Page 36 of A Storm of Fire and Ash
I turned my head in shock. “You’ve read this before?” Yara gently cupped my chin, a tender gesture reminiscent of Mother’s touch. I closed my eyes, leaning into her calming presence. “Dearie, I’ve read all of them before,” she replied with a knowing smile. “Not everything is as it seems. Irongate isn’t safe for your kind, Elara…” The words hung in the air, and my heart sank as an overwhelming wave of panic washed over me.
“I-I don’t know what you’re talking—” I stammered, but she placed her hand over my heart, her aura enveloping me in serenity. “Your secret is safe with me, Elara.” Trust blossomed within me; my instincts whispered that she was genuine.
“How did you know?” I asked, curiosity piqued as she turned me back in the chair to finish pinning my hair.
“I’m an old woman, Elara. I’ve lived long and seen much, often in the company of the royals. I hear things, see things I shouldn’t, and I’ve learned the value of silence. You must be careful. No one can know, especially the King.”
“I know. Trust me, I’ve been preached to a lot about that,” I replied hesitantly. Thoughts of the Queen danced through my mind, and I couldn’t help but ask, “What about Queen Faylinn? She seems kind. Can I trust her?”
“As I mentioned, not everything is as it seems. It is not kind to gossip.” I let out a heavy sigh, my shoulders sinking. Yara rubbed my back gently, her touch reassuring. “Trust your Fae instincts. They will never misguide you.”
Yara finished arranging my hair and helped me into a stunning velvet dress. The royal-blue fabric accentuated my eyes—even the golden hazel one, making them shine. She applied a hint of makeup, and as I gazed in the mirror, a smile spread across my face. “Wow, you did a great job!” I chuckled, feeling a flicker of confidence in my reflection.
“Nonsense. You are incredibly beautiful. You don’t need a pretty dress or makeup,” she smiled back warmly, her eyes sparkling with sincerity.
I felt an undeniable connection with Yara, as if she were a comforting balm for my restless soul. But as a wave of sadness washed over my features, she lowered her gaze to my twiddling fingers, a familiar gesture born from nervousness and anxiety.
Yara gently grasped my hands, enveloping them in her warm embrace to stop my fidgeting.
Needing to find more about the weapon my father mentioned, I asked, “Do you know of a weapon that’s hidden here in the castle? Something the King doesn’t want anyone to know about?”
Yara’s dark brown eyes widened in alarm as she glanced around before hushing me. “You mustn’t go searching! It is dangerous! Do not speak of this again; it will not end well for you!” Worry lined her tone, making my heart race.
“So you do know? Please, I have to know!” I pleaded, desperation creeping into my voice.
“Hush now,” Yara whispered, lowering her voice further. “These walls listen. You must be cautious. Do not speak of this again inside the castle. There is something dangerous. I do not know what it is, but you are correct. There is a deadly weapon.”
I nodded. “Thank you.” I squeezed Yara’s hands gently. “But the castle walls? What do you mean?”
“Magic is everywhere, Elara. As I said, everything is not as it seems,” she said, her dark brows knitting together in concern. “Now, the Prince is waiting for you. Best not keep him waiting any longer.” Yara’s tone shifted, becoming more cheerful. “I will be back tomorrow to help you get ready.”
“Better you than Kalista,” I quipped, a mischievous smile breaking through my earlier worry.
Yara’s mouth curved into a brighter grin. “She would probably make you look like a clown.” Laughter bubbled between us, a sweet moment shared before I pulled Yara into a warm embrace. In that instant, the gentle, motherly essence of Yara’s presence enveloped me, reminding me of the safety and kindness I desperately craved.
I ventured through the castle’s dimly lit corridors, my destination: Fintan’s room. As I rounded a stone corner, I collided with Queen Faylinn and King Aymon. Between them stood a guard, a man clad in gleaming armor that concealed his face entirely. The cold metal glinted under the flickering torchlight, amplifying the unsettling aura he radiated. An oppressive weight hung in the air, his dark energy sending a shiver down my spine, and I instinctively sensed that meeting his gaze would reveal frightening depths I truly wished to avoid.
Shit.
“Elara!” The Queen’s face illuminated with warmth. “It’s so lovely to run into you; we were just talking about you.” Her voice flowed, sweet and inviting. In stark contrast, the King’s gaze held a cold disdain as he interjected, “WE were not talking about you. The Queen was simply going on about you. I, for one, do not care that you are my son’s whore—” His words were abruptly halted by the Queen’s hand gently pressed against his chest. It was fascinating; the moment her fingers made contact, his defiance seemed to evaporate.
Interesting, I thought. He didn’t strike me as the sort of man who would permit a woman to silence him.
“My love, I’m going to walk with Elara. I’ll see you later,” she declared, dismissing him with a knowing smile before leaning in for a quick kiss. However, something about that kiss felt oddly misplaced.
King Aymon scrutinized me as he strode away with his guard, leaving the corridor feeling strangely lighter as they disappeared from view.
“Come, take a walk with me in the gardens,” she beamed, extending her arm for me to link mine through. Yara’s cautions echoed in my mind, causing me to hesitate.
“The Prince is expecting me. I shouldn’t keep him waiting,” I replied, managing a polite smile.
The Queen waved her hand dismissively. “Nonsense. Patience is what makes the heart grow fonder. Come,” she urged with a gentle insistence.
Reluctantly, I slipped my arm through hers, and we walked together through the cold, expansive palace. “Fintan is quite taken with you,” she said, her eyes sparkling as we strolled. “It seems you have won his heart.” I glanced up, noting her dark brown hair cascading down her back in soft waves, an unmistakable mirror to Fintan’s features, though his eyes were different.
“And I am very fond of the Prince, Your Highness,” I answered, my voice steady. We stepped into another corridor, this one bearing a heavier atmosphere, more shadowy and cold. At its end loomed a large iron door, adorned with shimmering silver symbols illuminated by flickering torches.
The Queen caught my gaze, and we stopped. “Ah, that. It simply leads to a cave beneath the palace. The symbols are ancient, carved into the door with silver way beyond our time,” she said, but my mind began to buzz with unease. Her words faded as a deep, resonating growl filled my mind, and shivers coursed through my body. My magic surged powerfully in this space, an odd sensation that I struggled to rein in.
