Chapter 16 #2
Bernadette’s second blow stuns the woman, who has smartly decided to keep any more comments to herself. The scowl on the maid’s face is one I never want to be on the receiving end of. I’ve faced many frightening creatures, but the wrath of a kindhearted soul may be the worst yet.
“You are to leave His Highness’s quarters at once.
For lying to me, I ought to have you drawn and quartered.
You have forgotten your place, and now you shall be rightly punished for it.
” Bernadette’s voice has steepened in disappointment.
The hair on my arms tingles from an unseen tension in the air.
I didn’t know she could be prone to such threats.
When she flips to us, her face relaxes, and she pinches her nose.
“Sir Marchus, please see to it that these courtesans are escorted from the castle and returned to their families. And Ether?” She pauses, and I straighten, shaking off Marchus’s hand, which still cuffs my elbow.
“Please call for me if you have any trouble. There are eyes and ears all around. Remember that.”
Another warning. First, to say nothing if I find anything suspicious. And now, that people are watching.
I nod and she sighs, hurrying off to wherever she came from. Her small form bobs up and down as she disappears around a corner.
“I’ll meet you at the training grounds after your lunch hour,” the guard says, eyes following each woman as they move into the smoky room. Before I can reply, he’s gliding past me to stand at the entrance.
Candles have been blown out, and curtains have been drawn. In the light, blankets are strewn everywhere, and glass stemware litters the floor in shattered piles. The women inside mutter conversations I cannot decipher.
I head down the hall, not knowing where I’m going, but a part of me is excited for a little adventure. Everything is so different from what I know. Perhaps there’s a library here, or maybe I’ll stumble upon the royal kitchens or a garden.
Heeding my instincts, I turn left down the long hall into an open doorway.
The Ariochan dragon gods twist in gold over the threshold, winding around each other like snakes, frozen in time.
It’s the first time I’ve noticed them in the castle.
Perhaps the king is trying to get rid of this part of the kingdom’s history too.
Everyone in Aldorin knows he despises those who use magic.
Could it also include the beasts of their mighty ancestors?
Perhaps not, or these two dragons would not still bend over the doorway, their maws open and facing the entrant. I blink at them, offer my respect with a bow, then enter the room.
Silk streamers line the vaulted ceilings, and chandeliers of diamond and crystal glitter at varying heights, dropping from the ceiling and casting rainbows over the long wall panels stretching around the room. The crimson flooring is marbled with gold, shiny from a fresh coat of polish.
This must be a ballroom.
My toes twitch, tempted to move into the grand empty space and dance.
But humans always require a partner to move in practiced steps with. Dancing alone would probably be seen as silly, but I much prefer freedom of movement over closeness and precise, rigid patterns.
But oh, what would it be like if I were to learn a human waltz? Would I be able to keep up? Would my partner be patient enough?
My heart feels heavy thinking of the human customs that are so different from my own.
Pluto’s face, eyebrows raised in faux surprise, leaps into my memory.
His face is much younger, without the hard lines brought about by years of diplomacy.
The scar jutting from his collarbone to his jawline also isn’t there.
The words on his lips are a distant memory, but they remind me of something I’d nearly forgotten.
You can never be one of them, the memory echoes, not because you aren’t good enough, but because you are so much better.
The room freezes over as Pluto’s face fades from my mind, leaving me feeling more alone than I’ve felt in a while.
As I move to leave, a gust of wind closes doors.
A shiver tremors through me. Has someone purposefully locked me inside? No, they couldn’t have…
I reach for the bronze handle, which is like ice under my fingers, and give it a push, then a pull.
It doesn’t budge.
Alarm bells ring in my head, but I do my best to remain calm. There has to be another exit. I must find it.
I press my hand as I move along the wall, squinting my eyes in the darkness. The chandeliers above twinkle in the light from small square windows nestled just below the high ceiling. As I move beneath them, they start to resemble glistening blades more than luxurious gems.
My hand slides into a rut, and I pause, feeling for a possible handle. I haven’t even made it halfway along the first wall, so it probably won’t be an exit, but?—
An oblong metal lever collides with my hand.
I push on it gently, and the door creaks inward, leading to a dark room.
Before the door can close behind me, I remove one of my moccasins and wedge it between the doorframe.
A faint sliver of light shines through, useless in illuminating the unlit space.
Perhaps there’s another door? Or maybe I can find something useful here, like a key or a battering ram?
My eluviam is parched, especially after healing Ramiel, but fire magic doesn’t take much energy, so I call forth a burning wave of magic. It singes my veins, then rests atop my middle finger. I strike my thumb over the last knuckle, and a small flame sparks to life, hovering above my flesh.
I hold it out, moving it around to make sense of the room. But the small bubble of light from the magic soon starts to flicker, losing its power.
I pivot and find myself facing stacks and stacks of tightly sealed jars. The light reveals a purplish colored liquid within, thick and stagnant. With my other hand, I lift one of the jars. It has a decent weight to it, and as the liquid sloshes, I find it difficult to hold it steady.
I carefully lift it closer, but when I get a good glimpse at what floats inside, I flinch away and drop it.
Glass shatters, and the translucent liquid splatters over the remaining jars, my feet and legs, and the door behind me. Thick, like gel, and quickly poisoning the air with a sharp, sterile fume.
The small, mangled thing that was inside the jar rests in shards of glass and curdled purple preservatives.
I hadn’t sensed it before, but the longer it is exposed to the air, the more I sense its presence. Long-dead, the klopse’s eluviam glows faintly from inside a cut made in its abdomen. But it’s weak, as though much of its magic has already been siphoned.
My hand twitches, the light leaving the ground as I stand. The klopse blends into the blackness, the brilliance of its eluviam fading. But instead of a pull to consume it, I’m repulsed.
I’m not sure what this means for me or for other Aldorin creatures. But perhaps I’ve already stumbled upon something I am not to speak of. Maybe, subconsciously, I’d been drawn to this place because of the secret magic being hidden here.
With a gulp, I lift my hand higher, only to discover the darkness deepens. I hold my breath as I pass over the wet carcass and hop over the glass shards. Some crackle beneath my shoed foot, and I send a quick prayer to Aldorin, thankful I’m still wearing at least one moccasin.
Thin tables line the walls, forming a narrow path that leads into a rounded part of the room.
I squint in the dark at the loose leaves of paper stuck to some of the jars.
I cannot read them because they are written in Ariochan script, but they appear to be labels.
There are many creatures here, captured and kept for gods know what purpose.
The silence wraps me with a coldness as I move away, disappointed to not have found much else.
A folded piece of paper catches my eye, beckoning me with its faint green glow.
I lean forward, careful not to singe the old parchment with my small flame. My other hand delicately unfolds the note. Within, dark black script shines under my firelight.
It’s written in the language of my people.
I lift it closer, eyebrows creasing as I pore over its message.
It must be some kind of ancient prophecy, foretelling a prince who is to overthrow his father. Much of it is unreadable, as though hastily written.
Then, imbued with magic, a new message burns itself into the black. It’s there for hardly a second before the paper turns to ash in my hand. The thin trail of smoke it leaves behind reeks of lavender, the flower of death.
You are the only one who can save him , the note read.
I brush the ash on my pant leg, then hurry to the secret room’s door.
A shift of movement sounds from the ballroom—the doors creaking open.
I do my best to wipe the gunk from my legs before slipping on my moccasin and peeking through the crack. No one has entered, but the ballroom has indeed been unlocked.
I hadn’t sensed any magical source upon entering, nor do I sense anything now beyond the dead klopse. My body stills, cold, at the curiosity luring me to investigate the rest of the room. But it isn’t strong enough for me to forfeit my chance to escape.
I quietly close the door behind me and rush through the ballroom’s doors. When I make it to the hallway, my heart is pounding in my ears, but my limbs hang precisely at my sides. A group of black-cloaked figures floats toward me, silent.
They remind me of the beings in Arcanvale that had vanished from the building marked TAVERN.
Their faces are obscured with bandages. I can only see sunken eyes and portions of their noses and mouths, scarred over with black veins. They all seem to be shaven, or their hair is tightly pinned out of sight, and they all focus forward, not sparing me a glance.
Good .
The last thing I need is a group of sketchy individuals questioning why my lower half is slightly darker than my upper.