I had been wrong. I fell asleep with the memory of Aunt Syl smiling excitedly and waving while taking pictures from the ground. I had been too afraid to let go and wave back, but the smile had never left my face. When had elephants become an actual mode of transportation for me and not just a kiddie ride at the zoo? This was not at all how I had envisioned my life turning out, and I wasn't exactly sure what to do with that.
21.
A knock on the door to my palace room pulled me from my musing. I did not bother to answer and the source of the knock did not bother to wait for a response. The five stewards entered my room in differing but equally exquisite purple saris. Their hair was all styled with matching purple ribbons, except for the eldest woman who wore a purple head scarf with gold stitching.
I had been awake for at least an hour, but I wasn't allowed to leave the overly-soft king-sized bed for twelve hours, so I had laying there, staring out the latticed window at the glory of the Indian palace.
My room was tiled with marble from floor to ceiling and tall white pillars seemed to hold up the expansiveness of the private bedroom. I was wrapped in silk sheets and blankets, lying on silk pillows and the softest down mattresses, I had no idea even existed. My bed was surrounded by billowy, sheer curtains in a shiny white, matching the purity of the room.
Through my window I witnessed the layout of a palace I did not know reality was capable of creating. Golden rooftops glistened in the sun, tumbling down the mountainside in a glamorous layout of opulence. Between the rooftops, displaying the expansiveness of the palace, were exotic gardens housing every type of blooming flower imaginable. Monkeys climbed mischievously from garden wall to golden rooftop with a nonstop chattering that had become India's music to me.
One of the stewards had turned the water on to an elegant ivory bathtub in the corner of my room and another one had brought in flower petals of every color and smell. The fragrant perfume from the vibrant petals filled my nostrils and I was suddenly very excited about the ceremonial bath portion of today's festivities.
I struggled to stand up out of the pillow soft bed. I stretched my sore muscles and released some magic on my frayed bones. Yesterday's elephant ride had proven to be torturous by the end of the day. As accommodating as the basket sitting on top of the giant animal had been, filled with colorful pillows and a tent overhead to block the sun, the continual bouncing and fear of falling two stories to my death kept me tense and uncomfortable for the entire ten hours.
By the time we reached the palace, the day had turned to night and I knew why they required twelve hours of sleep. I had been completely exhausted and hadn't noticed an ounce of detail before collapsing in the bed and passing out.
This morning with luxury surrounding me, I had to wonder why the trip thus far had seemed to mirror poverty.
The youngest of the stewards walked over and took my hand, with a gentle smile, but not a hint of shyness, pulling me towards the bath and gesturing that I needed to undress. I stood there awkwardly, trying to figure out how to get in the bathtub without exposing my nakedness to all of the women and scarring them for the rest of their steward lives.
I cleared my throat, hoping that wasn't against the rules and when I began tugging at my sticky, filthy shirt, the women graciously turned their backs to me. With the little privacy I was allotted, I finished peeling my cargo pants off and practically belly flopped into the bathtub.
I had expected regular water, hot or cold; I had expected to land in water, but upon entering the bathtub I realized it was anything but. Treated with something much like menthol, the liquid was hot and cold at the same time, both relaxing and refreshing. It smelled sweet but minty at the same time and the liquid was thicker than usual, more caressing than regular water. It clung to my skin, wrapping me gently in the circling current of the tub.
I sunk deeper in the tub, letting the unique liquid wash over me. The steward with the flower petals began sprinkling them across the expanse of the ivory bathtub. The fragrance continued to perfume the air in a sweet, exotic way and the petals floated around me with the swirling water. The eldest steward took my hair in her hands and worked at getting the hair tie out of it. I reached up to help her, knowing I could rip it out much faster, but she gently pushed my hands down, conveying in a gentle way, that this was her job.
I closed my eyes, allowing myself to be pampered. Eventually, my hair was free and the elderly woman took a silver pitcher, filling it with water and pouring it gently over my head. I could almost guarantee they had never had to work with a mess of hair as bad as mine, especially after three days of not washing it in the most humid of conditions; but they worked silently, massaging another heavily perfumed oil through it and rinsing thoroughly when they were satisfied.
I was disappointed when the drain was pulled and a big white cotton towel was held up for me. I stood up, embarrassed by my nakedness, but not knowing how else to escape the bath and let the steward wrap me in the plush towel.
The women directed me to a vanity with a cushioned bench and when I sat down, they began to work on my hair again, brushing it gently out and braiding it with silken, cream colored ribbons and matching fresh flowers. Some of my curls were left out to frame my face and the braid wrapped intricately down my back.
Once my hair was finished, I was directed to stand again and they removed the towel. My face flushed red, standing completely naked in front of open windows while the women worked quickly to dress me. I was wrapped in a sheer ivory sari that wrapped around and around so that it would not be see-through. I marveled at myself in the vanity mirror, imagining myself to wear something this exquisite on my wedding day.
The silky skirt flowed around me, while my middriff was bear, but for the elegant sash that crossed from shoulder to waist and was intricately woven with golden thread. I was stunned at the richness of the fabric and had never felt more beautiful.
Once I was completely dressed, I was taken back to the bench and was motioned to sit down. One of the stewards produced an orange paste and four brushes. Every steward except the eldest, took a brush and chose an appendage, working to create pretty floral designs intertwining from both sets of fingertips to shoulder blades, or from toes up my feet and stopping somewhere along my calf.
I was worried the clay like henna would stain the ivory sari but through a series of gestures the eldest steward relayed to me that I needed to dry it quickly with magic. And so I did, protecting the beautiful garment and my arms and legs from smudging.
Once the henna art was finished, the eldest steward approached me with make up. I closed my eyes and let her go to work, painting my face, applying thick eye liner and shimmering eye shadow and finally when she was finished the customary red dot in the middle of my forehead.
I was allowed to stand and admire their handiwork in the mirror of the vanity and I almost didn't recognize myself. I stood in awe at the beauty they had created and half wondered if I could take them home with me. I turned around, pressing my palms together and offering the half bow that was the only way I had to display my appreciation.When I looked up, back at the eldest woman there were tears in her eyes and her head was bobbing back and forth. She smiled at me graciously and I returned the expression, truly thankful for the stewards service.
The women turned around in unison and the youngest steward beckoned me to follow them. The halls of the palace wing I had experienced so far had been empty; outside of my room the splendor of the palace did not cease. We walked through hallways with vaulted golden ceilings and all kinds of intricately designed wooden pieces of art, displaying statues of Hindu gods, or wildlife native to the jungle, paintings that seemed to be thousands of years old and colorful, fragile vases that I was afraid my footsteps would knock over.
I was led into a dining room adorned in the same beautiful motif. There was an incredibly long table placed in the center that stretched from one side of the room to the other. At one end of the table, a spread capable of feeding twenty people waited
for me.
I walked over to the table, gesturing for my stewards to sit down and join me, but they just smiled at me and bobbled their heads while walking away. Apparently I was to eat alone.
The exotic smell from spices I had never experienced before drifted my way and my stomach rumbled. I was suddenly famished and so I sat down, consuming as much as I could. Fresh, local fruits and delicious Indian breads, eggs with curry and turmeric, fresh soft cheeses and homemade yogurt surrounded me, and I was determined to try some of everything.
The stewards returned somewhere between deciding I should stop eating and my sari suddenly feeling too tight. I was nervous about leaving the dining room, but I also knew that I wouldn't be eating again until after I had completed my walk and that was only if Lucan decided not to kidnap and imprison me directly following. This could potentially be my last meal, I decided to enjoy it.
I gave up trying to finish the meal made for twenty and the stewards led the way out to the elephants, a staircase waiting for me to climb aboard. I dreaded the idea of another bumpy ride, and decided to be more liberal with my magic and get to the Cave of the Forever Winds in one piece.
Once, carefully aboard my living transportation, I held on tightly, until the stewards had boarded their own massive mammals. Today our elephants were decorated in colorful paints and head pieces matching either the stewards purple saris or my ivory one. We looked like an elegant parade, marching forward through the jungle and into what felt like very uncharted territory.
The day was not as hot or as humid as it had been before and I was thankful I didn't have to be concerned about sweating through my ceremonial sari. We continued deeper into the jungle, the canopy above blocking out direct sunlight and curious monkeys keeping us company, swinging through the dense vegetation right along with us. The journey was slow and treacherous, but the elephants navigated a make shift trail expertly. My seat swayed back and forth with every step the elephant took and I released more magic forcing myself to trust the gigantic creature.
After what seemed like hours of steady travel the elephants came to a halt, without command, in front of the ruins of a stone temple. Vines and greenery had nearly blanketed the old crumbling stone, but the original foundation stuck stubbornly out. The stewards swung expertly down from their high seats and then led my elephant over to a worn, stone platform so I would not have the fall that the native women had to take.
I did my best to mimic their smooth decent, but landed rather awkwardly on the hard ground. The five women surrounded me closely and moved me in front of the darkened expansive doorway to what at one time had been the entrance to a temple.
The stone ruins were not a full structure like I had originally thought, but instead the front of the entrance to a wide-mouthed cave. Inside the cave, there was no light and I couldn't make out much past a few feet in.
Once in front of the door the earth shuttered beneath my feet, and afraid of an earthquake, I reached out to the women. They steadied me carefully before bobbing their heads with gentle smiles. A surge of magic rushed through my blood, an answer to the tremor and I realized the earth itself was reacting to my magic.
Pinpricks stabbed at my skin and the hairs on the back of my neck stood straight. I was afraid. I had no idea what to expect inside, but the calling of magic was not going to let me leave.
The women began to turn away from me and I prepared myself mentally to take the brave step forward and inside the cave. The eldest woman was the last steward blocking my way and before she moved she reached out to cup my face in her hands. I was surprised by her gesture so I paused, giving her my full attention.
Once my eyes locked hers, she seemed to say something without saying it at all. Her eyes screamed at me to be careful, to be smart, but most of all to be strong. She did not speak any words out loud, but I felt her heart crying out to me. I shuddered feeling suddenly emotional and not knowing how to express my gratitude.
She let go of my face, pressing her palms together in the bow that had become our sign of gratitude. I mimicked her, trying to relay the utter respect I felt for her. My palms pressed tightly together, my nose touching my middle fingers, I looked down at the ground for longer than necessary, until I knew that she was gone and that I would have to face the caves alone.
I was ready, completely ready, or as ready as I would ever be, but then Avalon's words rang out clearly in my head, in a voice that betrayed fearful concern and I had to muster all of the courage I had to continue.
Eden, no steward has ever behaved that way before. Not ever. Be careful
.
22.
I didn't know much about what would happen during the Eternal Walk, but I did know that it would take a while. I also knew that for the most part I would do the walk alone. There was no way for the king or his advisors to observe the majority of the walk. But towards the end, when every Immortal would be at their most vulnerable, every Walk was watched from an observation deck that sat high up in the caves.
I knew that I couldn't let Lucan see the truest part of me, but I still didn't know how I was planning on masking that, if this walk was really as treacherous as I had been led to believe. I did know that I had a little bit of time to figure it out, though, once I experienced what the Walk would actually be like.
I stepped one unsure bare foot inside of the cave and then the other. A gust of colored wind blew past me in a violent way, blowing my hair and shaking me to the core. The cave was actually reacting to me, and that, in itself, was an unbelievable phenomenon.
I took another step forward, willing myself to be confident. Another colored gust of wind whipped past me, only this time wrapping me up inside of it. I was picked up for only a second, but it was enough to want to turn around and leave. The wind that appeared in an iridescent rainbow of glossy colors was more than strong, it was hot.
I swallowed my fear and took two steps forward. This time the painted wind blew past me as if angry, wrapping me up in a whirlwind of fire and burning my skin before setting me down five more feet inside of the cave.
This was not what I had expected. I didn't know what to do. The wind whistled through the cavernous ceiling as if getting angrier and angrier at my presence. Another gust of wind and this time when I was set forcefully down in a heap on the dirt floor, there were blisters on my forearms and I could smell burning hair.
Avalon is this normal? I demanded, wanting desperately to run back through the mouth of the cave and give up.
No. It's not. He said with dread weighing on him heavily. I could sense he was on the phone with Amory and I could feel his near-hysteric panic. He was not as close by as he had originally planned; I felt him jump down from somewhere high and begin to move towards me.
The wind was there again, a tornado of angry violence, picking me up in its swirling rainbow current and thrashing me about before throwing me down to the ground. My sari was stained with dirt and the skirt was ripping every time I landed hard against the floor.
Avalon. I cried, terrified that Lucan wouldn't have to bother killing me because this cave had a serious issue and would claim me first; but there was nothing. For the first time since I had discovered our connection, Avalon was not on the other side.
I was now fifty feet inside the cave and whatever magical powers the stone walls held, one of them was to cut off the telepathic connection I had with my brother. I looked back at the peaceful jungle out of reach and remembered the elderly steward.
The wind whistled loudly again, angry and vengeful; I knew this was what she meant. I had to be strong. I was strong. I was the most powerful Immortal to ever enter this damned cave and I would be the most powerful Immortal to walk away.
I stood up confidently, mustering all of my strength, staring defiantly forward and daring the wind to fight. And fight it did. The gust of air came at me again, picking me high up into the air and tossing me about. The whirlwind held on to me tightly, burning everywhere it touched, scorching my hair and melting my clothe
s.
I lashed out in panicked electricity, sending magic from every direction. The colorful wind clashed with the lightning bolts of energy in a resounding sound and brilliant light show. Individual colors seemed to fight my magical force in a torrent of heat and wind.
I struggled to hold on to sanity as my skin burned and my equilibrium was tested, flying wildly about in mid air. The tornado took me deeper into the cave, flashing in every color from royal blue, to iridescent purple, to neon green, and canary yellow. The light was blinding and the flashing colors happened in such rapid succession that I had to hold my eyes closed for fear I would lose my vision.
The whistling wind and roar of the circling cyclone grew to an unbearable pitch and I felt like I would go crazy if it didn't stop soon. I sent out more magic, fighting against the destructive current threatening to destroy me.
The heat grew impossibly hotter and I felt as if I was being burned alive. I screamed for help but knew even if Avalon was out there he wouldn't be able to hear me over the roaring winds tossing my body in midair like a rag doll.
What was most disheartening was that I knew even Avalon wouldn't be able to stop this force of nature from tearing me apart and incinerating every last piece of me into nothing.
I focused again on my waning magic, forcing my mind away from the pain and agony, away from the violent thrashing and away from the deafening scream of the wind. I let the electricity surge through me completely, calling on the very depth of my magic, letting it loose on the tornado without apology.
The colors flashed brighter and faster, working their way through the color wheel in rapid succession. Again, I forced my magic out of me, sending the energy outside the eye of the storm and to the very recesses of the source of the wind.
Hopeless Magic (The Star-Crossed Series) Page 17