Chapter 16
Elysia couldn’t decide if it was certain terror or elation she felt zipping through her like a spark as she traipsed through the castle. The hand of her beloved dangled a rope above her head, and yet she felt as though she might actually be closer to freedom than she’d ever been before. The prince could turn her in at any moment, but he hadn’t, and if she knew Topp Blatz, that meant she wasn’t the only one with schemes afoot.
But that wasn’t why she was here. No, Topp, her handsome executioner, would have to wait. She was here to see the one man in her life who had always known her secrets. Her father.
She’d requested a meeting with the promise that she had a long-overdue payment. In a manner of speaking, she had been paying her father in secrets to keep her alive since she was a small child. She wasn’t even five years old the day her father realized the truth about her. His demands and threats had started soon after.
On days like today, when payment was due, she wished she could go back and hush that small version of herself. How different my life could have been.
Elysia walked the familiar halls to her father’s office, heels clacking in an oh-so-satisfying manner. Her hand brushed the cool stones, and the memory of that day replayed in spite of herself. She’d sat in the corner of the very office she now walked toward with a book, flipping pages and eavesdropping. Three, maybe four years old—her nanny had been sick that day. She’d been happy to be stuck in the corner with her book, listening to her father scoff and argue about the price of things. It was familiar, soothing.
Her father’s guest had prattled on about the fine spiced meats he could ship to Kava. Delicacies and such. But there was a sound beneath his words that had caught her tiny ears. She had paused mid-page-flip to listen closer to what was being left unsaid.
She’d been able to do this for some time and hadn’t thought much of it. She figured everyone could do it. Hear the story beneath the lies. It wasn’t something she could turn on or off. It happened according to its own will, pulling her here and tugging her there. Sometimes it led her to overhear conversations. Other times, strange music enchanted her and sent her searching for its source. And then there were the times when she just simply knew something that she should not have known.
She’d made a mistake that day. Telling her father about the bad man and his spoiled meat.
From then on, her father’s instructions were clear: she could only tell such things to him. He rarely let her out of his sight for years, taking her to meetings and on long travels. Even now, she wasn’t sure if it had been out of fear of discovery or for the sheer usefulness of keeping her around. To everyone else, he appeared to be the world’s most doting father.
As she’d gotten older and it was no longer so simple to keep her by his side, her father had changed the rules. If she was ever caught, he would deny to his last breath that he knew. That cursed as she was, it was her duty to protect the family, and protecting the family meant feeding her father secrets. Confirming his uncanny instincts for the market, and steering him away when she detected foul play. Spying on men he did not like and finding skeletons to cause their ruin.
She’d cut down more men from their seats of glory than she could count at this point. Anyone important enough to be a nuisance to her father was bound to have a few dirty old secrets lying around.
But then she grew older. All of her peers began their adult lives, and she longed for the same. She grew restless with her father’s demands. She did not want to act as a sieve for the gross sludge of politicians and merchants and financiers. Always sifting for the piece of shit that would make her father happy. They all had secrets. It was nasty, tiresome work, all to satiate her father’s ambition and accrue the Crown more coin. The Crown had enough coin, and she’d had enough of her leash.
So, she had gotten a little sloppy. Didn’t bother to share a few tips. Ignored a few summons. Her punishment had been thorough.
Her father had not cared for his silent prodigy’s backlash, and he’d made sure she knew. All of her freedom had been ripped away for six whole months. She had been forced to follow him from sunup to sundown unless she was off slumming for dirt. His behavior gave her whiplash as he morphed from proud father to someone repulsed by the sight of her. That was a few years ago. She hadn’t missed a payment since then until the dreams started and her life fell apart.
Then again, it seemed she couldn’t help but step outside the narrow lines he had drawn for her. The recent incident with the bloodletters was the most glaring example, of course. The scars on her feet reminded her with each step just how far Jack Parker was willing to go to keep his daughter managed. But that was why she was here today. She knew she’d been pushing her luck and now wasn’t the time to set him off. The last thing she needed was to lose his trust and be forced to live in the castle again, trailing behind his every step. She just needed to offer up a good enough tip to keep him satisfied and looking the other way.
The guard at the door nodded at her approach. “Miss Parker.”
She smiled in response, wondering at his presence. That’s odd. Her father didn’t usually have guards stationed at his door.
He opened the door, letting her through to her father’s office. The sweet smell of smoke cloaked her nose and a damp chill hung in the air. Her father, bear of a man that he was, rarely lit his fire even with all the rain and cold. Argued that he could not feel it touch his bones.
Jack Parker folded his hands atop the stack of papers he’d been evaluating and offered Elysia the full weight of his attention. His smile was so sincere it caught her heart. “If it isn’t my favorite daughter here to offer her father an unexpected gift.”
Like so many times before, Elysia wondered if she’d ever know how she really felt about this man or him about her. She’d never expected love and hate to be so confusing. But she found her lips playing into a small smile even as she stayed back by the door and leaned against the credenza.
“I am indeed.” She pulled off one dark silk glove and then the other.
Her father stood from his desk, his head nearing the ceiling as he walked her way. “Save your gift. First, the king and I must borrow you.” He brushed a hand over her mid back, steering her into the large meeting room connected to his office. “Gentle heart that you are, I know you hate to do this, but the king requested your help.” He touched her face, looking remorseful. His tenderness only served to incite a full-bodied wave of anxiety. No, not again.
She looked into the room and felt the ground sway beneath her. No, no, no. Five chairs were lined up against the back wall. In each chair sat a young woman. All near her own age. All with dark brown wavy hair and big brown eyes. They look just like me. Her heart pounded in her throat. She could still smell her father’s sweet smoke, except now it made her want to gag.
King Blatz stood against the gray stone wall to her right. He flipped a switch, further illuminating the cool, damp castle room. White sleeves rolled up and hair mussed, he looked far too much like his son. “Miss Parker, we were given word that a woman of a certain description has fallen to the curse. We gathered the most likely suspects within the city. Given your past history of identifying such culprits, your father recommended allowing you to weigh in. What can you share?”
Elysia, daughter of the Golden Seal, knew everyone. From distant Crown members to the best carpenter in the city, she knew their names, knew their vices. She stared at the women waiting for her to decide who would die. Claudia Brine trembled. Syren Herrin had anger screaming in her eyes. And Pen Weaver stared blankly right through them all. The last two women just looked at the floor, tears streaming, unwilling to see their death coming. Cold distance slid through Elysia’s veins, their faces looking further and further away.
Her feet throbbed violently, keeping her from detaching entirely. Pain stabbed through the old cuts in a way it hadn’t since the man next to her first delivered those scars. She kept her face pensive, considering as she swept it over the women in front of her. She slipped her shaking hands into the pockets of her skirts. I can’t let him see.
She hardened herself, taking herself to the place where she felt nothing. Where no one could possibly touch her.
Her dark eyes met her father’s. “Everyone knows that Syren Herrin’s tinctures never fail.” She lifted a shoulder, hating herself, but she couldn’t stop. “I’d say that’s a bit unnatural if you ask me. Never a single stillbirth. Never importing herbs like the other healers. You have to wonder what she’s even giving them all.” Bile crept up her throat, but she kept it down.
“You nosy fucking bitch. I saved you, fixed your godsdamn ugly feet.” Syren lunged across the room, slashing at Elysia like her nails were knives. Elysia let her. Let her nails rake down her pretty face, marking her as the traitor she was to her kind.
Syren really did have magic. She was the best healer their city had until today. And now she was going to be dead.
Guards descended, pulling the thrashing woman off of Elysia.
Blood dripped into her mouth. She swallowed the salty rust down, not bothering to wipe her face. She sat there on the floor, watching the guards force Syren along. The king stopped in the doorway, barely pausing to look down at her. “Thank you, Miss Parker. Valuable as always.”
She nodded silently. Soon, the whole room was all too quiet. Her father offered her a hand and anger that burned like ice filled her entire being. He had done this. Orchestrated all of this. Forced her to hand over another life.
And yet, like always, she accepted his hand, allowing him to guide her back into his office. They didn’t make it two feet through the door before he was grabbing her chin. Smoke-scented breath clouded over her. “You do not disappear for weeks on end. Have you forgotten how this works?”
Every single muscle in her tensed. She stiffly shook her head no, his fingers still pulling at the skin of her face. His jaw flexed. “I thought we had worked through your little rebellions.” He dropped her chin, practically flinging her away. She stumbled back, her face stinging with blood and now bruises.
He paced back to his office, cracking his neck and sitting down. “I hate that you make this so difficult, Elysia.”
She nodded, tears welling in her eyes. How quickly her anger distorted into a shame she didn’t understand.
“I’m sorry.” The words were choked, her eyes gleaming.
He gave a heavy sigh, nodding his head and looking at her like he knew she couldn’t help it. He grabbed his pipe, packing it slowly. “Let’s put this behind us, then. Tell me about your little gift.” Her father stretched out his legs, waiting.
Elysia slowly sat down in the chair across from him, accepting the silent handkerchief he handed her. She pressed it to her swelling face. “I happen to know you are not terribly fond of Diplomat Scarzan. An old deal gone wrong.” Her voice shook and she hated it. She inspected her carefully filed nails instead of looking at his face. Breathe . You can leave soon.
It’d been more than a deal gone wrong. Jack Parker had introduced Scarzan to his favorite aged tobacco. A gentleman’s secret, if you will. Scarzan promptly stole her father’s favorite apothecary. The apothecary who made his favorite pipe tobacco, to be precise. There were some things a man just did not do, and beyond stealing someone’s lover, Jack Parker considered this to be one of those things. He would likely go to his grave hating the man.
Her father’s brow furrowed. “Go on.”
She looked up, head tilting, and shrugged. “Rumor has it that Scarzan has been spending his time at the House. Seems he overindulged.”
He began to brush her off. “Elysia, that is the point of the House. Now?—”
Elysia cut in. “I wasn’t finished, Father. His overindulgence killed a maiden of the House. Her neck was mottled like old fruit by the time he was done. The Doorman is owed payment, and it seems she is old-fashioned. Death for death is her wish.”
All the warmth left Jack Parker’s eyes as his true mind for machinations shone through. He finished packing his pipe with the tobacco that was not nearly as good as what he once loved and considered her words. “And how do you suggest one go about accusing a man such as Scarzan of this crime?”
It was Elysia’s turn to smile as she slipped her gloves back on, readying to leave. “Don’t you worry, Father. It will be taken care of at Mother’s going away party for all the ambassadors. When this goes through, consider me paid in full for the next two months.” A bold move considering she was still bleeding in his office. But he’d accepted similar deals before when she brought him something good enough.
Her father looked up in surprise. Always the surprise. He laughed like she was ridiculous. “Such a sense of humor on you. Don’t know where you get it. You know the Raven Ball is coming up. As if I could set my best asset free at a time like this.”
She nodded, biting her tongue and walking to the door. Her fingers gripped the door tightly, and she was glad for her gloves to hide the sight. “One month.”
Exhaling a cloud of smoke, he looked at her from head to toe, with the softest shake of his head. “This was never a negotiation. Consider yourself permanently on call. I don’t know what’s happened to your commitment to this family. Do you want Beatriz to die? Do you want your mother to hang for your crimes? Figure out your priorities, Elysia. Next time, they won’t just look like you.” Disgust lined his face as he gestured for her to leave. He was back to his papers without another glance.
Elysia closed the door behind her. She had known going in that he would never give her the ball off, but even a few weeks would have sufficed. She just needed time to figure out her next move. Her head fell back, thudding against the door. Safe from his sight, her chest shook now, her body trying to make sense of what had just happened. What a nightmare.
She tore the handkerchief away from where it was drying to her face like glue. Her face burned as much with humiliation as it did with pain. Nothing about this afternoon had gone right. She’d walked in here so sure she could make a deal with him, and he’d been two steps ahead. Ready to smack her down where she belonged. She swallowed a tight lump in her throat. She would not cry. Not where anyone could see. Syren Herrin’s face crashed through the walls of her mind, but Elysia expertly swatted it away. If there was a god of retribution after death, then he surely had her name. Because she was worse than filth and she’d never had any hope for anything like honor. Because Syren Herrin hadn’t been lying. If it wasn’t for her healing, Elysia’s feet would probably still be as useless as the day Jack Parker had carved them up. And how had she repaid the woman? By handing her over to the king and his executioners.
The old thought crept in that maybe she really would be better off dead. It was a thought that liked to linger in the back of her mind. That at least then she wouldn’t have to deal with the guilt or see another life snuffed out because of her insufferable curse. Elysia shook herself out of it. She didn’t have time to fall into that hole. Her life may have been a series of choices she wished she could erase, but it was hers, and she wasn’t going to give it up.
Fuck my father and fuck the king.
Chin held high, she dared anyone to say a word as she paraded through the castle with half her face scraped off. The rumor mill worked fast when someone like Syren Herrin was dragged through the castle screeching until her lungs gave out. Word of Syren losing her mind to the curse was already spreading like wildfire. She could hear them whispering as she walked by that poor, sweet Elysia Parker had been mauled, too. Elysia ignored the stares and comments, continuing on briskly. She knew better than anyone that there would be something new to blather about by tomorrow.
The air soon turned warm and lush with the smell of bread and meat roasting. This is going to go well. She let out a sigh . Lynd was not going to appreciate her bloodied face. If she could, she would avoid the woman until her face healed, but that wasn’t really an option today.
She stepped into the kitchen, the tense lines of her body already loosening. There was something about the smells, the warmth—it felt safe. A feeling she didn’t deserve but desperately needed after what had just happened. She watched Lynd cook with a tender feeling in her chest. She found Lynd’s cooking to be in the same vein of how she felt coaxing life from seeds destined to die in Kava’s feeble light. Both the most natural yet extraordinary of acts.
Lynd spotted her but stayed focused on her dish. She called her over without a second thought. “Taste this,” she demanded.
Elysia put her lips to the wooden spoon and sipped at the hearty broth.
Lynd snatched the spoon back before Elysia could say anything. She looked aghast. “Your face . Did one of those street dogs attack you?” Her hand ghosted over Elysia’s face, not touching, but clearly wanting to. Apparently, the gossip mongers hadn’t made their way to the kitchens yet.
Elysia just smiled and shook her head. There really wasn’t a good explanation, so she didn’t bother. She just walked over to the cleanest spot she could find and pulled out two pieces of paper from her purse. She hastily wrote out her messages and stuffed the papers into their envelopes. Dropping a blob of wax onto a spoon, she watched it shine, turning liquid over the flames of the stove. Sealing her letter, she left the wax free of any crest.
“You come here just to write letters, then?” Lynd stirred her soup, throwing in dashes of herbs.
Normally, she would have barked at her and told her that her kitchen wasn’t an office. Clearly, the scratches were earning her sympathy points. Elysia smiled as much as her face would allow. “Ah, Lynd, I could have done that anywhere.”
Lynd continued stirring the broth, staring at it with dissatisfaction. “So, what is it you need, then?”
Her motives were hardly ever pure, but there would always be a part of her that simply wanted to hide in Lynd’s kitchens as long as she could. It was tempting—the desire to hide here all day. Lynd was not wrong, though. She had come for business more than pleasure.
Elysia tucked her messages for Beatriz and Rollie back into her purse and stepped closer to Lynd, putting a hand on her shoulder. She curved in toward Lynd conspiratorially.
“Oh, just a little favor.”