Page 14 of King of Storms and Feathers

“I don’t know. I’ve lost my memory.”

“How did that happen?”

I crossed my arms, hiding my chest from the guards’ view. “I have a large bump on my head, so I suppose that could be the cause.”

Her eyes softened, and she smiled. “You need a name. I’ll call you Green for your bright eyes.”

Before I could reply, the guards dragged us out, our naked bodies dripping water on the stones.

“The Sayeeda must be desperate for help if these two scrawny hags were the strongest of the females,” a guard said.

Leering at my apparently deficient body, the fae grabbed my wrist, Arrow’s cloak slung over his spear arm, and marched me along the tunnel and into the elevator. The other guard followed behind with Grendal.

The elevator took us up one level, then we exited into a wider hallway lined with gold and more auron kanara cages. Grendal and I walked side by side, a guard in front and one behind as we passed rows of narrow black doors set between the cages.

“Must be the servants’ rooms,” said Grendal, stopping and peering through the small rectangular window in one of the doors. “Where we’ll live while we work in the kitchen.”

“Get a move on,” said a guard, shoving Grendal’s shoulder and knocking her to her knees.

“Hey!” I scowled at him as I helped Grendal rise. “Injuring her isn’t going to make her move any faster.”

Grendal rubbed her knee, and the guard scoffed.

“Are you all right?” I asked.

“It’s just bruised,” she said, limping forward.

“Lean on me.” I tucked my arm around her waist, and we continued down the hallway.

A few fae servants passed us, males and females dressed in sleeveless, knee-length tunics made of thin gold material. Their eyes raked briefly over us, but their faces remained impassive, as if we were dressed just like them, rather than walking along the hall stark naked.

“I wish those damn birds would stop fluttering and squawking,” I said, my headache intensifying.

“They’ll quieten soon enough,” she said. “They only carry on like that when they’re hungry.”

“Then why doesn’t someone feed them?”

“They will. They’re waiting on the lightning weavers.”

“The who?”

“The fae who conjure storms and can draw the force through bricks and stone, even gold, then direct it out of their bodies. That’s what the auron kanara eat, the lightning created by the weavers. When the gong sounds throughout the city, it means they’re taking up the feeding positions.”

Shivering, I rubbed my arms. “There’s something repulsive about that. Those birds disturb me.”

Grendal laughed. “Perhaps they don’t like you either.”

At the top of the hall, the guards guided us through one of the black doors and into a windowless room, dimly lit with four opaque balls about the size of my head fixed to each wall. Forks that looked like lightning flickered inside them. More Storm Court magic, I guessed.

“The Sayeeda will visit soon,” a guard said, throwing Arrow’s cloak onto a bed. He closed the door, then locked it.

Grendal waved her hand in front of a globe, and the light disappeared. She grinned. Another wave of her hand and the globe lit up. “Lightning magic,” she said over her shoulder.

“Where are you from?” I asked as I scanned the room’s minimal furniture, two narrow beds and a lone wardrobe. And tucked behind a door in the rear wall, I found a plumbed toilet and a basin made of reddish, shiny copper.

“I lived in a gold runner encampment,” Grendal said, rubbing her knee. “One of the human camps hidden in the mountains to the far north of the realm. Not very well-hidden, mind. We were always on the move and doing deals with traders and rogue fae to evade capture.”

“Do you need treatment for your knee?” I asked.

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