by M. L. Greye
He nearly kicked her shin under the table. Not a hard kick – but enough that she’d realize he knew what she was doing. Maybe more like a very firm nudge. He glared at her as he said, “Quinn’s with her family for the holiday.”
“You didn’t insist she come meet us?” Erin demanded, brushing flour off her hands.
This was definitely not a conversation he wanted to be having with his sisters. No pastry was worth their interrogation. Planting his hands on the table, he pushed himself to his feet. “I think I’m going to head over to the forge.”
“So you think you can just eat and run?” Estrid retorted.
Declan kissed his mother on the cheek. “Thank you for letting me sample your delicious sweets. I can’t wait for tomorrow.”
“Remind your father to pick up the ham from the butcher on his way home,” Llydia replied.
“Will do.” Declan snagged one last pastry for the short run to the village proper.
“Don’t think we won’t be bringing up you and Quinn later.” Erreth’s brown eyes were practically gleaming in delight. Promising she’d do whatever she could to keep the spotlight from herself. She was such a Brown – wanting to blend into her surroundings to a fault. She was the only one of them to have inherited their father’s base color.
Just for that look she gave him, Declan smirked. “If I see Fisk, I’ll be sure to stop and ask what his plans are for you tomorrow.”
“Oh, maybe he’ll propose to you by the bonfire,” Erin suggested.
“Circled around by all the dancers,” Estrid added.
Erreth glared at him as he turned toward the front door. Declan grinned all the way to his father’s smithy.
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Heerth bathing rooms were the most luxurious, lavish spaces Emry had ever been in. Probably in the whole world. Her private one in Zyntar had been wonderful. Here in Acoba, like the rest of the palace, her bathing room was a blur of pastels and whites.
The spacious room was paved in the same mosaic of symmetrical tiles as the entire palace – hexagons and triangles – white, pale blue, pastel green, and coral. The back wall of her bathing room was an enormous, open, glassless window – about hip height up and reaching almost to the ceiling. Sheer, white curtains fluttered in front of it. Beneath the window was a wood bench the length of the window – about six feet long.
When Emry had first come to Acoba, the idea of using her bathing room with an open window set her on edge. But now she was so used to it – to the openness of it all – that she wasn’t sure how she could go back to living within closed walls. Off to the left, through the rounded, pointed wide archway into her bathing room, was her vanity – an ornate mirror framed with white square tiles above a slab of marble set on top of drawers in a rich, dark wood. A copper bowl and faucet were inlaid into the vanity for her to wash her hands and face. Beside that was the toilet.
To the right of the archway was a white oval soaking tub, a little smaller than her circle one in Zyntar. Then, in the center of the room – directly visible from the archway – was her shower. The tile on the floor of her elongated shower was seafoam green, like the color of the walls in her room and bathing room. To get into its rectangular basin, she had to step down about three inches. This particular shower had no walls – completely open to the elements – but Emry had never been chilly while using it.
Three chains off to the right side of the shower dangled so that Emry could tell the unknown Blue servant to turn on the water and the Orange servant what temperature she liked. Three copper, square faucets dropped from the ceiling. The water poured down through the grates with about a thousand tiny holes punched into it. The three faucets were positioned barely a hand width apart – all in the center of her shower. It was like bathing beneath a hot waterfall. Emry loved it.
At the moment, she was taking her sweet time beneath her shower’s cascade. Her new skirt and top in that faded periwinkle were laid out for her on the bench to the side of her. The seamstress Sabine had suggested had embroidered the hem of her skirt in black – upon Emry’s request. The design of it Emry had personally instructed her on as well. She’d had the woman venture away from the usual Heerth patterns. Instead, she had her embroider swirls and whorls of black reaching upward from the hem and along the slit all the way to the top. The effect had turned out exactly as Emry had imagined in her head. The wintery, nearly white fabric had what looked like frosted shadows reaching upward. For Night’s Crown – the longest night of the year.
It was a token for the shadows roiling within her blood. The shadows Emry ignored every other day of the year. But tonight, for Night’s Crown … She wouldn’t be celebrating the Heerth Sun’s Rebirth garbage. She’d be celebrating the moon that called to her. To the shadows her mother had warned her to steer clear of. It was the one night a year she relished in the tendrils of darkness that flowed through her – so close to the surface she almost believed she could become them.
So, for Night’s Crown, Emry wore her shadows proudly. She’d told Sabine she wanted to wear the embroidery to have a piece of Enlennd with her. In a way it was, but really it was to celebrate that wild part of her. That dark part of being a Silver. The part her family had tried to shield her from for years. She wondered how her sister and father were faring. There would be a ball of some sort back in Enn, she was sure. Hopefully Cit had made friends with the Heerth prince Emry had traded places with. Emry had only received a few letters from her sister since she’d left Enlennd. Cit had seemed happy enough.
Emry glanced out through the sheer curtains that were stained in the golden light of the late afternoon sun. She really should get out of the shower. The Orange and Blue supplying her with the hot water were probably questioning if she’d drowned in here.
With a sigh, she tugged on the chain for the water. It ceased almost instantly – before Emry was even able to step up out of the shower to retrieve her towel from the bench. She wrapped the thick, plush white material of the towel around her – savoring its warmth.
Glancing down at her pretty new clothes, she couldn’t help but think about what Sabine had suggested – that Trezim would like to see her in them. For a heartbeat, while she towel dried her hair, she imagined the charming smirk he’d give her when he saw her for the first time that night.
As she moved to her vanity to begin brushing out her hair, she couldn’t hide the smile on her own face.
CHAPTER TEN
Dancing in Heerth was nothing like dancing in Enlennd. Here, several large circles were formed over the dance floor. The circles didn’t intertwine or touch, but everyone flowed and stepped and moved as one. Dancers made various hand motions in unison as they spun and stepped their way through the circles. There were no partners like there were in Enlennd. Or in the Turanga. Just large, massive groups of revelers all copying one another to the rhythm of the fast-paced music.
It was fascinating, mindless, and intricate at the same time. Dancers had to always be moving – matching the gestures of those surrounding them. Yet, there was always a pattern. The steps and hand movements varied from dance to dance, but they always repeated. It made it easy for someone new to pick up on the dance after stumbling through the first few rotations.
Now that Emry had lived in Heerth for almost a year, she rarely made a mistake. She’d attended enough festivals and special occasions at the palace in Zyntar that she was very comfortable with the Garba dances. She loved them.
She loved moving to the rhythm. She loved the flourishes she could throw in here and there with the jut of her hips or the twist of her wrist. She loved the way she felt while doing them – young and free. Like she could be forever content making pass after pass of the circle, hour after hour. She’d learned how to shake her hips since coming to Heerth. The steps of their dances required it. Again, Emry loved it. She understood now why Trezim had called Enlennd boring. Compared to the vibrancy of Heerth, Enlennd was a little boring. That wasn’t to say Emry didn’t love her own country. She did, and s
he missed it. She saw the value in her own land – her own holidays … like Night’s Crown.
It was now Night’s Crown. Officially. The sun had set over an hour ago. It was Emry’s favorite night of the year.
Unlike with every other festival Emry had experienced in Heerth, she wouldn’t be going out into the city. Given the disaster of the last one, she wasn’t really upset by it, despite no longer being in Zyntar.
The city would celebrate in its own way with various parties around enormous fires. At least that was the same across borders. As for Emry and the rest of the nobility in Acoba, the palace would be hosting its own closed event – on the upper and lower verandas at the back of the Eclipse Palace, between it and its pool.
Even though both verandas were connected to the palace, they were the size of her own palace’s ballroom. Once again, Emry had been awed and humbled by the opulence of Heerth. The two sprawling verandas on the first and second floors of the Eclipse Palace were joined by sweeping tiled staircases, railed in wrought iron of sharp angles and squares.
For tonight, the bottom veranda was to be set up like a banquet hall open to the elements, except for above. Its ceiling, which was the floor of the top veranda, was a mosaic of the sun with the famous geometric designs of Heerth – but in soft, muted colors. Small balls of flame, provided by orange-eyed servants floated beneath it. High above the heads of the guests, but close enough that their flickering light illuminated the entire space.
Long tables at either side of the veranda were heavily laden with all sorts of meats, cheeses, crackers, fruits, and Heerth delicacies. The rest of the space was filled with round, low tables and oversized pillows for the guests to take their plates of food and eat. There were no assigned seats, as this was to be a place for a respite from the loud music of the dancing upstairs. People came and went as they pleased.
It was also the veranda Emry emerged onto first. She’d purposely arrived late. Most, if not all of the guests had already arrived. In Heerth, the time someone showed up to an event was a status symbol. It was why King Krynto was always last to arrive. Emry, being considered a Heerth princess at the moment, was expected to come late. Any earlier and Trezim’s nobility would question Enlennd’s rank in the world. It was ridiculous but diplomatic of Emry to uphold the Heerth tradition.
She recognized a few of the faces at the tables she wended her way through and smiled or nodded as she passed them. She didn’t feel like joining any of them. Or eating, for that matter. She was a little hungry, but not enough to get herself a plate. She was looking for Sabine and Trezim, anyway.
Emry took the winding, wide stairs off to the left. Taking her skirt in one hand to avoid stepping on its pretty hem, she headed upward.
When she reached the top of the stairs, she stopped in her tracks. It was dark. Completely dark. Well, except for the floating flames above the heads of the musicians who were stationed in front of the doors into the palace, blocking the entrance. The rest of the veranda was in shadows.
No, not shadows … Emry inhaled sharply. Moonlight. They were bathed in moonlight. Because above their heads – it was a full moon, and for once, Emry felt its pull.
Tingling. Soothing. Calming.
Emry nearly fell to her knees. Right there on the veranda. Tears pricked at the corner of her eyes. How long had it been since she’d last ventured out beneath the moon’s rays? Nine months?
The moon had missed her. Its light kissed over her bare arms and shoulder and middle, urging her to draw strength from it. Emry lifted her face skyward and shut her eyes, sucking in as much light as she could.
“There you are,” Sabine’s voice sounded from somewhere nearby. When Emry didn’t respond, or even move, Sabine released a low chuckle. “I’m not the only one standing here, Emry.”
Slowly, Emry lowered her head and opened her eyes. Sabine and Trezim were standing in front of her. They both fell back a step, eyes wide. She frowned. “What is it?”
“Your eyes,” Sabine breathed.
Oh. Emry realized what they saw just as Sabine pointed it out. She’d accidently adjusted her eyes to that other side of herself. To the part that saw the light and darkness within someone. Trezim and his sister were both bright with light. With life. But they didn’t see what she did. They only saw her eyes were glowing, probably even more distinctly in the darkness. From the looks they both gave her, she could tell they’d never seen a Silver use this particular ability in front of them. Did they know what her glowing eyes meant?
“Do I scare you?” Emry asked apprehensively. From the uncertainty on their faces, she had the impression she did.
“I-” Sabine stopped, swallowed, and straightened – as if drawing herself back together. As if remembering where she was – who stood in front of her.
Trezim, on the other hand, said bluntly, “Sometimes I forget what you are – what you’re capable of.” Of course they knew about Silvers. Trezim said he’d met one before – Varamtha. Emry was just so used to the ignorance of those in Enlennd.
Her father’s family had long since removed all books on Silvers from the palace library in Enn. After the Silver Reign, her ancestors chose not to kill Silver children. Instead, they simply burned the books containing the potential abilities of Silvers so the children might never discover their deadliest one. Emry only knew because the knowledge had been passed down through her mother’s line. Outside of Enlennd, though, of course they knew.
Not to mention, Emry had killed that troupe. She hadn’t ever fully explained what had happened before she’d dragged Sabine back to the palace. No one had ever pressed for answers – Sabine, who knew they’d been outnumbered, hadn’t even asked. Now Emry realized why. They’d already guessed at what she’d done – how exactly she’d killed them.
“So, the answer is yes.” Emry forced on a smile – attempting the sardonic, sultry one Sabine usually wore. A mask. She couldn’t shake the sting that even though they knew her, trained with her, they still did fear that other side of her. She quickly adjusted her eyes back to normal.
“I think there’s usually a little fear in all of us,” Trezim replied after another agonizing moment.
That didn’t ease the tension in Emry’s shoulders, but she nodded.
Trez most likely had noticed because he said with a grin, “You look beautiful, by the way.”
For some reason, the compliment she’d wanted earlier that day – even though he sounded completely sincere – felt empty.
Yes, he thought she was pretty, but the way he’d looked at her – when he was reminded of what she was … Emry felt a little betrayed. She’d thought they’d grown close these past months – that they were coming to understand each other. But, maybe Trezim never would really understand her. The thought didn’t sit well with her. It made her sad.
But tonight was not the time for sadness. So, Emry merely kept a smile plastered on and simply said, “Thank you.”
“I love what you’re wearing.” His eyes ran down the full length of her, settling on her hem. “Is that supposed to be frost?”
Perhaps she was just feeling spiteful from the slight she felt they both had given her. Not that they really had – people were allowed to be afraid. Or maybe she was just bitter over the fact they didn’t accept her as she was. Either way, her fake grin twisted into a smirk, and she replied, “No. They’re shadows – for Night’s Crown. The one night a year I can freely celebrate what lurks beneath my skin.”
Sabine loosed a nervous laugh. The first one Emry had ever heard her make. Trezim winced. “I suppose I brought that on myself. It’s not that you scare me, Emry, you simply caught me off guard.” He held out his hand to her. “And you really do look ravishing tonight. Care to dance?”
He didn’t look too bad himself. Garbed in what looked like faded gray with ornate embroidery shaped like suns – their rays reaching outward – along the cuffs and hem of his lightweight tunic, it suited him. But side by side, he and Emry were opposites. Trez noticed her stare. He la
ughed. “I know. You’re the night to my day.”
Trez was still standing there with his hand out, so Emry slid her chilled fingers over his – they were almost as equally cold as her own. “I guess it seems fitting. Silvers live by moonlight and Golds by the sun,” she commented.
“Are we ever going to dance?” Sabine asked, clearing her throat.
“So impatient, my sister.” Trezim winked and led Emry out to join the other dancers.
For the next eight hours, Emry danced, ate, danced again, ate a little more, and danced until her feet could no longer hold her. Sabine was with her for about half the night – until she became friends with a handsome Heerth lord for the rest of it. But Trezim stayed alongside Emry until the first rays of dawn cast the sky into shades of a blushing eggplant. Emry laughed and spun and gorged herself with Trezim. She did have fun. It was a good Night’s Crown. Yet…
When she finally wandered back to her bed that morning, she felt like something had been missing. She couldn’t really explain it. Still, as sleep claimed her, she released some of that ache in her chest into her room – in the form of shadows.
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That night, Declan dreamt of her. It wasn’t the first time she’d haunted his dreams. Depending on the dream, she’d been ages ranging from a small child to teenager to young woman. Truthfully, he wasn’t exactly sure how old she was. Ewan had never given him a number, and he’d honestly never cared to ask.
It wasn’t until after Ewan’s death that she began to be a presence in his dreams. Usually his nightmares. The ones where he relived that awful night Ewan died. Sometimes he carried off a young woman or a child. Other times he stayed to help fight with Ewan only to watch her as a teenager skewered through by one of those bandits that had attacked them. But something about tonight was different. This wasn’t a nightmare. No, he was in a desert. Or what he assumed a desert looked like. He’d never actually seen one before in person.
