Chapter Thirteen
My knees against tile, my genius scratching to get out. The veins in my neck stretch, bulging; I cannot move. I cannot do anything. Not as Jeremee becomes nothing, not as a child screams in pain.
I lurch awake, gasping with fear, heavy and hollow.
I study memories of Jae like river stones: his auburn hair, his long slender hands, the timbre of his voice, his embrace. Joking and dancing and laughing with him at the Full Moon Festivals. I sharpen these images lest the current of time smooths over the details and takes all I have left of him.
I shift, feeling the damp sheets. Soaked, actually.
I’ll need to bathe before tonight’s service.
Yet as I sit up, the smell hits me, the putrid, unnatural stink lingering beside the sweat and piss of my night terrors.
But it’s more than that. It’s a marshy odor of salt and corpses. I rip the sheets away from the bed.
It smells of swamp. My magical marker has never been so strong, as if in neglecting my genius, I am letting it fester. I need to air it out.
That night, Kassandra dismisses me, my pungent presence giving her a headache. My last night in Illusion for two moons, and I sit in my room alone with a bucket. My genius reaches out to the water in the bucket, whispering its request.
The water rises, dripping and lopsided, before taking shape. I think of the lessons Eli demanded of Kassandra, the little birds and bats and butterflies. My genius morphs the water into tighter creatures that begin to resemble moths. They fill the air, multiplying, and flit around the room.
It’s not enough.
It hurts, keeping it all in, and I don’t have the strength to be small anymore. So I do what I do when I can no longer follow my mother’s instructions. I follow my father’s.
Teeth clenched, I press into a push-up so deep my nose touches the cold stone.
Up and down, up and down, up and down. A burn builds in the muscles in my arms, my back, my core.
The moths circle me in a torrent, raindrops splattering my back and limbs.
My genius feeds the root magic, unfolding and flourishing.
I do not stop when sweat gathers on my brow.
Not when breath comes quick and tendons quiver.
Not when my jaw aches and salty tears drip to the stone, mingling with droplets of water.
Faster and faster the creatures whirl. Harder and harder I push up and down until my name is forgotten and dawn cracks across the solitary bedroom window.
Only then do I and the creatures collapse.
Gasping, I lie prone on the wet floor, clothes soaked. When my pulse finally calms and air comes more easily, I gather myself.
The Illusion kitchens are quiet, save for the occasional line cook moving between storage and ice rooms and the long counters.
In the moments they move out, I dart in, snagging what pieces I can.
Apples, a hunk of cheese, bread, a handful of broccoli.
Little by little, I fill a sack until it’s bulging, then bring it to the bloodstain in the tunnels.
I’ll miss whatever Unluckie visits tomorrow, but that doesn’t mean they have to miss out on meals. Next week, I’ll have to figure out what to do, but that’s a problem for later. I just need to get through hour by hour, day by day.
My palm presses the bloodstained brick framed by roots.
“I miss you, Mama,” I say. “Take care of Jeremee for me.”
When I leave, my hand is wet not with blood but with the tears I scrub away.
—
The following evening, a Reign Crest faerie comes to my room to collect me, giving me a gold tunic uniform that is smooth and slippery to the touch.
Silk. I’ve only handled the material a few times when dressing Kassandra.
But this silk is my own now, and I should feel elated to don the same material as the High Fae.
A mark of my status as the most noteworthy of faeries—a Reign Crest. The best of the least. It feels like a cruel joke.
“Are you all right?” the faerie in front of me asks.
She introduces herself as Lila. With mahogany eyes, coiled hair, and deep bronze skin, she appears like a celestial being in her golden uniform.
The shirt is cropped at her taut midriff, the loose pants cinched at the ankle.
It doesn’t surprise me that the other faerie I’ll be working alongside is exceptionally beautiful.
“Just wondering how to clean this,” I say. “Such a delicate fabric for a servant.”
“Oh!” She smiles. “Lemon juice in warm water, and dab the stains. The night shift for the House of Reign is different work. The day servants take care of most of the cleaning. We serve and entertain.” My stomach clenches, and she gestures to the uniform.
“Come on, let’s get you changed and give the oath so we can be on our way. ”
My arm burns at the memory of Briar dragging the silver feather across skin.
“Won’t that bloody the clothes? Not sure how to scrub out a large stain like that,” I say, mouth dry.
Lila’s eyes widen. “Large stain?”
“For the oath?”
“Planes above, no!” She searches my face. “Each House has a different form of the blood oath. House of Reign requires just a few pinpricks.”
So House Illusion chose for the bond to be that brutal.
I spot a figure hovering outside my bedroom. Briar peers inside, her face tight.
“I wanted to say goodbye,” she says. My heart deflates. Another consequence of the separation, another way for Dominik to punish us all.
“I’m sorry to leave you,” I say.
“You will return.”
I face Lila. “May I?”
Lila nods, and I pass her the uniform, then meet Briar in the hallway and throw my arms around her. She squeaks in surprise, her strong arms wrapping around my waist.
“You’ll be okay,” she murmurs. “I’ll see you when the moon is full again.”
I squeeze her tighter. “Will you be okay?”
“What do you take me for, a doe?” A hearty laugh. Briar pulls something from her apron. A letter. “For the king, from Kassandra.”
“Will she see me?”
Briar shakes her head.
Despite myself, I feel a twinge of disappointment. Not that Kassandra and I would say goodbye, not that she would even care if I am gone, but she has become a constant in my life. She is a scar that I’m used to seeing every morning in the looking glass.
Briar drops her voice. “If only you could tell me what happened between the mistress and the king. Kassandra has been in a terrible mood ever since.”
I try, but with Lila so close, my mouth fills with pebbles. I think of the “Houses and Mouses” nursery rhyme and joke, “The silver cat met the mountain two nights ago.”
Nothing. No choking, no unseen marbles clogging my throat.
Briar’s eyes widen. “What were you picturing just then?”
“A cat climbing a mountain.”
“Nonsensical,” Briar whispers. “As long as our minds imagine our analogies, it will not detect the truth.” She shakes her head. “I always knew you were a clever one. It’s no wonder Kass keeps you around.”
We grin at each other, at the new possibilities unfurling before us. Yet my superior looks behind me, expression taut. The smile drops from my lips, and I glance to see Lila waiting patiently in my bedroom.
Perhaps we have not discovered something new. Perhaps we have discovered something dangerous.
The older faerie squeezes my shoulder. “If you need anything, you know where to find me.”
“Same to you.”
She gives a small smile before departing. I return to Lila, who is examining a thread on my uniform. She hands over my clothes, patting my arm.
“It’s nice to see,” she says. “Friendship, in a place like this.”
Once Lila slips out of my bedroom, I quickly change. The gold silk coats my skin like chocolate melting on the tongue. For a moment, I wonder if this is how the High Fae feel. Yet once the clothes settle around each one of my curves, I remember for whom I am on display.
I open the door. Lila’s face brightens.
“You look lovely!” she exclaims. She breezes in, surveying the space. “Could you lock the door? The oath can’t be witnessed by another.”
Goosebumps pinch my skin. Another secret behind a closed door.
I lock the door before I can second-guess myself and hold out my arm. From a pocket in her pants, Lila pulls out a glinting gold signet ring, its surface blank.
“Remain where you are,” Lila says. “It’ll only be a moment.” She crouches before me. “Do you swear the blood oath to the Vandorne family to serve them during the night?”
“I swear the blood oath to the Vandorne family to serve them during the night,” I say.
“And indulge their desires?”
“And indulge their desires.”
Lila reaches for the hem of my pant leg, tugging it up. I stiffen.
“What are you—”
“It’s a quick recovery,” she says.
She presses the face of the signet ring against my exposed knee. A prick of pain tunnels deep into my kneecap, like a needle piercing the bone to the back of my knee, anchoring into the tendons. Then a pulling sensation forward, a tug.
My leg gives out and I fall on that knee, gasping. Lila has moved back, now face-to-face with me. Sweat beads across my brow as I meet her eye.
“Just a prick?” I seethe.
She grimaces. “At least there’s little blood?”
She presses the signet ring against the other knee, and once again, I feel a burrowing, a latching on, and a yanking forward. Unlike the Illusion oath, I keep my consciousness. Still, I pant on my knees.
Lila stands.
“What the planes are you doing?” I wheeze, though I know she can’t reply. Instead, she just holds out the ring for me to see. In the center of the oval are now two vertical, parallel lines, engraved deep into the gold.
“That’s it?”
“No, I’m sorry.” Lila circles behind me. “Please stay as you are.”
I force myself to breathe, and still I’m unprepared when she touches the ring to my bare shoulder blade.
The pricking sensation fastens to my bone.
This time, however, it doesn’t exit. It remains attached to my back, weighing me down.
When she brushes against the other shoulder blade, the pain evens.
Lila steps away and helps me to my feet.
“Congratulations,” she says. “Welcome to the House of Reign.”
In her other palm rests the gold ring. On either side of the parallel lines, the surface is engraved with wings, intricately webbed and dotted with two circles each, resembling eyes.
“Moth wings!” Lila says.
“What?” I squint down at the ring.
“When each faerie takes the oath, wings appear on the ring. The wings are your essence reflected as an animal.”
I make a face. “But a moth?”
“They’re nocturnal, unlike butterflies. Fitting, don’t you think?”
As much as I may begrudge it, the moth does feel right for the flitting, anxious genius that sparks in the back of my mind.
“What animal is yours?” I ask.
She pulls another ring from her pocket and slips it onto her slender finger. The engraving catches the light, a thin and feathered wing. “Hummingbird.”
“That suits you.” I smile, and she returns it.
“Now, we’re going to be using these rings to boost our own magic and use the plane to transmit ourselves elsewhere.”
“Are you speaking of lacing? Faeries can’t lace.”
“With these, we can.” She wiggles her finger. “They’re enchanted.”
“But—how?”
“Normally, I’d guide you through the process, but for the first time, I think it would be easier to take you myself. May I?” Lila touches my forearm after I give a nod. She beams. “Hold on!”
Reign magic tumbles up my arms, through my torso and legs. Then I am being flattened, stretched, my lungs screaming, joints popping. The darkness becomes weightless, intangible, howling.
Wind brushes through my hair, warmth on my face. Lila giggles.
The fear drops away to something else. It’s like flying.
It’s…exciting.
Lightness bubbles up in my chest like a sunburst. As the palace and its gardens blur by us, sounds and sensations warping, I laugh for the first time since Jae’s murder.
The rushing comes to a stop, my body snapping into shape once more, slamming together. We stumble into a dark hallway. Lila catches me before I can fall. Her skin feels warm and a little damp, but she stands strong. I right myself, hands patting my body.
“Am I okay?” I gasp.
“Do you feel okay?”
“Everything’s where it should be. I don’t feel like I’ve…died?”
Lila laughs. “You haven’t! You’ve merely been reassembled.”
“How? How can the rings do that?”
Lila shrugs, grinning. “They’re imbued with Reign magic.”
Holding up my hand, I gawk at the object. Such a small band, and yet it grants so much power.
My mind spins with the possibilities; if the ring can borrow abilities from the most powerful House in Amyria, what else can it do? And why can’t faeries just wear jewelry to level the playing field?
The same reason we must take a blood oath before we wear them. The same reason we remain weighed down in debt while the High Fae stay unmarked. Somewhere between the dawn of the fae and now, someone has invented equity. And only the disadvantaged do not know about it.
“I know,” Lila says suddenly, softly.
“Apologies,” I manage, vision blurring.
“Never apologize for feeling.”
It’s nice to see. Friendship, in a place like this.
I stare at her for a moment, perhaps seeing her for the first time. “How lonely it must be to carry this knowledge around, unable to share it with anyone.”
Lila smooths down imaginary wrinkles from her gold pants. She raises her chin, dazzling me with a smile, the corners of her eyes glistening.
“Now there’s you,” she says. “But we both don’t want to be late.” She beckons me down the hall, coming upon a bronze door. “Oh—something else. I do not know what it was like in Illusion, but when we’re in the rooms, never say anything you don’t want them to hear. Because they will hear it.”
I nod, swallowing. “Understood.”
“Even in the servants’ halls we need to be careful. Now, are we ready?”
I’m not, but I force a smile. “Let’s do this.”
She grabs the handle and swings it open.