CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
The following three days were nothing more than a haze.
I wasn’t allowed to see Kodhan once despite the fact that we’d won together. My insides begged for just one second, just one, to see how he was doing. No one told me anything, leaving me to guess which wing of the castle he slept in, or if he even slept at all. I worried about him constantly.
No news about his father, either. The maids’ lips were sewn shut, and it was almost as though they’d been ordered to steer clear of my own wing.
Artists from each corner of Aedreath painted portrait after portrait of my face in commemoration, the soft patter of bristles against their canvases slowly driving me mad.
I could hardly sit still. Could barely hold the poses I’d been instructed to keep.
I didn’t smile once, but that did not deter the artists from painting one onto my face anyway.
And they always got the color of my right iris wrong. Either too bright, too muted, or exaggerated amounts of red that made it seem like the Underworld had taken hold of me.
One of the artists even had the nerve to paint it pink.
Those paintings held a vibrancy that I did not. No one seemed to notice an empty husk sat before them, waiting to crumble and disappear.
My fingers dug into the folds of my gown as I shifted, muscles unbearably stiff from sitting for so long. The chair underneath me groaned in protest.
Another painter sat apposite to me. Mercifully, he was silent while he worked.
His paints moved across the canvas with his brush strokes, courtesy of his water-wielding magic working with the moisture of the colors.
The last time I caught a glimpse of his progress, the brown shades of my hair were gliding down the shape of my shoulders while the hues for my skirts branched out to meet the firmer lines he was creating.
He brought with him a small pot of herb oil to burn, which filled my room with the scent of lavender, chamomile, and sweet nodes of honeysuckle.
For the first time in three days, my shoulders relaxed, the familiar smell of chamomile coating the insides of my lungs.
It felt as though my mother—the real her, not the nightmarish version—stood behind me.
Was this how she’d felt after she’d won? Empty, and undeserving?
No, surely not. More than anything, she was a determined woman. Never did her steps falter. If she saw something she wanted, she took it without pause.
Heels clicked behind me.
“So this is where you’ve been rotting away.”
All the tension I’d lost returned tenfold. “I don’t recall requesting your presence, Diana.”
Her pungent perfume mixed with the smell of the burning herbs as she stepped around me and peered at the artist’s unfinished work.
She didn’t bother hiding her sneer of distain.
“I see that winning has only served to amplify your disrespect.” A cursory glance at my dress.
“A title will not erase the stain you’ve left upon the kingdom. ”
“Is this all you’ve come to tell me? As you can see, I am rather occupied. You’re wasting precious time. Yours, mine, his,” a half-hearted gesture to the artist, “it’s rather embarrassing.”
The artist glanced up from his painting. Still, he said nothing.
Diana laughed, a cruel thing that would normally have sent my hackles raising. But I met her icy glare head-on. And didn’t feel a damned thing.
“You will find out soon enough that magic alone does not equate to true power. You are still worthless. Will always be worthless, under the eyes of the gods. Best remember they chose me to keep you in line, and that has not changed.”
“I don’t recall any law obliging a Starlight Champion to answer to stone-hearted bitches. But I suppose you wouldn’t know either, would you?” Cocking my head to the side, I remained unblinking as I said, “I answer to no one.”
Diana’s face reddened with fury. Her fingers splayed, and I braced for impact.
“If I may.”
Our eyes snapped to the artist.
He cleared his throat, paintbrush wavering mid-air.
“Pardon the interruption, Lady Fennhaven, but you are disrupting my work. His Majesty specifically requested this painting and promised severe consequences for any mishaps.” He glanced at her purposefully.
“For any faults on the canvas, or to anything that would cause it.”
“I do believe a very unfortunate mishap is already standing in this room, Henri. Best proceed with caution.”
Heart pounding, I twisted in my seat. “Kodhan,” I gasped.
He filled the doorframe, with one shoulder leaning on the hinges. He took his time scanning every inch of me, his gaze snagging briefly on my face. The hollowness under my eyes. A bit of warmth fought against the icy tundra warring inside of me.
His lips curved in a slow smile. “Hello, little viper.”
“You should not be here,” Diana spat at him.
“Last I checked, neither should you.”
A breath of relief immediately deflated my lungs as she stomped away from me. “I’ll have your father punish you for your disrespect.”
He moved just enough for her to fit past him. Only when she was halfway through did he grab her arm. “Or perhaps I’ll have my father kill you for yours. I don’t take lightly to threats.”
“Let go of me,” she hissed. But there was a certain downturn to her brow that I had not yet seen on her before.
“Know your place,” Kodhan hissed back. Her sneer wavered a fraction.
“I do not take orders from you. And the next time I hear whispers of you disrespecting her,” a tilt of his head in my direction, “it will not be my father doling out any form of punishment. It will be me. And I am far crueler than him.”
She yanked her arm away like he’d burned her. And maybe he had.
For once, she did not push for the last word. And that was how I knew she was afraid. If there was anything in this world Diana cared about more than power, it was her own hide.
Her heels echoed as she disappeared down the hall without so much as a glance back at me. No doubt to spread false versions of what had just happened.
“You didn’t have to defend me like that,” I said, a tad breathless.
“I wanted to.”
“The woman is vindictive. She’ll haunt your steps until her idea of revenge is exacted.”
He nodded to the artist before stopping next to where I sat. “I’ve told you before, Eloise. I am not afraid of any Fennhaven.” His eyes dropped to mine, and a shiver of anticipation trailed down my spine. “She’s lucky to have her head still attached to her shoulders.”
A small laugh burst past my lips. “She did run out of here rather quickly.”
Kodhan snorted. The sound was so unlike him that I laughed again.
Moving past the growing smile on his lips, I studied his ensemble, the impeccable black vest cut precisely to the muscled planes of his arms, shoulders, and chest. It fit him deliciously, the shimmering diamonds adorning his lapel complementing the hundreds of smaller ones sewn into my skirts.
Together, we were night incarnate.
He draped half an arm across the back of my chair. “How long have you been sitting here?”
I thought the artist would protest, but he merely continued pattering the bristles of his paintbrush across the canvas.
“Too long.”
His eyes softened. “I’m sorry.”
“It isn’t your fault. Besides, you’re here now.” And I did not intend to part from him again for quite some time. Though it didn’t stop me from drinking in his every detail like I could commit them fully to memory.
“You can’t look at me like that, Eloise,” he said gruffly. “Not when we have company.”
“I am merely looking.”
“No, you are not.”
I couldn’t help it. I was addicted to the way his mere presence dispelled the hollow ache plaguing me since I’d returned to the castle. He made me feel alive. I didn’t want to feel anything else. Couldn’t stomach the alternative.
Without taking his eyes off me, he asked the artist, “Will this be sufficient, Henri?”
The brush paused. “I do believe so.”
“Then I may have to ask that you take your work elsewhere.”
The shuffling of paintbrushes clattered softly, filling the heavy quiet.
“Understood.” I watched from the corner of my eye as the artist—Henri—crossed the room.
“I’ll deposit the canvas where we discussed.
But for the love of all gods mighty, keep your hands away until it has fully dried.
I have a reputation to uphold. I will not have it tarnished by the likes of smeared paint. ”
“Never mind what we discussed. You can have it delivered directly. I believe my hands might be…” A flicker of his gaze towards my mouth. “Occupied, for quite some time.”
Henri scoffed, and without bothering with goodbyes he shut the door behind him.
“What was that about?” I asked.
“You will see soon enough.” The edge to his voice spoke of nothing but trouble. But I couldn’t find it in myself to press on the matter.
I’d grown a weakness during the Starlight Trials, I realized.
A weakness in the form of the color jade.
And a craving for the spark before a flame.
That was what danced along Kodhan’s hand as he reached out, brushing his knuckles along my cheek.
I leaned into the touch. “I was worried. They wouldn’t let me see you. ”
“You’re not hurt,” was his reply. Not a question, but more like a confirmation to himself. As if he’d believed otherwise.
Something involuntary cracked open in my chest, flooding the empty space there. He’d only spoken three words. And yet, everything I’d been repressing for the last three days crashed into me tenfold.
A single tear slid down my cheek, leaking onto his skin.
“They’re gone,” I whispered. “Theia and Brannon are dead.” It was the first time I’d said those words out loud.
I hadn’t dared. As if saying them out loud brought a hammer of finality down onto the world.
But there they were. Finally spoken into existence.
“Come here.”
It was all I needed.