by Cori Vidae
Duke Vertigren pulled Ember close as the music slowed. “Oh, the mirrors are rare enough, but a few lords possess the artifacts. It usually requires great sacrifice to power even a minor transformation. To change humans into our kind? Few of my peers are willing to make the necessary investment.”
But why are you doing it? Ember sighed and rested her cheek against the lapel of Duke Vertigren’s jacket. Don’t think about his chest. Don’t think about those muscles. Think of the job. Oh, gods, the forge is never this warm, is it?
Duke Vertigren kissed Ember’s hand as the song ended. Once again her knees quivered as though she had tried to outrun a horse.
“Speaking of, it is time for another judgment. Perhaps another dance later this evening, Lady Phorenis?”
Ember managed a nod. “Yes, your grace. It would be my pleasure.”
Duke Vertigren strode across the floor to his throne. He dropped into it, and a servant appeared with a tray. Once again, the cloth was whipped off and Duke Vertigren took up the mirror with a bare hand.
Duke Vertigren looked over the hushed ballroom. “Master Yarris, Guard Sargent Purnel, step forward!”
Yarris, the short and dark-haired watchmaker, wiped his brow as he stepped into the cleared space. Purnel, taller than Ember with a mass of red hair, had a reputation as the greatest archer in five realms. Her face was set in a defiant mask as she strode forward.
“Now,” Duke Vertigren said, “the supplicants will receive the reward their offerings deserve.”
Yarris swallowed noisily, while Purnel’s expression never wavered. Vertigren raised the mirror, and gazed at the two through the empty center. Yarris’ apprehensive expression vanished a moment before both seemed to stretch. Yarris grew taller and his shoulders broadened. His worn coat ripped at the seams to reveal green, scaly skin. His features shifted, growing heavier in places, more delicate in others, until a goblin stood where a human had. Purnel’s tall frame grew slightly, and her skin turned the color of spring fields. Her face stretched, gaining a bird-like cast, while sharp claws grew from her fingers.
Two raised. Ember thought. Middle caste, but still far above humans. A more hopeful show than last night.
Her eyes focused on the mirror as Vertigren returned it to the platter. The servant replaced the cloth and backed away from the throne. Ember made her way around the edge of the ballroom and followed the servant out.
The man strode quickly through the palace corridors. Ember pressed herself into a shadowed alcove as the servant entered a room, and exited without the tray. The guard at the door nodded to the man.
“How many, tonight?” the guard grunted.
“A handful,” the servant replied. “Then a second judgment, and several more. They are still being selected. After this, you and His Grace will proceed to the Rose Chamber.”
The guard grunted and leaned against the wall. Ember watched the servant vanish further down the corridor.
A plan clicked into place. Simple enough, really. She pushed herself off the wall and walked calmly to the guard. “Excuse me. I was told to meet Duke Vertigren here?”
The guard grunted. “He’s not here yet.”
“Oh.” Ember made a show of glancing down the corridor. “May I wait inside?”
“No,” the guard said. “Nice try, my lady, but you’re not the type we see in these chambers.”
Ember smiled. “He certainly expressed a preference when we danced.”
The guard snorted. “Nice try. You’re not the first that’s wanted to watch. But Duke Vertigren treasures his privacy. Move along, my lady.”
Ember sighed and forced her legs to move casually as she walked down the corridor. It would not be that easy. Now to find the Rose Chamber.
Ember spied a short, green-skinned maid working her way through the guest wing. Eventually the maid’s work led her past a door with a subtle rose pattern embossed on the door jamb. Ember waited in the shadows until the maid disappeared down the corridor to slip inside the room.
The bedchamber had little in the way of decorations. A large bed dominated the room, leaving little space for anything else. A small bedside table was wedged between the bed and the wall. That’s where they’ll put the tray. Where to hide near it? She barely finished that thought when she heard muffled voices on the other side of the door.
The bedroom had no other exit, and no other furniture. Ember dove under the massive bed. She pulled the bed skirt into place behind her, trapping her in darkness. She tucked her feet as close to her body as the space allowed an instant before the door opened.
“Thank you.” Ember did not recognize the voice, but she could imagine the speaker: skinny, top-heavy, and nearly brainless. “I will await His Grace here.”
The door clicked shut. Skirts rustled as the woman flounced around the room. Ember covered her nose with one hand before the dust under the bed provoked a sneeze. Finally, the bed squeaked as the woman flopped onto the mattress.
“I hope he won’t be long. It’s boring here.” The girl’s skirt rustled as she stood and paced. “Stupid dress. Oh, well. After this, I can buy ten dresses.”
He pays them? Ember was not sure if that fact said good things or bad about Duke Vertigren. Wait. If Marta and Kareen were paid, why was there so much worry about my commission bringing in funds?
Ember’s speculation was interrupted by the door opening. Duke Vertigren’s heavy footsteps proceeded his warm voice. “Ah, my dear. I am glad to see you again.”
“Thank you, your grace.” The girl managed not to stammer. “I must confess, I do not have much experience.”
Liar! Ember finally recognized the voice. Virane, daughter of one of Olivia’s gem suppliers. Ember had dealt with the girl’s parents when Olivia offered free shoeing for their horses as part of their deals. Not to mention the last two lads that showed any interest in Ember promptly forgot about her when they saw Virane’s shapely legs. Which she showed off whenever possible.
Duke Vertigren chuckled and slid onto the bed. Ember clenched her fists as the mattress dipped, nearly brushing her nose. She scooted sideways to avoid the deepest lumps. A louder rustle, then Virane’s dress fell to the floor and one sleeve flopped under the bed next to Ember’s head. She carefully pushed the sequined cloth out of her hiding place.
Ember winced as Virane’s faked moan ended in a genuine squeak. Please, whatever spirits are listening, let this be over quickly! Something seemed to answer her exasperated plea, because Virane’s squeaks and moans slowed almost as soon as they started, until she trailed off with a sound that resembled a cat’s purr.
Through it all, Duke Vertigren never made a sound. He bounced off the bed with a thump, and Ember saw his shadow move around the edge of the bed, stopping occasionally to pick up a piece of clothing that had fallen. He paused near the bedside table, and Ember heard a gentle scrape.
“Not nearly enough,” he whispered with a sigh. “You, my pretty, were less filling than a spoonful of meringue. So much to do, so little time.”
Duke Vertigren rapped on the door. It opened a moment later, and he spoke quickly. “Korris, would you be so kind as to carry this to the next room? Tonight looks like a busy one.”
The guard from before grunted. “Of course, your grace. What about the girls?”
“I’ll need to hurry,” Vertigren replied. “So we’ll leave them in the bedrooms. Let Picts wake them later.”
The door closed and left Ember in dark silence. She waited a hundred heartbeats, then slipped out of her hiding place. She stood, slipped the bag with the fake under her skirt, and glanced around the room. Virane lay fast asleep in the bed. The bedside table was empty. Missed it. Curses. Do I follow? Or try again tomorrow night?
Ember ran a hand over her face, then paused. The illusionary blue skin flickered. Why is the disguise failing now? The fake! Sure enough, a glance showed the iron tip poking out of the bag. Must have jostled it.
Ember slipped out the door and dashed down the hall. She needed to find a way out! Where was
the servant’s entrance? The kitchen door? The blue skin had faded completely by the time she rounded the corner and collided with another woman.
“Ouch! Watch where you’re—Ember? What are you doing here?”
Ember groaned and picked herself off the floor. She offered a hand to Marta. “Long story. I—”
“You need to get out of here,” Marta snapped. “You can’t just sneak in, not here! Do you know what will happen to me if I’m caught with a blacksmith? Come on, I know a way out.”
Ember let herself be dragged along. Marta kept up a stream of condemnations as they went. “How did you get in here without all the lights going out? Are you trying your hand at finding a husband here? I don’t think a goblin would be interested, Ember. You’re too… you!”
Marta arrived at a small door set into the hall. She lifted the elaborate latch and pushed Ember out. “Here. Just… act like you’re tired. The guards are expecting that.”
“Is this how you left last night?” Ember snapped.
Marta’s fair cheeks reddened. “Yes, if you must know. Now go!”
Ember stepped back before the door slammed in her face. I need to be in that first room to make the switch. She turned down the hall and let her shoulders slump, as though exhausted. Tomorrow night. I need to do this tomorrow night.
* * *
“Where is it?”
Ember scowled as her employer stomped into the forge. She calmly broke off the end of the last nail and hammered the blunt end flat. “It’s still at the palace. I came within arm’s length, but timing was off.”
“He raised four last night,” the foreign lord grumbled. “And three more were transformed into imps. You need to hurry.”
Ember set down her tongs and eyed the scaly noble. Fire tickled at her heart. This was her opportunity to get away from the house, from the nobles, from the perpetual apprenticeship to someone who did not acknowledge her skill; she’d be a fool not to take it. And yet… what was the price? The real price, to be paid by those left behind? “Why? What is so wrong? If idiots are foolish enough to risk everything, why shouldn’t a few win the gamble? And if you’re so desperate, why don’t you do it yourself?”
“You understand nothing, human!” Flecks of spittle hissed as they landed among the coals. “Vertigren has no respect for the proper order of the world! Those mirrors were used in ancient times to punish traitors. He is using it to make a mockery of everything!”
So humans aren’t good enough to even consider elevation? Ember clamped her jaw shut. And ignored my question about doing it yourself. “I have a plan. I will get it tonight.”
“Plan?” The foreign lord raised an eyebrow. “You did not have a plan, before?”
“I did not know the lay of the land,” Ember snapped. And if I think about the plan too much, I doubt I’ll manage it. “One more night, as agreed.”
“You have had two,” the lord snarled. His eyes closed, and when they opened he continued in a calm tone. “But yes, we agreed to three and you shall have it.”
He reached past Ember and plucked her hammer from her workbench. To her surprise, he handled it like he knew how to use it. “I would not fail, blacksmith, if I were you. It would be such a shame if your hands met an unfortunate accident. One that left you unable to lift a spoon, much less a hammer, ever again.”
* * *
Same ball, same riot of noise and color. Ember pursed her lips and scanned the crowd. She did not want to risk the disguise failing early again. She had to find Duke Vertigren and make the switch. Preferably before he chose his partners for the night. A larger number of guards stood around the room’s rim, and the door guard had scrutinized her invitation more closely than the prior night.
“Ah, Lady Phorenis!” Duke Vertigren slipped an arm through hers and guided her toward the throne. “I’m afraid we will not have an opportunity to dance tonight before the first judgments. This is the final night of the festival, and there is much to do.”
Ember forced a smile. “Of course, Duke Vertigren. But I will miss your company.”
An expression akin to hunger passed over the lord’s features. “Perhaps there will be other opportunities.”
She gathered her courage. “I have noted that you often retire between judgments. Perhaps you would like to continue our conversation in a more private setting.”
Duke Vertigren’s eyes flashed, and his smile grew. “That may be exactly what we both need, Lady Phorenis. My man, Picts, will show you to an appropriately secluded place.”
Ember smiled. “I look forward to it, your grace.”
Duke Vertigren skipped up the final step and stretched his arms out. “Attention! Masters Ulrin, Dreskir, and Bron will step forward now.”
Ember scanned the crowd as three men, skilled carpenters all, stepped forward. All the guards in the room stood at attention; were any of them too focused? Not focused enough? Could one of them be a spy? An assassin?
Vertigren’s protected. He has goblin magic, Ember reminded herself.
Which you know how to foul, her conscious whispered. The fake mirror weighed heavily beneath her skirt. And if you know, so does your patron. And anyone else he hired.
Duke Vertigren whipped the cloth off the mirror and took it up. The three carpenters smirked at each other. Ember knew each of them, and they had arrogance enough for nobility, even as humans. If they are also elevated, they’ll be insufferable. Bron, the youngest, had even tried to court Ember. While she did appreciate his broad shoulders, the man thought that saying someone was his ‘woman’ was the same as his horse or his door, and could treat her however he wished. Even Olivia had not objected to Ember throwing him out of their house by his belt.
“Now,” Duke Vertigren raised the mirror, “the supplicants will receive the reward their offerings deserve.”
Ember turned away. She had seen enough on the prior nights. She looked around for Picts. May as well find the—
Ulrin screamed. Ember spun just in time to see three new imps scamper across the dance floor. One hurled itself at Duke Vertigren, only to be dragged away by its heels. Guards drove the three imps through the shocked crowd. Across the ballroom, Ember saw her stepsisters staring at the imps with increasingly pale faces.
“Lady Phorenis?” The aged servant from the night before bowed to her. “I am Picts. Duke Vertigren has instructed me to show you to a private room.”
Ember nodded. “Lead on.”
The room, thankfully, was not one from the previous night. Still. How many bedrooms does he have? Or need? Ember glanced around, but the tray was nowhere to be found. The bed looked comfortable, though.
First things first: her dress was largely an illusion. Woven into the real, but plain, gown, it would likely give away the entire deception if Duke Vertigren reached for a clasp that did not exist. Ember undid the laces of her gown and slipped it off. She dropped it, and the silk bag, beside the bedside table. Her undergarments were unaffected by the illusion, so she hid the plain pieces under the discarded skirt.
Ember bit back a curse as she glanced in the mirror. The illusion was thorough, but the lazy noble had made it less than complete. Her legs were blue, but only up to her knees, and her skin returned to its normal color halfway up her thighs. Her shoulders were blue, but the illusion faded below her breasts. She resolved then and there to give her employer a gift of iron once she had collected her payment. Revenge later. Keep his eyes away from your nethers, girl, and you’ll do fine. Don’t try to bite him, either, or he’ll notice those fangs aren’t real.
She turned from the mirror and slipped under the covers of the bed. She had barely arranged herself under the blankets when the door opened. Duke Vertigren strode in with his easy smile and the mirror tray in one hand. He paused as he noticed Ember, and his smile took on a wry tone.
“Normally it takes longer to get to this position,” he drawled.
Ember shrugged, careful to not let the blankets slip too far. “Why waste time? This is where you have wa
nted to be since we first met, is it not?”
“Indeed.” Duke Vertigren slowly undid the clasps of his jacket and trousers. He kicked his boots to a far corner as he placed the tray on the bedside table.
Ember snorted and stretched her hands above her head, giving Duke Vertigren a view of her chest as she did so. “Liar. I’ve seen who you take into your chambers. Your tastes run more to twigs.”
“Which you could snap quite easily.” Duke Vertigren’s smile grew as his jacket dropped to the floor. His remaining clothes followed, and a wave of heat radiated from Ember’s cheeks as she studied Vertigren’s smooth, hairless body. His skin gleamed like burnished bronze in the lamplight.
Vertigren slipped into bed and caressed Ember’s chin. “You, my dear, saw little but the public face I must put on. Each of those girls was a symbol.”
“Am I to be a symbol?” Ember wrapped one leg around Vertigren’s hips and pulled herself against him. Her body molded against his as she kissed his jaw. “Am I to be one more conquest?”
Vertigren captured Ember’s lips with his own. His hand roamed downward in a gentle caress. “Who is conquering whom, this night?”
The hunger in his voice sent a quiver through Ember’s belly. His spicy scent washed over her as he leaned down to kiss her neck. The caress of his teeth sent sparks down her spine. He trailed kisses across her shoulder and down her breast. Ember guided Vertigren’s lips back to her own before he ran out of blue skin.
Ember let her hands wander across Vertigren’s body. His body lacked hair, and his skin slid under her hands like supple leather. She reached up to run a hand through his silky hair and bring his mouth to hers. I could get used to this, she thought as her tongue played over his fangs. No! Focus! Switch. The. Mirrors.
Ember’s free hand slipped down and caressed Vertigren. His lips quirked into a smile, then bent down and trailed kisses along her neck. A giggle burst from Ember’s lips as his hair tickled her nose and chin. She trapped his ear between her lips and gently tugged as she guided him into her.
Her breath rushed out. The slick feel of his skin teased her own while the musky scent of shared sweat grew. Heat built in her core with Vertigren’s every motion. Ember wrapped her legs around his hips and pulled him closer. Their eyes met. Ember’s breath caught.
