Page 33 of The Shadow Heir

Zara

When I woke, my body still lay perpendicular across my bed, face smeared into the sheets as it had been last night. When I lifted my head, my cheek peeled away from the covers. I felt rested but groggy, like I had slept a lot longer than I’d intended.

The only light came from a thin blueish line under the door. The candle had long since burned out, leaving my room full of shadows. I relit the candle with a match and sat quietly in the single chair in my room, staring at the floor for what felt like an hour. There was no timepiece in here, but the line of light below my door grew brighter.

My stomach growled, but I was not going to leave this room—not until they forced me to. Better to be trapped in here than be accosted again by a fae with nefarious intentions.

Boredom overcame my first wave of hunger, and I spent a few minutes stretching, then a few more minutes miming a knife fight with my hands, which morphed into a few quick steps of a dance as the moves came to me. Flamenco dancing was my favorite form of storytelling, and I’d once dreamed of having myown stage at theFestival de los Cuentos, dancing the stories that filled my mind as costumed crowds looked on.

My uplifted arms fell limply to my sides as I faced the armoire, a tall, exquisite piece inlaid with bronze stars and capped with a carved, bronze lion that stared down at me mid-roar. When I opened the wardrobe, I gasped. Dresses bursting with color and ruffles sent a spike of joy through my chest. But that feeling was quickly quashed as I realized someone in this court had likely ordered these clothes placed here specifically to create this very response in me. I hated that it had worked—that I’d beenexcitedeven for a split second.

I didn’t want to remain in the dress I’d worn here, and I had no other clothing to choose from, so with a resigned sigh, I reached for the prettiest dress, an emerald gown, sleek and shiny, sewn jewels that might have been real diamonds along the waistline. Every dress in this armoire was fit for a royal ball.

But the dress wouldn’t unfasten from its peg, as if it was glued in place. To my horror, a bright fuchsia dress made of shining silk stretched out toward my hand. I screamed and leaped backward. The dress rippled, and I almost thought I heard a rustle of annoyance. I stepped away, my heart beating madly. But the fuchsia dress stretched away from the wardrobe, the bottom ruffles brushing against my legs as I took another step. The dress shook in an angry little fit when I was too far for it to reach. My head turned slowly back and forth in dismay.

I reached into the wardrobe again for the green dress, but the draping sleeve of the fuchsia dress slapped my hand away with more force than I would have expected from a piece of fabric. I snorted, almost amused.

One hand on my hip, I lifted my other toward the fuchsia dress. It enveloped my hand in soft, silky ruffles, and the susurrations of the fabric reminded me of a purr. I rolled my eyes and slipped the fuchsia dress off its hook. I took one lookat it and realized I wouldn’t be able to get into this dress on my own.

A knock at my bedroom door startled me, and I clutched the dress against me, ducking behind the large bed.

“Don’t come in!” I shouted.

“It’s me. Ariana. You are required in the training grounds.”

“Training grounds?” I repeated aloud, lifting a brow at the fuchsia dress. I laid the ballgown over the bed and walked toward the door. There was no peephole, so I carefully slid the lock out and cracked the door. Behind it stood a white-clad Ariana, her hair back in a tight braid and her eyes downcast. As soon as the door opened, she glanced up at me.

“May I come in?” she asked politely, hands clasped in front of her waist. I scanned the hall. There was no one else nearby. I stepped aside and let her walk into my room. I shut the door behind her, and she spun to face me with an apologetic expression. “Today you’ll start your training.”

“Training? For what? Aren’t they trying to kill me?”

Her expression sank, but only mildly. “They want you to put up a good fight. And if you don’t know how to fight, then, well, you can’t do much fighting.” She had the decency to avert her eyes, and a slight flush colored her cheeks.

I scratched my face, unsure how to respond. “I think that dress wants me to wear it.”

She pinned her gaze on the fuchsia dress on the bed. “Oh, yes. The dresses here have mighty strong opinions."

Minutes of silence passed as Ariana helped me into the dress. I desperately wanted to find something to talk about that wasn’t death and wasn’t this awful place. She’d said she didn’t want to be my friend because I was destined to die, but I wasn’t resigned to that fate.

“My best friend married a fae last month,” I said, trying to make conversation. Ariana spluttered in shock.

That clearly hadn’t been the right thing to say.

“She did it to save her family,” I added, staring at my feet to avoid Ariana’s sharp stare. “I don’t think he was from this court. He bred race horses, and I can’t really imagine a stable or a race track in this place.”

Ariana snorted. “And did you save your family by coming here?”

My mouth hung open a moment before I answered. “My father was the one who made the bargain. Years ago.”

Ariana’s eyes widened, but she remained silent.

By the time she finished securing the bright dress, I wasn’t sure if she was going to add anything else to the conversation, except to give me some marching orders. But when she stepped back to examine me, she tapped a knuckle against her lips, as if contemplating saying something she’d rather not mention.

This dress had a square neckline, soft ruffles that draped over the tops of my arms, and a loose, gauzy skirt so featherlight I worried that my legs were visible through the thin fabric.

Finally, Ariana dropped her hands to her sides and said quickly, “The whole court was talking about a fae horse breeder recently. I believe he was important to one of the other courts.”

As I spun in the small room, I locked eyes with her. “Really?”

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