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Chapter eighteen

Nerys

T o Nerys’s consternation, Idris dismissed her without a chance to meet the elusive “lady,” and she was too surprised to protest. Time to explain everything tomorrow , he had said.

He probably didn’t want Nerys to embarrass him in front of his important connection.

Or, more likely, Idris wanted to discuss things without Nerys’s eager ears soaking up each uttered tidbit like a sponge in a milk bucket.

Afterall, the lady—the Sun Holder —was about to reveal to Nerys that she was a traitor to her own kingdom.

At least her banishment gave Nerys a chance to think about who exactly she had been keeping company with.

“Typical nobles,” Nerys muttered when she entered her room.

“Figures—ordering everyone around every chance they get.” Yet her flippant words covered an attitude that was anything but—two of Cerdoran’s heirs had been teaching her—Nerys Grintree—how to lace corsets, curtsey, and seductively slide butter over bread.

Teaching her . A nobody.

Alright, maybe Idris did her a favor by sending her to bed—she needed a night to let this knowledge ferment and compose herself before facing them tomorrow. Sometimes, a little knowledge changed everything.

Nerys changed into her nightdress and crawled into bed, snug under the cool covers like a squirrel tucked into its nest. There was no point in trying to make out details of the muffled conversation taking place on the floor below, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t going to try.

Now, what could she glean? There was a new woman in the house, with an unfamiliar rich voice.

And they talked fast, potentially in several languages.

But other than that, they could have been discussing anything from fishing bait to hair removal and Nerys would’ve been none the wiser.

Minutes ticked by, and then hours. What could they possibly be discussing?

Though, planning treason likely took a great deal of chatter .

Nerys inhaled and burrowed her face in a pillow, running her fingers over the cover’s white embroidery as she had many sleepless nights.

She needed rest and not to think any longer.

The three of them had planned everything about this beforehand.

Once the lady arrived, Nerys was “Nerys” no more.

She was to be Sword Man Callidora Niveh, orphaned daughter of the former Sword Man, and loyal subject of the R?ll.

In order to get everyone used to her role and name, the farce was to begin immediately.

Tonight, Idris had said goodbye to her as Nerys with her real name for the last time.

Callidora. Her name was now Callidora.

It would be discomforting to be called something so…formal. Especially with the Sword Man title attached. 95

Finally, the conversation died, but Nerys’s eyes were still as wide as a gopher hole.

A walk would do the trick to beckon sleep.

Maybe reading in the library. Yes, that was a good plan.

She had read before when struck by sleeplessness, and it always worked.

She wasn’t the most literate, but she could make do—and the best books were the ones with lots of illustrations.

Idris and Fina had tried to fix her literary shortcomings over the last few weeks.

Unfortunately, rushed lessons did not make up for a lifetime of scholarly deprivation.

Through it all, they consoled her—or more likely each other—with the fact that a Sword Man’s child wouldn’t be expected to be well-educated. Too expensive. 96

Nerys sluggishly tugged on her woven shawl and left the room, closing the door quietly behind her.

Barefoot, she crept down the halls, listening for sounds like a child worried about getting caught.

Such a worry was silly—no one cared if she was awake and wandering.

Though the new lady’s presence somehow cast a pall over the lodge, some heaviness that hadn’t been there before.

But then again, she was going to court soon—nerves were expected. Yes, it was nerves.

When Nerys made it to the library and left her shawl on a chair, prickles danced on her skin. Like it had the time in her bedroom. And when she was in the garden.

Something was watching.

Rigid, Nerys inspected the room, which was dimly lit by a dying fire in the fireplace that cast long shadows over the wooden cases filled a couple of the walls with numerous tomes.

Nothing. Not even the cushions were out of place—there was not even a crease in the furniture’s cushions.

A silk plant rested in a planter next to the fire, and a stuffed moose head stared down at her, its glossy eyes probing her movements.

The moose was unsettling. Maybe it was just that.

Still, the uneasy sensation of something else didn’t leave. Out of desperation, she called for her stone eyes—and looked again.

An old man was sitting on one of the armchairs, perfectly still and paying her no mind.

Stunned, Nerys gasped and jerked backwards. How had she missed him reclining there? She didn’t. She couldn’t have.

The man was nondescript, 97 and if Nerys had seen him in a portrait, she would’ve written him off as a university’s long-dead headmaster.

Practically bald, what hair the man had was coiffed over his head like strands of whipped sugar.

He stared at the fire, pensive, like he was trying to solve a complicated family dilemma.

If Nerys hadn’t known the room was empty, she would’ve thought that this man was one of the lady’s household, newly arrived from court. But the room had been empty, so the only explanation was that her eyes were seeing the other planes. But how? Why now ?

She had to leave.

Nerys crept backwards, and just when she reached the door, the man turned to her, a smile erupting on his waxy face. “Oh—you can see me. How delightful.” His accent was unfamiliar, jarring.

“I, no…”

Oh no. No. No. No.

“Come now, child.” The smile took up his entire face now, like someone had split the moon in half. Yet it did not reach his eyes—his dark eyes. “Come sit with me. I insist. I don’t bite.”

“Wha—what are you?” Nerys forced herself steady. “What are you doing here?”

The man frowned. “What sort of question is that? A bit rude, if I may say so.”

“I…I’m sorry.” What was she supposed to say? Something was off, but it would do her no good to offend the gentleman. Man? Was he a ghost? “I will stay standing though, if you please, sir.”

The man nodded, unsurprised. “Suit yourself. At least someone around here tries to have good manners. Now” ?his forehead furrowed? “what is your name?”

“Nerys. Your Brilliance.” She didn’t know who this man was, but she erred on the side of using the proper first address for a Sun Holder, just in case this was the current Sun Holder’s dead grandfather.

Why was she able to see and talk to him? Did she have the sight?

How?

That was an issue for later.

“Nerys,” he said, drawing out the “s” sound like a hiss. “What are you doing in a house like this?”

“I…”

Shit.

“Oh, you’re the one the Sun Holder has been so concerned with. My, my, I thought I tasted it on you.”

“Tasted?” Nerys frowned.

The man flicked his wrist. “Never mind. How do you feel about what is to come, my dear?”

Nerys stepped closer. “You know about that?”

“Of course, I do. I know everything the mistress concerns herself with.”

“I…I…” Somehow, she ended up closer to the man than she intended.

“Come now. Tell me.” He twitched his knobby fingers, beckoning her closer.

“Are you nervous about what’s to come? There’s a lot she is expecting of you.

” Now Nerys could make out the lines on his face, the thin, harsh wrinkles, like someone creased paper and tried to smooth it out again. And his eyes…his strange eyes.

“Of course I am,” she whispered. “Who are you?”

The man cracked his knuckles, one after another with a sickening pop. “I do whatever she needs.”

“Which is?”

The man raised an eyebrow. “You really don’t know, do you?” Nerys crossed her arms. “I see,” the man said, his expression shifting like a chess master watching his opponent’s move. “Well, maybe we can help each other.”

“How so?”

“I need help.” The man pulled back the sleeves of his robe, revealing thick metal manacles clasped around his wrists.

Not merely around his wrists, in his wrists.

Each manacle bore a rusted spike that went through his limbs, leaving them covered with black crusted blood.

Nerys covered her mouth. Chains were connected to the manacles, and ran under the man’s sleeves, the remainder hidden from view.

Were there more spikes and manacles on his body? What suffering did he endure?

“See?” the man said with a whimper, shaking his hands so that the chains rattled. “It hurts so much. The Sun Holder is cruel and makes me wear these—won’t you help me?” He looked at her imploringly.

“How?” The unimaginable pain he must have been in…no one should live like that. All she could focus on was his eyes. His mournful, pained eyes…it really wasn’t fair for him to have to live like that. Her vision blurred. This was like a dream. A distant dream.

“It’s easy, child. You can help me by doing so little.” He held out one manacled wrist. What could she do? Whatever it was, she should do it. No one deserved to suffer like this. “All you have to do is touch the spike,” he said. “Let your blood touch it.”

“And then?”

“I’ll be free.” The man laughed. “And, oh, how I’ll be able to help you.

Why, I’d be so grateful. So eternally grateful.

” His words barely registered in her mind compared to his eyes, deep pools she could get lost in.

Was lost in. “All it takes is one measly drop of blood.” The man grinned and pointed at one of the side tables near the armchair.

“There’s even a letter opener—it would be so easy. ”

He was right—it would be easy. And a drop of blood?

That was a small price to pay to help someone who had been so kind to her.

So welcoming, not like…she couldn’t remember the others’ names.

No matter. She really should help him. He promised he’d help her in return.

Though…what was it she needed help with?

“That’s it,” the man said. Nerys barely noticed she had taken another step towards him. And then another. She didn’t care. Closer to the man, she could now smell the odor of rotten eggs. “You’re such a helpful girl.”

Poor man…he probably hadn’t bathed in ages. What sort of person dressed their servant in such fine attire, but made them suffer so?

Another step.

Another.

Idris didn’t smell like this. He smelled like…cloves. And soap.

Idris.

The village.

The bargain .

Her sight.

Like cold water was dumped on her head, Nerys lurched backwards, the spell broken. Fuck. Whatever creature this was, she wasn’t going to do a thing to help it.

She had to get away.

Stumbling and crying out, she made her way to the door, not daring to let the creature out of her sight. Was it going to chase her? Attack her? Living Gods, what was it going to do?

As for the creature, that thing , he calmly put his hands back on his lap and sighed, all but ignoring the frantic girl rushing for the exit. “Pity,” he said. “That almost worked.”

What was he? She wasn’t going to stay to find out.

Not taking her eyes off the man, Nerys rammed her back into the library wall near the door and flailed, knocking several books off the shelf and onto the ground.

She reached for the crystal knob, hands shaking.

Sobbing, she gripped the knob and her hands slipped.

She was trapped. It was going to hurt her. She—

“Not helping him was the smartest thing you’ve ever done,” a new male voice whispered in her ear.

Cold air wafted on her neck, and the same egg smell rolled over her.

The chained man was still in his chair, watching this new turn of events, his fingers interlaced in front of him.

That man shook his head, grinning. He was not the one who spoke.

Slowly, she turned to see who was next to her. And when she did, she screamed. 98