Chapter 40
My concern over Neris—and the fact that I’ve not heard a word about her—eats away at me as I get dressed.
I’ve barely finished wrestling with the ties of my bodice when the door swings open with a loud bang, sending my heart flying into my throat.
I spin toward it, my hand clutching my chest as the masked woman marches into my room.
Her crimson cape billows out behind her like a villain straight from a fairytale.
Except, she’s very real.
A moment ago, I’d been staring at my puffy-faced, haggard reflection in the mirror.
The pink, floral dress I’m wearing fits awfully, and my bust is practically spilling out over the top.
It screams Arionna, and I despise it. I cross my arms over my torso, and the masked woman cackles beneath her veil.
“It seems you are in need of better fitting garments,” she says. “Shall I send for some?”
My brows rise. I’m not certain if she’s to be trusted, but I nod regardless. “May I request trousers and a tunic?” I ask.
“There are riding garments in one of the drawers.” She makes a well, go on gesture toward an upright dresser.
I pad across the room and slide a couple of drawers open, indeed finding trousers and tunics neatly folded inside one.
Part of me wants to smile at this discovery, but my face doesn’t cooperate.
“You’re welcome,” the woman says in a singsong voice that seems to counter her terrifying appearance.
I clear my throat and hug the clothing to my chest. “Thank you.”
The door clicks shut behind her as she leaves.
Removing the corset is a relief, but I band my chest tightly for support before tossing on the tunic and trousers.
They require rolling at the wrists and waist, and the arms of the tunic are just a tad tight around my biceps.
It’s a far better fit than the dress, at least. The door flies open as I slip into some thin woolen socks and shove my feet back into my boots.
The masked woman stands in the doorway, her face aimed toward me. She clicks her tongue beneath her veil. “I personally preferred your last outfit, but suit yourself, darling. Come along.” She steps through the door, expecting me to follow her.
So, I do.
Our footsteps echo in the corridors. I take the time to admire the ornate columns and high ceilings.
For an old castle, the walls and floors look newly installed or, at least, freshly painted.
Which is likely since there had evidently been a destructive fire.
As we round a corner, I let the words I’ve been holding back go loose. “Is my friend Reneris alright?”
We step into an immense dining hall with a massive table down the center.
The masked woman points to one of the dining chairs, completely ignoring me.
“Sit,” she says before disappearing behind a door.
I’m barely in the seat when she steps out just a few heartbeats later with a bowl and practically drops it onto the table.
“Eat up. Then we visit your scrappy friend.”
Hope fills my chest. She’s alive then, I assume. My eyes dip down to the food—which looks like gruel. I’d expected a feast at the castle.
“The kitchen staff is on break. Eat it or leave it,” says the woman.
Trying not to make a face, I scoop a spoonful of the lumpy white mush out of the bowl, and even when I tilt the spoon upside down, the food clings to it.
I taste a bit of the gruel off the tip of my spoon.
To my surprise, it isn’t unpleasant. Cinnamon and cloves cut through the startling, creamy sweetness.
I take another spoonful forcing myself to eat though my stomach is knotted up with worry for Neris and with anxiety at the possibility of finding out about Father.
“We don’t have all the time in the world; don’t make me shovel it into your mouth for you,” says the woman.
I eat faster, even though I’m not hungry, even though my arm is beginning to protest each movement. I’m not sure if it was the adrenaline last night that kept away the worst of my pains, but I’m not sure I’ll survive much longer without the elixirs. My heart thuds, my appetite receding further.
The masked woman perches on the end of the table, her legs crossed, regarding me.
I can just imagine a scowl underneath her veil.
“Enough!” she suddenly says, slamming her hand down on the table and rattling the bowl and my resolve.
“Let’s go.” She hops off the table and heads toward the door.
I propel myself from the chair and jog to catch up with her.
In silence, I follow her down the corridors, passing a Royal Brigade soldier every now and then.
I glance sidelong at each one, hoping to see a Royal Guard, hoping to catch a glimpse of Father.
But the masked woman doesn’t interact with anyone; she keeps her focus forward until she arrives in front of a door where a couple guards stand.
They nod to her, and she shoves the door open, storming in as if she owns the place.
A man with wispy dark hair and a soft build jumps hard, his face going white.
He exhales noticeably, blood coloring his peachy face again. On the cot near where he stands is Neris. She’s on her stomach, unmoving, a white sheet covering up to her neck. There isn’t anyone else in the infirmary. Faint disappointment settles over me; Father isn’t here.
The masked woman makes a flourishing gesture in the direction of the bed. “You have ten minutes,” she says, then she steps outside and slams the door behind her.
I force my wobbly legs to move, my chest caving in as I hurry to Neris’s side. “Are you the healer?” I ask the man.
He nods, a shaky smile stretching his lips. “I’m Vaughn.”
“Gwyneth,” I respond before turning back to Neris. “Is she going to be alright?” I step around the bed.
“She has a bit of a recovery ahead of her, but I believe so. Occasionally we have a Mage Healer here. I’ll be sure to have her take a look at Reneris when she shows up.”
My gaze settles on Neris’s face. Her usually tan complexion is drained of color, deep purple bruises and scratches crossing her cheek.
Her hair is pulled back away from her face, curls tangled, and blood encrusted.
The back of my eyes sting, and I blink away tears, swallowing around my constricting throat.
On impulse, I grasp the sheet and begin drawing it away.
Vaughn speaks up urgently. “Wait, you ought to know—”
My gasp cuts him off as I drop the sheet at Neris’s waist. Thick white bandages intersect across her back, blood seeping through them. Tears pool in my eyes as I sink down to the ground beside Neris, placing my hands on the bed beside her face.
“Neris, I am so sorry,” I whisper. She wouldn’t be here if she hadn’t stepped in to defend me against Gruffud after I saw him with Arionna. We should’ve run away the dozens of times Neris tried to convince me to.
“I’ve given her valbane,” Vaughn says. “It will allow her to sleep. She isn’t in any pain right now. She just needs time to heal.”
I nod and slowly stand, my joints and muscles creaking like rusty hinges on a door. Blood doesn’t bother me, but seeing the red seep through Neris’s bandages turns my stomach.
“She’ll have fresh bandages momentarily. I’m taking every precaution to prevent festering. Lady Alys has taught me well.” He says it as if I know who Alys is, but he does seem to be capable and comforting.
After some hesitation, I find enough courage to ask, “Have you looked after Sir Eurig Davies of Barr na Cahar? He was a Queen’s Guard.”
Something ghosts over Vaughn’s face. He quickly looks away from me. “Briefly.” He pulls the covers gently back over Neris and smooths out the sides. “He was transferred.”
I frown. “Transferred?” That doesn’t even make sense. “Transferred where?”
“Apologies. That is outside of my knowledge.”
My heart sinks and I try to push away my confusion and focus on Neris. Again, I kneel beside her, watching her too-pale face. “You’ll be alright,” I whisper. “You’ll be back on your feet in no time.”
For a while longer, I talk to unconscious Neris about everything and nothing, then the masked woman barges back into the room. “Terraforger!” she calls out. “The sovereign has summoned you.”
Now I wish I hadn’t eaten that porridge, because it’s far too eager to make an appearance again. But I swallow hard and follow the masked woman out of the room, leaving my only friend behind. Dashing my hopes of seeing Father again.
I keep my head held high and follow the masked woman, off to face whatever the sovereign has to say to me.
His Excellency is in his study again, his hands steepled on his desk as his young assistant prattles off various laws from books that seem old enough to fall apart.
The sovereign holds his hand up, and the assistant closes the book and bows, leaving the book behind before excusing himself from the room.
With my back stiff and my heart racing, I face the sovereign. He smiles and rises to his feet, though he keeps his large hands pressed against the dark wood surface. “Welcome, Lady Pendry. Thank you for joining me today.”
Not that I had a choice.
“And thank you, Lynx for escorting her.”
The masked woman, Lynx apparently, nods slowly and steps aside, keeping an eye on the sovereign.
“Tomorrow, you are to begin training with the other Zenith members. Your first mission will be to procure a Shadow Wielder.”
Gooseflesh prickles my skin, and I’m certain my face blanches.
“Fear not, you will be among many other Mages with developed abilities. Your task will be to apprehend the target from a distance. You can manipulate metal, can’t you?”
I nod.
“Then you won’t even have to get close to the Shadow Wielder. You just need to bind their wrists with the dampening shackles. It will cut off their ability to manipulate and make the transfer back to Paramount safe for everyone.”
My throat goes dry. Why does he want a Shadow Wielder, specifically? That’s dark magic—one of the most forbidden.
“After this mission,” the sovereign continues.
“I have another for you to prepare for. As you may or may not know, the Wastelands are surrounded entirely by impenetrable mountains. There are many mysteries about the Wastelands—how did it come to be? In a land filled with lush forests and a wet climate, how did the Wastelands come about? What has caused such an uncharacteristic habitat in the midst of otherwise mundane conditions? It’s something many people have attempted to solve yet have failed.
The problem lies in a very simple fact: we’ve been sending the wrong people.
That’s where your terraforging will come in handy. ”
My lips part again, but no words come to me. He expects me to be different from anyone else who’s gone to the Wastelands? Wait … I thought people were banished there. How is that possible if it’s impenetrable?
Again, I’m at a loss for words.
The sovereign smiles. “For now, get all the training you can, eat well, and rest up. The Zenith is happy to have you among our ranks.”