29. Chapter 29
Soft rain fell the following morning; its steady patter lulled Yareli’s unease about the upcoming council.
She lay in bed for far longer than she should have, rushing to get ready in time for their departure to the palace.
She was further delayed by the conundrum that was her hair.
Long and thick, her hair was often found in a braid or two.
Yet, that morning, she hesitated. Her reflection looked wrong with her hair in a braid, pointed ears on display.
Deciding against it, she let her hair down; it settled neatly over her new ears, allowing her to pretend her skin’s glow resulted from impeccable skin care.
A knock on her door reminded her of the time, and she grabbed her daggers—the final accessory to her disguise: Lieutenant Ines, Augrys’s newest team member.
She tucked her final dagger into her boot as she opened the door.
Erick stood there, cup in hand, dressed in the identical, startling white uniform of the Water Court.
“New hairstyle?” he asked, handing her the cup of tea.
“I felt like trying something new. You know what they say, ‘new look, new me.’” She responded, downing the lukewarm tea in a gulp. Judging by the tea’s temperature, she was really late.
Erick, however, seemed unconcerned about the time, circling her like a hawk and adjusting her uniform for her. He tutted at the state of her sash; thankfully, he fixed it for her without a word. He beckoned her to follow him down the stairs.
“Remember, we’re meant to be seen, not heard,” he whispered. Yareli handed him her traveling satchel, allowing him to put it away in his personal magic storage pocket—one of the first things she wanted for herself once her magic settled.
He continued. “In general, it’s a shit rule, but it’s a blessing for these stuffy meetings. Less attention is better.”
She nodded. While she expected some attention as a newcomer, she couldn’t imagine it being tantamount to any fanfare.
No, what she needed was to be seen, deemed insignificant, and subsequently, ignored.
Her objective was two-fold: the first, to receive what awaited her; the second, to show her face to Tuom.
Let it be his reminder that she had not been broken.
He would hate it—a human in a council meant for powerful Fae leaders?
He would seethe, unable to reprimand her or make his disgust known. She smirked at the thought.
Augrys waited for them by the street with yesterday’s blond disguise discarded.
When she greeted him, she used the proper etiquette required of a lieutenant—right hand over her heart, a slight bow.
He dipped his head in acknowledgment, and a smile almost stole her lips, but she refrained; she had a part to play.
He entered the imperial carriage—sent by the palace for their convenience—first.
It was a stunning, horseless carriage. A deep wine red, the carriage bore the Queen’s Imperial Court insignia; there would be little doubt of the passengers’ importance.
She used the door’s handle as leverage and settled in the seat across from Augrys.
He didn’t look up from the stack of documents on his lap, flipping through them and picking one out.
Erick plopped down next to her; he shoved a folder at her, telling her to look through it.
“It contains the guest list for today. I included photos so you can place names to faces,” he explained.
Yareli flipped through the three pages, eyes widening in recognition at the black-haired woman on the second page.
She had taunted her right before her kidnapping, and Yareli finally had a name—Flame General Allyah.
She was as beautiful as Yareli remembered—chin held high, a smirk on her lips, looking as lethal as she had felt in person, she exuded confidence.
Anger sparked in her chest; Allyah had left her for dead, seemingly enjoying her fate.
Noticing who snagged her attention, Erick warned her. “Steer clear of that one. She’s known for holding grudges.”
“Then, so am I,” Yareli replied, crinkling the paper.
He frowned, but she ignored him. She raised her head and found Augrys already looking at her. He had caught wind of her temper, his eyebrow raised in question. He didn’t ask, however. Their acting had begun from the moment she stepped outside of her room.
Yareli shrugged. Some grudges were personal. She focused on the list for the remainder of the ride, learning the names of those who wished to either condemn her kind or protect them. Today, she would learn where each court fell.
To enter the palace, visitors were forced to use one of its four gates.
Tall and bronze, each gate was manned by palace guards, the imperial army whose sole loyalty belonged to the Fae Queen.
They looked into their carriage; their iron stares almost broke Yareli’s composure, but she kept her eyes on the spot right above Augrys’s right ear while Erick passed them their official invitation.
Their bright red uniforms were a startling contrast against the white of the palace walls.
After a moment, the guards waved them along, and Yareli was officially inside Izmari’s royal palace.
She peeked through the carriage’s windows, watching the bronze gate swing shut, the soldiers like splotches of blood on the wall.
Flashes of a room with white walls filled her mind.
Nausea threatened to rise, but her anger was swifter to ignite.
Yareli clenched her fists. She would face Tuom head-on; this was her declaration of war against the scumbag.
She owed it to the woman who had lain in that dirty cell for weeks, whose blood had painted those walls.
The sprawling estate rolled by, well-kept gardens spread as far as her eye could see.
As beautiful as they were, they were devoid of any Fae, speaking of solitude.
The carriage stopped at a large, ornate white staircase that led to the grand double door entrance of the palace.
Wide and long, the palace was identical to the baroque architecture from the human world.
Yareli looked at Erick, an eyebrow raised.
He shrugged. “Right before the Prohibition Decree, the Fae Queen fell victim to the baroque craze. The current queen upgraded to marble flooring, but kept the structure intact.”
“A bit surprising,” she said.
“Once upon a time, we were neither a closed world nor so closed-minded. Although there was that dark period in our history when enslaving humans was acceptable, so I guess we’ve always been fucked up,” he said.
“I can’t say I’m too surprised—power, money, land.”
“Tale as old as time.” He chuckled.
Augrys interrupted them, hushing them with a hand signal. It was time to disembark—time to put on her best performance.
Yareli met his gaze and gave him a grim smile. She was ready.
A butler greeted them at the foot of the staircase, bowing. “Welcome to Izmari’s prized jewel once again, First General Augrys. Her Majesty sends her apologies for being unable to greet you before the council; as you are well aware, there is limited time available to Her Majesty.”
“There is no offense to be taken,” Augrys responded.
The butler bowed again, then said, “Please do me the honor of following me.”
Yareli followed Augrys into the palace, keeping her eyes forward, except for a quick peek at the high ceilings covered with elaborate paintings of naked Fae surrounded by bountiful harvest and blooms. Definitely baroque.
More interesting was the sheer strength of the magic that hummed in the very walls and floor of the palace; it pressed on her like a prickly coat on her skin, and she gritted her teeth, pushing through the discomfort.
She wanted to effuse cool and collected despite her thundering heart.
As their walk stretched on through countless halls, her breathing slowed, and her skin became used to magic’s strong presence.
Another set of doors appeared, grander than the others she had seen, with gold engravings decorating its deep forest green.
They swung open, revealing a wide reception hall ablaze with natural light streaming in from the floor-to-ceiling windows.
Bulky emerald curtains hung to the sides.
A single long table stood in the middle of the room, and all the seats were filled except one—Augrys’s.
She inwardly grimaced; they were, undoubtedly, tardy because of Erick and her. She made a mental note to apologize to Augrys later; he had not uttered a single complaint. She had a sneaking suspicion that he was accustomed to it due to Erick’s proclivity for being fashionably late.
The weight of everyone’s stares burdened her feet, and she found it difficult to keep from fidgeting, but Yareli kept her eyes fixed on Augrys’s back, too nervous to chance a closer look at the room’s occupants, and followed him to his seat.
One gaze was heavier, hotter than the others; the corner of her mouth twitched.
Tuom’s fury fueled her, and her steps became lighter, determined.
“How wonderful the Water Court has decided to make an appearance,” a Fae dressed in light blue robes said. Elder Beihr, she thought. Right next to him was Elder Zalher. Two of the five elders who presided over the Air Court.
Lord Endrim spoke, lifting a wine glass. “Now, come, Elder Beihr, let us not start the meeting with sour wine. After all, the Water Court has never been known for its timeliness.”
Shame crawled down her spine, and indignation at Augrys’s treatment twitched at her fingertips. She bit her tongue, however, remaining in character as a dutiful lieutenant. Augrys bore the snide remarks with silent grace, thanking the servant who rushed to fill his wine glass.
“I thank you all for your patience. Let us not delay any further on my account, shall we?” he said.