by Gwynn White
Averin’s jaw hardened. “Where’s she staying?”
“The solarium, my prince.”
Averin nodded, like he approved. “We’ll walk with you.” He gestured for Stasha to follow Maelia and then fell into step with her.
A couple of steps and they were through the light and back in the gloomy tunnel. As dark as it was, she wasn’t sorry to leave the Dome of Dreams.
Averin squeezed her hand. “The solarium isn’t far from my home. You can drop in whenever you like.”
“Thank you.” It took effort to lift her leaden feet. “How will I find it?”
“Fair point.” He waited until Maelia was well ahead of them and plucked at the air. When he opened his hand, a small golden arrow lay on his palm. The wide end furthest from the pointed tip had a tiny hole. “Take it,” he whispered. “It can keep that chunk of amber under your tunic company.”
Another gift from Averin. This time a secretive one. Why else didn’t he want Maelia to know about it and for her to keep it hidden under her clothing? She picked it up. Made of some kind of metal, it was cold. She ran her fingers over it. “How does it work?”
“Tell it where you want to go, and it will lead you there.”
This, on top of the feather…. There was only one answer. Averin’s heart was anything but untouched. He had feelings for her, just as she had for him. For some reason, he’d played his mother. Wasn’t he allowed to choose whom to love?
She winced. Love was a very strong word. One she wasn’t nearly ready to embrace.
She pulled her chain over her head and undid the clip. After two tries, she steadied her hands enough to slide it through the hole in the arrow. A perfect fit. Even her amber seemed to glint brighter as the arrow came to rest against it.
Averin smiled, like he’d also noticed.
She caught the tinkle of the wind chime. That meant the rotunda with the statue of the two-faced god loomed. She slipped her chain back under her tunic before the god’s four evil eyes could see it.
They joined the flow of fae traversing the silver walkway. Fae bowed to Averin, but not one of them looked at her, and she didn’t sense the slightest ping at her magic. It was as if she didn’t exist.
A flick of Averin’s fingers and he leaned into her. “I have no idea what dream you showed my mother, but it must have been explosive.” He didn’t whisper. Added to the dulling of all other sounds, including the wind chimes, she guessed he’d thrown up another sound barrier. “I take it you behaved yourself, pit princess?”
“How can you doubt me?” Trusting her instincts, she didn’t bother lowering her voce. “Of course I did. Just like I always do. Your mother now knows exactly what will happen to Zephyr if she ever tries to scratch around in my head again.”
Averin’s arm brushed hers. “Please don’t ever change. No matter what the future holds, stay just as you are. Never lose that fire.”
There was no real answer to that, so she asked, “Why even mention my dream?”
He gestured at the fae, all studiously avoiding eye contact. “She must have sent out a warning about messing with you.”
She preened. “Should I feel flattered or offended?”
“Both, probably. That said, try and keep your fire under your skin, and you’ll be okay. I’ll have Eliezar and his lessons on hand tomorrow morning.”
They had walked the ramp and were about to enter the passageway that passed his home. She slowed to a shuffle, opening the distance between them and Maelia. “Tell me about our mauve friend.”
“Mauve skin and all those other shades of purple make her a storm sprite. She’s also one of my mother’s maids. Don’t share secrets.”
As if she ever would. “Thanks for the warning.”
She sped up, and they soon caught up with Maelia. She and Averin walked after her floating form in silence. Stasha used the opportunity to look for landmarks. Just because she had Averin’s arrow, it didn’t mean she could let her guard down. With no furnishings or windows, all she had to memorize were the silky-smooth, teal-green walls shot with swirls of silver light. She studied them, then frowned. She could have sworn they’d been rough golden stone the last time they came this way. She tugged Averin’s sleeve. “Are we headed in the right direction?”
“Getting your head turned, pit princess?”
“Can you not answer my question with a question? It makes me want to lay you out flat with a bloody nose.”
Laughter rattled his chest. “You can try. But as I recall events in a certain fighting pit in a certain forest, it’s unlikely to go well for you.”
“Are you still blathering on about that one little incident? I was still human when we fought. I’ve kicked your butt royally since then.”
A fleeting frown drove Averin’s smile away. “You’re not wrong. About the walls, at least. They were saffron, my favorite color. But they change every twelve hours. Or at least this section does. The rest of my home stays boringly the same.”
She blinked. “Every twelve hours? Why?”
He shrugged. “It just is.” There had to be way more to it than that, but she’d spent more than enough time dragging things out of Averin today.
Maelia slipped through an archway to the left. Averin stood aside to let Stasha enter first. It opened onto a teal-green staircase. Hadn’t she climbed enough stairs for one day? Her aching muscles certainly thought so. She sighed, grabbed the stone banister, and half slipped, half walked down them.
Almost at the bottom of the spiral, she hit a wall of scent sweeter than a cup of spiced chai steaming next to a slice of freshly baked honey cake. She gasped and opened her chest to drink it in. It drained away the tension cramping her shoulders and back and gave spring to her feet. If her new home smelt like this, she’d be very happy.
They reached the bottom of the stairs, and Maelia pulled aside a bronze-colored curtain. A wave of heady sweet scent mixed with spice and herbs rushed out. Stasha pirouetted, laughing, as it washed her weariness away.
Averin grinned. “Seems my mother has scored some points with her choice of accommodation. Trust me, the smell gets better the closer you get.”
She believed him. Laughing like a child, she skipped through the open curtain into a vast greenhouse. The humid air was heavy with perfume from more flowers than she’d ever seen. She dashed to a bush of red ones before they could vanish or change color and leaned down to bury her nose in the velvety blooms. Wickedly sharp thorns on their stems pulled her back. Just her luck to pick the roses. Refusing to let the intrusion of Queen Calarel’s favorite flower dampen her mood, she gushed, “Would you look at all these flowers!”
Averin didn’t reply. Still on her knees, she looked at him over her shoulder. He watched her with aching sadness.
Maelia flitted between them. “Your rooms are through here, my lady.” Torn between her new home and delving into yet another Averin riddle, she dithered.
“Go get settled in.” Averin clicked his fingers, and her glamour slipped away. She was back in her ragged, filthy clothes.
Maelia’s hand flew to her mouth, and her eyes widened to two enormous storm clouds.
“Sorry if my clothes offend you,” Stasha hissed, jumping to her feet. “But some of us have been freeing slaves from death camps.”
“Forgive me, my lady. I mean no disrespect.” Maelia looked down at where her non-existent feet should have been.
Averin shot Maelia a grin filled with canines. “Don’t mind Lady Stasha. She’s fierce with all of us.” His smile faded. “Pit princess, I’ll leave you now to go check on the others.”
His words whipped across her like an icy east wind. She hugged her chest. “You’ll tell Klaus where I am?”
“The very first thing I’ll do.” His hand lifted to her face, but he didn’t touch her. He clenched his fist and turned away. “Until later, then.” He slipped through the open curtain and let it fall closed behind him.
She was alone in Zephyr with only Queen Geminara’s maid for company.
Dread turned her feet to lead and drove out her second wind.
The last time she’d been divided from her loved ones had been when Radomir had captured her. That hadn’t gone well for him. If Queen Geminara thought she could control Stasha through separating her from her friends and allies, as Radomir had, the Queen of Zephyr was in for a rude awakening. She tossed her shoulders back and strode to her leaded-glass front door, determined to take control of whatever the Zephyr royals tossed at her.
Her steps faltered in the doorway, and her jaw dropped—not in her wildest dreams could she have imagined the inhospitable space that loomed in front of her. Round one in the power struggle to Queen Geminara.
“This is my room?” Stasha waved incredulously at the octagonal-shaped glass chamber that echoed before her.
The room was completely empty. And perishingly cold.
No curtain or drape offered privacy from the flowers and knee-high grass that waved to her through the glass walls. She had to be on the ground floor. Anyone walking past could see right into the inhospitable space.
“Chosen for you by Queen Geminara herself,” Maelia reassured.
Certain it was a trick of the fading light—dusk was closing in—Stasha blinked, but no furniture or drapes had appeared when she opened her eyes. She shot Maelia a questioning look, but the sprite showed no reaction.
Perplexed, and with her teeth chattering, she walked across an opaque glass floor to another glass door and peered into the next room.
Also empty.
Ice clung to the outside of the glass walls in this one. It also had a door leading off it. Expecting to be disappointed, she crossed the barren space and looked into the third and final room.
There wasn’t even a speck of dust on the glass floor. Had she upset Averin’s mother this much?
Her fingers prickled to claw at her leggings. She forced them straight and pivoted to Maelia. “I confess that I’m somewhat confused. Where is the furniture? Drapes for privacy? And a pot-bellied stove to drive out the cold?”
“A pot-bellied stove?” Maelia bobbed in the air, as if she’d never heard of such a luxury. “The furnishings still need to be made, my lady. Her Majesty thought you’d like to do it yourself. Your taste, and all that.”
“Made?” She waved her arms. “Even if I had the skills, which I don’t, where are the materials? Wood? Fabric? Reeds for my bed?”
The corner of Maelia’s mouth twitched. “Straw and reeds for your bed? That’s what you sleep on?”
“For my whole life,” she growled. Turning her back on Maelia, she stomped to the farthest corner of the room. After a quick glance over her shoulder to ensure Maelia wasn’t watching, she fished out Averin’s arrow. Wouldn’t he be surprised when she showed up at his door five minutes after leaving her. She opened her mouth to tell it where to take her but stopped at the rustle of Maelia’s skirt. She dropped the arrow back under her tunic but didn’t turn to face the sprite.
“My lady, perhaps I didn’t explain myself properly. We use magic to make our furnishings. Surely you did that where you lived.”
She closed her eyes and breathed slowly, very slowly. “Strangely, back when I lived as a human in an orphanage in Atria, it never occurred to me to make my own furniture.” It was probably counter effective arguing with the sprite when the fight was with the queen, who should have briefed Maelia. She turned with a pasted-on smile. “Perhaps you’ll help me?”
Maelia dipped her head. “This could be your bathing room, if you so choose.” Her nose crinkled. “Decorating it is probably the priority. What would you like your pool to look like? Your privy? The walls and floor?”
Stasha’s head pounded like one of Martka Alonya’s beatings. She held her forehead. “How must I know? Do I have to do this in every room?”
Now Maelia looked perplexed. “Why yes, my lady. A fresh design every twenty-four-hours.”
“You’re joking.” The stabbing in her eye sockets almost shot her eyeballs straight out of her head. “I slept on the same pallet for almost a decade. Why would I want to change my bed every day? Who’s even got time for that?”
No point in adding that her magic only knew how to create offensive weaponry. Not in her wildest dreams could she see herself sleeping on a fireball bed or sitting on a chair of ice arrows—even if she knew how to make one.
The cackling laughter in her core didn’t help.
Maelia’s mauve face darkened to the deepest purple. “It’s the way things are done in Zephyr.”
Showy, stuck-up Zephyr.
“Fine. Let’s start with a set of drapes for privacy.” She closed her eyes and rubbed her temples. “And a change of clothes. One for the wash and one to wear. Also, a pallet with a blanket. A real pillow would be nice, if it’s not too much trouble. I could always sleep on my arm if necessary.” She paused to think about things to add to this self-evident list. “A chair to sit on would be nice. Definitely a hook for my clothes. And, of course, a tub for bathing, and a privy. Oh, and a fire in a fireplace with a bucket to warm the water. Do you think you can manage that?”
Maelia wasn’t even trying to hide her smile. “Oh, Stasha, Her Majesty warned me you were different, but I honestly didn’t expect this.”
It wasn’t lost on her that Maelia had dropped the “my lady” crap. She narrowed her eyes. “My requests amuse you? Should I have added a hairbrush and a toothbrush? I need them too.”
Maelia’s smile vanished, and her head dipped. “Not at all, my lady. I—I just wonder if a single hook will be enough for your clothing. May I suggest a wardrobe?”
“Just how much clothing do I need? I’ve lived my whole life with—”
“Leave it to me,” Maelia interrupted. “You liked the roses in the garden, right?”
She folded her arms. “Once perhaps. Now? Not so much.”
“Then another favorite flower? Or… or a bird? Anything that you really love.”
“I like ravens.” She bit her lip, thinking how pretty Averin’s feather would look on her table. It bristled against her arm, especially when she folded it. If she didn’t find a home for her precious feather, it would soon be damaged.
“Ravens?” Maelia almost croaked. “Just like Prince Averin. Is that really what you want?”
Face bright red, Stasha’s head jerked up. “No. No. Of course not like Prince Averin. I meant—”
“Perhaps you should just leave it to me.” Maelia sounded as flustered as Stasha felt.
“What a fine idea.”
The floor rattled.
That could mean only one thing—an earthquake. A glass house was the last place to be during an earthquake.
“We need to get outside.” She grabbed Maelia’s hand and sprinted for the glass door. It closed in her face, and she skidded to a stop seconds before flying straight through it.
Maelia struggled free and skittered back across the room. If her wide-eyed expression was anything to judge by, she thought Stasha had gone mad. “My lady, look.” Maelia pointed at the floor. “Is there something wrong with the color?”
Stasha definitely wasn’t the nutty one here. Keeping one eye on the sprite, she tried squinting the other at the floor. She caught a glint of sapphire blue.
Averin’s eyes.
Dreading what she’d see, she looked at the floor and gulped. Hand-sized pink waterlilies floated on top of a sapphire-blue pond that lapped around her feet. She lifted a boot—it came up dry—and tapped one of the lilies surreptitiously with her boot toe.
It clicked like stone or glass. That meant it was embedded in fake blue water….
Crazy fae.
Lost for words, she peered at Maelia through heavy eyelashes. The storm sprite chewed the side of one of her manicured fingernails. Not hard to figure that Maelia was regretting this assignment.
She forced her friendliest smile. “Where I come from, if the earth moves, it means an earthquake. Clearly, I’m in your way here. If you don’t mind, I’m going to check on my friends, while you�
��” She gave a breezy hand wave, opened the door, and shot out of the room. A high-speed skid saw her through the next two rooms. Over her shoulder, she shouted, “Red’s my favorite color. That and pine green. I don’t mind saffron either.” Without waiting for an answer, she crossed the greenhouse in four steps and raced so fast through the bronze curtain, it fluttered wildly behind her.
Halfway up the stairs, she paused to pull out Averin’s feather. A couple of the silky black vanes had already split apart. Tsking at the damage, she slid her dagger out of its sheath and gently eased the feather into the space. It fit well enough, but this wasn’t a permanent solution. Averin’s feather needed a place of honor in her home.
Nice idea, except that she’d have to make it. A blush tore through her skin at the thought of briefing Maelia to make such an item. The sheath would have to do. She stroked the smooth quill, then tucked the dagger into her belt.
Now to visit the owner of the feather.
She pulled out her arrow. “Take me to Averin’s home.” Not sure what would happen, she tucked the arrow away and loped up the stairs. She meant to pause at the top, but her feet carried her to the left along the teal-green passageway. She’d not gone more than half a dozen steps when the teal gave way to Averin’s golden stone. She rounded a corner, coming face-to-face with the first of the effigies. She slunk past it, keeping her eyes peeled for Lena and Shyael. As soon as she reached them, she slipped down a rough tunnel with the same sure-footedness that would have led her to the dining hall in the orphanage.
Mysterious and inviting, a cheery yellow canyon twisted ahead of her.
Above her, great blocks of rock jutted from sheer cliffs to form a stepped roof. Beneath it, tiny fairies bobbed. Bright as sunbeams, their sparkle speared down to light the rough stone floor.
Not wanting her echoing footsteps to announce her, she tiptoed to a narrow seam in the rock. Water or air rushed ahead of her. She slipped through the seam, only to be stopped by a curtain of thick vines, the type that cloaked the trees in the forests of Atria. Their half-exposed roots clung tenaciously to the bare rock above her.