure there’s still a small amount of time left, but not much.
I hurriedly unlace my stays, carefully avoiding dropping Cliodna’s diary from its hiding spot into the mud.
When I’ve taken off the remainder of my underclothes, I leave them with my stockings and boots.
Cold air nips at my naked skin, sending shivers up my spine.
I quickly glide into the balmy depths and float on my back, scrutinizing the constellations, trying not to think of anything at all. My fingernails dig into the soap bar, creating indentations, and I have to remind myself to breathe.
After a deep, deep inhale, I submerge myself and let the water surround me, keeping one hand secure on my circlet.
I won’t lose it again, I think, over and over, as I stay under, holding my knees, wondering if this is what it feels like in a mother’s womb.
My lungs itch until I’m unable to bear it. I reemerge, breaking the water’s surface, my hair wrapping and clinging to my neck and bosom.
“Ah, fuck!” a man with a deep northern accent yells.
The soap slips through my hand and falls to the bottom of the hot springs. With a gasp, I dip and hide my naked body under the modesty of the rippling water.
“I wasn’t aware you were here,” Ashland says, his tone surprised and slightly annoyed as he turns his back to me and averts his gaze.
“The dress hanging in the tree and the clothing stacked on the rocks gave you no clue?” I hiss, keeping the water level at my chin as I study his muscled shape. If possible, he seems even larger than usual, framed by only the moonlight.
“It’s dark, and I was in a rush.” He shrugs.
I scoff, but continue to look at the prominent definition of his tight torso and broad shoulders. My cheeks grow hot, and perhaps not because of the steaming minerals.
His face tilts slightly. The dim light outlines his nose as he peers down at the water. “How did you even know about this spot?”
“Valora instructed me to wash up. I didn’t argue.”
“Yes, she would, wouldn’t she?” he mutters, more to himself than to me. Then he twists around to face me, asking, “Are you feeling improved at all?”
My brow furrows in confusion.
He clears his throat. “Are you still ill?”
“Oh. I’m all right. A little sore. Though I’d feel better if I knew what this place was.” I motion to the wall of white trees surrounding us.
He eyes them as if he’s forgotten how out of the ordinary they are. “We are currently at a worship site that predates the construction of Spirit-Fae Cathedrals. Before the priestesses exploited the Spirit Goddess.”
Combined with Valora’s earlier sentiments, their accusations should scandalize me, but the priestesses haven’t left me with much desire to defend them, and this wasn’t particularly shocking information.
It’s no secret they took advantage of courtesans under the pretense of grandeur and religion, but it’s disheartening that not even a goddess could escape their machinations.
I look upward at the rustling, silver foliage. “What are these trees called?”
He wears a sad half-smile as if my question amuses him. “They are the Devana trees. They share a name with the northernmost people of my kingdom. This outcrop is the last of them this far south.”
“I’ve never seen anything like them before. I’m assuming these trees hold magic?”
“We don’t discuss such matters with foreigners.”
Something about his dismissal bothers me. “You didn’t mind using me to get information from their fire, but I’m not worthy enough to learn more about them?”
“That’s different.”
I roll my eyes. One of the luminescent bugs lands on the tip of my finger. I decide to ignore Ashland and instead inspect this little creature as it rustles its shimmering wings over its chubby body. It’s beautiful in a strange way.
Coming closer, Ashland says, “Those are silverflies. They live only where the Devana trees grow, feasting on their sap.” Many of them float around us, blinking their lights on and off through the night.
He watches me shoo it from my fingertip with a breath of air. Hesitation mixed with an unreadable emotion wavers in his gaze. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to discuss with you. It’s been weighing on my mind pretty heavily.”
“Oh, what about?” I force myself to ask.
“It’s regarding this place and your past. You have more of a connection to it than you realize. It would be wrong of me not to tell you while we’re here.”
Apprehension sinks into my stomach, but I swallow and slowly manage, “Just say it.”
“It’s about your mother, the Courtesan Queen.”
I nod, encouraging him, but barely so. I don’t know if I have the strength to talk about her, but I also don’t have the strength not to.
“Long ago, I was here as a young boy, traveling with my family.” He hesitates.
“There’s no easy way to say this, but that’s when I found your mother dying on the banks of this hot spring.
” He clears his throat, waiting for a response, but I freeze, every muscle in my body growing rigid.
“…after I figured out who she was, I did what any young boy would do and fetched help from my parents. But when we returned, there was no trace of her, not even footprints in the mud. It was like seeing a ghost. One minute she was there, the next gone.”
I stare at him.
“Do you understand what I’m saying?”
I shake my head, my mind buzzing.
“Tabitha, I don’t think she’s dead.”