Page 21

Talysse

M y thoughts flutter around like a swarm of moths on a moonless night.

The brush of Aeidas’s knuckles still lingers on my skin, and I shake my head, reminding myself that this male is the Crown Prince of the Unseelie, the one who holds the life of my little sister in his hands and that I should not fall for his deceptions and his lethal beauty. That’s what Fae do best: ensnarl us with their sweet talk and feral sexuality, turning us into mindless thralls doing their bidding. I let the delicate dress drop and carefully remove all the jewelry Ayrene has given me.

The night is warm, and the Halo over the city reflects on the golden ornaments of the ceiling. I pull the heavy curtains so that the soft light of the silver candelabra and the fire are the only light in the room, then throw on a transparent nightgown, probably intended for some royal concubine. My cheeks are flushed, and the peeks of my breasts are tight, straining against the airy fabric. And there is a sweet, hot heaviness between my thighs. The poison of this beautiful monster is already working in my body.

I snuggle between the crisp sheets, the softness a stark contrast to the turmoil inside me. Squeezing my eyes shut, I bury my face in the pillow, but sleep eludes me. Tossing and turning in the bed for something that feels like hours, I finally surrender to a maelstrom of dark thoughts that eventually drag me into a sweaty, fitful sleep.

*

Something wakes me up. There’s no need for magic to realize that something is very, very wrong. My teeth chatter uncontrollably, and I pull the covers tighter around me, noticing the foggy huffs of my breath. The candles have long since burnt down, and the only light should come from the gap between the curtains. But this is not the soft light of the Halo. This eerie, silvery glow—is something different.

Sitting up, I rub my eyes, trying to make sense of the glowing mist pooling at the ornate feet of the tall bed. It carries with it strange, disembodied whispers and climbs up, forcing me to press my back against the filigree headboard.

What kind of twisted nightmare is this?

The cold, flickering tendrils reach my feet, and the murmurs become more distinct, bidding me to rise and follow. It’s a command that snaps my willpower like a dry twig. As my toes touch the cold floor tiles, I flinch, but my body moves like possessed. Unable to stop myself, I open the door and peer into the gloomy corridor. The mist muffles all sounds, and the guards that usually patrol this palace wing are nowhere to be seen.

Elders, let this be some bad dream, not some wicked Unseelie sorcery.

The haze guides me through a labyrinth of neglected passageways, crowded with dusty old furniture. “Open the door,” the voice in my head orders, and I push a low copper-plated door open. The only light in the wide hall comes from the mist and from a tall, square object in its center.

“Come closer, Talysse,” the voice beckons, and my body obeys like a puppet on strings. “Look into the mirror.”

A haunting vision of myself glares back from the cold surface. My lips are blue, and my hair is tangled. One strap of the transparent nightgown has slid off my shoulder, revealing the dark peak of a breast. My reflection blurs and elongates, and suddenly the prince stares back at me, his eyes cruel and glowing with a malevolent glimmer. Questions make their way to my lips, but my jaw remains stiff. Aeidas steps out of the mirror, its surface rippling like the waters of a dark lake.

“Who are you, really, Talysse?” There’s a metallic echo to his voice.

Something wicked is at work here.

His hands rest on my shoulders, devoid of their usual warmth. Images of my past swirl around us. “Show me!” he commands, and tears run down my face as I see my mother humming in the garden, my father in his study, showing me maps of all the lands he longed to see. The burn of the hot milk spilling over me as I try, unattended, to take it off the stove, and my scream ripples through the empty hall.

“So, this is how you got this scar.” The mirror prince chuckles, his cold fingers trailing down the pink, uneven skin at my side as if he relishes in my pain. Panting, I see my mother consoling me, taking off her bracelet to place it on my childish wrist.

“This will make the wound heal faster and the scar less visible,” she whispers, drying my tears.

“Interesting,” the Fae whispers. The visions turn visceral. The feet of my hanged parents dangle before us, and a knife is pressed against my sister’s tender neck. “Show me who you really are, Talysse,” the prince hisses, and the knife his doppelg?nger holds against Tayna’s skin slices deep, severing cartilage and bone. My parents’ lifeless corpses stalk us, their eyes open, black and empty like an abyss full of suffering, their whispers holding poisonous accusations.

Death.

Everyone is dead, the whole world is dead, and it is all my fault.

Shadowfeeders crowd the room, followed by a horde of Tainted.

“Tell me who you are, and I will make it stop.” This isn’t Aeidas’s voice anymore; it is a feminine, shrill, commanding voice that sounds oddly familiar. “What is the prince up to?” it inquires, and the Tainted Ones surround me, sniffing me, licking my skin. Saliva drips from black teeth and rotten lips, and claws scratch me—first timidly, then slicing deeper.

“There is more that you keep to yourself. Tell me WHO YOU ARE!” The prince is gone now; there is only me and the Tainted Ones. Their stench and bites drown my screams.

My lungs hurt, and darkness consumes me.

*

“Talysse.” First, I recognize the voice, then the touch. His hands are warm now, not like—

My eyes snap open and focus on the last person I expected to see here.

“Gale?”

How, in the name of the Elders, did he get here?

The world slowly gains contours. The mirror room, roughly hewn into the bedrock, is the same, minus the creepy mist. The mirror still stands, dark and ominous, in its center.

Was this all just a nightmare? Quite a vivid one, as my scar still bears the mark of Aeidas’s icy fingers.

“What in the hell pits of Atos are you doing here? Were you sleepwalking? Or someone took you here? Was it the wretched prince?”

“Sleepwalking…yes.” A plausible explanation. “And you? What are you doing here?” I ask, rubbing my temples.

“I wanted to see more of the infamous Unseelie palace.” He brushes off my question and helps me up. There’s more to this than just curiosity, but I’m too dazzled to ask. Gale wraps an arm around my shoulders, and I’m grateful for the warmth.

“What happened, Talysse?” he insists softly. “Who showed you the Room of Reflections?”

“How do you know what it is called?”

He ignores my question, and his steps are rushed as he leads me out of this cursed place. “Let’s take you back to your room, Talysse; it is not safe for you here.”

“But it is safe for you?” I arch a brow while letting myself be dragged along the dusty passageways.

“It takes more than an old Unseelie trinket to harm me.” He shrugs, and suddenly, there’s something to him: a fleeting shadow greater than his mortal frame, a murmur of forbidden spells.

We’ve reached the familiar corridor of my chamber, and a couple of guards walk by, throwing us a look.

“Can I come in, Talysse?” He leans on the doorframe and looks down at me intensely. The guards in unmarked black armor, Shadowblades, I remind myself, stand there, watching us. “We need to speak,” he insists. With a tired nod, I relent. Well, sleep is out of the question anyway.

He whistles when looking around my chamber in awe. “I can see that someone is clearly favored here! My room looks like a barn compared to this!”

“Why do you want to talk about, Gale?” I fill two glasses with some of the amber liquid from the decanter next to the fireplace.

He settles in the soft chair, ankle over his knee. He’s wearing only a loose linen shirt and pants, his unruly curls tucked behind his shoulder, his enchanted golden earrings shimmering in the twilight. There’s an odd glow to his eyes that makes me wonder once again why he was wandering the Unseelie halls alone.

Throwing myself on the bed, I cross my arms over my chest. Still wearing the scandalous nightgown, I am feeling a bit uncomfortable.

“Listen, Talysse, just want to tell you that you can rely on me in the next trials,” he says softly, sips on the fiery drink, and grimaces. “Elders, this is some strong shit.”

“You have quite a low opinion of someone who had to wrangle street rats the size of a pig for a piece of bread, Gale.” His cryptic talking and the whole aura of mystery around him started frightening me. I take a generous sip and nearly spit it on the floor. He was right; this is stronger than anticipated. “You know how these trials work. Alliances are temporary. There could be only one winner. Soon or later, we’ll have to slaughter each other.”

It’s a ridiculous concept while we sip our drinks in the light of the dying fire. But we both know it’s true.

“Or not,” he says, pushing himself up from the chair and placing his palms on both sides of my thighs, leaning on the bed. The warmth of his closeness washes over me. “Trust me, Talysse.” His voice is soft now, and his amber eyes locked with mine. “Things…are about to happen. You better be ready. I want you to pick the right side. Remain loyal to your nature,” he whispers in my ear, and I’m suddenly afraid. Alone with another contestant, who’s acting mad. Maybe he’ll try to take the flint away from me?

“What in the name of Atos are you talking about, Gale?” I ask, cautiously pulling away.

“There are things I cannot talk about among these walls, Talysse.” Noticing my uneasiness, he backs up and starts pacing the room.

“Look, if this is your way of warning me that the Trials are botched and that—”

His laughter spills in the night, disturbing as a pot dropped in the silent kitchen.

“No, Talysse, no. The Trials are not botched. The stronger one will prevail,” he adds darkly. “Just…just stay alert and choose wisely.” He drags a palm over his face and halts, hesitating as if debating whether he should reveal more. Then he turns on his heel and heads to the door. “The most dangerous thing in these Trials is that prince of yours,” he hisses, his hand on the doorknob, and I don’t like the sound of yours. “Stay away from him, and you’ll be safe.”

Elders.

When I look up, he’s gone.

*

The final hours of the night stretch into pondering over his words, creepier than my experience in the Room of Reflections.

Ayrene slips in with the first sun rays, balancing a tray loaded with fresh bread, cheese, fruits, and berry jam in her thin hands.

“Good morning, m’lady Talysse,” she chirps. “Slept badly, didn’t you? All of us had a restless night.”

My hand, holding a warm slice of bread generously spread with jam, freezes.

“What do you mean?” Was everyone affected by the magical mist?

“The prince lost his mind last night and executed two of the lords,” she declares solemnly, pulling the drapes and letting the sun in. I drop the bread and cover my mouth with my hands. “He said that they’ve attacked a guest under his roof, ignored his orders, and interfered with the Elders’ will. Their heads are on spikes in the Southern courtyard,” she adds morbidly. “People said they died slowly, and I was listening to their screams in the servants’ wing.”

“Who were they?” The food turns to sand in my mouth. Those two idiots didn’t deserve such a harsh fate. Or did they? Do self-centered monsters who raise their hand at a woman deserve mercy? Would I be kinder to Tayna’s new suitor if he harms her?

“Lord Haeddyn and his cousin, m’lady Talysse. Did you meet them last night?”

I bark out a cough.

“So, it is true then! They hurt you, and the prince killed them! This is so romantic—” She bats her eyelashes. Living in this cruel court has clearly messed up the poor girl’s idea of romance. And right and wrong, too.

“There’s nothing romantic about people dying, Ayrene.” My appetite is suddenly gone. Dealing swift and cruel justice is something one could expect from an Unseelie, but to do it with such ferocity is another thing.

“How did they wrong you?” the girl asks, her tone slightly defensive.

I open my mouth, but the door flying open stops me. Aeidas stands in the doorframe, shadows pooling at his feet, the sting of his angry magic biting my skin. Ayrene curtsies and hurriedly leaves.

Elders, he looks so smug. His silver hair is tied up on his nape, his jade gaze merrily sparkling. He’s still wearing the silk attire from last night, but his sleeves are rolled up, and I cannot miss the telling crimson sprinkles on his forearms and his collar.

“You killed them—” I breathe.

“I made sure they will never disrespect or harm anyone,” Aeidas explains calmly. “I want you to feel…safe while you’re here. Safe when I’m close, Talysse.”

“You cannot kill them just because they tried to…whatever they tried to do. I had the situation perfectly under control. And I’ve had far worse experiences in Tenebris back alleys.”

He pulls the chair near the fireplace with a growl.

“Tell me more of these…experiences. All these vermin deserve to be gutted. Do you remember their faces?”

I bark out a laugh, but my jaw drops, realizing that he’s been dead serious.

“Aeidas, we’re in the Trials.” The notion of the bitter truth sobers him up. He cannot avenge me because I’d be dead soon. Or he would be if I’m lucky enough.

“You had a visitor last night?” he snarls, pointing at the two glasses, still half full with that terribly strong brandy.

“It was Gale. He…came to tell me that I can rely on him.” I keep my night visit to that horrible Room of Reflections to myself. Don’t want to send the prince on a murder spree, searching for the culprit behind my spellbound walk last night, the one pressing me with those questions.

A vein appears on his regal forehead. “Are you afraid of me, Talysse?” he suddenly asks, his fingers digging into the armrests of the chair.

How to explain to the Unseelie Prince without sounding preposterous that I am not afraid of anything that could harm me physically? I died that day when the sling broke my parents’ necks, and some bitter, relentless version of me still continues breathing, fighting, and shielding Tayna from the cruel world. Protecting the few I love is what’s driving me, not the usual self-preservation instinct, so—

“I am not, Aeidas.” It sounds sincere.

“Very well.” The tense line of his shoulders smoothens. “Because I want to show you something,” he adds and looks away, “something that’s…important to me. Will you be ready in an hour?”

“Yes,” I breathe, stunned by the way he rakes his fingers through his hair and heads to the door in wide strides. The Unseelie Prince has just invited me to spend time with him, and…looks nervous about it?

Suddenly, it’s hard to remember why I hate him. I have to open my black book of painful memories to remind myself that this is the Fae who ruined my life. This is the Fae who’d end it if given the chance.

And just like Gale said, he might be the most dangerous thing of these Trials.