Faerie Forged, page 10
“Myself?”
He pressed his lips together, though whether he was fighting a smile or a frown, I couldn’t tell.
Rhoana poked her head through the doorway and beckoned us back to the sitting room. “Your dinner is served.”
A woman who couldn’t have been more than three feet tall bustled around the table in the center of the main room, arranging a tray stacked high with fruits, cheeses, and steaming rolls. My mouth began to water.
The woman set out a single wooden plate with matching utensils and a blown glass goblet. A carafe sat to one side of the food, filled with purple liquid that smelled of alcohol. She wore a loose dress the same green color as the guards’ clothes, with a thick leather apron that seemed to consist of hundreds of pockets tied around her waist. A green fabric cap covered her head, and turfs of straw-colored hair stuck out around the edges where they’d escaped from the braid that trailed down her back.
I glanced at Rhoana’s still perfectly styled hair, and reached a hand up to my own snarled locks. Spending time on my hair was rarely a priority for me, but I was starting to appreciate the practicality of a good braid.
The little woman straightened the last fork, then stepped away from the table. She clasped her hands loosely in front of her apron and kept her eyes on the floor.
I looked at the place setting and cleared my throat. How was a lady supposed to talk to a servant again? I lifted my chin and tried to channel my inner Hortense. “We’ll need more place settings.”
Her eyes shifted up to meet mine, and I adjusted “woman” to “girl” before I remembered that a fae’s age couldn’t be judged by her appearance. The girl’s deep, brown eyes were set wide apart and seemed to fill half her face, crowding out a button nose and small, pouty lips. Her gaze darted from me to Rhoana and back again.
“This meal is for you alone,” Rhoana said. “I have other duties I must attend to, and Malakai will return to the barracks as befits a knight.”
I frowned. “Surely he can share a meal with me first.”
Rhoana opened her mouth, but Kai held up a hand to forestall her. “That would be inappropriate, Alex.”
Rhoana opened the door to the hallway. “Do not leave these rooms without an escort. There are plenty at court who would use your . . . unique position . . . to further their own agendas.”
The girl who’d set out my dinner bobbed a deep curtsy to get my attention and pointed to a small brass bell with a wooden handle. “If you should need anything, simply ring and I shall come.” She performed another curtsy, then shuffled past where Rhoana was waiting in the hall with her arms crossed.
I turned to Kai. “This is stupid.”
“This is etiquette. It’s what Hortense and I have been preparing you for.” He gripped my shoulder. “Eat your dinner, take a bath, and get some sleep. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
The warmth of his hand lingered on my shoulder until the door clicked shut behind him. Then even the smell of fresh-baked bread couldn’t hold back the lonesome chill that filled the room.
Retreating to the bedroom, I pulled out my cell phone and sat at the edge of the bed. The screen lit, but the words “no service” were displayed across the top. I hadn’t really expected to be able to call between realms, but the isolation was still a heavy weight that settled over me and made my shoulders slump. I wanted to ask James if he’d felt the moment our connection was severed as I crossed into Enchantment. I wanted to find out if Sol had succeeded in getting the werewolves out of PTF custody.
I turned the phone over in my hands, then opened one of the smaller pockets on my suitcase and shoved the useless device out of sight.
As I was pulling my hand back, my fingers brushed against cold metal. Grabbing the silver chain, I dangled my locket at eye level. The stylized A reflected the light of the lamps as it spun slowly one way, then the other. I couldn’t reach James, or Marc, or Sol. I couldn’t even count on Kai’s company. I was alone in a strange place . . . again.
I unlatched the clasp and draped the locket around my neck. Its weight settled against my collar bone, and I felt a little less adrift. I took a deep breath. I’d get through the festival, learn what I could about imbuing from Gramps, then hightail it home so I could get my life in order.
HAZY LIGHT FILTERED through the lavender curtains that blocked the balcony, tinting the walls and ceiling. I twitched the curtains aside, conscious of Rhoana’s warning not to stand exposed on the balcony, but curious about the view. My room was low enough that I couldn’t see more than a few spires of the city beyond the wall. Between that wall and the castle proper, where I’d found only darkness the night before, walls of living greenery alternated with dark spaces to create a giant garden maze that grew to nearly the height of the surrounding wall.
The maze ended abruptly at a green field several stories below me, which in turn cut off at the sheer cliffs against which the keep nestled. Off to the right of my balcony was a thin line cut into the face of the cliff—a path perhaps? A hundred feet or so above that line, snow coated the mountain.
I looked back at the lush greenery of the garden maze and burrowed deeper into the plush, purple robe I’d found hanging from one of the marble hooks carved into the bathroom wall. The meadow Kai and I arrived in had been covered in snow, and we’d gained elevation to reach this mountain fortress. Judging by the white peaks above, the garden—the whole city—should have been under ice. Yet there I was, in a room with an open-air balcony that somehow managed to be comfortably warm in the dead of winter. The whole city must have been wrapped in an amazingly strong temperature-control spell.
I rubbed my arms, trying to shake the feeling of being coated with magic.
Turning away from the disturbing juxtaposition of tropical plants and arctic cliffs, I headed for the room’s closet, which could have doubled as a tailor shop. Hundreds of dresses dangled on wooden hangers hooked to marble bars. They all appeared to be my size, but that was the only similarity between them. Trailing my fingertips along the skirts, I tried to guess the types of fabrics, but I didn’t find any cotton or polyester. None were as soft as my borrowed bathrobe.
What would be appropriate for meeting my grandfather, the Lord of Enchantment, for the first time?
I lifted a train of green fabric that shimmered yellow when it moved. It seemed to be made of millions of tiny scales. The dress had long sleeves, no back, a cut-out section that would stretch from my bra to my belly button, and was basically a tube from the hips down. I doubted anyone could move faster than a penguin waddle in such an outfit.
I let the dress fall back into place and glanced longingly at my suitcase, which sat at the end of the unmade bed. My spare jeans and a selection of shirts taunted me from the open case.
Sighing, I glanced once more at the rainbow of fabric surrounding me. I could suck it up and pretend to be a lady for a couple of days.
Toward the back of the closet I found an ankle-length green dress with long sleeves. The fabric was soft, warm, and smelled like cloves.
Pulling my selection off its hanger, I slipped the dress on in place of my comfy bathrobe and stepped to attention in front of the full-length mirror in the bedroom. The dress was simple compared to its closet companions, accented only by a subtle pattern in shades of deeper green. Other than ties that cinched the fabric at my waist, the dress hung loose. My hair—which had taken half a bottle of conditioner and an hour under a comb to untangle—draped my shoulders. Judging by the artistic braids I’d seen on everyone from guards to servants the night before, the simple ponytail that was my usual style was unlikely to impress.
I glanced at the rows of shoes under the dresses and wiggled my toes, thinking of Chase in my borrowed sneakers. Then I considered my boots, discarded next to the pile of yesterday’s clothes beside my suitcase, and sighed. Court ladies did not wear hiking boots.
I studied the woman in the mirror, trying to convince myself it was still me. Was it my imagination, or were her cheekbones a little more pronounced? The tips of her ears a little sharper?
Shaking my head, I returned to my suitcase and lifted the sheathed knife off my rejected clothes. The solid weight made me feel a little better as I strapped it to my thigh. It would be impossible to retrieve without flashing half the room, but I breathed a little easier once it was in place. Lastly, I replaced the silver locket I’d taken off for my bath. The pendant settled against my sternum, and I rested my fingers over it, taking comfort in the solid reminder of my human origins.
I’d been curious about the fae realms, curious about this unknown branch of my family tree, but the more time I spent in Enchantment, the more I missed my simple house on the mountainside.
The corners of my lips twitched. I’d moved enough as a kid to wonder if I’d ever have a place I could miss. Was this ache in my chest homesickness . . . or just a natural reaction to being somewhere so entirely alien?
A knock broke into my contemplations.
I passed through the main room and the aromas of yeast and jam drifted to me, making my mouth water. My stomach growled. The tray from last night had been replaced. The new offering looked almost identical to the first, except the grape stems and cheese crumbs I’d left on my plate had been cleared away and a new place setting, gleaming and empty, was in its place.
Had a servant come in while I slept? Or while I was taking my bath? Either way, the thought sent shivers down my spine. The door to my apartment didn’t have a lock. No deadbolts or chains. Not even a “do not disturb” sign. I’d been up half the night jumping at shadows until I slipped the Ruger under my pillow.
Hortense’s glamourless appearance was like a splash of cold water when I opened my door. As uncomfortable as the unnatural climate and ridiculous wardrobe had made me, the visual reminder that I was surrounded by fae was a solid one-two punch. Even Hortense’s relative familiarity didn’t lessen my sense of disconnect. It didn’t help that she was wearing a different face than the one I’d gotten used to.
“Good day, Lady Blackwood. You’ve been summoned to the presence of the lord.”
I stiffened at the formality of her speech. “What happened to Alex?”
“We are at court.” She scanned me up and down and pursed her lips.
Frowning, I looked down at the dress I’d chosen. “You don’t like it?”
“It is . . . tolerable. In any case, you don’t have time to change.” She stepped back from the doorway. “Come along.”
I clenched my jaw, wishing I’d stuck with my jeans. If I was going to be a disappointment anyway, at least I could have been comfortable.
Hortense led me down the red-carpeted hallway to a set of wide stone stairs that spiraled down several stories, each with landings opening onto similar hallways. Eventually, the stairs led to a large room with a matching staircase snaking up the far wall. Arches of thin marble strands spun together like yarn supported the stairs and allowed access to rooms that opened off either side of the main space. Through those arches, I caught glimpses of vaulted ceilings, fine furniture, and bustling fae in green and leather livery.
Thick, forest green carpet muted my footfalls and dampened the voices trickling from the adjoining rooms. As I hustled after Hortense, my slippered foot came down on something small and white. I crouched to pluck a crushed flower off the floor, then brushed my fingers over what I’d assumed was carpet. The carpet was alive—soft moss growing over the keep’s stone floor, dotted with tiny white flowers.
Hortense passed beneath a narrow arch under the staircase we’d descended, and I jumped to my feet. If I lost sight of her, I’d never hear the end of it. I jogged along the mossy path, cringing each time my foot came down on one of the little flowers, but there were too many to avoid. At least, for someone like me. I reached the arch and looked back the way I’d come. A trail of compressed moss and bent petals clearly marked my passage. Mine were the only footprints visible.
I pressed my lips tight, feeling more and more out of place, and ducked after Hortense.
She was waiting in front of a wide, white door with a golden handle. The Lord of Enchantment’s coat of arms—a sword and hammer crossed over a flame—was carved in the pale wood.
When I stepped up, she brushed a hand over my shoulders, smoothed my hair, and tugged the seams of my dress straight like a mother prepping her kid for a family photo. “Remember what Malakai and I taught you. Think before you speak. And above all,” she caught my gaze and narrowed her eyes, “keep your temper.”
My hands started to shake and I flattened them against my thighs to keep them steady. The Lord of Enchantment was a big deal; intimidating; one of the strongest fae alive. But that wasn’t why I was afraid. I was about to meet my grandpa, however many generations removed. For the first time in years . . . I had a living relative.
I took a deep breath and pushed the door open.
At the far end of the room—which was about the length of a football field—Kai stood to one side of a raised dais. He wore dark green boots, tan pants, and a loose green shirt covered with a leather vest and pinched at the wrists by leather bracers. His katana hung at his hip, and a knife sheath was belted to one thigh.
On the other side of the dais, Rhoana stood with her chin up and her hands clasped behind her back. Her outfit matched Kai’s except for the dark green cape trailing from silver pins at her shoulders.
Between them, sitting on a throne, was the man I’d come to see.
Chapter 10
I SWALLOWED. THE sound was deafening.
Hortense gave me a little nudge between the shoulder blades.
The mossy carpet ended at the door, turning the floor into a lake of polished marble. My footsteps echoed, marking off each step like a gunshot, as I crossed the open space between me and the man waiting on his throne.
As I passed through the center of the room, I craned my neck to watch blue fae the size of my splayed hand buzzing around on hummingbird wings high above me. They were setting candles into the hundreds of holders in a massive chandelier overhead. Similar, though smaller, fixtures hung in the corners of the room. None of the candles were lit.
Two stories up, a gallery ran around three-quarters of the room, jutting out from the walls and suspended by columns that dropped from the vaulted ceiling like the cords of a suspension bridge. Trailing from the lower edge were rows of icicles, each as long as my forearm. Interspersed with the icicles were dangling glass lanterns that glowed with purplish light. The cold illumination made my skin crawl, reminding me of the watery torches lining Merak’s throne room in the vampire nest.
By the time I crossed the vast space, my mouth was a desert. All the missing moisture seemed to be seeping from my sweaty palms. I stopped ten paces from the dais, as Hortense had taught me was proper, and bowed until my back was parallel to the floor. My reflection stared back from the polished marble with wide eyes.
“My lord,” Hortense dropped to a knee beside me, curling until her forehead nearly touched the floor. “Lady Alyssandra Blackwood, as requested.”
“Rise, both of you.” The lord’s voice was a high tenor.
I straightened and forced myself to focus on the man draped on the throne in front of me. He wasn’t what I expected.
His body matched his voice—thin, smooth, and young. I’d been calling him Gramps since I learned of his existence, but I couldn’t reconcile that title with the boy before me. He appeared to be in his early twenties, maybe even late teens. One leather-clad leg crossed the other, his foot bobbing from the ankle. He wore a shirt of deep burgundy that shimmered red and purple when he leaned forward, light rippling over the surface like a cold fire.
While I assessed him, he assessed me. Lips pursed, he scanned me up and down. When his gaze reached my face, I leaned onto the balls of my feet as though drawn in by the swirling embers of black and gold that sparkled in his blazing red eyes.
Swallowing, I shifted my weight back on my heels and let my vision refocus to take in his whole face. He could have been Kai’s younger brother by the shape of his features. Long, purplish-black hair crowned his head, twisted and braided with golden beads that jingled like bells when he moved.
He set both feet on the floor and leaned over his knees, hands dangling between his thighs. “You’re not quite what I expected.”
I shifted my gaze to Kai and back. “Neither are you.”
His thin lips turned up at the corners.
“Come.” He stood and stepped to the side of his throne, lifting a hand, offering the seat to me. “Sit.”
I looked to Kai, Hortense, even Rhoana, but all their faces were cast down. The only eyes I connected with were the fiery ones staring right at me. I wiped my palm on the soft fabric of my borrowed dress, and moved forward until I was within reach of the throne. It was large and black, made of sharp edges and hard surfaces. There were no cushions to soften the seat.
Was this some sort of etiquette test? No one had mentioned what to do if the lord offered me his chair—his throne.
I glanced back at Hortense, but she was studying her slippered feet.
Biting my lower lip, I sat in the throne. The metal was cold. It leached heat from my thighs and back like a thirsty man who’d just found an oasis. Shivering, I wrapped my hands around the armrests and tried to pretend I didn’t feel like my life was being sucked away.
A loud clap snapped my attention back to the man at my side. His smile was wide, showing straight, white teeth. The echo of the clap faded.
“Excellent,” he said. “Follow me.” He strode off the dais and headed toward a red door set in the back wall.
I practically jumped out of the throne to join him. Side-by-side, he was an inch shorter than I was, but I had to trot to keep up with his quick pace.
