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“So did the Captain. And most of my advisors, I try not to hold it against them,” she says with a shrug. I glanced at him in shock and he sent a wink my way.
“Well I think the Nettle’s mind is seconds away from meltdown, what do you say we take things down a notch? Maybe bring up some food? Freshen up? Make an evening out of former enemies becoming something… else.” He amended when I shot him a look that said he better not say what I thought he might.
“That sounds like an excellent idea baby, why don’t you fetch everything while I get Nettle cleaned up? Nettle, will you be sleeping on the chaise again or would you like to join us on the bed?” Mara turned those golden eyes on me then, her face carefully neutral as if she knew if she revealed her preference, I was certain to choose the other out of spite and desperate need for control.
“The view is better from the bed if you ask me.” The Captain called, still hanging by the door as if he too was eager to hear my answer.
“You two deserve each other, you’re both impossible.” I mutter, rubbing my newly healed eyes.
They shared a long look, so long it felt as if they were having a silent conversation only communicated by the subtle changes in their expressions.
“Are you two going to keep your hands to yourself?” I finally managed, looking at the floor, to avoid showing the longing I had for the soft bed after today’s strenuous training and revelations. As I stared at the floor I tried to craft a blank expression to hide my discomfort of witnessing something I longed to join. I just couldn’t seem to craft a way to join that would work purely in my favor.
“Doubtful.” They said in unison. Grinning at each other again.
“Fine. I can’t take sleeping on that chair again. Just… don’t expect me to join in… and try to keep it down.” I mutter, fleeing to the bathing chamber at their joined laughter since my collar remained untethered. Seeing myself in the mirror was a shock rather than the grime of training all that was left of the days events was the Mistress’s dried blood leaving what could have been dark red tear tracks down both of my flushed cheeks. If I was already flushed and I still owed her a feeding… how was I going to survive tonight?
Sixteen
She made me bathe in the grain soup again, smothering me in a salve that was now permanently etched in my mind as belonging to three cloaked figures whose words echoed in my mind.
While not their home, still yet their haven.
To leave is death for all, even you sleepless one.
We’re all under threat, in his war.
Humanity is all but forgotten, following now the fate of the fae.
A myth they are not, a myth we now fight.
The Mistress our only light in the night.
You do have that power, daughter of thorns.
But only when you see rightly.
Reveal the deceiver, reclaim what is lost.
Find your true power before it is dust.
“What do you think the prophecy means?” Mara spoke, handing me a new nightgown like her knowing what the prophecy said wasn’t a complete surprise.
“Was I speaking out loud again?” I blurt out while slipping on the dark blue fabric.
“No.” She said, changing the shadows into a sort of dress that plunged down to expose most of her chest and barely brushed the top of her thighs.
“But you know what it says?” I gulped, trying to stay on track.
“Oh yes, I keep a dreadling near the cauldrons to document any questions asked or answers given, it’s been an invaluable resource,” She spoke with passion before her brows creased, “though I doubt the keepers will tolerate it once they’re safe enough to leave the keep,” she trailed off looking at me.
“Would you say the dreadling dissuades them from speaking poorly of you?” I ask, hoping that perhaps that was the loophole to explain the joy and comfort I saw in the kitchens, or the disturbingly positive title they’d given her.
“Oh of course not, altering a prophecy would cause the keeper to lose their gift. It’s a mantle that is very particular about its hosts.” Her tone was gentle if firm, as if she knew what I was hoping to be true. That perhaps the monster I’d expected from her, and had hated my whole life was only hiding, and would make itself known at any moment.
The mark did not burn, and I was left where I started. Was I to believe she was humanity’s last hope? If she was, I could not slay her, despite the ramifications of breaking my oath. Would she raise the curse on my people? Or… and this was the hardest to admit, would she help me find the true monster that had cursed them? Because the more I learned about her, the harder it was to believe she was responsible at all. But my God had visited me. How could I deny that?
“I can feel your heavy heart.” She said gently, so caring it felt like the final assault against me, like she knew I was cornered by the overwhelming evidence of my own ignorance and was set on seeing my plans in ashes, the way I had originally hoped to see her.
