CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The weeks leading up to the dinner party passed quickly.
Nix and I settled into a comfortable routine.
I had to admit the island didn’t feel so lonely with him around, even if he did stubbornly refuse to tell me more about his life.
No matter how gently I pleaded or how cleverly I tried to trick it out of him, my new companion clearly did not wish to talk about the past. Eventually, I stopped trying to press him for more information. I had enough to process as things were.
I had a timeline now.
Three hundred years ago something changed. But what?
And did it have something to do with the woman haunting my dreams? Moira?
There was one image I couldn’t shake. My thoughts kept drifting back to the throne of living wood. An oak tree laden with green leaves. Springtime leaves. And the cruel man who sat upon it, demanding his right to marry a stolen bride.
However, the Spring Court was ruled by Archlord Ailmon, not the man in my nightmare.
A rather useless piece of information on its own.
Since it wasn’t like I could simply waltz into his court demanding answers.
That seemed wholly out of the question for now until I figured a few more things out.
Until I was powerful enough not to fear his wrath.
Less than two moons from now, after the inauguration, my reputation might have changed enough to demand an audience, but until then…
That wasn’t the only thing on my mind.
I was also thinking about Terani’s visit.
How the people of the realm were meant to offer me a moonstone if they wished to strike a midnight bargain.
Terani suggested the moonstone protected her on her travels.
I suspected my necklace had done the same for me when I was in Sivell.
She also told me they were difficult to find.
What did that mean for the future? No one would come again if moonstones remained scarce in the realm.
The last week had brought another new development, this one exciting.
There were buds on the Green Man’s vines.
I just hoped they didn’t bloom while I was away.
The buds, still twisted into a tight knot, were mostly light green, but I could see glimpses of a pure white flower peeking out, waiting to emerge.
A hint at what was to come. Still a mystery—but not for much longer.
Somebody knocked at the front door bright and early in the morning.
I knew right away it would be Corvin since we spoke the night before using the study mirror. He was still planning to accompany me to Rogam Vunzaver’s mansion. I gave Nix a stern look as I headed toward the door. “Be nice, please!”
Nix flicked his tail back and forth noncommittally. “I don’t think you should be alone with Bird Boy; I don’t trust him. His intentions may not be honorable.”
“What makes you say that?” I asked with a frown.
“His smell. I don’t like it.”
“Really?” I responded. “I think he smells quite lovely, like fresh rain and sweet honey… Err…” My cheeks pinkened and I reached for the door handle, choosing to ignore Nix’s confusing assessment of Corvin’s character in favor of welcoming him inside.
Corvin greeted me with a wide smile as Nix waltzed into the foyer, taking a seat by my side.
“Hey there, Nix,” Corvin said, observing his approach. “You’ve put on some weight!”
“Bird Boy,” Nix acknowledged in return, earning a scowl from me.
Corvin was wearing his cloak again—the one adorned with countless colorful feathers.
No longer quite as distracted by its appearance, I could tell it reeked of magic, and I thought I detected the presence of several different enchantments woven into its threads.
The magic was restless, like wisps of cloud floating through the sky, constantly shifting, shimmering delicately, its tendrils weaving in and out of the cloak’s fabric, constrained to its canvas.
“One type of feather wasn’t enough?” I asked him, a teasing lilt to my voice. “You had to have them all?”
Corvin peered down, pursing his lips. “You can see all the different feathers?”
“Why, should I not be able to?”
“It’s a bit unusual,” he confessed. “The cloak is heavily glamoured.”
“Well, I do have Fae blood somewhere in my ancestry.”
“Even so, my mom’s ability to glamour was renowned. Strong enough to fool almost anyone.”
“What does it look like to most people?” I questioned.
“A plain black cloak.”
“Then most people are missing out. It’s beautiful. Does it serve any purpose?”
Pride flickered in his eyes. “These aren’t just feathers to me. I can use their magic.”
I remembered back to our misadventure in the Spring Court. “Like when you cloaked us from the Bunyip?”
He nodded. “Like that. Each feather does something a bit different.”
“And here I thought you were just wearing it to attract attention,” I said playfully.
It wasn’t exactly an inconspicuous garment…
He chuckled lightly, his eyes dropping to mine. “Been thinking a lot about who I’m trying to attract, have you?”
I smiled up at him with false sweetness. “Just worried you might be a bit attention starved. That’s all.”
He laughed again, loud and hearty. “I appreciate your concern.”
“Anytime.” My eyes lingered on the cloak, wondering if it was as soft as it looked.
“Do you let people touch it?” I asked.
“As a rule? No,” he replied. My shoulders sank.
Corvin took a step closer to me. “Would you like to be the exception?”
I couldn’t resist the temptation. I ran a hand gently down the cloak’s brightly colored plumage.
Soft. Softer than I’d thought. I looked up to find Corvin watching me.
“Satisfied?” he asked.
“Yes,” I murmured, withdrawing my hand. “Let me grab my things from the study before we leave.”
Corvin followed me into the room.
“Here’s the dress.” He reached into his bag, pulling out the fabric. “It belongs to my friend Farryn. She also gave me a pair of shoes for you to wear.”
“Please tell her thanks for me,” I requested, feeling touched she wanted to help despite not knowing me.
It was a beautiful white silk gown.
“I better try it on before we leave, just in case it doesn’t fit,” I said, ducking behind a partition in the study for privacy.
I pulled the floor-length dress on over my head, hoping it would be the right size so I could wear it to the dinner party.
It was unlike anything I had ever worn before.
It clung to my body, a little tighter than I would have liked, but not so tight it didn’t fit or was at risk of tearing.
The front of the gown was modest enough, with a cowl-neck bodice.
The same could not be said about the back.
Because it didn’t exist. The gown was completely backless, ending at the curve of my spine.
“It’s pretty low-cut in the back,” I called out to Corvin.
He answered from the other side of the partition. “It’s the fashion in the Sk—I mean to say I know a lot of women with wings.”
“I guess that explains why there’s no fabric in the back,” I replied, peeking my head out. “Will you tell me if it fits correctly?”
“I’m sure it will be fine—”
I stepped out from behind the partition. “Do you think it will work for the party?” I asked.
I turned, showing him a side profile of the dress.
Corvin’s eyes lingered on the spot where the dress met my backside. “It’ll work,” he said, voice thick.
“Alright. Thanks,” I replied, satisfied by his response.
I ducked behind the partition again, changing back into travel clothes.
I had plenty of accessories to go with my dress when I wore it.
The moonstone necklace around my neck. The dragon flame ring, taken from the velvet display case and slipped onto my thumb.
It was crafted from solid gold, its band textured like dragon scale, the likeness of a dragon head extending from atop the ring, with two small emerald gemstones inlaid into its eyes.
Taking it was a gamble because I didn’t know how it worked.
My one attempt to use it the week prior, after taking the boat out to the middle of the lake, failed to generate any flame.
But now that I understood what it was supposed to do, I felt inclined to take it along as backup.
Burn it all down seemed like one viable exit strategy.
Hopefully circumstances wouldn’t become nearly so dire.
Corvin waited patiently as I gathered the remainder of my belongings.
First and foremost, some Kothian currency. Passing as an interested buyer would require coin. If I was going to convince Rogam to show me his most valuable wares, I needed to make it lucrative for him. So lucrative he couldn’t possibly decline.
Kothian silver was imprinted with the image of a screaming woman. In homage to their banshee warriors, who channeled the power of a deceased ancestor. Well, less of a channeling really and more of a possession as I understood it. Women whose screams had the power to wreak death on the battlefield.
Nix was still sitting in the foyer when we returned, looking anxious as he paced back and forth in the hallway.
He promised to tell any visitors who arrived when I would be back, should anyone come to the island while I was away.
“Thank you for looking after the island while I’m gone, Nix,” I said gratefully.
His response was less sentimental. “Try not to die.”
We left the cottage, heading down to the lakeshore to depart.
I looked at my small boat, and then back to Corvin.