Page 33 of Crowning of the Sword

So, time had moved on. She moved away from the mirror and sank onto the bed. She’d thought that by looking in, she would find something within herself, and yet she still felt empty and lost.

“Are you sad, my darling?” he said tenderly, and she leaned her head against his shoulder.

“No. Just fearful for you in the tournament.” That was partly true, at least.

“Don’t worry for me.” His voice had a tinge of impatience to it and she flinched away, like a dog used to being struck, ready to protect itself from harm. “And don’t worry about yourself, either. Once the games are done, I will be One, Ashe will be Two … and you will be my Three.” His tone took on a mischievous lilt, and she turned to him, eager to see him light and happy once more. “Not trapped in a pendant but trapped in my heart.”

He took her in his arms and kissed her, and again she felt … nothing. If he had meant his words to soothe her, they just made her feel claustrophobic.

He fell asleep beside her as he did everything, impatiently and with all his fervour. She lay awake, watching the fire crackling, and the shadows of the maids as they flitted noiselessly about the room. Sten’s parting words still echoed in her ears, and she couldn’t help turning them over in her mind. ‘Ashe won’t want Cole’s cast-offs.’

What would happen to her if Cole lost?

Cole stirred, and she started, wondering if her thoughts had somehow pierced the fabric of his dreams. He settled quickly with his back to her, and she lay thinking. Ashe wouldn’t keep her, she knew that. He’d send her back to … wherever she had come from. And then what? She’d be alone, adrift, in a world she could only vaguely remember. The beauty she had come accustomed to, which breathed from every weathered stone and every fragrant flower, every elegant bearing, every ripple of satin cloth as light and shimmering as a butterfly wing, would transform into weather-beaten paint and overgrown cracks in a sidewalk. She wanted to be fae. She wanted to be here. She just wasn’t sure if she wanted Cole. If truth be told, she wasn’t sure how long she had before Cole didn’t want her anymore, either. She had to secure a place of safety that didn’t rely on the vagaries of fae whims, but how could she do that if she weren’t fae?

She gnawed at a fingernail, the uncertainty of her precarious position making her stomach churn. She sat up and beckoned, whispering to the maid that she’d like something to help her sleep. The maid drew a rose from her pocket, a delicate shade of lilac that appeared dusty brown in the firelight. Ember inhaled the sweet fragrance and lay back against the pillows. Her eyelids grew heavy, and she slept.

Chapter 28

She had almost become accustomed to falling asleep in Cole’s room and waking in her own, but there was still that disconcerting sense of displacement when she opened her eyes, of a jigsaw piece being slotted into place as she recognised graceful arched windows that were always open, long white curtains shifting gently in the breeze.

Lily said nothing of her night-time escapades, but she always had a soothing bath ready, brimming with healing oils that calmed the visible marks Cole’s passions left upon her. Ever since Ember had given her the gift of glamoured wings, she had been much more open with Ember, chatting about her family who lived down in the nearby village whom she hardly saw since she had taken service in the castle, of her likes and dislikes, and little gossipy titbits about other servants in the castle that made Ember laugh. It surprised her to learn that Ashe’s servants weren’t just loyal to him, as Cole’s were to him, but that they loved him too.

“He was a kind boy,” said Lily, soaping a sponge along Ember’s shoulders and back during her early morning bath. “But after his cousin Serafina died, he became morose and difficult. He and Cole have always been at odds, but once the tournament is complete, they will become as one, and all will be well.”

Ember rose from the tub, her skin glowing from the warm water and from the special oils that left an iridescent shimmer.

“I just want to be quiet today. I’m tired of having to be polite and sweet to all the visiting fae and pretend not to notice when they whisper about me behind their hands: ‘look, a human!’ It makes me feel like a talking monkey.”

Lily suppressed a sly smile. Outraged, Ember threw a towel at her. “I am not!”

Lily laughed. “Perhaps a painting day in the forest? You haven’t done that in ages. The other fae won’t go in there. It’s off limits because of the columns. It would be too easy for someone to enter someone else’s kingdom without permission and make mischief.”

Ember chewed her bottom lip. The idea was very tempting, but—

“Do you think the prince will let me?”

Lily cast a quick look over her shoulder, a tad dramatic as the two of them were alone, and said in hushed tones, “In my experience, sometimes it’s easier to ask for forgiveness than to ask permission.”

Ember gave a surprised chuckle. Lily, wings or not, still had a rebellious streak.

Cole might not mind her dragging at his heels all day long, anyway. As the tournament approached, he was becoming increasingly quick-tempered, prone to cutting remarks and cold rejection, although just as quick to lavish extravagant presents upon her; a room filled with roses, a dance choreographed just for her and performed by a hundred fae, another sparkling collar for Rufus. Rufus was almost better dressed than she was.

“We can send a message,” said Lily. “Perhaps you can gift him the painting? He might like that.”

Ember, Lily and the two assigned guards went to the forest as soon as Lily deemed her fit to be seen in public as the prince’s mistress, a person of high standing by tradition. Her dress was immaculate, and she wore diamonds and pearls around her wrists, and dangling from her ears. Lily was however, carrying a shirt she could throw over her gown to protect it from paint spills.

Ember plastered an abstracted smile on her face, nodding politely to those who openly stared at her as she passed them in the halls, and keeping Rufus tucked tightly under her arm because more than one hungry-eyed fae looked as though they might chew him up, diamond collar and all.

When they reached the forest, she told Lily and the guards that she was going to do some painting and she’d rather they weren’t breathing over her shoulder as she did so. As a compromise, Lily settled herself against a tree to wait, eyes closed, ankles folded neatly together, while the guards took Rufus for a walk around the forest on patrol. Apart from her bedroom, the forest was the safest place she could be, and in any case, Cole knew where she was.

Ember had her easel set up by the columns, and she swept a single line of green across the canvas, as the beginning of one of the graceful trees that bowed over the Seeds column, the sweeping branches reminiscent of the fern frond carved into the stone. She stared at it for a moment, head tipped to one side, considering, and then took the canvas off the easel and replaced it with a fresh one.

Instead of the scene in front of her, she painted something from memory, something vague and amorphous, of what she could remember of her life before. Smoke, fire, a car upturned, a lonely road, flashing red and blue lights. She painted quickly, the scene not defined sharply, but in blocks and streaks of colour, an impression rather than a replica. The piece had an air of movement and urgency, as though the event had just happened and there was still more to come. As she painted, her memories of the accident became clearer, and she leaned into it, wanting to remember, but it was so difficult, like trying to look through fog.

There came a riffling of a breeze, and she jumped when Ashe said, “Hello.”

She took a step back from him, her brush held like a weapon in front of her. “I’m not allowed to talk with you.”

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