Page 22 of The Jester

Briony tilts her head from side to side. “Apparently,” she says, “Lord Eldrion has decided that you do.”

After handing me a glass of water and watching me drink it, Briony gestures to a large bathtub in the corner of the room and asks if I’d like her to run it for me. “While you soak, I’ll lay out some clothes for you. I gathered what I could at such short notice.”

Again, I cannot help laughing. Why would Lord Eldrion do this? Why would he bring me here only to give me a servant and a bubble bath?

I have barely formed the question in my mind when the answer comes to me. Panic grips my throat and drips down into my limbs; there can only be one reason Lord Eldrion would want my body cleansed and polished and ready for him.

I think of Rosalie being dragged away after the Gloomweaver extolled her virtues as a potential breeder. A carrier of Sunborne children.

My arms go to my waist, and I hug myself tightly. For, in this moment, I know exactly what Eldrion wants.

He intends to claim me.

He intends to make me his.

I want to resist. I want to refuse to bathe, crawl into bed, and sleep until this nightmare is over. But I also desperately want to feel clean again, and to remember what my skin was like when it was not caked in dirt and sweat and remnants of the stranger who I still cannot get out of my mind. I also need time to think.

“Very well, I’ll bathe.” I nod and flex my fingers inside my gloves.

Briony nods and sighs a little, as if she is relieved she doesn’t have to try to persuade me.

“But I want to do so alone.”

“Of course.” She turns her back on me and heads for the tub, turning the taps so that steaming hot water runs into the basin.

Facing away from me, I can see that her wings are not like mine. They are small, almost like Kayan’s – the way they became after the accident. Thin with visible, spidery veins and a muted grey tinge to them that indicates she has no elemental magic.

“You are Shadowkind?” I ask, stepping closer.

Briony swirls some lotion into the tub and looks up at me, sleeves rolled up as she tests the temperature of the water. “I am,” she says. “All those in servitude to Eldrion’s family are Shadowkind.” She bites her lower lip. “At least, we were until now.”

I swallow forcefully. “You think he wants to keep the Leafborne as his servants, too?”

“It is not my place to speak of such things.” Briony worries the hem of her sleeve with her fingers. I glance at her arm, and notice a spider’s web of scars that make my stomach clench. She pulls the sleeve down, then stops the taps. “Your bath is ready, ma’am.”

“Please, don’t.” I take her elbow.

She looks at my hand, frowns a little at the golden glove, then pulls away.

“Call me Alana. I am not your superior.”

Briony smiles gently. “All creatures are superior to the Shadowkind,” she says gently. Then she tilts her head in the direction of what I assume is a dressing room. “I’ll attend to your wardrobe while you soak. Let me know when you’re finished.”

I watch her wings closely as she leaves. They do not move the way mine do. Instead, they sit motionless on her back, no twitching or fluttering. They are just... there.

Before getting into the tub, I cross to the window and pull open the shutters. Warm air hits my face, in complete contrast to the cold that hangs over the castle. I brace my hands on the sill and lean out. Looking up, I can see the parapet where Eldrion’s guards patrol with the arrows.

If I jumped and flew, would they truly shoot me down?

I turn my gaze towards the ground. My rooms are in a tower above the courtyard. Below, I can see the horses, and the trapdoor that leads to the cellar where the others are being kept.

My head spins with thoughts I can’t pull into place. They don’t seem to line up, or make sense. It is as if I am thinking in tongues. Amidst them all, thoughts of the stranger behind the falls still keep creeping in.

What happened to him? He was not a Gloomweaver, that much I’m certain of. He was fae, but from where? Not Leafborne. Perhaps an Oceandweller or a Mountainborne.

I grip the sill tighter, my fingers grating against the stone as I try to steady my breathing.

There are many things I should be thinking of at this moment, and the stranger in the red mask is not one of them.

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