Page 13 of Duskbound (Esprithean Trilogy #2)

CHAPTER TWELVE

My hands moved through linens, the silver moonlight spilling through tall arched windows of a dressing chamber. Tapestries lined the stone walls, their threads catching the glow of scattered candles. At the far end of the room, two girls sat at a grand vanity—one in a black gown with an elaborate updo, the other in a robe, dark waves cascading down her back.

They were so similar, their hair, their bodies, even their mannerisms. Twins, maybe.

"Tell me everything," the one in the robe said, legs tucked beneath her as she perched on a cushioned stool. "Who embarrassed themselves tonight?"

A laugh drifted through the chamber as the other girl removed delicate pins from her hair, letting the dark strands tumble free. "Well, Lord Sveinson's son tried to impress Lady Vallgrym by showing off his sword techniques."

"No..."

"Yes. Knocked over an entire table of refreshments." More pins clattered against the vanity's marble surface. "The look on his father's face—I thought he might expire right there in the middle of the ballroom. "

"Did Lady Vallgrym at least pretend to be impressed?"

"She didn't have to. She was too busy trying not to laugh into her wine glass. Though that didn't stop Lord Sveinson from attempting to salvage the situation by suggesting his son give her private lessons."

"He didn't!"

"Oh, but he did. You should have seen how red she turned." She began wiping rouge from her cheeks with a cloth. "Though not nearly as red as Lady Baldurson when she realized her daughter had been sneaking off to the gardens with young Lord Breidfjord."

"Finally! You said she’s been making eyes at him for months."

"Yes, well, their mothers certainly didn't share your enthusiasm. I thought they might come to blows right there between the dessert courses."

"Over a kiss in the garden?"

"Over the scandal of it all. You know how they are about maintaining appearances." A yawn escaped her lips as she reached for her brush.

"And the Skaldvindr heir?" The girl in the robe's voice shifted to something softer. "Was he there?"

"Of course. Looking as dashing as ever." The brush paused mid-stroke. "Though he did ask about you."

"What did he say?"

"He wondered why you never attend anymore. I didn't know what to tell him."

"What could you say? That father won't—" She stopped as footsteps echoed down the corridor.

A man appeared in the doorway, his formal attire still pristine despite the late hour. "Are you ready?"

"Father, I'm exhausted," the girl at the vanity said, setting down her brush. "Surely we could skip practice tonight?"

"The darkness is ideal for honing your gifts." His tone left no room for argument. "Come."

She stood, smoothing her gown before taking his offered hand. As they turned to leave, his eyes fell on the other girl. Something dark passed between them as she lowered her gaze to the floor. The silence that followed their departure seemed to echo through the chamber.

“Watch your step, please. Those are couture,” Effie said with a sigh, gesturing towards an open chest nearly blocking the entrance to her quarters.

I glanced down as I sidestepped the pile of glitter and silks. The room itself was simple. What you’d expect of a soldier's quarters. But it was far from empty. Stacks of trunks and ornate boxes filled nearly every available inch of the floor, their gilded edges clashing with the bleak surroundings. Every surface was covered in glittering brooches and the hair bobbles Effie was so fond of. Hints of colorful silks peeking out of overstuffed boxes. It was odd seeing so much color at once. I’d begun to believe they didn’t live outside of the grayscale.

“I haven’t had the need for my alterationist in so long.” Effie looked me up and down before shaking away a thought. “Pity it's for you and not me.”

We’d had alterationists back in Sídhe. Those who could change the appearance of others, painting their hair in different shades, drawing a natural rouge on someone’s cheeks—all with their focus. I’d even heard of some who could morph features, blurring them until the person was completely unrecognizable.

Effie plopped down on her bed and sent me a narrowed look.

“I know you’ve convinced the others that you’re not this wicked mastermind, but I’m still not sure about you.” She turned up her nose in provocation.

“Don’t worry, Aether is right outside.” I smiled sweetly.

“Perfect. Would you like to pick out your own gown?” she said, eyes trailing down me, an apologetic look crossing her face. “ Perhaps I should choose for you? You’re quite tall.” She stood, skipping over to the open trunk on the floor, and began throwing its contents all over the room—across her settee, tangled in heaps upon her bed.

The sight of it stirred something in me, and I turned to look away, feeling the mist forming in my eyes. Esprithe. I wasn’t going to lose it now. Not in front of Effie.

But then Osta’s face drifted into my mind—her beaming smile in Emeraal, sitting on the floor, digging through a chest so similar to the one Effie knelt before.

My heart sank, feeling the pain I’d successfully trapped somewhere unreachable now seeping out like cracks in a dam. Between my dream from last night and this, it seemed as though the universe itself was torturing me with reminders of her.

I sucked in a slow breath, trying to fight the quiver of the sound, hoping it was drowned out by Effie’s chaotic hunting.

“What’s your color?” she asked, excitement tinging her voice.

I nearly broke right there.

“I—I don’t know. Black,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. Even as my back was turned, I could feel the shift in the room, the weight of her eyes on me. This was the last thing I wanted. For her to see me like this—for any of them to see me as weak.

“Are you… crying?” she said, a hint of confused amusement in her voice. “I mean, if you really want to pick it out yourself, you can… I fear it could be tragic, and I do have to be next to you all night… But I could do it, if?—”

“It’s not about the dress. I’m fine, just choose one,” I repeated, wiping my eyes on the sleeve of my shirt.

Awkwardness crept in as a few silent moments slipped past, neither of us saying anything. I heard her gently rustling with the fabrics again, but not with the same vigor as before.

“Are you… okay?” she asked, her voice neutral, but strained. As if neutrality didn’t come easy .

“Yes. I said I was fine.”

“You don’t seem fine. You know, I cry sometimes. I’ve heard it’s a splendid way to reduce stress and balance emotions.” She spoke as if she were trying to fill the silence, not quite sure whether to direct the conversation. “It’s healthy, I’ve heard.”

“Sure.” It was the only word I could get out. Even her bubbliness despite the strain in our acquaintanceship was like her… Osta.

“Okay, well… we do need to start preparing for the evening. It takes an hour to get to Stravene. We don’t really have time for… I mean, we should be of haste.”

I turned back towards her and nodded, hoping my face wasn’t nearly as sad as I felt, and wasn't nearly as red as the feeling gripping me.

“Oh, you were like— really —crying,” she breathed, rushing over to the vanity and procuring a handkerchief. I took it from her without question, if only to have something to hide behind if I needed it.

“I—” the words were hard to say. “You just remind me of someone. From home.” I looked down, a soft smile somehow breaking through the tense moment.

“Oh, well, in that case, I’m sure she’s fabulous,” Effie said with a flourish. Something about her nonchalant response had me feeling lighter, like I wouldn’t fall completely into the depths today.

"Oh, she is," I agreed.

Effie smoothed her hands over her dress, seemingly unsure what to do with them. Then, as if struck by sudden inspiration, she brightened. "Well, since you've managed to ruin the moment with all this... emotion , I suppose I should tell you more about what to expect tonight." She waved her hand dismissively, but there was something almost kind in the gesture. "Can't have you completely ruining my family's reputation, after all."

"Your family? "

"The Eirfalks," she said, as if this should have been obvious. "One of the oldest noble houses in Umbrathia. Though I suppose you wouldn't know that, being..." She trailed off, wrinkling her nose. "Well, you know."

I blinked, trying to process this new information. "You're nobility?"

"Obviously." She rolled her eyes. "Why else would I have all these lovely things?" She gestured to the trunks surrounding us. "The Umbra certainly doesn't pay this well."

"But you're in the Umbra," I said, still trying to make sense of it.

"Oh, please. My parents practically pushed me into it." She began refolding the scattered gowns with unexpected precision. "I suppose they thought my tether was better served in combat than ballroom classes. As if I had any say in the matter." Her tone was light, but there was something beneath it—a hint of old resentment, perhaps.

“And your tether is…?” I asked.

“Teleportation.” She smiled. “It made for quite the grand entrance. Before everything, at least.”

“Ah,” I breathed, suddenly remembering how she’d disappeared and then reappeared mere inches from my face back in the tower, all those weeks ago.

“It’s not as strong as it was, of course.” She sighed, annoyance creasing her brow. “Before, I could have taken us halfway across the continent.”

Before I could respond, she shook her head, as if clearing away unwanted thoughts. "Now, about tonight. You'll be posing as my cousin Millicent—Millie. The Breidfjords haven't attended a conference since..." she paused, considering her words. "Well, let's just say they've fallen out of favor with certain members. Which makes Millie the perfect choice, really. No one will expect to see her, and few would dare question an Eirfalk's word."

"If you say so. "

“So you’ll be at my side for a majority of the evening. I can navigate any conversations that might arise. Don’t try speaking to anyone on your own. I could only imagine how fast you’d blow your own cover.” She sighed dramatically.

“I don’t plan on speaking at all, lucky for you. Simply observing.”

Three sharp knocks at the door made me jump. Effie practically skipped across the room, her earlier tension momentarily forgotten.

"Matilda!" she exclaimed, swinging the door open to reveal an older woman carrying a worn leather case. "Thank the Esprithe you're here."

"Miss Effie." The woman curtsied slightly, her eyes immediately finding me. "This is our... project for today?"

"Yes, yes. Come in." Effie ushered her inside, closing the door quickly. "We don't have much time."

Matilda set her case on Effie's desk, her movements soft. She gestured for me to sit in front of the mirror she'd brought and smiled in expectation.

“I’ve never seen hair this color.” The alterationist hummed, her fingers gently lifting a curl up to examine.

“I’ve noticed it’s… uncommon ,” I offered with a half smile.

“I’m sure you have.” She smiled back at me in the mirror Effie had set up on her desk.

“This is Matilda, my family's alterationist.” Effie smiled fondly, giving Matilda a quick hug. “Oh, how I’ve missed seeing you.”

“The manor has been quiet without you Miss Effie.” Matilda laughed. “Now tell me what I can help you with today?”

“We need you to make Fia look like Millicent. Do you remember my cousin Millie?”

Matilda pondered for a moment before nodding.

“As you know, I’m not as I once was Miss Effie. You’re lucky I’ve had no use for my tether in so long. I’ve had time to gather essence.” Matilda’s hands were fluttering around me, brushing back my hair and tilting my chin towards the light. “I can’t promise how long it will last either.”

“So what do you suggest?”

“Well, it takes most of my tether’s strength to alter facial features. It may be best if we just focus on changing her hair and use pigment and shadow to disguise the rest.”

Effie nodded, squinting her eyes to see the vision Matilda had painted. “It has been years since Millie has joined any of the conferences. I doubt anyone would be looking too close anyways. My uncle is not particularly popular with the Council right now.”

“May I ask what this is? Is this some kind of ball?” I couldn’t imagine they would be hosting a ball. There was nothing I could imagine they would be celebrating.

“No. Not a ball. We haven’t had one of those in years.” Effie sighed wistfully. “This is more of a fancy political meeting. All the biggest contenders—those with power, will be in attendance."

Matilda's fingers moved through my hair and suddenly I felt it—a strange tingling sensation that started at my scalp and traveled down each strand. It wasn't uncomfortable, but it was foreign, like tiny threads of electricity dancing across my skin. The air around us seemed to thicken with essence, making it harder to breathe. In the mirror, I watched as darkness began to seep into my white locks, spreading like ink through water, transforming each strand from root to tip. Effie hovered nearby, eyeing the transformation with a critical gaze.

"You know, I never imagined I'd be the one playing dress-up with you," she mused, a hint of amusement in her tone. "Usually it's me getting made up."

I shot her a sidelong glance in the mirror. "Careful, Effie. You're verging on compliments."

She rolled her eyes dramatically. "Don't get ahead of yourself. This is strictly a necessity, not some grand bonding exercise. "

"The color is taking well, Miss Effie," Matilda murmured, her focus never wavering from her work.

"Good." Effie nodded, then turned back to me. "Which means you need to be on your absolute best behavior. No mind games, no attempts at escape. You're Millie tonight, understand?"

"I already told you I'm only here to observe."

"Yes, well, forgive me if I don't entirely trust your word on that," she huffed. "Just... try to blend in, would you?"

Matilda's fingers gave a final tug, and the last white portion slowly darkened, becoming a rich, inky black. "There, miss. All finished."

I ran my own fingers through the transformed tresses, marveling at how the simple change made me look almost unrecognizable. "It's... different."

Effie leaned in, her critical gaze sweeping over the results. "Hmm, not bad. Though you'll still need some cosmetic touches to fully match Millie." She reached for a small compact, deftly sweeping a hint of color across my cheeks. "There, that's better. Now, let's see about finding you a gown."

She began rummaging through the ornate trunks once more, tossing aside silks and velvets with practiced disregard. "You know," she said, her voice muffled as she dug deeper, "if you actually manage to pull this off, I might have to reconsider my opinion of you."

"Don't worry, I won't hold my breath."

As I slipped into the rich fabric, I couldn't help but glance back at the mirror. The person staring back was a stranger—dark hair, flushed cheeks, the weight of nobility draped across her shoulders. But what struck me hardest was how natural it looked, how easily I could pass for one of them. One of the Kalfar. The shadows around my eyes, my pale skin, the sharp angles of my face—everything I'd tried to hide or deny about myself suddenly seemed to make perfect sense. Something in my gut twisted, a mixture of recognition and revolt. Only my eyes remained unchanged, gleaming like opals.

"Should we change my eye color?" I asked hesitantly, "They're a bit distracting I've heard."

"That would be nice, but it's impossible. I used to ask Matilda to do it all the time," she sighed.

"Why would you want to change your eyes—they're blue."

"Cerulean," Effie corrected. "They're cerulean."

"I'm afraid eyes cannot be changed. Even the strongest alterationist cannot transform their appearance," Matilda said, still gathering her belongings. "It's the one thing that stays true—always."

I shifted in my dress, pulling at the ruffles. I guess I'd need to avoid eye contact for the entirety of the evening.

"Stop fidgeting," Effie chided, adjusting the fall of the fabric. "A lady never shows discomfort."

"Is that one of the pinnacles of being a lady?" I snorted.

"Among other things." She stepped back to assess the final result. "Well," she said, "I suppose you'll do."

Aether was waiting at the base of the lodging towers, and for a moment, I almost didn't recognize him. Gone were the intimidating leathers I'd grown accustomed to during my imprisonment. Instead, he wore what I assumed to be his Umbra uniform—black pants that barely contained his thighs, and a fitted black suit-jacket that emphasized the breadth of his shoulders. I'd never seen him like this, and something about it made him seem more real, more present than the shadowy figure who had haunted my tower. The sight wasn't terrible—which only made it worse. I remembered how his shadows had felt against my skin just days ago. I pushed the thought away.

Vexa stood beside him, dressed in similar fashion. She was twisting a dagger through her fingers when she noticed Effie's approach and bounded over to us. "Well aren't you a vision." She murmured in a low tone before sliding her arm around Effie's waist and pulling her in for a kiss.

Oh.

"You clean up well, Duskbound," she said, finally acknowledging my presence. "Nice hair."

"Well, that credit goes to me." Effie stepped forward, a satisfied smile gracing her lips. “Or, Matilda, rather.”

Aether turned towards us, his eyes raking over me. Suddenly I felt awkward.

He walked over, paying close attention to my hair. Something strange crossed over his eyes, and he shrugged.

"Wait up!" Rethlyn called from behind us, falling into a sprint. He appeared disheveled, his dress shirt only half-tucked into his trousers.

"She'll ride with me on Nihr." Aether started towards the stables.

"Why can't I ride Tryggar?" I asked, catching up with him. But before I slowed down, he turned and I nearly slammed into him. He looked down at me with a questionable expression.

"Seriously?" It was all he said, eyes lingering on me for another beat before he turned back around.

Once we arrived at the stables, his whistle nearly knocked me over. And soon enough, the giant beast appeared above us, wings slamming against the wind, sending my midnight locks flying.

Nihr found a clearing on the ground, her black wings showing off the specks of silver that dotted them.

I began walking towards the mounting platform.

"Where are you going?" Aether called from behind me. Vexa and Effie skipped past me, arms interlocked as they called Draug over.

I turned to see Aether waiting, impatience splayed across his face.

"What? "

"Come here," he said, a hint of exasperation in his tone.

I trudged back over to him, trying not to look like a petulant child as he lifted me up. His hands were firm against my waist, the touch brief but burning even through the layers of fabric. As he placed me on Nihr's back, I caught a whiff of him—rain and ash, like a storm about to break.

The saddle was warm beneath me, and I had just enough time to adjust my skirts before I felt him mount behind me. His body was rigid, carefully maintaining a sliver of space between us, but it didn't matter. I could feel the heat radiating off him, could sense every slight movement as Nihr shifted beneath us. The formal jacket did little to disguise the strength coiled in his frame, and I found myself sitting unnaturally straight, trying to minimize any point of contact.

"Relax," he muttered, his breath stirring the hair near my ear. "You look like you're being led to execution."

"Aren't I?" I shot back, but my voice wasn't as steady as I'd have liked.

He made a sound that might have been a laugh—or might have been a warning—and Nihr spread her wings, preparing for flight. As we took to the air, the wind whipped my newly darkened hair back, and I felt rather than saw Aether lean away slightly. When he spoke again, his voice was almost too low to hear over the beating of Nihr's wings.

"It's better the other way."

I wasn't sure if he meant my hair, my posture, or something else entirely. I didn't ask.