The Ivakar
After Dali left I closed my eyes and focused on the sound of the door shutting.
He would not come back. He would not, would he?
When I opened them Teorin was lying beside me.
"Leave."
"No."
His answer was so calm something inside me snapped.
"I will not risk you being harmed, Asharin."
I laughed.
"You will not risk me being harmed?" I looked at him. "Yet you think nothing of trying to force your kiss on me?" My voice shook. "What comes next, Teorin? Will you decide to fuck me while I am too weak to stop you?"
His jaw tightened.
"You had better hope I never recover." I stared at him. "Because if I do, you will regret every moment of this."
He looked genuinely confused.
"My mouth has never come near yours.”
"What?"
"I am many things." His voice stayed level. "But I do not force myself on unwilling women." A pause. "Especially not you."
I looked at him and realized that perhaps Dali was right, perhaps there was some sort of madness to him. He truly seemed to not remember trying to kiss me.
He hesitated after that. Like he wanted to say something else and decided against it.
A tear slid down my face. I hated it. I had spent so much of my life refusing to cry and now that I was dead I could not seem to stop.
"I do not want to share a bed with you." My voice cracked. "You are not him."
The grief hit all at once. I rolled onto my back and pressed my face into the pillow and made a sound that did not feel entirely human.
A knock at the door.
Teorin stood immediately. Only then did I realize the door had been locked. He had left me trapped inside this room with him. The realization turned my stomach.
When the door opened a woman stepped inside. Long silver hair. Olive skin. Simple gray robes. She curtsied to me first, then to Teorin. I noticed that immediately.
"Your Majesty," she said. “Her Highness will require proper clothing if she is expected to remain in Morrath."
Teorin frowned. "I have already assigned a tailor."
"I'm afraid he refuses to sew for anyone except King Sevrin." She paused. “Besides, the princess requires special attire since she does not have feeder blood like you.”
Teorin looked confused. “Leather,” she said gently. “Humans of high station are permitted to wear leather. The creatures of Morrath have an aversion to it.”
Teorin frowned. “I do not understand. I am a feeder and I do not have an aversion to it, so why would the creatures here?”
She smiled. “Not all creatures have the aversion, Majesty. Moreover, do not forget that Morrath is different. The magic is different.”
There was silence. Then, “Anyway, the leather tailor has arrived.”
His eyes narrowed. "There is such a tailor?"
"So I am told."
"Where?"
"The lower entrance behind the northwest corridor."
He hesitated. "Perhaps—"
“The weather will change soon, Majesty. Without proper clothing," she interrupted politely, "the princess is liable to freeze. She also becomes considerably easier to assassinate."
He sighed. "I'll find him."
When the door shut behind him I blinked.
"There is a tailor here this late?”
She laughed. “No,” she said. She walked across the room and opened the wardrobe. “The rumor is that King Sevrin held some fantasy of having you here at some point. He had hundreds of leather pieces made for you, your Highness.”
I stared blankly. "You lied."
"Yes.”
I could not help it. I smiled.
"What about the lower entrance behind the east wing of the northwest corridor?"
She smiled back. "That is more of a subjective location."
"As in…”
"It doesn't exist."
Despite everything, I laughed. The motion hurt more than expected and dissolved into coughing. She was beside me immediately, easing me upright.
When the coughing finally passed, she turned toward the wardrobe and reached for the black jewelry box that had been sitting there since I first arrived.
“It looks like King Sevrin must have had plans for you to wear jewels,” she said with a grin as she carried it over and opened the lid. “Or perhaps the one who brought you here moves quickly.”
I looked inside. There were jewels of every kind. Rings, necklaces, and stones fit for a princess or queen.
I looked up at her.
“None of them suit me,” I said. “You are welcome to take some or all of them.”
She laughed. “They do not suit me either. We shall keep them in your wardrobe. They may be useful for bribing servants. Or if someone you are not fond of has an origin day and you need to pretend to care with a thoughtless gift.”
I could not hide my surprise. “They celebrate origin days here in Morrath?”
“Doubtful,” she said lightly. Then she smiled. “I am Fiersa.”
"Your accent."
"Veynar." She soaked a cloth in warm water. "I was raised there."
"You were?"
"I was sold." She said it so casually I almost missed it. "My husband sold me for ten gold pieces after his mother decided I was worthless because I could not bear children."
I stared. "I'm sorry."
She shrugged. "He was never particularly kind. I should not have been surprised." She sat me up carefully and began brushing my hair. "My brother learned what happened while stationed at the border." She smiled faintly. "Prince Colsar helped him."
My head lifted. "Colsar?"
"He petitioned Yorali's king to release me." Her expression softened. “Then he had my brother sent back to Rathmor Palace so he could await me there.”
“My brother wrote constantly." A quiet laugh. "He said you were stubborn."
I snorted. "That seems accurate."
"He said you remembered servants' names." My smile faded. "He said you made toys for orphaned children." She looked away. "He thought perhaps someday I might become your lady's maid. He thought it would be a great honor.”
Something tightened in my chest. "I never knew anyone thought of me that way."
"He did.” She laughed. “I suspect many people did.”
Silence pressed between us.
"Then why didn't you come?" I asked.
She was quiet for a long time. "Because the King of Yorali discovered what I am.”
"What are you?"
She met my eyes. "Ivakar."