Page 5 of Steeling Light (Shadowed Debts #3)

Each Count and Countess shall rule their own House, but Selithar shall be ruled by a council made up of a chosen leader from each Lesser House and each Lesser Fae species. We must be unified. We must work for the good of everyone, not just our own Houses.

Adelynne Emlyn, Edicts of Selithar

Ainslee

The Keep of Light is gorgeous. Unlike the Great Houses, the Lesser Houses are in the smaller cities—Selithar, Myrrhaen, and Elaris. Each of those cities has four Lesser Houses, but they’re… lesser . The size and grandeur difference is as significant as the difference in our power.

Where the Keep of Flames was larger than the entire city of Stormhaven, the Keep of Light is slightly smaller than Stormhaven’s castle, and it’s the largest in Selithar.

This place is supposed to be my home. It’s where I was born, but I’ve never felt even the slightest connection to it.

The walls, on first glance, look like clear quartz, but the facets that make them opaque are impossible to cut onto a quartz.

The slight rise and fall of the textured zircon walls create the perfect canvas to cut the stone, leaving it beautiful, sparkling, and utterly opaque even though the stone is crystal clear.

It's like living inside a diamond, and everything is a glowing sunburst. Unlike the Great Keeps, the Keep of Light’s walls and floors are covered in tapestries and rugs. Even the Countess of Light, the leader of the House, knows we’d all be blinded without some walls being covered.

“Good evening,” the phantari says from under a white cloak.

Every House has its Guardians, and the phantari are the House of Light’s.

The creatures stand unnervingly still, their entire bodies covered in white fabric with their faces covered by their hoods.

Slightly taller than me, this one stands between me and the guest rooms. No one has ever seen the skin, much less the face, of a phantari.

They are as unforgettable as any other piece of art in the Keep, and just as impersonal.

The nameless Guardian says, “Ainslee Emlyn, it has been many years since you have been back to the City of Moonlight. I will inform your mother that you’ve returned and have a room…”

“I just need a place to sleep. Don’t worry about telling my mother I’m here.” I try to stop the phantari, but it ignores me completely.

“Enjoy your stay, Ainslee. It’s good that you’ve come home.”

This is not home. It never has been and never will be.

I walk up the stairs towards the area of the Keep where the guest rooms are located.

The walls become darker as I go deeper into the Keep as we get farther away from the sunlight outside.

The path is winding, but I haven’t forgotten my way.

My eyes take in the once familiar sights, reminding me of my world a lifetime ago.

Then, when I’m only a hallway away from the guest rooms, I hear a voice. I’d told the phantari not to inform my mother… “Lee… You’ve come home.”

I turn to look at the woman who is so starkly different from Darian and me.

Blonde, so thin you’d think she was a willow branch, and glowing constantly, my mother stands in the hallway I’d just left.

She’s beautiful in a way that I could never imagine myself.

Her body looks like she was created rather than born.

Her cheeks are sharp, yet the faint laugh-lines are the only wrinkles on her face, making her seem strong and easy to talk to at the same time. Her golden hair has been braided into a crown perfectly where the Crystal Crown rests.

The silver dress looks like it’s made of crystals, all of which catch the light she radiates and flash in the dim hallway. Yet, it’s the way the dress clings to her that truly draws the eye. Her body isn’t meant to hold a sword, nor is it capable of running or flying for hours at a time.

It’s meant to be looked at, to be seen as a piece of art. Every curve is clearly outlined, and they’re perfect. There’s no question why my mother is the Countess of Light.

She’d had to hurry to catch up, and I can see her chest rising and falling ever so slightly faster than normal. She knew that once I made it to my room, she wouldn’t be able to talk to me.

“Mother,” I say and stand tall. My mother and I haven’t always had the best relationship, but she’s not a terrible person. She’s just… not me or Darian. She belongs here in the Keep of Light, and her time in Draenyth was a price she paid to achieve her goals.

Namely, the thin band of crystal that rests on her forehead.

She crosses the hallway, and her hand brushes my cheek with a familiarity I don’t agree with. I step back. “I’m not here for long, Mother. I’m only passing through and need a place to sleep for the night.”

“You didn’t think I’d want to see my only daughter? Where’s Darian? Should I expect him and Cole to arrive in a few moments?”

My mother has done three things that I will always be thankful for. She gave birth to me and Darian. She introduced me to Cole when she became his tutor, and she managed to convince Casimir to allow Darian and me to spend most days with him. That’s it.

Every mother wants her children to be well-connected, and Cole Cyrus is as high of a connection as any House of Light Immortal could hope for, so it makes sense why she did it.

I try not to think about it like that. I have to believe that she saw how happy Darian and I were when we were playing with Cole, and she stood up for our happiness.

I’m probably wrong, but I don’t care. I’d rather not hate my mother even if she’s not my favorite person.

“Darian and Cole aren’t coming to Selithar. They’re busy, and I’m only passing through.”

She frowns and somehow still looks like she’s smiling. That’s her gift. Just like Cole always looks like he’s ready for battle, Adelynne Emlyn’s smile never wanes. Even when she’s unhappy or sad. It’s why she became Countess.

And that’s why she never understood me. The power of Light is meant to bring cheer as Flames are meant for destruction. You can’t bring cheer with a frown, and yet, my smile is nothing special. My mother’s, though…

“Lee,” she says, her concern deepening. “Is it true what they’re saying? Are you three hiding from Gethin? And a Wyrdling wears the Painted Crown?”

I close my eyes, my hands balling into fists, and I try to calm down so I don’t lash out at her.

Why do I expect her to know what’s happening in Draenyth?

Why do I get so frustrated that she’s not doing anything useful?

She’d be powerless against the House of Steel just as she was powerless against my father.

I’m sure Gethin would love to have a reason to collar the Countess of Light, and the best thing for everyone is if she just stays away from anything important.

“We’re all fine, Mother. You don’t need to worry about us. Just stay away from Draenyth right now. It’s not safe for anyone but the House of Steel, and if anyone were to recognize you as my mother, it could be very dangerous for you.”

She takes another step toward me, but this time, she doesn’t try to touch me. “So, it’s true,” she says, her voice becoming not much more than a whisper. “You’re going to start a war with Gethin, aren’t you?”

I don’t answer her. Instead, my eyes go to the floor as I try to maintain at least some secrecy. Just because this is my mother doesn’t mean that the gossipmongers hiding in the shadows aren’t ready to spread every secret I have to the four corners of the city and beyond.

“Young woman,” my mother says, her voice becoming far sharper. “You will tell me if you and your brother are going to war with Gethin.”

I look up at her, and I see past the beauty, past the light and permanent smile, and I see the concern in her eyes.

Her voice softens as my gaze meets hers.

“Please talk to me, Lee. Tell me what’s happening so I can somehow get you and your brother out of it.

This isn’t your fight. This is drama between the Great Houses, and you’re… ”

“Worthless?” I ask, and this time it’s my voice that’s sharp.

I pull away from her. I meet her eyes, and none of the glamours that she’s so well known for find a purchase in me. I see Adelynne Emlyn for the woman she is, not the costume she presents.

“Lee! I have never said that! That was…”

I don’t bother listening to anything else she says.

“Darian and I are Cole’s closest friends and only confidantes.

We serve the Prince of Flames and the Queen of Earth.

Not the House of Light. Not you. We are tied to this drama and cannot be untangled from it, and you, along with the rest of the people in Selithar, should be a part of it too.

Gethin is trying to destroy all the other Great Houses, and he’s going to be successful if we fail.

Don’t you see how important stopping him is? ”

“But you’re…”

I huff. “I’m more than Light, Mother. I’m useful.”

Images I’ve tried to forget for so long flash through me as the conversation and emotions come too close to the ones I’ve pushed into a dark recess of my mind.

Memories of my father in this very hallway. The shattered pieces of a vase. Blood. So much blood. I don’t remember the pain anymore. Cole taught me how to deal with pain, but the words… I’ll never forget those words.

You’re nothing. You’re worthless. A girl whose only value is to be a pretty whore, like her mother.

A boy whose only value is to entertain his betters; just another type of whore.

Forget whose bloodline spawned you. It’s better to be childless than to spawn a bloodline that will only bring shame and disappointment.

I shake my head, but the images won’t leave my mind.

I take another look at my mother, and my body moves instinctively.

No, I’m not staying here. I’m not putting myself through this.

There is nothing in the world so important that I will force myself to stay in this place.

I’m not a child any longer, and the only people who command me are Maeve and Cole, and they would never force me to stay in this building.

Without another thought, I turn toward the nearest balcony. I run, ignoring the glances and odd looks from the people I pass. My boots are heavy on the dark rugs.

My breath is just as heavy as panic threatens to overtake me. The sense of pride that I’ve learned to force so well glazes over the fear, sealing it away for a moment as wings sprout from my back and brush against the crystalline walls on either side of me.

Fear ruins the transformative powers of Steel, and I smile amidst the memories that have haunted me my entire life, letting me forget long enough that when I burst from the hallway onto the balcony, my wings are ready.

I run across the balcony and leap. My legs push hard against the zircon under my feet, and my wings pump the still air beneath them, giving me enough lift to clear the chest-high railing.

Then, I’m falling headfirst toward the cobblestones of the City of Moonlight below me. I take a deep breath as my wings stiffen. Every feather hardens against the others as I tense, turning a mass of feathers into wings that cut through the wind.

Then I shift them ever so slightly, and they stop cutting through the air. Instead, they force my body to turn, slowing my downward descent. The speed doesn’t change, but the direction does, and instead of plummeting to my death, I’m soaring a hundred feet over the city that I hate so much.

“What am I supposed to do now?” I mutter.

Staying at the Keep of Light would have been nice for most people. They’re known for their nightly performances and elegant accommodations, but I… My history with the Keep of Light isn’t something I’m going to get over as easily as I’d hoped.

Instead, I’ll have to settle for an inn. Luckily, there are plenty of them in the only Immortal city known for tourism.

I put on a smile again as I soar down to the streets below.

The memory of a crystal hallway fades into a corner of my mind, always there, but never acknowledged.

The sounds of a party fill the evening air, and I make a note not to go to that inn.

I’ve been a little loud and obnoxious at times, but tonight I need peace and quiet.

When I step up to the door of the Ashen Hearth, I’m hopeful. Unlike the previous inns, this one is quiet. The soft sound of a harp plays from inside, but none of the raucous noise of a lively crowd accompanies it. There’s no laughter or chaos from patrons who’ve had too many drinks.

It’s almost somber when I step through the doorway, my wings gone, and my rucksack positioned to hide the slits in my tunic. A woman plays the harp in the center of the room, and three patrons look on fondly. It’s a love song, a song of hope and beauty. And I hate it.

At so many other times in my life, I’d have sat down in front of the harpist and enjoyed her song, but not tonight. Not after seeing that hallway again.

No, there is no room inside me for hope and love tonight.