Chapter 30 #2
Brynn’s hand drops to my hip again. “Yes. Thankfully my mixed blood keeps me from being a massive twat, though. Really grounds me,” he deadpans.
I twist in the saddle to take him in, expecting a taste of bitterness in his expression. But I do not find it. In fact—he looks genuinely happy. He is fond of this place, his home. Sure of his blood, even when most everyone else is not.
We ride our veilmane through the gates and up the winding streets. It’s after midnight, but there are plenty of Sanc still milling about. I cannot imagine how crowded it will be come morning.
Most pay us no mind. The nighttime crowd consists of revellers. Drunks. Boisterous crews of companions laughing, shouting, and singing. A tavern sits on every corner. I am less surprised now by the number of fae zooming around naked.
“Is it like this every night? Or is there a festival?” I ask, watching a minotaur and a serpenite, their arms draped over each other’s shoulders, singing a loud song that sounds like a celebration. It’s in the common tongue, but their words are so slurred I can’t make sense of it.
Brynn follows my gaze and chuckles. “This is standard. They’re singing the city’s anthem—well, a satire of it.” He leans into my ear and croons, “‘Welcome to Royal City, feel free to get good and shitty. The stars here are rather pretty, but just wait until you see our biddies.’”
I cry with laughter.
“If I could bottle that sound…” Brynn trails off distractedly. His warm lips brush against my shoulder and my skin pebbles at his unexpected intensity. I cannot respond.
The closer we get to the palace, the quieter it becomes. Brynn reaches for the reins, and I let him take them. I am too distracted by all the sights anyway—and by the rumbling in my belly that has nothing to do with hunger.
The guards open the gates with no fanfare. They offer curt nods to Glo. One says cheerily, “Ah, welcome back, Vir!”
Our veilmane are led to a large stable on the palace grounds. A finely dressed orc helps us dismount. He greets Brynn with a warm handshake.
“It’s good to see you, Clack,” Brynn says with a dizzying smile. I am momentarily dazed by it.
“So good to see you, Your Highness,” says Clack in sincerity. This grounds me at once—it takes everything in me not to twitch at the proper greeting.
We grab our packs from Shadow and Moon, bidding them goodnight.
The royal grounds are eerily quiet, I assume due to the late hour, but the palace is stunning.
The round, equidistant pillars, which hold up the dome and give it its birdcage likeness, are carved with intricate golden vines.
There are flowers everywhere, too. They look like a hybrid between roses and wildflowers.
They are beautiful, prickly things that surround each path leading to the entrance.
I cannot wait to see it in that violet-orange ombre of morning light.
We enter the massive double front doors and Brynn studies my face.
I throw him a timid smile. It’s odd to have been so close for the entire day, practically wrapped up in one another, but unable to see each other in full.
Now that I am reminded of how attractive he is, I am feeling quite…
shy. I fold under his steady gaze and take in Jasmeen’s face instead.
She too wears an expression of mingled wonder and awe. The entrance hall, lit by cool-toned faerielight which casts everything in a silvery wash, is as grand. We do not have much time to admire it before Clack ushers us down the first corridor to the left of the foyer.
“The guest quarters are this way,” Clack says in a hushed tone. “Your Highness, I assume you will sleep in your own quarters tonight?”
Brynn seems caught off guard by this question. He clears his throat loudly. “Yes, Clack, that will do. Glo has her apartment, too. Jasmeen and Thea will stay together here.”
“We readied your quarters for you some time ago—we were unsure of your return. We did not expect company,” says the orc pointedly. He halts halfway down the hall, and Jasmeen and I must swerve to avoid colliding with his large backside.
“Yes, I became preoccupied in Mayhem,” says Brynn with a smirk in my direction. “And we always host company of some variety. I expect the guest quarters remain as prepared as always?”
Clack nods and gestures to a large door painted the same rich brown as Glo’s eyes. Jasmeen reaches to open it herself and the orc tuts with disapproval. Brynn shoots him a polite warning glance. Clack clears his throat and dutifully pushes the door open for us.
“We’ll see you first thing tomorrow?” Brynn asks. His disarming eyes probe my face.
My heated thoughts are despicable.
I nod curtly. “Goodnight, Vir. Glo.”
“Goodnight,” Jasmeen says sweetly.
“The maids will be by tomorrow to assist you,” Clack says. Jasmeen crosses the threshold and I follow, refusing to glance back as the orc shuts the door.
The room is as opulent. There are two large beds, both covered in luxurious blankets and pillows, with matching canopies of sparkly gold fabric that has been tucked back behind the tufted headboards.
The beds have been readied for us, the lush comforters turned down.
Jasmeen and I both strip to our undergarments in silence.
I climb into one bed and expect her to claim the other.
Instead, she wordlessly crawls into mine.
We lie on our sides, staring at each other.
“You saw a shadow hag?” she whispers, like the walls could be listening. The sentient faerielight dimmed the second we laid down, but I can still make out her features.
“Yes, but you were bleeding out which felt way more important at the time—”
“I’m not angry with you,” Jasmeen interjects. “But it came back? To speak with you while we were asleep?”
I nod slowly.
“So, it did speak with you?” she asks, her tone strange.
“Yes,” I say. “But I did not accept its trade, if that’s why you’re so concerned.”
Do they all think me daft? She seems relieved, but also not surprised.
“It’s not just that, Thea,” Jasmeen starts. My chest constricts. “Shadow hags are mostly harmless to fae, yes—that’s why Glo was so flippant about it. But…”
“I know—Vir told me they have a penchant for mortals,” I say.
“Yes, but… they’re also an extremely bad omen. Perhaps it’s only more fae lore, made up bullshit, but it’s said that mortals who hear the voices of shadow hags have been marked,” Jasmeen says darkly.
“Marked for what?” I whisper-shout.
“Bad luck, bad tidings, bad” —Jasmeen huffs—“I don’t really know. It means you could be in trouble. They’re said to only offer their help to mortals who are so gone, in such desperate need—ones more likely to accept their bargains.”
Well, fuck.
“That’s great.” I exhale a shaky breath. “No wonder Vir was so pissed off about it.”
“He cares about you,” she says. “He’s… I think he’s worried there’s something you’re still hiding. I think this solidified his worry.”
I sit up straight in the bed. Jasmeen mirrors me, watching my face.
“Thea, I know you’re scared to trust me,” she breathes.
“But you can. You saved me. You got me out of Mayhem. You’re saving my life right now, by getting me into Vir’s good graces to get the fuck out of this place.
If I could tell you every single detail of my contract” —she lets out another small choking sound, like her invisible collar tightens—“just know that I would. If you are in trouble, you can tell me. I want to help you, as you have helped me.”
Whatever she sees in my expression has her reaching for my hands. Friendship is forged, my mother once said. A give and take, built on trust and trials and oaths. This will be quite the trial—a test of our bond.
“You promise you won’t hate me?” I ask, my voice meek and childish.
“I couldn’t,” Jasmeen says. When I give her a pitiful look, she adds, “I promise. I could never hate you.”
I take a deep, dizzying breath.
“My name is Thea Gale… Princess Thea Gale. Sole heir to the mortal Kingdom of Clouds.”
Jasmeen’s dramatic gasp could be studied by actors of tragedy.
“And I’m fucked.”