Chapter 5 #2
“Don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure of making your acquaintance yet,” I say to her, laying on the charm thicker than honey on stale toast.
“I’m Daisy!” The girl looses a high-pitched giggle, then cups her hand next to her mouth. “That’s not actually my name, though.”
“Would you care to sit with me, Not Daisy?”
The girl laughs even louder this time. “Evodia told me I’m supposed to fill guests’ drinks.”
“Yes, but I am the prince of the Redwood Kingdom, so I outrank her in authority.”
She shrugs and plops into the seat across from me. “Okay!”
I take another deep drink of wine, smothering the encroaching memories of Dahlia strutting around this place, of the realization that she never will again. Because of my curse.
My curse. My curse. My curse.
The words echo in my head like a heartbeat, temporarily drowning out all sound.
I drain the glass, and Daisy leans forward with the pitcher to fill it again. “You’re really thirsty, huh?”
“Extremely. So, tell me about yourself—”
“Daisy,” a stern voice interrupts.
My shoulders slump as Evodia enters my line of sight.
“Careful, Prince Castor,” she directs at me as Daisy hops up from her seat, still smiling that too-big, tieg-drunk smile. “If you don’t slow down, you’ll pass out before the night’s revelry truly begins.”
“Oh, don’t worry, Madam Debray. My tolerance is boundless.”
Evodia arches a brow at me before she snaps at Daisy, “Go check on the guests in the theater. They’ll be wanting more wine, I’m sure.”
“Okay!” the girl says in a dreamy voice, flouncing through the feathered curtain.
Evodia’s lilac skin glistens as she moves into the dim light emanating from the sconce on the wall. The embodiment of the very nightshade flowers that decorate her establishment. She leans straight-armed against the back of the empty chair opposite mine, assessing me.
“I know the deadline of your ridiculous pact with your brother draws near, but Daisy is off-limits.” She wags a finger at me like a disapproving mortal mother. Telling her about my pact was definitely a drunken—perhaps tearful—mistake.
Taking another gulp of wine, I try not to let her see me crumple with disappointment and frustration. Pretty sure I just look constipated now. Better that than vulnerable. “Where did you find a mortal girl anyway? Thought you were against bringing them here.”
A red slip of a gown lies flush against her ample curves, leaving rather little to be imagined.
Compared to her feathered and jeweled ensembles, though, it’s quite understated.
“Fern found her trapped in a tree siren’s nest just outside of the Rose District.
She’s endured too much of their song to be brought home. She would just find her way back.”
“The Rose District? That close?”
“The king has spent so much time worrying about warding out the mortals—when he isn’t inviting them into his bed, of course—he’s completely ignored all the other threats in this damned forest.”
Dryads and arborfae are among the few in Sylveris deemed “Seelie.” Which is to say that we follow Sylveris Law and are reasonably ethical creatures who don’t murder everyone we encounter for sustenance or amusement.
Then there are the “Unseelie” blood nymphs, tree sirens, and wood hags, with their lawless nature and questionable morals.
Though I’ve always found the moral area between the Seelie and Unseelie to be fantastically gray.
The ironfae are a third type, drawing their magic from minerals and ore rather than organic material.
They are neither Seelie nor Unseelie. Leave it to the fae who choose to live among mortals to strive for individuality and eschew labels.
Durian has always enjoyed his time with the Iron King, visiting his palace beneath the City every few fortnights to take his pick of mortal women while schmoozing fellow royalty.
Though several of the ironfae courtiers visit the Nightshade District from time to time, I have visited their palace only once and left with no memory of what transpired. I do hope I enjoyed myself.
“Durian does not believe the other threats are worthy of concern.”
“There are many things the king does not deem worthy of concern.” Madam Debray walks around the chair she’s been leaning against and sinks into it.
She whispers indistinctly, and the sizzle of magic surrounds us: vines of silence.
“I know Dahlia was killed.” Her usual gregarious demeanor has been replaced by a slow-building storm. “Tell me what happened.”
It takes a great deal of strength to maintain my composure as I look down at my wine rather than at Evodia.
She may have heard Dahlia was killed, but she doesn’t know how.
Thinking Durian is at fault is easier to swallow than her being sentenced to death by my curse.
“She, er—” May have loved me and paid the ultimate price for it?
“She raised her voice at the king. Threatened his heartwood.”
“What precisely did she say?” Danger curls around her words like a viper biding its time.
The wine isn’t working quickly enough. My fingers brush the nepenthe in my pocket. “Something about felling his heartwood after his vines restrained her.”
Evodia practically hisses. “Why did he restrain her in the first place?”
“She was raising her voice about Mahonia’s arrest. People in line were growing anxious.”
“Where in Redwood Law does it state that we are not permitted to speak above a delicate volume?” Evodia’s voice rises within the cage of silence, making it all the more piercing.
“Mahonia wasn’t arrested for treason. She was arrested for denying one of the king’s guards a night with her.
There was no trial, no witness, no evidence of treason. ”
This is dangerous territory, even within vines of silence, speaking ill of Durian’s choices with so many witnesses—distracted as they may be. I keep my eyes on my wine, swirling it once…twice…a third time. “Perhaps Mahonia was not the girl you thought she was.”
But I’ve spent a great deal of time around Mahonia. Of all the orchids, she was always the kindest to me. Kinder even than her sister.
“You’re pretty, Castor, but not foolish. And only foolish people speak ill of my orchids.”
“Are you threatening the Redwood Prince, Evodia? Do you really want to see what it would do to your profits if I stopped frequenting your establishment?”
More wine. Some of it spills on my pants. I wave a hand over the stain, watching as it vanishes. My slow words sound nothing like my spinning thoughts.
Evodia looses a dark laugh at this. “Perhaps you are foolish. To think we would suffer without your weekly visits to Magesté, plentiful as they are.”
“Are we actually arguing? I cannot always tell, you see. All the wine.” I hold up my glass, tightening my grip to hide the tremor in my fingers.
“That depends on what you can do for me,” Evodia says. “Believe it or not, some of us concern ourselves with the well-being of others.”
“Why are you lamenting to the cursed prince? What good am I to you?”
My unspoken words hang in the air between us. I can’t help you. I have no power here. I have no power anywhere.
She leans forward earnestly. “You have your brother’s ear. You can convince him to release Mahonia. To release all the Nightshaders who have been unjustly arrested.”
I pull the nepenthe from my pocket, pressing the tip with my thumb and forefinger until it begins to smoke.
Taking a deep drag, I wait for the calm to settle over my electrified nerves.
Evodia watches me, waiting. A stream of lavender smoke billows from my mouth. “You overestimate our familial bond.”
“And you underestimate the damage he is causing. You think he is merely distracted by other tasks rather than actively neglecting the safety of our district. You think you have no power at all when there is power in proximity. There is privilege in your untouchable last name.”
I almost laugh at this. The look on Durian’s face anytime I bring up Nightshaders’ concerns is one of great irritation. He can call me brother all he likes, but I’ll still always be the adopted boy from the Nightshade District.
“That’s enough,” I state more firmly. “Your faith in my power is appreciated but tragically misplaced. Nothing I say about this district will be well received by the king.”
Evodia wilts in the seat across from me. I wish I could tell her that I can help the Nightshade District, that I can convince the king to let those she cares for go free. But I can’t say any of this.
My self-loathing increases tenfold when I speak again. “I will just have to patronize this sector more frequently to make up for the losses. Spread the love and gold around.”
She stands, hellfire in her amethyst eyes. “You shouldn’t be spreading love around at all, now should you, Castor?”
The sharpness of her words lances me. “No.” My voice comes out hollow. “I suppose I shouldn’t.”
“You spent the evening with Dahlia the night before last,” Evodia says pointedly. “How many times had that been?”
The nepenthe isn’t working. At all. “Maybe…three. Four? I don’t know.”
She nods solemnly. “Perhaps it would be best if you kept your distance from the orchids for a while.”
Alarm and anxiety and all the panic feelings sizzle through my chest. “You are cutting me off, then.”
There’s lonely without love and then there’s just lonely. Without anyone to even pretend with. What am I supposed to do, face the night on my own?
“With the arrests, we’ve already lost several orchids and my best bookkeeper.
Fern is a sweet girl, but not quite as organized as one might hope.
And since you’ve made it clear that you have no intention of helping release those who were imprisoned, I can’t afford to lose any more.
I don’t want any of them getting too…attached to you. ”
Waving a hand, she retracts the vines of silence and disappears through the feathered curtain, leaving me alone with my nepenthe and wine.