The Underrealm was far morethan just a few dank tunnels, as myself and the other Goddesses had been led to believe. In truth, there was no reason for any of us faekind on the surface to venture down into this realm, having no real business nor care for the Underfae. Their existence was simply that.
To exist.
No curses ever came for them beyond the Veil.
No Underfae ever found their way above ground. At least none that I knew of.
Therefore, it unnerved me to walk through the Underrealm, taking in the dark stone arches and pillars carved in intricatepatterns. For each turn through the corridors, I became more amazed and bemused. I stopped under a fork in our path that led to three different corridors under ribbed vaulting, astounded at the masterwork of each arched entrance to a new pathway.
“Piffle,” I started, “do you know who built all of this?”
He stopped, craning his neck up to the tall vaulted stone ceiling. “It’s been like this as long as I’ve been down here, Mistress.”
“And how long has that been?”
He continued on, turning right down a new corridor glowing in soft candlelight. “Since the day you brought the curse to Master Arthur’s father, Master André.”
“You’ve been down here for over fifty years?”
He nodded without stopping. “I leave on occasion to gather supplies the Master needs. Ah!” He stopped at a door inlaid into the stone walls. The detailed curvature around the framework must have been from an architectural genius, as on closer inspection, each curve inset into another, detailing vines with pointed thorns.
I traced my fingers along the stone, marveling at the work.
“Does the Mistress like the entrance to her room?”
I jumped back, in a gasp. The question came from a tea cart, or rather, a teakettlewith eyes and a mouth.
“Piffle, please…warn me somehow before you change into an inanimate object. It’s disorienting.”
“Apologies! You are my first guest in many years and…well…the Master is used to my changes by now. I shall do better.”
The kettle rose into the air on its own, hovering above a porcelain cup. “Tea?” it asked.
“Yes, thank you.”
I pressed on the door latch and stepped inside the room, the rattling wheels of the cart sounding behind me. Before I could mention the dark, flame erupted from the chandelier hanging from more ribbed vaulting at the center of the room.
Along one wall, a massive four poster bed was draped inluscious deep green linens with plum curtains pulled back at each post. Piles of pillows framed the headboard, carved from dark wood and detailed with varying states of roses in bloom.
I walked across the black marble floor, peeking into the small washing room to see it complete with a sink, stone tub carved into the wall, and all the finest amenities of Revelry above the surface. A massive fireplace took up the wall opposite the bed with a dark purple settee near the fire.
The cart rolled into the room, and Piffle finished the tea pour. I took the cup into my cold hands and sipped it quietly, more questions forming in my mind.
“This is a fine room,” I began. “Has it been occupied before?”
Piffle poked at the fire, no longer a cart, but back to his Changlingfae form. “I keep it up to standard.”
“Up to whose standard?”
He turned in a flash with a large grin. “Why, the standard of the Master’s cursebreaker, of course! Cannot have the woman who was brought to break it live in a dusty old room, now can I? What an embarrassment that would be!” He chuckled to himself, fluffing up a beaded pillow on the couch.
“And…no other has been brought down here as part of the curse?”
“None since the Master’s mother.”
“Was this her room?”
He shook his head quickly. “The Master has closed off that room. Bad memories and all that. He allows me to keep this one ready.”
