Page 20

Talysse

T he nightmares are back.

Instead of my parents’ lifeless bodies, there is a horde of monsters hunting me. I am clutching Tayna in my hands and we’re riding a horse, and it is so terrifyingly big and fast. The animal is scared, galloping without a care of the two tiny humans on its back, and I slip down. Still tangled in the reins, the horse doesn’t stop, and I scream until my throat is dry, aware that I’ve lost Tayna somewhere along the way. Then Aeidas comes out of nowhere, waving his Shadowblade, but instead of helping he swings it at me—

“M’lady Talysse?” Ayrene is at my bedside, lighting the candles in the silver candelabra. “It’s almost Nightfall; time to get ready for the ball. It’ll be a short night, a time to celebrate. Here, I’ve brought you snacks.”

“Snacks” is a magic word for me, and it is incredibly smart of Ayrene to keep me distracted with the honey-walnut cookies and quince compote spread over thin slices of fresh bread while she combs and braids my hair and squeals over the dresses we found in the mahogany wardrobe.

When she walks me to the mirror opposite the bed, I subconsciously scan the room for magic. This vision in a white silk dress threaded with silver cannot be me. The dress has a generous cleavage plunging deep and displaying more than I’d feel comfortable with, but this is the extravagant Unseelie court, so I’d better blend in. Long transparent sleeves, split from the elbow down, sweep the floor with each move. The hem of the flowing white skirts is encrusted with sparkling crystals, its pattern reminding me of the paintings the frost draws on the windows in the winter mornings. The delicate fabric shows the lithe line of my legs and pools around my sequined slippers like fog.

Ayrene has added some color to my lips and cheeks and painted my eyelashes black, which makes my eyes pop out. Maybe it was the whole day of rest, but there’s a sparkle in my gaze that wasn’t there before.

“Do you like it, m’lady Talysse?” Insecure, the girl is touching up my curls which cascade down my shoulders, rows of pearls and diamonds snaking between them.

“If I like it?” My brows shoot up in dismay, then pack the girl and swing her around. “I love it, Ayrene! Are you sure you don’t have magic? I came in here looking like a Tainted One, and see what you’ve done!” She palms her forehead. “Oh, I nearly forgot! A last but very important detail! The prince asked me to give you this,” I glare at her, “tell her to put the Flint in there, he said, and never to part from it!” She hands me a tiny brocade pouch with a long cord intended to be worn around one’s neck. “And I agree with him, m’lady Talysse; put the relic in there and never take it off! Contestants are not allowed to attack each other before the beginning of the next trial, but I am sure there are enough wicked minds here plotting to steal it. Keep it safe, and don’t wander the castle alone,” she finishes, hanging the shimmering thread around my neck, and I wince at the touch of her cool, small fingers, so much like Tayna’s.

“Promised,” I declare solemnly, wondering what game Aeidas is playing. There must be some tricky, sinister plot behind all this. “Now show me to this ballroom.” I brush my skirts, straighten my back, and brace to leave the safety of my chambers.

Two silent Fae guards in unmarked black armor escort me to the ballroom.

“Shadowblades,” Ayrene whispers in my ear, “the prince’s most loyal men.” Everyone has heard of these fearsome warriors, Aeidas’s private army of knights, assassins, and spies.

Ancient magic and secrets much older than the royal family lingers linger in the corners of the Unseelie palace. Some corridors and halls seem to be used daily, while others are covered with layers of undisturbed dust and cobwebs. It is a maze, or my guards have chosen a route to confuse my senses, but we’re skirting around some sections of the palace, descending and then climbing back up just to avoid certain halls or areas.

“I cannot go any further, m’lady.” The girl pulls my hand and turns back to leave. “Don’t walk the hallways alone; don’t follow the whispers, Talysse! I will see you later!” And she’s gone.

The Shadowblades urge me to keep up with their wide strides, and we reach an area more lavishly decorated than the rest. A group of extravagantly dressed Unseelie courtiers stands around and glares at us. The way they look at me is giving me the chills. It’s not the ridicule in their beautiful, cruel eyes; it’s the way they stare and lick their lips as if I am on the menu tonight.

Well, nothing new to me. I close my fingers around the pouch at my neck, turn around, and grin, adding an exaggerated curtsy. This stuns them; some look away, and others respond with fake smiles, baring blood-chilling sharp fangs. But at least the whispers behind my back die out.

The scent of hot food alerts me that we’re close. My guards stand before a tall mahogany door with golden ornaments. They look at me as if awaiting confirmation, and I nod, surprised by their thoughtfulness. They push the heavy door open.

Chin held high, I enter the ballroom.

Every inch of the banquet hall is covered with black marble, capturing and reflecting the light of the crystal chandeliers like the night sky. The walls are adorned with intricate gold filigree.

At the center of the hall stands a long, grand table, its surface a gleaming expanse of onyx inlaid with veins of gold. It’s loaded with an extravagant array of delicacies: roasted game birds, their crispy skins glistening with honey and spices, platters of exotic fruits, and decadent pastries in various shapes and colors. Goblets of Fae wine, shimmering with an otherworldly glow, stand before each guest.

The guests, clad in deep velvets, silks, and brocades, are carried away in conversations; the air around them is heavy with fine perfumes and incense. The women wear gowns adorned with gemstones that sparkle like stars, their hair styled in elaborate twists and braids. It’s such a relief not to feel overdressed anymore. Ayrene knew what she was doing—seeing the cut of the gowns and the hairdos of the court ladies, I easily blend in. Music fills the air, a haunting melody played by unseen musicians. The delicate sound of a harp, intertwined with the deep tones of a cello, creates a symphony that resonates with the very soul of the palace.

The closest groups of chatting courtiers grow quiet as soon as I’m near them. A human attendant in an impeccable silk uniform shows me to my seat. At the far head of the table sits the royal couple—they look ancient and otherworldly and tired, their eyes haunted. No piles of sparkling jewelry, layers of luxurious fabrics and clever garment cuts can compensate for the lack of color in their faces and their detachment from the surroundings. They’ve lost their eldest son, but there’s more to their resignation than that. It seems like they’re done with everything. As if Death is sitting next to them, and they don’t mind.

When the attendant pulls my chair back, Gale peeks from behind a stuffed peacock and winks. Praised be the Elders! I can’t hold back my grin. So, he escaped the cursed mansion of Ornatus too. Next to him sits the Dark Dryad, silent and mysterious, and the shifter, busy with a bloody chunk of meat.

The Warrior Pony Princess is here, too, in a gold-threaded dress that adds sparkle to her eyes. She’s talking softly to the blond man, both holding goblets of Fae wine. Her eyes darken when she sees me. I pat the pouch on my chest and wink at her. WPP’s gaze spells murder, and she leans into her friend, starting a heated discussion.

Two Fae are out: the creepy vampire child and the Huntress, and just one human, the mercenary. Nobody will miss them. Leaning back, I raise a gold-rimmed crystal goblet of Fae wine to my lips, scanning the hall. One contestant is missing tonight, probably planning a grand entry.

“You’d better be careful with that wine, human,” the dark-haired Fae male on my right says with mocking concern. “It’s not for your kind; it may come on a bit hard.” Great, some Fae-splaining. He has handsome but cold features and predatorily sparkling ruby eyes.

“Thanks for your concern, dear sir, but you might be surprised by my abilities,” I respond, sipping the wine casually, its intense flavor nearly choking me. Compared to the poison sold at Bountiful Bosom for copper a jar, this is a divine elixir. One of Godey Goldtooth’s cats drowned in a barrel once, and they found the poor thing after we drank the last drops. “It just added more flavor.” Godey shrugged and started charging a copper more for the next barrel of burning poison.

“My cousin is right, Talysse of Tenebris.” the Fae male on my left leans in, too close. There’s a family resemblance, but his hair is red, cut above his shoulders. “Fae wine goes to human heads and makes them do foolish things.”

“Not that we would mind,” the first one adds, amused. “They say you didn’t find the magic trinket yourself but fucked our prince and received it as payment.” His cousin cackles, and I casually reach for a pastry tray, knocking a large crystal decanter of deep purple wine right into his lap.

“Oh, apologies.” I meet his enraged gaze without flinching. “Seems like you’re right. This wine is really getting to my head.” The arrogant prick curses, pushing his chair back and leaving the table.

“You’d better get that cleaned up; it looks like it will leave a stain!” I shout over my shoulder, then return to my meal.

“That was…amusing,” the red-haired male says, helping himself to a load of marinated wings of some unknown creature. “There’s a fire in you. I can see the appeal. But tread with care, fiery human. You’ve just made an enemy.”

I shrug without bothering to answer, enjoying a spoonful of divine pickled vegetables instead. Suddenly, all conversations muffle. Steps echo behind my back and everyone’s staring at something. I throw a look over my shoulder, and nearly choke on a pickle.

Regal and magnificent, clad in a midnight silk shirt, unbuttoned to display his Ancestral Mark, Aeidas strides toward the table. The inky velvet pants hug his powerful thighs, accentuating the way he moves—with the casual elegance of an assassin. He doesn’t need any crown to show his royal status. There’s something in the straight line of his broad shoulders, in the way he holds his head and his eyes—cold and distant now. Some people are born to rule, destined for it by the Elders. And even if he were born in a barn, he’d have found a way to get his crown.

What makes me quickly down the rest of the wine goblet, is the Unseelie walking next to him. She’s gliding on the floor, her long silver hair dragging behind her like a train. Her pale rose dress encrusted with pearls brings out her perfect complexion, and her violet eyes seem to be speaking to each one of us: flattering, seducing, promising.

“This is Sorcia, his late brother’s promised. Rumor has it she’s set to marry him,” the red-haired male explains as if he had noticed the tightness in my chest. “She’s the greatest beauty in the kingdom, a daughter of a powerful house, and don’t be deceived by these delicate hands. She has a mind of steel and teeth. She’d torture you, mangle you, cook a delicious soup out of you, and feed it to the prince you’re ogling so unashamedly.” His cruel cackle slices me like an icy blade, and the way the prince serves her wine helps her in the chair, plunges it deeper into my chest. Aeidas settles between the ethereal female and his mother, every inch the cold, ruthless Prince of the Unseelie. His eyes wander around, and when they clash with mine, something flashes in their emerald depths. Quickly looking away, I push my chair back and go around the table, followed by many curious gazes.

“Gale.” I place a hand on his shoulder, and he looks up at me; the warmth of his smile immediately makes me feel better. “Shall we dance?”

“Talysse, I was just about to ask you myself.” He rises, takes my hand, and guides us to the open space where some couples are already swirling to the haunting melody. There’s a sway in my step—the annoying Fae was right. This wine really got me.

Gale’s hand rests on my hip, the other holding my hand. We’re so close I can see every amber sparkle in his almond eyes. His golden earrings capture the warm light, and he whips his head to flick the unruly curls from his forehead.

“I am so happy you made it out of these Elders-forgotten tunnels, Talysse,” he murmurs, and there’s sincerity in his voice. So refreshing and heart-warming in this court of lies.

“I can only say the same, Gale. How did you manage to kill the mercenary?” His gaze drifts to the distance, his dark brows furrowing. And he takes too long to answer.

“Oh, Ornatus did half of the job. The old bastard was not entirely dead. All I had to do is get the ax and take advantage of the chaos.” He chuckles nervously and my gut is telling me he’s keeping something to himself. Full of secrets, just like the Fae. Disappointment and some inexplicable sadness weigh on me. The joy of seeing him again melts like ice in the morning sun. “And you? Are the rumors true? You retrieved the relic, striking a very unusual alliance? Be careful with him, Talysse—”

“I believe I treated her fairly despite my reputation,” a deep voice, nearly a snarl, resonates behind him. Gale’s face freezes in a mask of pure hatred for a second, but he quickly replaces it with a fake smile.

“May I have this dance?” Aeidas asks coldly, and it is clear to all of us that this is not a question but an order. The beautiful Sorcia, her palm resting against the bare skin of his chest, her thin, graceful fingers lightly caressing his Ancestral mark, looks at me, her fine white brow raised.

“Oh, it’s the daughter of those traitors of Tenebris who hid the last Seelie of the province!” Her long white lashes flutter. “You don’t look like your sister at all, dear!”

“Her name is Nightglimmer,” the prince growls. Sorcia shudders. It’s barely detectable, but it’s there. She fears him.

“How do you know how my sister looks?” I hiss, taking a step toward her.

“My job is to know things, Talysse,” she hisses, an unspoken warning concealed in her words.

Aeidas removes her palm from his chest. “Go get some refreshments, Sorcia,” he orders her in the same cold, imperious tone he has just used to ask me to dance. The female’s face twists for a second, her beauty contorted by something monstrous. She hesitates but shrugs and turns her back, the angry clicking of her heels raising many brows.

When I look back up, Aeidas is towering over me, his silver tresses brushing his shoulders.

“May I?” he asks, his eyes suddenly darker. I nod and cast an apologetic gaze on Gale, who stands there, his hands balled into fists, knuckles white. His lips are drawn into a polite smile, but there is tension in his posture as if he’s restraining himself not to do something foolish. Completely oblivious or uncaring about the distress he has just caused, Aeidas hand lands on the small of my back and pulls me in closely, a gesture so rough and claiming that it draws murmurs from the spectators. Butterflies flutter in my stomach; no, those are no butterflies—those are moths with thick black wings, threatening to tear my guts apart.

It is the wine.

It is the wine, not him.

“I’ve seen the little scene you made,” he says softly, tucking some loose strands behind my ear. “Are some of my courtiers giving you trouble?” There it is again, that snarl in his voice, making the hairs on my nape rise.

“Nothing I cannot handle,” I answer carelessly, grateful for the conversation that provides some distraction to the reactions of my insidious body to his proximity. My palm rests on his pecs, close to where Sorcia’s fingers lingered just a minute ago.

“I see you’re not shy to display our Ancestral mark, Your Majesty,” I say bitterly, suddenly irritated by the memory of the arrogant female.

“It’s a reminder of what is lost, Talysse. A reminder of what needs to be done,” he answers cryptically.

“You speak as if you regret the Hex,” our hips are so close that heavy, sleek warmth is crawling down my spine, “yet the Unseelie are the ones who profit the most from it. You are the undisputed rulers of this world, and everyone depends on your mages to protect them.” He slides his thigh between mine and guides my body to a graceful arch. The feeling of his hard leg muscles, clad in soft velvet against my already slick center, nearly draws a moan.

“I will not deny it.” He takes my fingers and swirls me, then pulls me in, my backside firmly pressed against him. “The Hex gives us control, yet there might be some among us who seek change.”

“And yet you’re participating in these Trials, hunting down humans with magic? Humans who could protect cities and trading caravans?” His hands are on my waist, and he lifts me, swirling me around, then lets me slowly glide down the rugged plane of his body.

“The reasons to participate in the Trials are my own, Talysse, and I’d watch my tongue if I were you,” he rumbles.

“Sure, I should not forget whom I’m speaking to.” Another swirl, and he’s leaning me over his thigh again, and it’s so damn hard to resist the urge to shamelessly rub myself against him in front of his whole Atos damned court. The crowd of courtiers, watching our dance with curiosity, will be delighted.

“You better not do that,” he breathes in my neck, and suddenly, I think he can read minds.

“Do what?” I ask, drawing some intrigued gazes from the nobles standing around.

“Forget whom you’re speaking to.” The unspoken warning is subtle but stings like a whip. The crowd around us grows, and they’re all listening, eyes shimmering, fangs flashing. Suddenly, it all gets too much. Is it the sweet venom of his presence, the incense smoke burning my eyes, or all the malevolence of this court, but the room starts spinning.

I’m tired and confused. Exhausted of hearing lies and being followed by malevolent eyes all the time.

Elders, I need to get out.

“Aeidas,” the poisonous voice of Sorcia echoes behind me when I stumble away, “care for a dance?”

How convenient that this viper appears now.

Applause erupts when I curtsy and flee the dance floor. There—a door and the shimmer of the Blessed light beyond it. It leads to a wide balcony. The night sky is veiled by the golden glow of protective magic, casting an otherworldly hue over the city at my feet. Below, the Fae capital sprawls across the hillside in a series of terraces, each layer a symphony of gothic spires and domes of black granite, intricately carved and adorned with gold filigree.

The quiet streets meandering between the buildings are glimmering in the soft glow of enchanted lanterns. Winding staircases and arched bridges connect countless terraces, their paths lined with lush flora, the night breeze washing its tender perfume over the city. The gentle hum of arcane energy permeates the air, mingling with the distant sounds of nocturnal life.

Far below, the inhabitants of the city move like shadows, their elegant forms barely discernible in the dim light. I hate to admit it, but the entire town is a mesmerizing blend of shadow and light, of untamed magic and ancient power, an addictive mystery, just like its prince.

The fresh air does its soothing magic, and the light dizziness of the Fae wine is gone. Time to go back or—

Heavy steps echo over the checkered floor, startling me. Looking back, I expect to see Gale or even Aeidas. Instead, steely fingers close around my neck, lifting me clean off my feet.

“You owe me an apology, human,” the courtier I spilled wine on growls. I dig my nails into his fingers, my feet kicking in the air. The lights of the crystal chandeliers of the ballroom—so near and yet too far, spin before my eyes.

Stay calm, Talysse.

Panic has never saved a life.

He’s too far for a kick in the crotch, so Myrtle’s golden move, which has saved me countless times before, is out of the question. The only other option at my hands is my magic.

Get him away from me , I demand from the silvery lake inside me. And it instantly obliges. My fingers shoot out a sweep of arcane force. The Fae prick releases me, landing heavily on his back and sliding on the smooth tiles. Dazzled, he’s shaking his head while I straighten my dress and prepare to go back inside.

“Hopefully, I haven’t caused much of an inconvenience, but I’m afraid you might wish to change again,” I snap when skirting him, but the bastard is fast. He reaches out and grabs my ankle, pulling me down. My skull hits the floor hard, and lights flash before my eyes. In an instant, he’s straddling me, his hands closing around my throat.

Well, now he’s in the perfect position for a kick in the crotch. The noble is so full of himself that he thinks that he got me this time, or he’s used to abuse helpless palace damsels.

“Surprise, fucker,” I murmur, angling my knee for the perfect kick in his most cherished possessions. And it’s delivered with cruel precision. The air leaves his lungs with a terrifying sound, and he rolls to the side, whining.

Pure music to my ears.

I scramble up, touching my neck where probably bruises are already blossoming, and once again head to the door when a move catches the side of my eye. He’s coming at me again, his resilience stunning. And the sheer ferocity in his eyes. But most disturbing is the flash of steel in his hand. Just two feet away from the safety of the ballroom, he grabs my hair and pulls me back with such force, spilling the jewels Ayrene has braided in my locks.

“Now you die, human whore,” he whispers and swings the blade right when I’m frantically scrambling the last flickers of magic inside me.

Elders! I frantically seek my magic, but it’s depleted, and squeeze my eyes, expecting the blade to sink between my ribs.

So this is how I die.

A second passes, then another.

Nothing happens.

“Cousin, this is unwise. Release her at once.” I crack an eye open to see the red-haired noble. Both are locked in struggle, presenting me with the perfect opportunity to escape. I slip into the banquet hall unnoticed. It’s much louder now; everyone seems to be dancing and laughing.

“Take me to my chambers,” I request from the silent, black-armored guard, and he leads me down the corridor, the noise of the party dying out behind our backs.

We navigate the usual maze of arches, abandoned halls, spiraling stairwells, and decadence. As we reach the doors of my room, a tall shadow peels from the wall.

“Leave us,” Aeidas orders, and the silent Fae salutes with a fist to his heart, then disappears.

“You left so soon, Talysse.” His voice is low as his eyes seek to capture mine.

“I’m surprised you noticed that; you seemed to be in good company—” I nearly bite my tongue, but too late, the snarky remark has already slipped.

He crosses his arms and responds with a low, indifferent tone, “I have my royal duties, even to those who have not much left to live.”

“Do you mean me?”

“Does it matter who I mean?” His voice is still cold, but his eyes have a soft glow when he’s studying me.

His riddles are tiring me, and I try to push past him, but a hard grip around my arm makes me stop in my tracks. He spins me around, so now I have no choice but to look up, irritated, and meet his gaze. And nearly stumble, taken aback by the rage burning in it.

“Talysse—” his knuckles travel along my jaw and he gently turns my face up, “who did this to you?” he rasps.

“Nobody important,” I chirp with exaggerated carelessness, “he’s taken care of.”

A deep, bestial growl escapes his heaving chest.

“I will ask again, Talysse—who hurt you?”

Is it the fierce protectiveness in his voice or the way his callused fingers tenderly brush the skin of my neck, but my knees are about to buckle? There is that tone—that promise that heads will roll, and he’d watch it with a smile.

“Does it matter, Aeidas? I don’t have much left, as you said,” I repeat with irony and try to escape his careful yet steely hold.

“Was it Galeoth?” His fingers are at my chin now, forcing me to look at him. And by the demons of Atos’s Underworld, he’s a sight to behold when he’s furious. His eyes are deep verdant now, his pupils wide, his massive arms vibrating with barely leashed power. His jaw is set, and the right corner of his lip curled up in a snarl, displaying the sharp edge of a fang. “Did Galeoth hurt you, Talysse?”

“Gale wouldn’t hurt me,” I snap back. Not now.

Realization straightens the furrow between his perfectly shaped dark brows.

“It was that drunkard Haeddyn and his cousin, right? I saw you spilling wine on him—” His finger travels up, pausing for a moment on my lower lip, and he cocks his head. “You taught the arrogant bastard a good lesson,” he murmurs. His gaze softens and lingers on my lips. “Goodnight, Talysse. I have…business to take care of.” Darkness drips from his last words as he melts into the shadows of the passageway.

I stand there for a moment, panting, my fingertips resting on my lips, then open the door to my chambers.