I look back at Aspen and realize a small tree-like fae is perched at his side, fork in mouth. The fae then reaches for Aspen’s goblet and takes a sip. The king holds Cobalt’s gaze for a few moments while the servant takes another bite of food from Aspen’s plate.
Foxglove leans in close to me and whispers, “The king always has his food and drink tested before he eats.”
The odd exchange makes much more sense now, but the tension between the two royals remains intact.
“You’re right, brother,” Aspen says in his cold, drawling voice. “One can’t be too careful.” The servant takes one more bite, then offers a bow. Aspen waves him away, then picks up his fork. “Eat.”
Everyone except Amelie and I rush for their forks, but we follow suit shortly after. I push the food around my plate, trying to investigate what I’ve been served. It appears entirely recognizable, from the fillet of fish to the roasted potatoes and apple tart. The aromas are familiar as well, making my mouth water. I know I should eat. I want to eat. If only my stomach would agree. It’s been in knots ever since I laid eyes on King Aspen, felt that anger rise inside me. How can I eat now?
I look at Amelie, who has already taken several bites from her plate. She meets my eyes, grinning while she chews. I force a grin, then with equal effort, bring a bite of food to my lips.
* * *
After a mostly silent dinner, King Aspen and Prince Cobalt leave the dining room with curt farewells, and Foxglove and Lorelei guide us back to our room. Again, I try to memorize all the twists and turns, try to orient myself between the dining room and our bedroom. As far as I can tell, our bedroom is two floors down from where we ate.
Foxglove leaves us at our door, but Lorelei lingers in the doorway, leaning lazily against the frame. “Do you need me to stay?”
“That’s not necessary,” I say, trying to keep my voice neutral. I’m still not sure how to act around her after our argument.
She pushes off the door frame and lets out a yawn. “Fine. I’ll be sleeping next door. Call if you need anything.” With that, she closes the door and leaves me and Amelie alone.
Amelie rushes to the bed and flops belly down into the middle of it. It bounces, then sinks a little beneath her. “I’m so tired.” Her face is pressed into a pillow, making her voice come out muffled.
I feel the same, in mind and body. Like Amelie, I want nothing more than to sink into the luxurious bed. But the pressure of the dagger belt around my thigh is too irritating to ignore. I grab my nightdress from my bag and take it behind the dressing screen. Once changed, I meet Amelie at the bed, slipping my sheathed dagger behind one of the pillows.
She lifts her face, blinking up at me. “Do you think the wardrobe has special nightdresses?”
I can’t help but laugh. “I’m sure it does.” Amelie scrambles out of bed and rushes to the wardrobe, while I turn down the covers and crawl beneath them.
After a time, Amelie twirls across the floor, a sheer, silky nightdress rustling around her ankles. She crawls into bed next to me. “This place has the best clothes.”
“At least the fae realm has one thing going for it.”
“It’s really not as awful as I thought,” she says. “I was certain I’d be fearing for my life by now. You know, monsters and goblins and harpies and such. But so far, no one has tried to so much as nibble me.”
“That’s because we haven’t been left alone with our mates yet.”
She’s silent for a while, and I’m worried I’ve scared her. Then she scoots closer. “I don’t like mine, Evie. He’s so dour.”
“No kidding.”
“You clearly don’t like him, either. I saw the way you glared at him. I was starting to think I’d missed something.”
My muscles tense. Should I tell her? I’m not sure why I’m so afraid to confess my meeting with King Aspen at the wall. It’s not like my good-natured sister would blame me forever. Besides, she’s already adapting so well. But for some reason, I can’t bring myself to talk about it. It feels…shameful. I don’t even want to remember the way he said my name today, as if he has any right—
“Yours isn’t so bad, though.” Her voice shatters my thoughts. “He’s a gentleman, at least. Perhaps you could come to like him.”
“Perhaps I could wake up with horse hooves.”
She giggles. “Do you think they throw balls in the palace?”
“Balls, human heads. Only time will tell.”
“Really, Evie, you’re so strange sometimes.”
I don’t reply. Instead, I close my eyes and try to breathe away the tension coursing through me. After a while, I hear Amelie’s even breathing. Of course she falls asleep first. Of course she feels safe in this place of beautiful luxury. Of course I’m the only one aware of our fragile mortality in a place like this.
I toss and turn for what feels like hours, unable to relax, much less sleep. Finally, I give up. I grab a lightweight cloak from the wardrobe, wrap it around my shoulders, then slip out the bedroom door, leaving Amelie sleeping peacefully alone.
Chapter Twelve
I make my way back through the palace halls, trying to see if I can find my way to the dining room. Not for any particular desire to return there; it’s more to lock down my sense of direction in the palace. If I can at least navigate between two places inside the palace, I’ll feel like I’m in control of something again, no matter how small.
The halls are eerily quiet and eerily as dark, the orbs of light hovering above their sconces now diminished to a subtle glow. No one crosses my path, which I’m grateful for, despite getting lost numerous times. I eventually find myself in front of a familiar staircase and climb. When I reach the top, the dark, empty dining room opens before me.
My chest swells with pride. But now what? Do I just go back to my bedroom, see if I can reach it faster than I reached this place?
The sound of crashing waves calls to me, its rhythm softer than it had been earlier. And there’s something else. Voices. Or music.
I tiptoe across the floor to the open expanse, placing my hands on the rail like I did before. The ocean is black beneath the moon, small waves gently rolling into the base of the cliff beneath the palace. Gone are the black chasms of the coral caves, as the tide has come in and hidden them beneath its watery depths. It chills me how much the shoreline can change in a matter of hours.
Music falls on my ears again, and I search the night for the source. There are large rocks near the cliff at the end of the shore, and I’m almost positive I see figures perched on top of them. Are they singing? There’s a feminine trill in the air, both beautiful and terrifying.
Nearer movement draws my attention away from the rocks and back to the shore. There I see the forms of what appear to be women, skin white and glistening beneath the moon. Their bodies are naked, sinuous with their slow movements as they circle each other on the beach, laughing as the waves roll around their ankles. The way they move has me entranced, filling me with calm.
They’re dancing.
“Selkies.”
I whirl to find King Aspen behind me, expression hidden in shadow. My first instinct is to pat my dagger, until I remember tucking it behind my pillow. I clutch my rowan berry necklace and press myself as close to the rail as I can.