Chapter 32
Ashley
But the night my eyes did find her,
a stoic soldier died.
I’ve asked Thea and Fawn for wine at least three times a day in the last two weeks.
I just need something familiar, something to calm my nerves, and they’ve never heard of weed.
The second I’m left alone with my thoughts, the craving comes roaring back.
Apparently, if I want alcohol, I must have it with a meal.
But I can’t. I don’t know how I went from stealing bread to refusing everything placed in front of me.
I haven’t seen the Captain, and I’m not sure why I care as much as I do, but honestly, it’s consuming me.
That and the fact I still can’t use any bloody magic.
Who would have thought I’d miss it as much as I do.
This is nothing but a fancy cell. And if they think eighteen months of this is going to make me want to set them loose on my world, then they’re in for a shock.
Of course, I can see the grimaces on everyone’s faces.
Especially Aiden, who, outside of pulling his collar over his nose, acts like I’m not even there when I pass him every morning at breakfast. I just can’t bring myself to go underwater.
Nightmares of Kaed throwing bucket after bucket of it over me as I scream and scream, rip me from sleep at night.
Despite my refusals, Fawn and Thea continue to run my daily baths, and I continue to sit in my desk chair, staring at the wall until it’s time for breakfast. Then, I head down to see if my uncle will talk to me yet.
It seems whatever business he had that morning is taking ages.
After that, I go back to my room and sit in the chair until I doze off, and the next morning comes.
Each night, just before dawn, a sweet-smelling breeze drifts in from somewhere — some kind of magical ventilation system I assume — finally taking the edge off the unbearable heat.
A few times now, I’ve wandered the quiet corridors at night.
I don’t know what possessed me, maybe boredom, but mostly I got lost and had to flag down a soldier to walk me back.
Just to the left of my door, there’s a staircase I can’t seem to stop looking at.
It disappears down into a long, busy tunnel, the entrance always guarded by two silent soldiers who don’t so much as blink when I pass.
Something about it intrigues me, but survival instinct tells me to stay away.
That’s the way to the Volker compound, Cook and Eira told me during a late-night chat.
That was the third time I wandered. Somewhere in the dimly lit hallways, I caught the scent of warm bread, and I found myself stepping into a large kitchen.
The chop, chop, chop of a knife against wood filled the air, and at the counter were Aiden’s closest, and I’ll bet my fucking life, only friends.
“A lost little lamb in my kitchen at this hour?” Cook bowed.
“You just missed your brother, Princess,” Eira said. Thank hell for that.
“Just Ashley. Please,” I offered a smile that fought to meet my eyes and lost. “I was just following the smell, it’s amazing.
” My brows shot up when spices shuffled along the walls and shook themselves into pies and pots.
Cook’s grin widened, a glint in his eye as he rinsed his fingertips.
“Ah,” he said, “so you’re the kind of girl who lets her stomach lead the way. Sensible.”
“Is that for breakfast tomorrow?” I nodded to the thick golden mousse next to him.
“What do you care, you’re not going to eat it.”
Eira swatted his arm with a sharp hiss of his name, eyes wide.
But a breathy laugh escaped me. An actual laugh.
I immediately slapped my hand over my mouth because it was an awkward, rusty sound, like it didn’t quite belong to me.
But it felt nice. And just like that the ice was broken and I lost track of time.
It felt like they were interviewing me about my world, or “The Above”, as they call it.
Cook was the most curious, throwing out wildly inaccurate facts about Earth that made us laugh again and again.
I ended up asking a few questions of my own, and that’s when they told me a little about the King’s army.
And Kaed. I noticed them hesitate when I mentioned him, so I didn’t push past the basics.
Even though I was itching to know more. They filled me in on everything – the war, the treaty, the tension, the different beliefs.
The next night, I found myself in the kitchen again, and it started off well enough, but a throat clearing from somewhere behind me shattered any desire I had to remain in that room. Aiden stood at the door, with a carefully placed smile, tugging lightly at the hair at the nape of his neck.
“Hello, Agni.”
“I was just leaving,” I muttered, rolling my eyes when he put his sleeve to his nose.
I gave him the widest berth I could manage when I stalked past, but I should’ve just barged straight through him.
He stood there like a fucking tree. Eira’s scolding voice drifted faintly down the corridor, mixed with his flat replies.
Today, the rumbling voices of soldiers coming and going through the tunnel spark my curiosity, so I decide to finally check it out in the daylight.
I turn left, take a deep breath, and start walking.
The further I go, the more Volker I see.
They bow their heads when I make eye contact, so I eventually stop looking at them.
Though it’s hard, they’re all ridiculously handsome.
Finally, I emerge from the tunnels into the open air to the sounds of jovial fae and clinking metal.
That pull I’ve felt tugging me towards this place suddenly switches up.
It’s like it wants me to turn back. I stop in my tracks and take in the rows of bungalows that serve as dorms for the soldiers, all connected with dark iron grated floors, the same that trails through the tunnel.
Marveling at how much bigger everything is from down here, I take a step back onto something soft.
“Oop!” I spin around. It’s Eira. She couldn’t have been far behind me. Ash dusts her face and dark circles linger under her eye’s, but she’s grinning, as chirpy as ever.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”
“It’s okay. Sorry for stepping on your toes.” I instinctively look down and wish I hadn’t, because she does, too. My feet are a mess. Dirty, constantly bloody from the hot floors, and caked with melted bits of boot. Eira smiles, pretending not to care.
“It’s fine. It’s nice to see you outside. Where are you off to?”
“Just looking around.” I shrug.
She links her arm through mine, ignoring the way I flinch, which I appreciate. “Let me show you where I spend most of my day.”
Her metal shop is larger than the other bungalows and looks like it’s been plucked from a fairy tale and dumped in the middle of a war zone.
Delicate vines and lilacs climb the exterior, like an old granny’s cottage.
Inside, though, its walls are decorated with all sorts of dangerous things.
Swords and shields. Nun chucks, knuckle dusters, you name it.
“You imbue it with flames and toss it into a crowd. Kind of like a grenade, but obviously much bigger. Ember Court uses it.” Eira says, catching me staring at a thick, spiked column.
“Once it hits the ground, the fire and spikes shoot out.” She looks proud of her death log, the way Cook does when he talks about food.
It must be nice, having a purpose. A passion.
I’ve never really had that. When you’re always scraping by, there’s no space for dreams. You just go where the money is.
“So, you guys can control fire but still burn to death?” I reach out to touch the edge of a dagger, hissing as it slices my finger.
“Careful!” Eira runs to my side. She rummages through her pockets before carefully wrapping a cloth around my finger, holding it in place.
“You can’t go around spilling sacred blood everywhere,” she says playfully.
“Not all of us have fire magic, but to answer your question, yes and no. Your black flames can kill all fae. Blue, orange, any other colour will only disarm those with blood connections to Ember Court. It’ll seriously injure the rest of us, though.
That particular weapon is to use against the Mer Army. ”
Sometimes I wonder how the ritual will go.
Me, bleeding out over the basin with various bits of my body chopped off.
Magical sea animals fighting around me and all these weapons finding their use while everyone shoots up the Chasm.
Leaving me alone. But with my last breath, I cheer a goodbye, giddy that they all get their freedom.
So happy that I chose this for them. Yay me.
“You know, if you haven’t been able to talk to your uncle yet, then Aiden’s a good substitute. He knows everything about everything.”
I snort and follow Eira through a door that holds a stone furnace large enough to cremate an elephant.
She yanks open a battered toolbox, raising her voice a little over the rattling tools as she pulls them free.
“He’s a tricky one, your brother. I can’t even imagine the pressure of growing up thinking you’ll have to be King one day, but he has a good heart. ”
I make another noise, coaxing a laugh from her.
“He does!” She says in between chuckles, “I swear it’s in there somewhere. Somewhere deep down.”
We giggle, and I’m mesmerised by a fine powder she sprinkles into her palms. It’s white, but it’s every other colour too, how I’d imagine a unicorn coat if it was ground into dust. “Do you know how his mother died?”
I shake my head, clambering onto a massive stool, losing my balance several times.
“It started when your grandfather, Herod, found out your father committed treason. He sentenced him to exile. Your uncle pleaded for his life in court, but they ignored him.” She smooths a blade’s edge with her knuckles like tough dough.
“Theron mentioned that at some point.” It feels weird to mention his name so casually that I stumble over the words “I just don’t know what he did.”
She glances at the door. “I—”
“Please.” I swallow. The idea of my dad being a criminal is so hard to believe, even with all our secrets.
Lately, there’s been a pain in my chest when I think of him.
Different to the usual one. This one started the night I found the portrait gallery on one of my late-night wanderings.
One section was dedicated to my uncle, my dad, my grandfather.
I didn’t expect my grandfather to look so young and handsome—mid-twenties, maybe, when those paintings were done.
My dad had been burned out of every single one.
Along with a red-haired woman. I only knew she was Aiden’s mother because of one small portrait hidden in an alcove.
They must have missed that one, I guess.
But it made me wonder, how much did I actually know him?
How much can a kid really know their parents?
Maybe Mum had secrets too. She exhales, lowering her voice.
“He opened the Chasm. He was working with the King of the Seas to destroy our lands, hoping it would please the gods. Ashley, there were so many deaths. And that’s when the abductions started.
The Mer army didn’t touch us before that unless the Chasm opened.
But then they started luring fae to the places the water meets the land… ”
I’m pretty sure the blood is draining from my face.
“And Aiden’s mum was in on it?”
Eira pulls a large stone from a drawer, trying and failing to cut it in half with the dagger. “That’s what they thought.” She grunts as a flash of flame escapes her pinky when the stone slips from her grip. “She was sent to the dungeon and interrogated by Leander. She never revealed anything.”
“So, they killed her?”
She glances at the door again and nods quickly.
I’ve never cared much for politics, but I know I don’t agree with death as a punishment.
Maybe my time in the system has made me a little one sided, but death is so final.
There are no second chances and no way of fixing it if someone got it wrong.
“Your uncle then ignored royal duties, just like they ignored him at court. As punishment, Herod made him the one to execute her. And Aiden, well, he was forced to sit in the front row and watch. We all were. I’ll never forget his little face. We lost him that day. I lost him.”
Aiden’s pain, his resentment, burns. I can’t imagine the confusion he must feel, looking at his uncle and now looking at me.
The one who took away his dad for good. His attitude, shit as it is, makes sense.
Eira’s hands shake when she finishes the dagger and slices through the rock like it’s a marshmallow.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
“I’m fine. Just another day at work,” she says, shrugging me off and flicking bits of metal shavings from beneath her short nails. “Like I said, Aiden is a good male. He’s just been through it, you know?”
“What happened to Herod?” I mindlessly spin a screwdriver on the table.
“He accidentally impaled himself on his own sword. But that’s why your uncle is the way he is with you. He used a lot of resources trying to help your dad after he became King. But it was already too late.”
I think of him, his wild murals, face covered in paint, eyes distant and feverish.
Cook told me they begin to lose their minds when they leave for too long.
Some cruel curse from the gods to keep them here, if they ever make it past the Mer Army.
I don’t even notice Eira standing right next to me.
She unwraps the cloth from my finger carefully, inspecting the wound.
“Perfect,” she smiles, the cut is gone, and I flex my hand a few times, staring at my smooth, beige skin. It looks like nothing ever happened. If only the wounds inside healed as easily.