Page 19

Talysse

W e’re sitting at the doorstep of the hut when a group of Unseelie riders arrive with the first rays of the sun.

The body of the demon is quickly decomposing in the sun rays in the clearing, attracting swarms of flies.

“Prince Aeidas, Talysse the Nameless.” The lead Fae soldier dismounts and bows low before his lord, acknowledging me with a polite nod.

“Her name is Nightglimmer. Make sure you address her properly next time,” Aeidas says, a dark threat lacing his tone as he holds the improvised bandage I’ve pressed onto his wound.

“As you wish, Your Majesty,” the soldier quickly responds, his eyes darting to the other riders as if seeking reassurance, but they avoid his gaze. He surveys the scene: the large, decapitated body in a puddle of drying blood and me sitting beside the prince, alive and unharmed.

“It’s dawning. All survivors of the first Trial are invited to rest and recuperate in the palace of until the next long night.”

Atos’s hairy armpits! The thought of setting foot in the Unseelie capital sends a shiver down my spine. Father always spoke of it as an ancient, treacherous place where the common laws of nature don’t apply.

“Very well. We ride immediately,” Aeidas declares with the same cold, imperious tone he used in the Governor’s Palace.

Did he just say ride? That’s too bad. Seems I have an excuse not to go after all.

“Sorry to decline this invitation, but it seems like I’m staying here. I cannot ride.” Eyes, wide with disbelief, land on me.

“That’s out of the question, Talysse Nightglimmer,” the messenger interrupts. “Orders are for all contestants to gather at the palace.”

“You cannot ride?” Aeidas asks, a hint of amusement in his voice. “I thought you lived in the stables!”

What an ass.

“Cleaning horse manure is different than riding. Or are servants in treated differently?” I spit out through clenched teeth. “But that’s okay, I’m staying here.”

“She will ride with me,” the prince declares, and before I can protest, he swings onto the saddle of a massive black horse the Unseelie have brought forth.

“I’d rather take my chances alone, thank—” The air is forced from my lungs as his arm wraps around me, pulling me up onto the saddle as if I weigh nothing. The shock leaves me breathless.

The words die on my lips as the horse surges forward, racing through the woods. Does this cursed beast have wings? Clinging to the front of the saddle is a welcome distraction, as I’m painfully aware of the prince’s muscular form pressed against my back. His arm remains around my waist while his other hand expertly guides the reins.

Elders. He’s not wearing a shirt.

And there it is, that dreaded warmth in my core, that cursed need to feel more of him, the murderer of my parents. I feel every contraction of his chest, and—Elders help me—something hard and thick pressed against my ass.

Do not be naive, Talysse.

He’s Fae royalty. Bred to seduce, deceive, dominate, and rule over weak minds. To him, I’m just a pawn in some twisted game.

“I still find it hard to believe you cannot ride.” His hot breath brushes my ear, sending all the wrong signals to my body. I growl in frustration. The acceleration pushes me closer to him, and every jolt in the road brings us dangerously nearer as if the damned beast has an agenda.

“My father had many horses. He was about to teach me riding when someone spotted the Seelie hiding in our barn—”

I cut myself off, realizing that it sounds like I’m seeking pity from him. That was not my intention. The reminder was for me: that beneath this bronzed skin and breathtaking physique lies a heart as dead and black as the desolate woods stretching on both sides of the road. His arm tenses around my waist, and I steal a glance at his face.

His black brows knit together, cold eyes fixed on the horizon.

“Power is not for the weak of heart, Talysse,” he says, his voice deep and firm, a rumble from a calloused place in his soul. “I won’t deny that my family and I have spilled rivers of blood. You won’t understand, but it was for the greater good. If it brings you any satisfaction—” He seeks my gaze, and for a moment, I catch a flicker of vulnerability—Elders above, remorse?

I must be imagining things.

“—they all seek me out in the night. The lives I’ve destroyed, the villages overrun by Shadowfeeders, the growing devastation in these lands. And now, seeing how I’ve destroyed your life will make my nights even worse, Talysse. Your eyes will join the screeching of gallows, the thuds of heads rolling down the scaffold, the pleas of wives, and the screams of orphaned children.” His voice drops to a whisper, lost in the wind. “One thing keeps me going, Talysse, and this I promise you: it all happened for a reason.”

A lump forms in my throat. Somehow, the vulnerable, remorseful Aeidas frightens me more than the cold, despotic one. I can deal with a cruel monster, but not with someone who regrets what he did. Hate is easy; it comes naturally to humans and Fae. But walking the gray zone of your enemy’s motives is…dangerous. Dangerous because you might understand the reason behind their dark deeds and lose everything that has driven you forward. Everything that has defined you.

This fear steals the snappy comment from my lips, and we ride in silence. My mind tormented, my body responding in maddening ways to his touch.

Elders, how did I deserve such a perverse, refined torment?

The sun climbs higher, its soft rays soothing my troubles. The charred soil and black trunks of the dead forest give way to a dull, rocky plain encircled by barren hills. Ahead, a fortress of dark stone glints like a polished onyx spear tip. Silk banners unfurl in the wind like thick snakes preparing to strike. Even from this distance, I recognize the crest they bear—identical to the Ancestral Mark of the Prince, pressed against my back. We are nearing a bastion of the Unseelie.

Aeidas’s jaw is set, his eyes narrowed, silver hair whipping in the wind. His cheeks are flushed, more color than usual. He spurs the horse into a gallop, drawing me closer as if concerned I might fall. Breathless, I search desperately for anything—anything—to keep my mind off his firm embrace and the ripple of muscle behind me.

“That creature you slew—was it a vampire?” I ask, grasping at the obvious, but Seuta is my witness; I can’t think straight with his jaw resting on my head and his silver strands tickling my face.

“It was.” His whisper brushes my ear, and I look away, hoping to hide the goosebumps on my neck.

“And he is…dead now?”

“He’s been dead for centuries. Now he cannot harm anyone anymore,” Aeidas breathes.

The horse’s hooves clatter over cobblestones, and the polished black walls rise before us. Soldiers and civilians spill out of the tall gate, rushing to meet us.

“What is this place?” I do my best to conceal the note of uncertainty in my voice. Riding with the Heir to the Unseelie Throne doesn’t make his kind any less threatening.

“It’s the doorstep to . You’re safe here, Talysse.” Somehow, the royal bastard reads my mind. He removes his arm from my waist and waves at the crowd. The thunderous wave of cheering nearly makes me slip from the saddle.

Aeidas! They chant. Wildling!

He deftly pulls the reins, and for a few terrifying moments, the black beast rises onto its hind legs. The city wall seems ready to crack from the force of the applause.

Seems like this show-off is pretty popular around here.

The town behind the walls looks surprisingly dull—simple square buildings devoid of decoration or hints of luxury. But its Beacon is new and tall, and crystals of the halo grid are placed on every street corner. If only Tenebris had defenses like this against the horrors of the night!

Barracks and gray one-story houses line the steep cobbled road. Crowds roar all the way to the city square. A tall granite monolith rises at its center, and the magic vibrating around it fills my mouth with a metallic taste. Lines of Unseelie soldiers in polished cuirasses, bearing the Ancestral Mark’s heraldry, secure the perimeter.

Aeidas pulls the reins, and I squint against the bright sun, studying the artifact. The three massive rocks resemble a doorframe, and strange glowing runes are carved into the weather-worn stone.

“Have you ever traveled by portal, Talysse?” the prince asks, and I scoff. He knows very well that Fae portals aren’t accessible to humans. They’re locked away and heavily guarded in their black bastions. The only way a human can reach is by winning the Nightfall Trials or being sold as a slave.

The warmth behind me vanishes suddenly, and I nearly slide off the saddle. That would’ve been quite the entertainment for the Unseelie crowd.

Aeidas is off the horse, and I squeak pathetically when his large hands wrap around my waist and pull me down. Flailing, I grab his shoulders for support—sweet mother Cymmetra—how can a body be that hard? I slide down the rugged plane of his torso, heat spreading between my thighs. We stay like this for a brief moment, eyes locked, my breast pressed against his bare chest. He releases me quickly, looking away, but not before I catch the heat in his sage green eyes. Crossing his arms, he points at the obelisk.

“Well, Talysse,” he says, his voice once again cold and imperious, “it’s time to show you my home.”

*

I stumble out of the portal, my senses numb by the roar of raw magic. The blinding lights dancing before my eyes dissipate, and the knot in my stomach loosens a bit. Elders, that was something I’d be happy to repeat. The world is still spinning, but firm hands seize me before I can fall. The touch is familiar, unwelcome, and it sends a jolt through my body—like a spark waiting to ignite. There’s no need to look to see who it is; my body already recognizes this particular touch, and it reacts in frustratingly unpredictable ways. I slap Aeidas’s hands away and shake my head to clear my thoughts.

The portal has brought us to a circular square, similar to the one back at the outpost bastion, but far more crowded. The royal guard, clad in armor bearing the royal coat of arms, is easy to spot. They are everywhere, holding back colorful crowds of Fae. It seems like the whole capital has gathered to see the contestants who survived the first of the Nightfall Trials. Merchants and street performers take advantage of the gathering, and music mixes with excited chatter and the shouts of the townsfolk. The aroma of roasted meat tingles my nose, and my belly responds with an angry growl. Just like before, the crowd roars when they spot their prince, and Aeidas lifts both hands in greeting.

The noise nearly makes the roof tiles of the buildings around fall off by the sheer force of their chant.

“Aeidas! Wildling! Aeidas!” They chant, applaud, and stomp their feet. I suddenly feel small and terribly vulnerable. Here I am, surrounded by the kind who killed my parents, at the mercy of a ruthless prince with an unclear agenda.

And why, in the name of Atos, do they call him the Wildling?

My fingers close around the magical Flint in my pocket, the smooth surface cooling my emotions. He didn’t take it away from me, though he had many opportunities. He could have left me in the dark garden of Sorayah the Songstress, or let me drown, or let that child monster have me and claimed my victory as his, but for some unknown reason, he didn’t.

Fae are traitorous and self-serving, and this one here has more refined ways. He will try to deceive me soon; I know it in my bones. Maybe he’s making me trust him in order to get some sick pleasure from breaking me later.

We climb a wide street with smooth pavement surrounded by ornate granite buildings. Artfully carved onyx statues of the Elders and some unknown Unseelie Kings line the street, their glossy black eyes following our procession.

The street ends at the feet of a monumental black staircase leading to the most magnificent building I’ve ever seen. It is a symphony of towers, steep roofs, breakneck stairways, arched bridges defying gravity, and wide, ornate windows. It is breathtaking. Noticing that I have fallen behind, the prince turns around and—to my embarrassment—chuckles when he sees the awe written all over my face.

Just great. The human girl from the stables sees big houses for the first time. I look pointedly away, straighten my doublet, and follow him on the steps leading to the palace, where a group of courtiers is already awaiting us.

Stepping through the grand doors of the Fae palace, I am immediately enveloped by an aura of ancient, crumbling decadence. The entrance hall looms vast and imposing, its polished dark jade floor gleaming under flickering light, like the surface of a murky lake that might hide unseen depths. The crystals of the chandeliers catch the light, casting a kaleidoscope of colors onto the vaulted ceilings high above.

Walls of onyx, etched with intricate, timeworn patterns, guide the procession through a labyrinth of endless, spiraling staircases. Each step on the polished black stairs echoes with whispers of centuries past, their handrails adorned with delicate carvings of mythical creatures and ancient runes that seem to pulse with a life of some old, forgotten magic.

Magnificent tapestries hang from the walls, masterpieces woven with threads of gold and silver, depicting the Fae’s history—battles of old, coronations of long-forgotten kings, and the serene beauty of enchanted forests before the Hex. The draft moves them, bringing the scenes almost to life as we pass.

The palace halls stretch endlessly, their high vaults arching gracefully overhead, supported by slender columns of jade. Sunlight filters through tall, arched windows draped with heavy velvet curtains, illuminating the dust motes that dance in the air and casting long, eerie shadows that play tricks on the eye.

Every corner of the palace whispers secrets. The scent of old books and the sharp tang of magic lingers in the grand halls. Mirrors, darkened by time, with frames encrusted in jewels, are lined up along the walls, and I catch a glimpse of my reflection. Elders, I look tired. I take a deep breath, struggling to keep up with the prince, carried away in a conversation with one knight in black armor. The air is thick with the scent of old stone and the faint aroma of incense and wilting flowers.

Seems like our march through the melancholic beauty of the palace is nearly over when we enter a wide corridor with ornate doors on both sides. Looks like some kind of quarters and my suspicion is confirmed when the guards halt before a door.

“Your chambers, Talysse Nightglimmer,” the knight in unmarked armor declares and pushes the heavy door open.

Relieved that I’ll be finally left alone with my thoughts and that I’ll get a chance to rest, I rush in.

Without hesitation or a word of goodbye, I slam the door behind my back. Yet two glowing sage eyes still pierce me, and his touch still lingers on my skin.

Beyond the heavy oak door lies an intimate and shadowy haven. The opulent darkness of the room is disturbed by the warm glow of the flames of a black marble fireplace. The walls, draped in deep velvet tapestries of midnight blue and onyx, seem to absorb the light. The air, perfumed with the scent of burning wood and faint incense, is pleasantly warm.

In the center of the room stands a magnificent four-poster bed, its dark mahogany frame intricately carved with twisting vines and mythical creatures. The canopy above is lined with heavy velvet curtains in a rich, deep purple, edged with delicate silver embroidery. I pat the soft mattress and brush my fingers over the layers of sumptuous fabrics—silk sheets in deep garnet, a plush ebony comforter, and an array of pillows of various shapes and sizes.

To the side of the fireplace, a high-back chair upholstered in dark green brocade invites you to sit and ponder, its wood polished to a deep, glossy sheen. A small table beside it holds a crystal decanter filled with an amber liquid and two matching goblets.

The floor, covered in polished onyx tiles, reflects the room’s splendor, like the surface of a dark lake.

I’ve never seen such opulence before, as if every piece is created by the hands of Elder Raynisse herself.

Still busy taking in the details of the room, I hear the door open too late.

A human girl, no older than fourteen, slips into the room with the quiet grace of someone used to moving unnoticed—her presence a sudden intrusion into the shadowy space. She’s wearing a plain but new cotton dress, and her light brown hair is braided on both sides of her face. She looks like any other normal young girl, and there’s something in her bearing that reminds me of Tayna if it wasn’t for the terrible scar covering half of her face. It looks like her skin melted or was ripped off, and a thick pink band covers it, hinting that she’s lost her eye, too.

“M’lady.” The girl curtsies with a pleasant smile, and I scold myself for staring. “I will be your maid during your stay in the palace. I am so excited to be of service to you, m’lady,” she chirps, puffing the pillows on the enormous bed with the black, silky sheets, “they say you won the first trial and got the Flint!” She looks at me, her single brown eye wide open, glowing. I’m already preparing an excuse to send her away, but her excitement stops me. How often does this poor slave girl have the chance to talk to someone, especially another human?

“Drop the m’lady, I am Talysse. And you are?” I ask while unbuttoning my doublet.

“I am Ayrene,” she squeaks with excitement, and I realize that her smile is infectious.

“Well, Ayrene, you remind me a lot of my sister,” I remark, shedding the doublet and fussing with the buttons of my worn-out lacy shirt, which sports a couple of holes after the Trial. This bed there is calling my name, and I can’t wait to feel the coolness of those sheets.

“Do I?” She gleams. “What can I do for you m—Talysse, m’lady? Should I stitch up these holes? Or draw you a bath?”

“A bath would be perfect,” I agree, realizing that I’m looking for an excuse to keep her around, despite the fact that my knees are giving in from the fatigue.

“On it, Talysse!” The girl folds the silk screen at the far corner of the room and reveals a crystal tub and some copper pipes connected to a strange hearth. She throws some firewood into the opening and opens the valves. “It heats the water.” She points at it proudly. While the water steams and fills the beautiful tub, she fusses with the jars on the shelf above, sniffs, and throws some petals in it.

I watch her, my clothes piled on the floor. “Aren’t you a little young to do all this?” I ask, crossing my arms. The air is filled with the soothing aroma of iris and chamomile.

She dips a finger to test the water and looks back at me, glowing. “I’m fifteen, Talysse. My brother is thirteen, and he’s helping at the stables,” she adds proudly.

“And where are your parents?”

Oh, snap. Should’ve known better than to blurt out a question like this. I immediately recognize that look, that telling silence.

“It’s all right, Ayrene, you’re not the only one who lost her family to the Unseelie.” I walk to her and place a palm on her shoulder.

“To the Unseelie?” Her single dark eye flashes incredulously, and she puffs her lips. “It was a horde of Tainted Ones, m’lady Talysse. They attacked us, Ma put us on a horse, but I slipped. The horse dragged me for a while, m’lady…Talysse. That’s why I have this face. Aeidas saved us. He came down on them with his Shadowblade and took the whole horde all alone. But he arrived too late for Ma and Pa.” I blink, dumbfounded. “Do you know why they call him the Wildling, m…Talysse?” I shake my head. This conversation is becoming far more interesting than anticipated.

“Why?” I ask, dipping my toe in the water. It’s fragrant and hot, a luxury I haven’t had since my time in my parents’ mansion.

“You need help getting in? No? Okay.” She watches me tensely when I ease myself into the water, petals floating on the surface. Elders bless this girl. This is heaven. “They call him like this because he prefers spending more time exploring the Wastelands and working in the palace gardens than in his court.” The memory of the glow in his eyes when he was collecting the glowing spores flashed before me. This…makes some sense in a very odd way.

“I was very young, but Raynar, my brother, was even younger. We set off to the Free Cities with Ma and Pa, but our caravan had just one mage, inexperienced they said. It was over in seconds.” I squeeze her tiny hand, but she pulls it out and starts massaging fragrant oils into my scalp. She continues on telling the story with an even voice, “Prince Aeidas came from nowhere and saved us. Then he brought us here. The court healer worked for nine nights on my face, but she couldn’t save my eye—” I swallow drily, my eyes welling up. Poor young ones, the torture they must have been through. “But I am good, as you see. Raynar, on the other hand,” her voice breaks, “he will never be the same again. He hasn’t spoken a word since that night, Talysse, m’lady, and he is a little bit slow. But he’s a good boy, and he helps. He works at the stables, did I tell you that? He loves sweets. Bring him some if you have the chance. I feel like he’s…forever stuck in that night, Talysse, and this pains me.” Fragrant foam is dripping into my eyes and I am grateful for this, as it hides my tears. This could’ve been me and Tayna.

“I am sure that he knows that you’re safe, Ayrene. Are you happy here?”

“We are, m’lady. We are happy to serve the prince. And he taught me reading.” I whip my head to look at her. She’s not joking. Children cannot lie in the way adults do. And this girl is telling the truth.

“And you’re…free to go if you wish?”

“Yes. But where should we go? We’re paid handsomely for our work, and the prince is treating us fair. We’re safe here. Working for him, we’re off-limits for the rest of them. I cannot bring myself to attempt another trip to the Free Cities.”

I lean into her skilled touch as she continues babbling. “Aeidas, Master Viridis, and Desmond are my friends. They say that soon things will change for good, Talysse. They want to make trees grow back out there; they want to make the nights shorter. But we should not speak of this. See, I’m small and can sneak around unnoticed, so I hear things.” She winks at me. Well, now she sounds delusional—probably, this girl’s ordeal has messed with her head, too. “You have beautiful hair, even prettier than the Fae ladies; no wonder the prince looks at you like this—”

She’s washing the fragrant foam off my hair, yet I still open my mouth and nearly choke.

“Looks at me like what, Ayrene?” I mumble, my eyes still closed.

“Well, rumor has it that you caught his eye, m’lady Talysse, and that they found you after the Trial with no clothes on—” I grab the edge of the bathtub, struggling to get out, not sure if I want to protest, or just be alone. Who is spreading these outrageous rumors? I need to find them and make them shut up. I was completely dressed, and Aeidas—well, he was still bleeding from that nasty bite.

“I personally don’t believe this, m’lady Talysse, as our prince, handsome as he is, has never been in the company of a lady longer than—”

Well, this is more than enough. Wiping the foam off my eyes, I urge her to rinse my hair off and dismiss her.

“I will be back at Nightfall to help you with your gown and hair, m’lady Talysse; rest now!” She curtsies and hurries to the door.

“Help me with what?” I ask incredulously.

“Help you look even better for the ball tonight, m’lady Talysse.” She glows and closes the door behind her back.

Atos’s hairy ass.

A ball in this viper’s nest, where everyone will stare at me—the prince’s latest conquest.

I step out of the crystal tub, wetting the polished floor, and change into an airy nightgown Ayrene has prepared for me. Then I slip between the crisp sheets, smelling of lavender soap. Exhaustion pulls me under as soon as my head touches the feather-filled pillows.

Still, even as sleep claims me, the distant echoes of music and laughter haunt my dreams.

Another trial, a far more traitorous one, is just around the corner.