Growing up, Father would defend the Fae who let us live on the brink of starvation. I understand now. His sympathy wasn’t for the Crown; it was for me and my mother.
“Is it common for Fae to have blue hair?” I ask Isolde.
The Guard and everyone I’ve seen at the palace have hair tones that match those of humans, but no one has blinked at the blue since I’ve been in the Ley Court, so maybe it is common farther out in the kingdom.
“I’ve never seen this particular shade.” She drops her hands to her side. “But the Fae do have a wider range of hair tones and eye colors than the humans.”
“Have you been around many humans?”
“Yes, before the Collision. My family helped negotiate trades with the Mortal Realm.” She turns toward the dresser, sorting combs and bottles.
Before the Collision.
That means Isolde is at least a few centuries old when she looks no older than me.
I’m tempted to ask her more. I want to know what secrets hide behind her stony expression. But she avoids my gaze, and I think better of it.
A knock comes at the door, and Isolde goes to open it. I take a final breath and look at myself in the mirror, trying to recognize the bits and pieces that are the same as they were back home. My sharp nose. My thick eyelashes. My freckles, even if they’re now glowing.
A hint of my magic, maybe?
I hold my hands out, palms up, focusing on the magic humming in the air as I stand in front of the mirror. If the king is right, I summoned something great within myself. Something I never knew existed.
With my forehead pinched, I seek it out now, even as it feels so far away. I search for that murmur of death that was not death at all. It was my magic waking.
In the prison, my chest opened, and I reached somewhere deeper. Somewhere beyond thought or physical form. So why is it impossible to grasp now?
My fingers clench into fists, but all I feel is skin. A sheen of sweat coats the back of my neck as my heart races. I’m utterlyhuman.
“Elorie.”
My gaze snaps up, meeting Callum’s through the mirror. He’s in freshly polished Crown Guard armor. Gray and stormy like the color of his eyes.
“You’re stunning.” He swallows hard, like he’s noticing me for the first time.
The heated sweep of his gaze is everything I’ve wanted from him for as long as I can remember.
Today, I feel nothing but anger when he looks at me.
“It’s impressive what a bath and Tempest silk can do.” I roll my shoulders back, turning to face him. “You’ve been assigned to fetch me now?”
He frowns. “I was hoping we could talk.”
“I can’t. The king is waiting.”
Callum’s jaw tenses, but he doesn’t try to stop me as I brush past. He follows me from the room, where I find two guards waiting for me in the hallway. Isolde doesn’t wish me well. She doesn’t say anything as she takes the stack of my dirty clothes in the opposite direction.
One guard walks a good distance ahead, while another hangs back, but Callum stays at my side.
“I’m sorry?—”
“Please don’t. Not right now.” I’m barely keeping it together, and while I’m aware someday Callum and I will need to address all his lies, I can’t handle it with the nerves skittering through me. “Just tell me something.”
“Anything.”
“Letia.” Her name catches in my throat. “Mabel. Her whole family. Are they alive?”
“Yes.”