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He likes to be home. Back in his lands. Back in thetrue darkness, as he says.
He’s so pleased to be back in these lands, in his castle, with his family, that even though he clearly picks up on the tension swelling between Ensley and me, he says nothing about it. Doesn’t want to sour the mood.
And I imagine he suspects that I would tell him if it was as terrible as it truly is. He would be wrong.
But I have other reasons for keeping Ensley’s secret.
Should Daein find out what the litalf royals know, he would intervene in my life, too. No more lengthy trips to the light lands where darkness rules in a place it doesn’t belong. No more letters back and forth between Skye and I, who I have picked up a closer friendship with since we came back to the dark lands just weeks ago.
And of course, the Hunt. He would absolutely sever any possibility of me attending the Hunt with his guards next month. There would be no chance of that ever happening.
Iwould be on lockdown in the castle. Not a punishment, but ‘protection’ as he would call it. I would call it ‘even more restrictions on the freedom he stole away from me the day he took me from my human family’.
I manage to get through the meal without scathing words thrown at my daughter, or right back at me, and we each part ways. Daein attends a meeting in his office, Ensley heads off to practice swords in the combat room, and I find my way down to the lake.
On the way to the lake, I pass Hilda. Once, I used to try and catch her eye. Now, I just ignore her as she so clearly wants to be invisible to me.
At the water, I sit there for a while, watching the ripples under the warped light of the white mountains far in the distance—a glowing mist that forever illuminates the rear grounds of the castle.
It’s been years now, almost decades, but still I hear the sound of splashing in those waters, the trill of Terry’s laughter as she tried to dunk me or swam circles around me. Sometimes, I would chase the fish in the shallows. She would join by spooking them away with great big kicks.
Feels like I was a child then. I held an innocence that has long since left me.
Though I was a slave those days, and constantly in fear for my life, a part of me yearns to return to them. Simpler days.
I had Terry then. And Hilda and Sira. The latter two don’t talk to me anymore. They of course aren’t allowed to, given their positions compared to mine. But I miss them.
I miss Terry most.
I’m just about to leave the lake and the memories behind when I push up from the grass—and feel the crinkle of parchment in the pocket of my glossy dress. Parchment that wasn’t there before.
A frown digs into my face, turning down my mouth at the corners, and I throw a glance around the castle grounds. Two guards loiter up at the rear entrance to my wretched home, and some are off in the distance on patrol. None are close enough to me that they could have slipped anything into my pocket. And none of them would, either. It would be an odd thing to do.
And yet, someone has done this.
Feigning ignorance, I push up from the grass and climb up the hilly path to the castle. As I move through the foyer, I pass around the larger fountain to get close to Daein’s office. I hear murmurs through the closed door—so I know he’s still in his meeting.
It’s perfect.
My opportunity won’t last very long though, with the sense of the dawning Quiet coming. So I rush up to the bedchambers and close the doors firmly behind me. A slave should be along any moment to bring wines and fruits and nuts. Daein and me usually enjoy them on the balcony before we enjoy each other on the bed.
So I have only a few moments to hide behind my dress screen and rip out the parchment from my pocket. It’s …official.
I wasn’t expecting that. Maybe I expected a torn piece of parchment with a scribble on it, or a hastily folded note. But no, this is a wax-sealed small letter folded with precision, not an edge out of place.
And I recognise the seal all too well from my times in the light lands. It is the symbol of Prince Rain’s house.
My face scrunches with confusion as I sever the wax into two pieces, careful not to spill any on the floor. Don’t want to leave behind evidence.
My fingers quiver as I rush to unfold the parchment. One piece. And the letter is short.
‘Sister,’ it begins and my heart has thrown itself up into my throat.
‘It would be my honour and deepest pleasure to house you during your extended stay in our lands for this coming Hunt—and beyond.
You belong with us.
Matters are underway to ensure that you will be protected if you choose to join us, dear April, no matter who your evate may be. We offer you sanctuary—and soon, with your help, we can offer you light.
