36. Dumortierite
Every part of my body is still sore when I drag myself to the royal library, away from my mate and the obscene way he plays my body like I play my magic.
I can’t believe he made love to me on our throne.
My mind swims as I walk through the palace.
When I looked at myself in the mirror this morning, there was something unrecognizable looking back at me. I feel different, much like I did when they first put the gem in my chest. But now, a faint glow glitters across my skin. It doesn’t fade with time or washing.
I am stronger. Lighter. The darkness that once lurked in my soul feels more like a bubble swelling in my mid-section waiting to be popped. For the power to spill out of my fingertips and into the world.
I find I crave such things.
Teo went off to check on the new Enduares, and I’ve come to the royal library. Something Teo said about reading has me thinking—letters have been so important to our love. He has spent so much time pouring over these words. What could I learn from them?
Voices filter out from the library as I draw near, and I hang back, listening as Thorne’s voice comes into full volume.
“Mrath and I have known each other our whole lives. She is… trustworthy. When she wants to be,” he says.
“And does she want to be?”
“Yes, my sweet little bleeding heart.”
It surprises me to hear Ulla scoff. “You already spoke to her, yes?”
Silence, that I take to mean a nod.
“In fact, she has been quite curious about every second I’ve spent with you all. She will come to retrieve the artifact within the week.”
I inch closer to the open door, grateful for all the time I’ve spent slinking in the shadows. However, I do wonder how the glow hasn’t alerted them.
I should interrupt them and break this off, but Thorne has been kind to me. Not quite a friend. A part of me is confused that I didn’t see his fascination with Ulla before.
Ulla is seated in an intricately carved stone seat, while he is sitting on the table, a glass of wine in his hand. He swirls the crystal as he talks and looks at a severed leather band in his other hand.
Theatrical, calculating. And yet… utterly absorbed by Ulla.
“I was on my way to tell your king when I saw your pretty little head bent over a few scrolls. I couldn’t help but pop in.”
Ulla leans back, and it’s only then that I see her long hair flowing off her shoulders.
He cut off her hair tie.
I blink, even more enthralled by this pairing.
“Well then, if you are finished taunting me, you should find King Teo,” she says, grabbing at the tie.
He jerks his hand away. A true smile spreads across his face as his teasing smirk fades. “What will you give me?”
She pauses. “For a ruined strip of leather?”
“You seem quite eager not to walk out of this room without it,” he counters.
She stands, grabs his shirt, and pulls his face close to hers. They are about the same height, and her strength is well-honed.
“Give. It. To. Me,” she grits out.
“Why did you step in front of my blade, mo chuisle??1” His voice is soft as silk but loud enough to fill the space.
The moment has taken a turn I wasn’t expecting, far too intimate for me to behold.
I start to move, ready to scurry away silently and let them… finish whatever that was. I barely make it two seconds when Ulla says, “My queen?”
I freeze, and heat spreads throughout my body as I’m caught in the act. Slowly, I turn and walk back to the library’s door.
“Hello, I was just…” my mouth runs dry.
Thorne lifts an eyebrow. “You glow now? What the hell is this place?”
I frown, but Ulla glares at Thorne.
“It happened after traveling through the deep,” I say, aware he was there when it happened.
Thorne laughs. “Marvelous. We saw some very excellent… fish down there.”
Ulla doesn’t yet know about Endu, and I’m not quite sure I want to talk about it right now. Thorne, however, was there. In a way, it feels like he is extending me a branch of friendship.
I purse my lips and try to process this new information as he slides off the table, lands on his feet, soft as a cat, and saunters by.
“I’ll leave you to your boring scrolls and ink,” he says, parading out the door while drinking the rest of his drink.
When he passes me, he pauses, gives me an exaggerated bow, and says, “My leader, Mrath, is delighted by our successful mission. She will be here within a few turns of the sun.” And then, he leaves.
At last, I step into the room and cross to Ulla, who is trying and failing to rebind her hair.
“Stop fussing,” I say gently, pulling the tie off my braid. She looks up as if to protest, but I shake my head. “My room is much closer than yours. Is it all right if I help you?”
When I had first come to Enduvida, Arlet and Liana styled my hair, but that was before I learned about the custom of braiding. Ulla looks up at me and smiles.
“Only if you don’t mind touching another’s hair.”
I pause. “Humans don’t all follow those rituals. Would it be strange for you?”
She shakes her head. “I would consider it a gesture of our friendship.”
I grin and take her silky hair in both hands, nearly shocked at its sheer volume. Her hair is similar to Teo’s, and a strange feeling twinges in my gut when I think of my nonexistent child having long, soft hair like this instead of the wild curls that my mother gave me.
“We weren’t being indecent,” Ulla says after a few moments.
I smile, as I twist the hair atop her head. “An Enduar concerned about being seen ravishing another’s mouth? You wouldn’t need to be ashamed if you were. Gods know I have seen my fair share of indecency in Enduvida.”
She brushes her hand over the scroll. “I wouldn’t say that if he were an Enduar. But he’s not one of us. He’s an elf,” she says.
“One of us? Ulla, I’m a human,” I say, laughing almost. My heart almost can’t take the excess of friends I’ve acquired lately.
She waves her hand, “Humans are one of us. You’ve proven that well enough.”
I quirk an eyebrow as I finish wrapping her hair. “Isn’t Thorne half-human?”
She freezes. “What are you saying?”
I shrug. “Nothing, but he doesn’t seem to be the enemy.”
With one final tug, I finish securing the bundle of hair at the top of her head. It’s not my best work, but it seems secure enough.
“Why did you come here again?” She asks, clearly not wanting to continue discussing Thorne.
I slide next to her. “I wanted to find some paper to write down my memories.”
She smiles. “You’ve been practicing your writing. I think that would be excellent. You should write down the plants as well. We have a whole bush of the one you call lavender now—not to mention some of the other herbs we use almost daily.” As she speaks, it’s almost as if she is eager to cast off thoughts of all else.
I smile. “That is a good idea.”
She stands. “I’ll get the things.” Then she bustles off down an aisle. I look around the library, a place mostly unknown to me. The rows of tall triangular shelves, mostly scrolls, but a few tomes, are stunning.
Calculations from sleepless nights spent Teo spent here after leaving our bed are still scattered over several tables. There’s a contradiction of messy, wild studying that meets meticulous organization and reminds me of my husband’s mind.
He’s very neat… but just below the surface, there’s a bit of chaos.
I like this room very much.
When I look at one of the walls, I see a scroll that has been unraveled and tacked up for all to see. Stepping closer, the text seems familiar. Not for the words, but the drawing at the bottom.
It… my marriage contract. My signature is the universal hand gesture for ?vete a la mierda!?2
There’s an undeniable crassness, especially in contrast with Teo’s tidy script. Ulla comes up behind me and laughs.
“I’ve never told you this, but it was very creative of you,” she says, laying out an ink well, a sharpened crystal, and a scroll.
I frown. “I think… I should redo it.”
She shakes her head. “You can’t. That’s a binding contract. Be proud, you certainly will be remembered for all those who come after.”
Her words revive the anxiety pulsing in my chest. All of the fears of our extinction and death return with a vengeance, demanding to be let out and shared with all. It’s as if I am standing over the vast, black expanse in the sea once more. Just waiting to be swallowed up.
A hand rests on my shoulder. I look up to see Liana. “My child, breathe.”
Ulla looks at me, clearly alarmed. “I don’t know what I said.”
I shake my head and sit down. “You did nothing. I am fine. Thank you for getting this for me.”
The women position themselves on either side of me. “Do you need help spelling the words?” Ulla asks, still clearly concerned.
I shake my head. “I want to try for myself.”
“Writing will do you good. If you want to be free from pain, you must be willing to do what needs to be done to cure the wound,” Liana says, pleased.
I nod. Teo has been helping me so much, with our memories together. He calms me through each moment, but I am slowly realizing that a court is not just a king or his advisors.
I put my pen down and think about what I should write. My eyes slide closed as image after image passes through my mind. Not the tender intimacy between my husband and me, but Dyrn. The funerals. Tirin’s sacrifice.
Putting my pen to paper, I take a deep breath.
A hunter, barely older than a boy, gave his life for humans to live in the tunnel. His name was Ra’Tirin. They took his head back to the giant court and placed it all on a wall. I stole it and burned it to give him a proper burial away from the true monsters.
Each letter is almost painful to write, and tears spring to my eyes. This happened while I was at the giant court, but the memory is already blurry, caught up in dozens of others.
Liana touches my shoulder. “You really honored him that way?”
I nod.
Then I put my pen down again.
When I was nine years old, my mother had my younger brother, Mikal. The bastard of the Giant King Erdaraj. He was large, and my mother was small. I was the only one around to assist with the birth, though I knew little of the act. She screamed so loud it hurt my ears. I was scared.
Mikal was born, and the blood never stopped.
The king had many children with the wives in his court, many of the sons sank into obscurity over time, and every daughter was swiftly murdered. These men—Terksat—the giants called them. They hated my brother.
As did the giant princes.
A teardrop falls onto the paper. I press my hands to my face.
“I don’t know why I’m writing this. It wasn’t one of the memories attacked. But I can’t forget those moments, too,” I say, sadness ripping apart my insides.
Thinking of Mikal reminds me of the giant woman beheaded in the court, and I cry harder. She had no mother to save her.
“Get Arlet,” I hear Liana say as she rubs my back.
My friend’s name is bittersweet. We’ve grown so far apart. It hurts to think of what was lost between the two of us.
“The king wanted to kill Mikal and me after our mother died. And when I was in the court… they chained me by my throat, and they brought a woman to be beheaded. They had killed her child,” I sob, finally looking up at Liana. “I wish you’d never showed me those cards. What if we are the ones who die? What if we doom the future to a life of the giants and not the… peace in Enduvida?”
“Of what do you speak?” Ulla demands, but Liana purses her lips, her eyes growing glassy as she continues to stroke my back.
“Estela, the cards weren’t supposed to frighten you so. They were meant to help you practice crystal reading.”
I sniffle, “I—There’s so much I don’t know about reading the future. About this magic.”
Liana nods. “And now you are god-touched. Daughter of the Light Weaver. You have more magic than you know what to do with.”
I nod. “Yes, I feel it.”
Liana wipes one of the tears off my cheeks. “You are a fast learner. Why don’t we go riding tomorrow? Perhaps the proximity to drathorinna will inspire her to call you.”
My heart stutters at the thought of the giant mother of wraiths. I long to join her at her side, and pluck out new notes of power, but I must be patient.
“Or pick some of your flowers?” Ulla offers.
Shaking my head, I say, “No. Mrath is coming. It will have to be after.”
Behind us, I hear Arlet’s voice. “Estela, are you all right?”
She says it seconds before her arms wrap around me. It’s a level of kindness I’m unsure I deserve, but I accept it anyway. I nod against her.
“I’m sorry, I was watching over the new women. Some of them have been learning to weave.”
Liana watches this. “How did you two become friends?”
It’s an awkward question for me to answer, considering the cavern between us. One that Arlet doesn’t seem to notice.
When I continue to be silent, Arlet clears her throat. “She saved me and took me in after the man who’d gotten me pregnant cast me out.”
Ulla’s eyes grow wide. “You were in the breeding pens?”
It’s strange how much they know about those places now. To be honest, it’s more than I do.
Arlet nodded. “They put me with a boy I’d admired my whole life. I was praised when it appeared I became pregnant. But then… soon after we were given a space so that he could help me with the pregnancy and prepare a space for our child, I lost the baby.”
I blink, reliving her pain. The air is too heavy. Everyone is quiet.
I look up at her. “Daniel deserves to die a slow death.”
She shakes her head, sad. “No, he doesn’t. He’s an ass, but… we were all in pain.”
Liana furrows her brow. “He cast you out after such a loss? And you defend him?”
Anger crawls up my arms. Arlet tends to be like this—malleable.
“Daniel watched when the first prince cut off one of Arlet’s fingers so she would tell him where the baby was.” My words are so hot, they burn my throat.
More silence. Then Ulla says, “Let me see.”
Arlet reluctantly holds up her hand, showcasing the sloppy stitches I made and its skewed placement.
“I sewed it back on after they branded me in front of the entire pit.”
Liana nods. “Vann has a few missing fingers. Has he shown you?”
Arlet stiffens. “No. But Joso has told me of them—says that it makes his grip on his cleaver more impressive.”
Liana nods.
“I think it would be good for you two to write together. Estela is losing some of her memories, and you have been with her for so long. You also are an excellent reader,” Liana says affectionately.
Arlet’s pale skin goes pink, and I furrow my brows. “You’ve been reading scrolls?”
Arlet nods. “Some are… love stories.”
For some reason, that makes me laugh.
“Saucy love stories?” I ask.
Her red face is more than enough of an answer.
I laugh. “Do they have pictures?”
Everyone around us laughs, but it’s Liana who says, “Some do. Let me know if you need recommendations.” She steps back. “Hurry with your writings. We have to plan for the elves’ second visit if what Thorne says is true.”
Ulla follows her out, leaving me alone with my friend.
Arlet shakes her head. “It’s so strange to see how different they are from the Enduares from the ocean. I think the stories we heard fit them more, though the flesh-eating still sounds excessive.”
I nod, feeling uneasy again. Spreading a hand over the scroll, I think of what to say.
“Do I get to know why you glow now?” Arlet says.
I take a deep breath. “There was a god at the bottom of the ocean. Endu.”
Her eyes grow wide. “No. Really?”
I nod. “He spoke of many things, but especially of our goddess. He said he was helping her by touching my soul. Her name is… Ashra.”
Arlet tilts her head to the side. “Ashra.”
I nod. “I’ll be honest, I still feel very little about it. I think she had a connection with my mother, but I feel much more in tune with the Enduar gods. Especially…”
Arlet nods and tucks a piece of hair out of my face. “I agree. But it is interesting to think about.”
I nod, and the silence stretches between us again.
“Estela, I know you have been busy—I have been, too. Gods know you do so much… but it’s almost time to get Mikal. Are you ready?”
I look at her, and my chest swells. Months apart. Would he be proud of everything I’ve done?
Nodding my head, I swallow and say, “Yes. More ready than you can imagine.”
It’s then that Liana returns to the room.
“Liana. Back so—” I start, but she stumbles forward, grabbing a piece of paper and a pen. A stone falls from her hand and crashes against the ground.
I bend to retrieve it.
“My queen,” she gasps. Her eyes are wide, and she blinks in rapid procession while her Fuegorra lights up like a dazzling beam of magic. “This is a message from Melisa and Ra’Salore.”
“What does it say?” I ask as Arlet guides her to the chair.
Liana starts to write as her breathing slows.
“Rholker…” she spits, looking right at me. For the first time since she barrelled back into the room, her eyes are clear. “He’s killed off thousands of slaves.”
Blood rushes to my ears, causing a dull roar.
“What?” Arlet says through the shock, and my hands go numb.
My redheaded friend picks up the stone with the message and the paper that Liana had been writing on.
“Pens are burnt, men are rounded up and whipped, thousands are dead. Rholker is still here, and he has definitely secured a relationship with Arion,”she finishes.
I sit there, frozen.
All because a few dared to escape. I had thought that he would’ve been weakened by the fight, and everything would be all right.
I was wrong.
I push away from the table and go find my husband.