Page 74 of Eluvonia
Declan’s hand clenches into a fist at his side, but his voice remains steady. “You’re lying.”
Her laugh is light and musical, like bells on a spring breeze, but it grates on my nerves. “Lying? Me? I would never. Honestly, I think it’s admirable how attached you’ve become to her. Fae are such… delicate creatures. It must be exhausting keeping one alive for so long.”
“Enough,” I growl, my voice cutting through her sugary tone like a blade. The shadows surge, slithering closer to herfeet, and her smile tightens, the edges brittle. “We’re not here to trade insults. We’re here to get answers.”
She takes another step toward me, her hand lifting as if to touch my arm again. Declan moves before I can, stepping between us with effortless grace. Her hand freezes mid-air before dropping, her gaze flicking to him.
“Enough?” she echoes, her tone suddenly sharp before softening again. She lets out a dramatic sigh, placing a hand over her heart. “You really think I’d waste my time on a little thing like her? Though… I must admit, it’s a pity, really. After all the trouble you went through teaching her to read and write, only for her to use it against you. Betrayal is such an ugly thing, isn’t it?” Her lips curve into a sly smile. “And to meet with another male slave in secret? Gods know what else she was doing behind your back. It’s a good thing that kitchen Fae saw her, or we never would have known about her… indiscretions.”
Declan and I exchange a brief glance, but neither of us let our expressions betray anything. She’s still talking, her words dripping with false concern and empty sweetness, but I’ve stopped listening. My shadows ripple and writhe, a mirror of my rising fury.
“If that’s all, then I think we’re done here,” I say abruptly, cutting her off mid-sentence. She blinks, surprised, but quickly recovers, her smile returning like a mask.
“Of course,” she says, inclining her head. “Do let me know if there’s anything else I can do to help. And Kaida…” Her voice lowers as I turn to leave, her gaze lingering on my back. “Don’t be a stranger.”
The door slams shut behind us, my shadows curling back into the recesses of the hallway like smoke dissipating in thewind. Let her keep her games. She has no idea what’s coming.
“She’s unbearable,” Declan mutters, running a hand through his hair as we stand outside her door.
“Tell me about it,” I reply dryly, my lips curling into a smirk. “But did you catch that bit about the kitchen Fae? My father never reveals witnesses out of fear of tampering. There’s no way she would know the witness is a kitchen Fae.”
He nods, his expression sharpening. “Looks like we’re heading to the kitchens.”
Chapter 30
KAIDA
The scent of fresh bread and sizzling meats greets us as we step into the kitchens. Heat rolls out like a wave, carrying with it the clamor of a dozen different sounds—pots clanging, knives chopping, and the steady murmur of Fae voices as they bustle around. The kitchen is enormous, the size of a ballroom, with stone walls that glisten from the steam. Copper pots and pans hang from racks above the tables, their surfaces worn and gleaming.
Fae of all shapes and sizes dart about, some stirring large cauldrons of soup while others knead dough or carefully arrange pastries. A group of smaller Fae—barely reaching my waist—scrub dishes in the corner, their hands moving quickly. One of them glances at us and then goes back to work, whispering to her companion.
Declan walks ahead, moving with purpose. His boots make sharp clicks against the stone floor, and he sidesteps a Fae carrying a tray of bread without breaking his stride. His eyesscan the room, searching, until they settle on a Fae with her sleeves rolled up, her arms buried in a tub of water. He moves toward her.
“Excuse me,” he says, his voice calm but direct.
The Fae jumps slightly at the touch on her arm, her eyes widening in surprise. “Yes?” She hesitates, glancing at him.
Declan gives her a polite smile. “We’re looking for the head kitchen Fae. Can you point us in the right direction?”
She nods and gestures toward a woman standing on a stool at one of the tables. Flour covers her apron, her face, and her hair—though it’s clear she’s concentrating, rolling out dough with methodical precision.
“The one in the flour,” the Fae mutters, clearly eager to get back to her task.
Declan thanks her and leads me over to the woman, who doesn’t notice us at first, absorbed in her work.
“Excuse me,” Declan calls again, this time louder.
The woman freezes, her rolling pin slipping slightly before she catches it. She blinks in surprise, then looks up at us with wide eyes. Slowly, she sets the pin down and wipes her hands on her apron before stepping down from the stool.
“Can I help you, sirs?” she asks, her voice warm, though there’s a trace of tension behind it. She glances between us, clearly uncertain. “Is this about my testimony?”
I exchange a quick glance with Declan, surprised by how convenient this is.
“Yes,” Declan replies smoothly. “We need to go over your testimony again, just to make sure there’s no discrepancy.”
Her expression falters for a moment, but she recovers quickly. “Of course. Please, follow me. We can talk more privately.” She gestures toward a smallalcove off to the side, a quiet corner far from the hustle and bustle of the kitchen.
She leads us over, then stands in front of us, arms folded, waiting for us to speak.
