(Skeleton Key) Into Elurien

by Kate Sparkes

  And yelped as the door opened and I tumbled into the room, saved from falling by Auphel’s hand around my waist.

  “Sorry!” she cried, and set me awkwardly on my feet. “I heard you and thought maybe I’d accidentally locked you out.” Her eyes went wide as she spotted Zinian, and her lower lip trembled. “So sorry, sir.”

  She slammed the door, leaving us alone again.

  Zinian laughed quietly. “Well. Goodnight, Hazel. We’ll have to do this again before I leave.”

  As my head cleared from the shock, a queasy feeling came over me. I liked him. And when I loosened my hold on ideas of what should be allowed, I understood that I wanted him, monster or not. But getting involved with Zinian—with any monster, but especially one so powerful— was a bad idea. For both of us, if I’d interpreted his story correctly. But standing so close to him messed with my thoughts and instincts in ways I didn’t understand, clouding them with physical desires.

  Besides, I still had too many questions about the things he hadn’t volunteered to talk about. Something niggled in the depths of my mind, something about him I didn’t feel comfortable with, but it refused to come forward.

  Always look before you leap. It’s not worth the risk.

  I reached behind me and opened the door.

  “Thank you,” I said as I stepped back, leaving him standing in the hallway looking bemused.

  I closed the door behind me and leaned against it until my heart slowed. For the first time in my life, I couldn’t tell whether the fluttering was from excitement or anxiety.

  “How was supper?” Auphel asked. She’d retreated to her sleeping space by the cold hearth.

  “I actually have no idea.”

  Chapter Ten

  The next afternoon, I was ready to move out of the palace. The library had turned out to be a mess, but I was excited to get started on reshelving and reorganizing—not to mention have the opportunity to shut the world out for a while. The sight of real-life monsters roaming the palace halls had become familiar enough that their appearances no longer shocked me, but I still didn’t care for the way most of them looked at me.

  Auphel followed me down the palace halls, stopping when I paused to try the skeleton key in every locked door we passed. I hadn’t had any luck so far. The key didn’t even fit in any of the locks.

  I was idly wondering what I would do if it did work, considering what I might find on the other side—A royally pissed-off Verelle? The wrong world?—when the key slipped neatly into a lock with a quiet click.

  My heart skipped.

  “Auphel,” I whispered, and she stepped closer.

  I hesitated. There were people I’d need to say goodbye to. Well, one person. Just to not seem rude, of course. I’d hardly been thinking about him, or our talk, or our almost-kiss. In fact, I sometimes made it ten whole minutes without him crossing my mind—before reminding myself that searching for romance here was a terrible idea. It was too scary. Even without the physical differences that should have made me question the whole thing, stepping into the spotlight by entering a relationship with someone as visible as him wouldn’t bring the kind of attention I needed. It felt unsafe. Like a leap I wasn’t ready to make.

  Just go.

  I turned the key.

  Nothing moved. The door remained locked.

  I let out my breath. “False alarm.”

  We’d reached the end of the long hallway that contained the bathing rooms. At least I tried. I tucked the key into the surprisingly utilitarian leather satchel I’d found in a trunk of Verelle’s things. I supposed even an evil queen had to consider practicality sometimes.

  We made our way through halls full of doors I’d already tried. Voices drifted out from one door that stood slightly ajar.

  “—don’t care where you put her,” growled a familiar, feline voice, “as long as it means you’ll keep your distance.”

  “I’m capable of deciding—”

  “You’re not. And it reflects badly on me as well as on you. I say this as a friend.”

  “I know.” The door opened and Zinian stepped out. He stopped short, and Jaid slipped out behind him. I expected her to shoot me a dirty look and prowl away, but she stood with arms crossed and eyes narrowed, watching.

  Auphel took a step away from them and averted her eyes, chewing her lip nervously, but she stayed close.

  “Good afternoon, Hazel,” Zinian said, sounding entirely friendly. If they were talking about me, it didn’t seem to have bothered him. “I was just about to come looking for you. All ready to go?”

  “I think so. I don’t have much to move, but I guess I’ll take some of the clothes from here.”

  “If you like,” he said. “But I’ve found someone who once worked as a seamstress in a town south of here. She’s accustomed to fitting humans, if you want some more practical clothing.”

  I hesitated. “I would love that, so much. But I’d feel terrible if it would be unpleasant for her.”

  His eyes crinkled at the outer corners, though he didn’t quite smile. “That’s kind of you. But Qinwan is currently making clothing for monsters, and is willing to use her considerable natural talents to help you, as well. Payment is taken care of, of course. My gift to you.”

  My cheeks warmed. “Then I accept. And thank you.”

  Jaid’s tail whipped the air behind her. “Zinian, General Grys is expecting you. Best not to keep him waiting.”

  “Right.” He sighed. “Hazel, perhaps we could dine at your new home once you’ve settled in? I’d like to discuss your findings as you go through the books.”

  “That would be nice,” I said. “Thank you.”

  Zinian smiled and left us.

  Jaid stayed behind. Auphel took a protective step closer to me. Jaid looked her over, then at me. “Stay away from him,” she said. “Cancel those plans.”

  I took a deep breath. “Isn’t that up to him?”

  Her lips flared slightly. “I won’t allow him to sabotage his own progress. He’s worked hard for years to overcome his association with Verelle, but being seen with you will make things impossibly difficult for him.” Her whiskers twitched, and she sighed. “Zinian is my friend, the best I’ve ever had. I have great respect for him, but the fact is that his years here in the palace warped him. He’s not thinking straight. You seem like a reasonable human, which is rare enough that I’ll trust you to do the right thing. Leave him to the monsters. Let him finish finding his place and establishing his role as a leader. If you become involved, you will destroy all of the progress he’s made.”

  She flexed the short fingers of one hand, and sharp claws emerged. She used one to pick at her impressive fangs. A chill came over me. “You’re safer if you stay away from him. Trust me. And do think about taking Grys up on his offer to send you away, once your little project is finished. For your own sake, if not for Zinian’s. Find a mate of your own kind.”

  I was still struggling to form a response when she left us. The implied threat pissed me off. But that didn’t mean she was wrong. An empty pit formed in my stomach, gnawing at me.

  God, woman, get a grip. I was acting like the stupid, inconstant women I so hated in bad romance novels. It was as though there were two versions of me fighting an excessively dramatic battle over my words and actions. The me who liked and wanted to be with him, and the self that knew it was a terrible idea. I was terrified to think that something could happen between us, something that would open me to being hurt again. Every sign pointed to getting involved with Zinian being a bad idea. Jaid’s words were just the final piece of the puzzle.

  It hurt, but a sense of overwhelming relief flooded me. I was being rational. I was in control of my body and my emotions. He would understand, of course. We could work together, and be friends. It was a good plan. A safe plan.

  My stomach churned. All of my rationalizations couldn’t hide the fact that I was chickening out, plain and simple. Running away from risks and potential pain, just as I always did.
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  So fucking typical.

  I gathered a few dresses from Verelle’s room and slipped the religious text I’d found on my first day into my bag for later reading. It looked far older than any of the books I’d seen in the library or the palace, and worth preserving. I doubted Verelle’s things would last long once the monsters were free to do as they pleased in there.

  We met Zinian again as we left the palace. He was speaking to an armoured giant near the gate, who had crouched low to listen. The giant stood, and Zinian came toward us. He relaxed visibly and brightened as he walked toward me, which under other circumstances would have been a pleasant sight.

  You made your decision. Pull up your big girl panties and deal with it.

  He’d made his intentions clear the other night, when he almost kissed me. I’d have to be clear about my own now, before things got more complicated.

  “Need a hand?” he asked.

  “Um. Actually…”

  I glanced at Auphel, who stepped back as Zinian came closer. She always leapt to obey him, but never acted like she was comfortable around him. Almost fearful, at times.

  Something clicked almost audibly into place in my mind, and I understood what it was that had made me uncomfortable about Zinian since my first morning at the palace. He seemed genuinely kind and was certainly charming, but there was another side to him. One that I’d forgotten among everything else that had happened, or that had perhaps been drowned beneath my stupid attraction to him.

  The night we’d met, Auphel had been ordered to kill me. This sweet, gentle giant who I couldn’t imagine hurting a fly had been conscripted into the army, broken in body and spirit until she fit their twisted needs, and forced to commit violence.

  And it wasn’t just that she happened to be taken for the army. Zinian had chosen her. Auphel had said so herself. He’d taken her from her family when she was too young to know how to object. No wonder she shied away now as he approached, why she didn’t look directly at him. She was afraid, but had nowhere to run. She couldn’t even talk about it.

  Suddenly I felt disgusted with myself for finding shelter under his wing, trusting him with my words, eating supper with him, falling under his spell.

  What had the old book in my bag said about the true monster? Fair of face and black of heart, with words of honey and claws of poison. Beware.

  I might not have believed in the book, but that was sound advice. I had ignored it once before, and look where that had got me. Jake had seemed too good to be true, but I’d ignored the anxieties that had tried to save me from a broken heart. I wasn’t going to let that happen again.

  Besides, I didn’t only have myself to think about. I had my dear friend to consider, and not for anything would I fall for someone who had so hurt her. My body tensed as my nervousness turned to anger, and thoughts of keeping him in my life evaporated in its heat.

  At least this made the decision easy, if not pleasant.

  I hardened myself to his broad smile and tried not to think about the fact that I would be losing a powerful ally who understood my situation. There really were more important things.

  At least speak to him, let him down easy. Show him that much kindness, after everything he’s done for you.

  “Hazel? You want help?”

  “No, thank you,” I said, realizing I’d been staring into space. I tried to smile and couldn’t. “Auphel can handle my things, and we’ll want to get back to work on the library. I’ll be busy for a while, so it’s probably best for both of us if I just focus on that.”

  “I see.” And I thought he did. Completely. He straightened his shoulders and met my eyes squarely. His jaw tightened. “So we’ll postpone supper plans, then?”

  “Yeah.” He didn’t say anything, and the silence quickly became unbearable. “Thank you again for everything,” I added. Even if I’d chosen Auphel over him, even if there was a sort of relief in letting go of him and having anger to lean into instead of passion, I didn’t hate him. I couldn’t. “For saving my life. Getting me a place in the city. I appreciate your kindness.”

  And it was true. He’d been more generous than I’d had any right to expect, especially given what it was costing him to associate with me. How could someone so nice be the kind of person who made a child fight in a war? But then, I’d never known anyone who turned out to be exactly what he seemed. We all show the world what we want it to see.

  And we all make mistakes. But that mistake wasn’t mine to forgive. It was Auphel’s, and she was clearly still hurt.

  At least I didn’t feel like I was chickening out anymore. This was the best plan. I reached into my pocket and gave the skeleton key a squeeze, but didn’t feel any comfort or sense of good luck in the gesture.

  He placed a hand on his chest and bowed slightly. Before he looked away, I caught the pained look in his eyes. “You are most welcome. And I thank you for your part in ridding the world of Verelle, however unintentional it was. Let me know if you need me.”

  He didn’t sound like he expected me to do that, but I nodded.

  Auphel shifted my dresses from one arm to the other and started off toward the library. I followed and didn’t look back.

  * * *

  Auphel and I fell into a comfortable routine as the next month passed, and I settled into my new life in the city. The seamstress came as promised, though I had heard no more about her from Zinian. She turned out to be a deer-headed woman named Qinwan with nimble fingers and a quick wit, and we found we got along quite well. She helped me with my clothing situation, creating sturdy pants and fitted shirts that suited me better than the gauzy gowns, taking the waists in a little when hard physical work and the healthier food of Elurien made it necessary. She also found me absorbent cloth when my time of the month hit, and I found myself wishing I had read more crazy adventure stories to see how anyone ever dealt with this sort of thing. Qinwan accompanied me to the market a few times, which was slowly being re-established by the monsters.

  In fact, most of the city was getting back on its feet quite nicely with its new inhabitants. Qinwan’s business was steadily growing. So were those of the candlemaker, the leather-worker (who created hard-soled slippers for me out of buttery leather), the butcher, and the farmers who brought goods to market. Money lingered, but bartering was making its way into the local economy. I heard all about the difficulties that were arising, but it seemed like things would only get better for the monsters. I still didn’t go out alone, but the residents of the city were beginning to accept me, to understand that I was no part of the old threat.

  I’d made the little apartment on the second floor of the library my own. The space was tucked under the peaked roof, and though it had only one room plus a bathroom, it was plenty for me. Auphel chose a space for herself downstairs in what had once been a storage room and kept it dark and cave-like, as pleased her ogrish sensibilities. She’d grown calm and tranquil as she settled into the idea that she didn’t have to fight anymore—and since she no longer saw Zinian and the other military types.

  Auphel and I occasionally ventured outside of the city walls and collected wildflowers from vast and colourful meadows that buzzed with bees and brightly coloured fairies. I cooked my meals in the kitchen, and Auphel kept me well supplied with firewood that she brought from the forest when she went on her personal hunting and gathering trips. We spent our days sorting through books and shelving them, trying to get a handle on hundreds of years of knowledge that was foreign to both of us. It was cozy, quiet, and after a time felt completely normal.

  One sunny afternoon, Auphel decided to wander the city. I was happy to let her go alone. We were trying not to become too isolated from the city’s inhabitants, but I was usually content to let them come to me if I had the choice. There were a few scholars who were already stopping in to inquire about and borrow books, and they seemed willing enough to accept me once I proved myself useful.

  But today the library was quiet, and I felt like nesting, revelling in the
dim quiet of my new home, and trying to forget my early days in Elurien. I knew I should be out trying doors, but had begun to slack off as time passed. It wasn’t working, and the need to leave felt less urgent with each day that passed and each smile from strange new acquaintances.

  It was becoming comfortable, but not everything felt settled.

  I hadn’t run into Zinian on the streets, though I watched for him. I wanted to know he was okay, and once I’d calmed down, I’d decided that I’d ask about Auphel if I saw him again. I didn’t want to ask her and poke at old wounds she was obviously so reluctant to expose, especially when she was so happy in our new life. But maybe he would answer me. At least then I’d know his side of the story, and whether I’d been too hasty in my judgement.

  I pushed away thoughts about him as they arose. You did the right thing. He’s better off without you, just like Jaid said. Find something else to focus on.

  I found a copy of the humans’ religious text—titled the Verhumn—and carried it to a plush window seat to read. Beautiful as Verelle’s copy was, I felt like the ancient pages were going to crumble under my fingers every time I touched them. This one was newer, larger, and written on thicker paper in dark ink.

  I wasn’t about to convert to these horrid people’s beliefs, but I wanted to understand. I wanted to know why they thought themselves so much better than the monsters. If there was such a thing as the spark that Auphel had spoken about, a thing that sounded very much like my definition of a soul, then the monsters I’d met all had it in abundance.

  The later pages were devoted to stories of the Great Mother Maela aiding the humans in subduing the monsters. Line drawings showed the monsters bowing gratefully before humans who glowed with what I assumed was their spark. Verelle’s name came into it many times, detailing how the Mother had blessed her with the greatest spark so that she might lead them to victory against the monsters who refused to kneel. It turned my stomach. History is written by the victors, I reminded myself, and couldn’t remember who had said it.