Page 62 of Her Shadow so Dark and Lovely
Once they have scrubbed me to within an inch of my life, I am pulled from the bath and dried off. I endure the whispers and looks the two women give each other. Inetta has already cleared away Sila’s kiss marks, and I’m sure they’ll speculate later for their own enjoyment. Fury seethes through me. If I am to die, I would have preferred to be left as I was.
The splint is redone on my finger, which is looking less swollen, though still aching. That ordeal over, they start on the next one. I set my jaw and grind my teeth as they begin to dress me. First a clean shift, then stockings, garters, stays laced comfortably, petticoats, hip padding, all the pieces of the gownpinned into place, jewellery, my short hair puffed up and set, cosmetics applied to my skin so that I look less like a rogue prophecy is draining my life force. And silk slippers to finish it all off. I’m so tired and I haven’t even left the room yet.
If the Dawn King had any mercy, he would have skipped the torture before he killed me.
“There, that wasn’t so hard now, was it Lola dear?” Inetta places a slim gold band upon my head. “Perfect.”
“How do they do this every day?” I ask. I can barely recognise my own face in the mirror.
“How does anyone do anything?” Inetta replies. “Do scribes not sit and copy letters for hours?”
It’s not entirely what a scribe does, or at least it isn’t all that a scribe does, but I suppose, to another person, it might be tedious. I touch my face lightly as I lean towards the mirror, peering at this strange version of myself. I turn to Inetta before it overwhelms me. “Take me back to the Library,” I say.
Inetta gives me a pitying look. “Lola, darling, they should have never let you go there. You are a Dawnchild, one of the King's own blood. If this is where he wants you, this is where you will stay.” She pulls me to her side and lowers her voice and speaks quickly. “Lady Orielle does not know you are here, and if you run, Beryl has been given permission to do what she thinks is necessary to subdue you. I do not know why you have been brought here, but do not think that all of this is for your benefit. If you bring harm to my lady, I will hand you to Beryl myself. Do you understand?”
My blood turns to ice, and I hide my trembling hands in my skirts.
“Yes,” I say.
Inetta’s voice returns to its usual cheerful tone. “You have always been such a sweet girl, Lola. I am sure the Dawn King will find no fault in you.”
Chapter 37
Lorel
In the hallway,Lightwarden Beryl stands with three other Lightkeepers, waiting to escort me to the King. Inetta takes her leave without so much as a backwards glance. If this is to go poorly, Inetta can’t be seen to be friendly with me. Far easier to make amends later, if required, than to pick the wrong side.
How dare she warn me of bringing harm to Orielle of all people. Orielle has far more to answer for than I do. I would have been content to be forgotten by this place, but she held on to me. She had been there when the poisoning had occurred, she had given them her blood to find me, and now here I am being pulled back into the Keep and the Court's games.
Beryl grabs my arm, dragging me along with her, and my entourage follows. We go up again, and the plain stone walls and dull tapestries give way to marble and gold and painted murals. Here, the King’s palace pierces through the mountainside, emerging out into the open air. It is the only part of the Citadel to do so. Where the rest of us exist in darkness, his palace is filled with the filtered light of the outside world. Steppinginto the palace has always felt like stepping out onto the open mountainside— dangerous and highly inadvisable.
I am pulled along hallway after hallway, and above, the ceilings are painted with swirling clouds. We pass the closed doorway to the hall of mirrors, and my eyes catch on it for a moment before I am pulled onward. I had walked these hallways so often as a child, in the wake of Orielle’s skirts. Even then, the hallways were cold, dead, echoing things and there had been no welcome in them. It is no wonder terror has always come easily to me. I was raised on it.
Finally, Beryl pulls us up short in front of a door with two Lightkeepers posted either side. A gentle chatter comes from inside, and both guards tap their foreheads in a salute. One turns to knock on the door, sharp and loud in the empty hall. The chatter on the other side ceases immediately.
There is a pause, and I can imagine the performance going on inside. It is always the same. The guards will look to the Dawn King, who will give them leave to open the door— or not. It is too much to hope that he might change his mind this time.
The doors open with a whisper and Beryl pushes me into the room. Her footsteps follow behind me, loud in the chamber's silence.
The Dawn King accepts audiences three times a day, first in the morning when he wakes and is dressed, second when he takes his morning meal, and third at the midday meal. I have trespassed on the midday meal. The long room has the same extraordinary scale as the rest of the palace and is occupied by a table set out with the finest of foods. At the far end sits the Dawn King, presiding over his chosen few.
He’s a tall man, almost as tall as Sila, his hair once black now bleached white by the centuries. His eyes, a pale blue, intent upon his conversation partner. There are twelve of his chosen at the table. I’m surprised to recognise some of them. It is a tableof ghosts from my past. Edrian, who had sat beside me in our history lessons as children, and has grown into a dangerous-looking man. Asther, who had once braided ribbons through my hair for a ball, and now sits at the end of the table in a gown that rivals any that we might have daydreamed of together. Cadence, who had excelled at everything she did and was constantly trying to outpace us all, sitting at the Dawn King’s right hand.
One by one, they each turn to look at me. Each trying to hide their confusion, muttering and staring, until the last of them at the King’s left turns. Orielle cannot hide her shock, or the way the colour drains from her face. The King watches my sister with a faint air of amusement. I cannot help but see there is an empty chair at the closest end of the table.
Orielle’s chair scrapes across the floor as she rises. “What is the meaning of this?” she demands. “Lorel, why have you come here?”
“I haven’t come here. I was dragged here,” I snap back. “Don’t pretend ignorance.”
“Pretend ignorance? Lorel, this is the last place I would want to see you,” says Orielle.
To her credit, her fear seems genuine. Doubt creeps in, the kind of cold trickle that quickly becomes a drowning flood. Inetta had said she didn’t know I was here, but that doesn’t mean she hadn’t been involved. I clench my fists and wince at the pain of my broken finger.
“The blood mage. He used your blood,” I say. It has no conviction to it though. No backbone. The assembled courtiers mutter amongst themselves.
“No,” says the Dawn King. Silence falls as he turns his gaze on me. “They used mine.”
The world stops. The table turns to stare at the Dawn King now. As well they should, since each and every one of them hadcalled me a foundling. Each one of them had turned their back on me when I had been found to have no magic.
