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Graceson prodded me toward the stairs. “Don’t stay down here stewing on this. I’ll make sure he gets what he needs in the meantime. Go upstairs, get something to eat, take a shower.”
Everything in my body felt numb and nervous all at once. It felt like history was doomed to repeat itself. History was making a mockery of the present,of what could be my future. Every step I took off the staircase felt like a terrifying step into the unknown. Daethian’s limp body remained in view for a short time. Then suddenly it felt like I was never going to see my dearest friend in the same light again.
Dearest Milo,
I appreciate your letter. More so, I appreciate that you refrained from sharing all aspects with my father. Additional knowledge puts me at an advantage. You are a valuable asset, friend. Since you have been honest with me, I’ll share one nugget of suspicion I have. My father did receive your letter the other day, but the envelope remains sealed. If that doesn’t suggest to you that to him this is a meaningless errand, I’m not sure what else will.
Truly,
Maggie
Icrumpled the paper in my hand. A fresh breeze drifted in from the window, still open from when the bird had arrived and left. Fresh flowers bloomed year-round in the Acture Court, making the air smell fragrant with the pollen. That did little to help my churning annoyance.
If I was not acting the part of the spy, if I was just a boring errand runner for the King, what was even the point? Why send me and Red away if he didn’t care for the information?
The days here had come and gone with little peace for either me or Red. She experienced torture and I had to live with the guilt of it. None of it was pleasurable for me, not like I wanted. King Windre remained brutally cruel, mildly apathetic, and mainly elusive. It made the thought of conversation with him so daunting, that at dinner I’d often chosen not to speak.
Red was always there, watching us eat. She was already skin and bones, and the food that I could sneak her was barely the minimum to keep her alive. Maybe I had picked the wrong side of this brewing war.
Servants in the castle halls whispered, unaware of how often I was listening. Red’s rebellion wasn’t the start. Many, many more were blooming all over Stylica. One successful in the Heathern Court. If Randsin was there, had he even survived the onslaught the Nymphs gossiped about? As much as I hated the man, I didn’t want to be the person who had to tell Eydis about his death. Though it would make my task of finding him pointless…making my personal mission to rid the world of that token a million times easier.
Hastily, knowing I was going to be late for dinner, I shredded and tossed the paper in the small trash bin near the desk. Standing, I turned, brought to a stop as my back arched in white hot agony. Crimson stained the mirror that hung on my wall. Pain dissipated as quickly as it had struck, in a long tingling sensation.
I fought a growl at the reflection of thick red lipstick and a taunting smile. My queen.
“I need an update,” she said in that silky voice of hers, fingers drumming loudly against the glass.
With a deep breath, I began. “I’ve moved on to another court, trying my hand at finding him here.”
“You are taking too long, Milo. If you cannot get it done, I will send Barthalow into that realm to find him. You’re running out of time.”
“I apologize, my Queen.” I dipped my head. I wanted to make excuses or to tell her about the richness and size of this realm, but the more I did that, the more I would be planting the seed of greed in her heart. I already needed to save my realm from Atarah. I didn’t need to add an entire new realm to that also.
“I’ve missed you,” she finally pouted. “I’ve made plans for us when you return.”
Heat coursed through my veins. Atarah often fancied her guards and used them for her own pleasure. At one time in my life, I hadn’t minded being used like that, but that had changed after I found my love for Eydis. Even without Eydis’s love, the desire for Queen Atarah’s bed hadn’t returned.
The Queen only wanted what she could not have. Because I wasn’t around right now, the appeal of having me became greater in her eyes. Selfish bitch.
“I’ll look forward to those,” I said, shoulders taut.
A knock came at my door, the guards who were to accompany me to dinner ready to leave. King Windre wasn’t fond of lateness, I’d been told, and it wasn’t hard to believe.
“My Queen,” I whispered, “they are calling me for dinner.”
“You are dismissed, but remember your time is ticking away,” she sang, running her tongue over her teeth. She adjusted the crown that rested on her head and then the red of her image disappeared.
A large sigh of relief left me. I dipped my head down. There was so much to be thinking about at all times, so many layers to the lies I was spinning every day. With one hand, I tried to wipe away the feeling of dread my Queen had given me, and I opened up the door with a tense smile.
“About time, I’m starving.”
Jerydin clasped his hands in front of him. Somehow I never got used to the wings; every time I saw him I had to fight to keep from staring. He never cared, he was used to it, but it was rude nonetheless. Jerydin didn’t speak and turned toward the dining room. I wondered how easily he would notice if I touched them? Maybe if I had wings I could fly away from Queen Atarah, never to be seen again. Then someone else could be fighting this battle instead of me.
Passing through a wide set of doors, we found King Windre leaning back in his seat holding a half full glass of wine. His face remained neutral, void of any emotion. Instead of the braid I’d gotten used to him sporting, his hair was loose, pooling in his lap and around his chair.
I bent slightly at the waist as I entered and let a Nymph pull back my seat for me. “Tired of the braid?” I cocked my head watching him.
A small smile lifted his chin. It nearly startled me right back out of the seat. King Windre didn’t smile unless someone was crying in pain. Sometimes not even then.
