My throat feels tight as tears prick my eyes.
Lorelei lifts her head to meet my gaze. “Are you finished?”
Her tone isn’t unkind but snaps me out of my daze. I realize I’d released her leg, my hands frozen and resting lightly on her shin. With a shake of my head to clear it, I rise to my feet. “Yes. I feel confident you will heal well. I see no sign of infection and your range of motion is what I’d expect at this point of recovery.”
Lorelei stands, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. “You know, it actually feels much better.” She lifts her gown, examining her leg. “It looks better too. What is it a surgeon does, anyway?”
I’m torn between laughing and maintaining my professional manner. She must have thought my actions were more than simple inspection. How can I explain I didn’t do a thing to help her? That whatever ease she feels is nothing more than a placebo? “A surgeon usually operates on tissues and organs with tools like the ones I have in my kit.”
She takes a few steps, then flashes me a smile—something I’ve rarely seen from her. “Well, whatever you did, it worked. It hardly hurts.”
“Perhaps the stretching and motion exercises helped,” I say, not wanting to lose her gratitude by telling her the truth. “See if you can continue gentle stretches daily to improve your overall flexibility.”
“Sure. Uh, thank you for this.” She wrings her hands, as if suddenly uncertain around me, then bites her lip. “I suppose I should apologize, shouldn’t I?”
I tilt my head. “For what?”
She sighs. “I’m not sorry for what I did to the Butcher—to your friend. But I know it must have hurt you to see him in pain. That I’m sorry for. And for saying you were a self-righteous harpy with a mouth bigger than her brain.”
“You never said that.”
She waves a dismissive hand. “Not to you, of course.”
My lips tug into a smile. First Foxglove, now Lorelei is beginning to seem charming too. “I’m sorry as well. I misjudged you. It’s just…I haven’t had the best experiences with the fae.”
“I doubt either of our kind have had many positive interactions since the war.”
I nod. “You’re right. It’s funny, though. I grew up with a sort of terrified reverence for your kind, instilled by my mother. I was fascinated with what little I knew about Faerwyvae, with the idea of magic, but then…something happened. It changed everything I thought I knew.”
My throat feels tight as the memory seizes me. Perhaps it’s my worry over Amelie being alone with Aspen, but I can’t shake the images that flood my mind—my sister’s face, eyes alight with mischief as we ran through the woods toward the faewall. It was a perfect summer night, aside from the presence of Maddie Coleman. It was her dare that brought us to the faewall that night four years ago and sent the three of us circling one of the stones to prove we were brave enough to cross the wall. We’d maintained contact with the stone the entire time, holding our breath as we circled it to the fae side, then burst into fits of laughter when we returned safely to the human side seconds later. Our laughter died when we turned to run back home and saw the fae that stood before us.
Lorelei wrings her hands again, and her voice comes out soft. “You can tell me about it. If you want to, that is.”
I consider shaking my head, telling her it’s nothing, but I stop myself. After the vulnerability she shared with me tonight, perhaps I can return the honesty. I take a deep breath. “Four years ago Amelie and I met a goblin, tiny and horrid with sharp fangs and wrinkled, sagging skin. There was no mistaking it was there to cause mischief. We were frozen, terrified and fascinated at the unusual sight. It seemed it was equally fascinated with us. Amelie, in particular. Its beady eyes locked on hers, and she stared right back. After a while, she forgot to blink.”
I remember my horror when Amelie’s face went slack, recall the glint in the goblin’s eyes when he realized he had her under his control. That’s when Maddie Coleman ran screaming, leaving Amelie and me alone with the creature.
“The goblin ordered Amelie to come toward him, and she did. He ordered her to put her hand out, and she did. She paid me no heed as I tugged at her arms, pulled at the sleeve of her coat. All she could do was walk toward the creature, hand outstretched toward his vicious mouth, a placid smile on her face all the while. When he lunged forward to sink his teeth into her palm, I threw a rock, hitting him between the eyes. That’s when Amelie was able to return to herself. We ran, but he chased us, nipping at our heels and shouting after us, saying if he didn’t get a taste, he’d make our insides rot.”
“You got free, though,” Lorelei says.
“Yes. I don’t remember when we could no longer hear him following, when his teeth and claws ceased to graze our heels. By the time we got home, the backs of our dresses were torn to shreds, our voices incoherent as we told Mother what had happened. She could hardly make sense of what we were saying. We just kept repeating that a fae had attacked and cursed us. All she could do was give comfort, tell us we were safe. Then later that night, Amelie collapsed, writhing in pain. She began vomiting, grasping her belly. She was certain the goblin’s curse was coming to take her, insides rotting just like he said. Mother tried to break the curse using tinctures and countercharms. We stayed up all night while she chanted over my sister, trying to purge the curse from her.”
“Your mother is like you then?” Lorelei asks.
I shake my head. “No. My mother’s craft is nothing like surgery, and surgery was what Amelie needed. It turns out, she wasn’t plagued by a curse after all but a very serious medical condition. We only discovered this because I was stupid enough to try to return to the wall the next morning. I wanted to seek out the goblin, beg him to lift the curse from my sister. If that didn’t work, I was prepared to offer myself in her stead. I couldn’t bear to see my sister in pain and would rather die than lose her.”
“What happened? Did you find the goblin?”
“No. Luckily, I was intercepted by Mr. Meeks, Sableton’s surgeon. He saw me in distress heading toward the woods and made me tell him what was happening. Once I told him about Amelie, he insisted on seeing her. He raced home, got his surgery kit, then came to our house. That’s when I learned the power of modern medicine and got to witness true healing. Amelie was never cursed. She was glamoured, yes, but what happened after was nothing more than a coincidence. My sister had developed appendicitis. If Mr. Meeks hadn’t intervened, her appendix would have ruptured, and Amelie would have died.”
Lorelei’s eyes are wide. “I have no idea what an appendix is, but it sounds terrible.”
Her statement shatters my somber mood, and I find myself laughing. She laughs with me, although it’s clear from her expression that she isn’t sure what we’re laughing about. Once I begin to sober, I let out a heavy sigh. “Thank you for listening, Lorelei. That’s not a story I like to tell, but oddly enough, it feels good to have told someone.”
She smiles. “I think that’s what a lady’s maid is for, right?”
“Listening to me ramble on about my adolescence goes above and beyond the duties of a lady’s maid.” If I were ready to admit it, I’d say it falls into the realm of friendship.
“I never thought I’d hear that high praise from you,” she says. “Is there anything else you need from me tonight?”
“No, go ahead and retire. I’ll wait for Amelie to return.”
“Very well.” She offers a curtsy—one deeper than any she’d given me before—then leaves the room.
Once I’m alone, my eyes begin to grow heavy, muscles pulling with fatigue as if I really had performed a surgery. Or perhaps it’s from the story I told. With slow steps, I retrieve my dagger from behind the dressing screen and stuff it beneath my pillow before crawling under the covers.
I’m determined to stay awake until Amelie returns. Then again, what if my suspicions are correct, and she’s been sleeping elsewhere? Will she stay the night with Aspen?
The ques
tion makes my blood boil, but it quickly fades as sleep overtakes me.
In the night, I dream.
A dark figure looms over me, teeth sharp and glinting with moonlight as a snarl pulls at his lips. He lowers his face until it’s hovering mere inches from mine. His chest heaves with anger.
It isn’t a dream.
I reach for my dagger, hilt in hand and blade at the figure’s throat. He pays me no heed as Aspen’s voice growls, words rumbling with rage, “Where is your sister?”
Chapter Nineteen
His words echo through my mind. Where is your sister?
The question takes me by surprise, making my dagger hilt tremble in my fingers. Aspen’s warm, wine-scented breath on my face brings me back to myself, reminding me of his proximity. As my eyes adjust to the moonlit dark, his shadowy features take shape in front of me. I press the blade to his throat, letting its edge break the skin. “Get. Off. Me.”
He jolts back, wincing from the searing iron as I spring from the bed, keeping the dagger between us as I back up a few paces. It only deters Aspen a moment. He bounds toward me, and I retreat until I find my back pressed against a wall. Nothing but my dagger separates us as he closes the distance, the tip of my blade pressed to his sternum. With one thrust, I could have it buried in his chest.
Aspen doesn’t seem to care. “Where is your sister?” he repeats.
I push his chest with my free hand, trying to force him back. It does nothing but shift the cloth of his shirt. “Why are you asking me? She was with you, you fool. Don’t act like I didn’t leave her in your study.”
His chest heaves with rage. “She isn’t there anymore. Where did she go?”
I narrow my eyes at him. “What, did she disappear into thin air?”
“No,” he growls. “I left for only a few minutes. When I returned, she was gone.”
“Gone? How is that—” My eyes widen, and I thrust the dagger tip forward. He winces and springs back a few inches. This time I’m the one closing the distance, forcing his retreat as anger heats my blood. My voice comes out with a snarl that could almost match his. “What did you do to her?”
“What did I do? Me?” His fingers lock around my wrist before I can prick him with my blade again. “I did nothing.”
“Nothing?” I slam his chest again with my free hand. “Why else would she run away at the first chance? You did something to her. What did you do?”
“So, you admit she ran away.”
My mouth hangs open. I struggle to free myself from his grip, but his fingers don’t budge, suspending my wrist and dagger in midair. “Running away is the only logical conclusion based on what you’ve told me,” I say through my teeth as I continue to struggle in vain.
“Where did she go?”
“I don’t know.”
“You’re lying. You’re in on it too. What are you planning? Aside from trying to kill me with this pathetic blade?” He turns my wrist, forcing my fingers to open. The dagger clatters to the floor, and he kicks it away.
I hold my ground, crossing my arms over my chest. “If I was trying to kill you, I would have slashed my blade through your throat when I had the chance. Besides, if one of us is lying, it’s you.”
He fixes me with a seething glare. “I can’t lie.”
“Then I suppose we’re at an impasse, because I’m not lying either. What will you do next? Execute me for treason?”
Aspen holds me with a glower for what feels like an eternity. Finally, his breathing begins to steady, the heaving of his chest subsiding. He takes a step away but doesn’t tear his eyes from mine. With a snap of his fingers, a warm light illuminates above the sconces in my room, bringing him into clear view. I try not to wonder at how the light could have responded to him like that, and instead take in his appearance. His hair is disheveled, and a thin, red line runs across his throat. It looks like dried blood, the superficial wound I gave him likely already healed beneath it. “You don’t know where your sister is?”
“No. Like I said, last time I saw her, she was with you.”
“She was there,” he says, voice still much like a growl. “We spoke for a time until she requested more wine. I ordered some to be brought up, but the idiot servant brought honey pyrus wine. You, of all people, should know why that could have been disastrous. Still, she seemed as content as ever when I left to exchange it. When I returned, she was gone.”
Wine. A servant. Could it be? What if I’d gotten our earlier conversation wrong? What if Amelie wasn’t in love with Aspen after all? Would she do something so foolish as to run away with a handsome servant? Then again, perhaps it was a matter of Aspen catching a lingering glance between the two, igniting his jealousy. This entire confrontation could be a ruse to cover something far more devious. “Who brought the wine? Was it the same servant you used during your earlier visits with Amelie?”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“Answer the question.”
He runs his hands through the blue-black hair between his antlers. “I don’t know. I have a lot of servants.”
I squint at him, trying to decipher if there’s deception beneath his words. I proceed with caution. “Did something else happen? When the servant brought wine? Did you…see something you didn’t like?”
He tips his head back. “What is that supposed to mean?”
Footsteps sound in the hall outside my room. Aspen whirls around as several guards march in. One approaches Aspen. “Your Majesty,” she says as she gives him a hurried bow, “someone was seen running toward the coral caves.”
“When?” barks Aspen.
“Just now.”
The caves. I’m too stunned to comprehend what this could mean. Was Amelie running away? Truly running away? She would have to be terrified out of her wits to do something as reckless as that. To leave me behind. My rage returns hotter than ever. “What did you do to her?”
Aspen ignores me. “Send guards after her.”
The guard nods. “I’ve already dispatched some, Your Majesty, but the tide is already coming in. She won’t make it long in there, nor will the guards.”
He gives the fae a withering look, and his voice comes out cold. “Send guards to search every cave. I want the water up to their chins before a single one tries to return. And after that, I want guards stationed on the beach. If you don’t find her alive, I want her body retrieved when it washes ashore.”
The guard salutes and leaves my room, while I bristle at the carelessness of his words. “You’re a monster.”
He rounds on me. “I’m not the fool who ran into the caves. And if I find out you have anything to do with this, I’ll throw you in the ocean after her.” With that, he storms out of my room. I race after him, but before I reach my door, he shouts at the other guards who had remained in the hall. “Don’t let her leave her room.”
I halt as the fae guards bar my path. One reaches forward to slam my door shut. I’m left gaping, heart racing. What in the blazing iron is happening? All I can think of is my sister, running for the caves. Running from terror. From Aspen.
I channel my rage into beating my door with my fist, begging the guards to let me out. It doesn’t matter that the action is fruitless. I must do something—anything—with my body to keep myself angry. Because if I’m not angry, I’ll be anxious. Terrified. I’ll lose my mind.
Hours pass, the light of dawn breaking through my windows, yet I continue to shout and throw my weight at the door. My voice is raw, shoulders and hands throbbing, by the time the handle begins to turn. I’m so shocked, I barely have time to move out of the way before the door swings open. Cobalt’s eyes lock on mine, and before I realize what’s happening, he pulls me into his arms. I hardly register the fact that I’m crying into his chest, my entire body racked with sobs.
He brushes a hand along my back, smoothing my hair. “Let’s get you out of here,” he whispers.
“Here’s her cloak,” says a voice behind me. Lorelei. She drapes the heavy f
abric over my shoulders, and I pull it tight around me. That’s when I remember I’m in nothing more than my nightdress. Cobalt rests his hand on my lower back and guides me out of the room. When we reach the hall, the guards are nowhere to be seen.
“I sent them on a false errand,” he says. “I can’t believe my brother locked you in your room when your sister is missing. That was cruel, and I’m sorry.”
“He was only being cautious,” Lorelei says from the other side of me, “but I agree. It wasn’t the right thing to do in this situation.”
I’m lost in a daze as we move through the halls of the palace. “Where are we going?”
“I don’t know,” Cobalt admits. “I just wanted to get you out of your room. I knew you’d be worried sick. I can take you to my room, if that makes you feel more comfortable.”
Someone rounds a corner at the end of the hall, then begins racing toward us. As the figure closes the distance, I realize it’s Foxglove. “They found someone,” he says breathlessly.
The words make me alert, clearing the fog from my brain. “Where? Is it my sister? Is she all right?”
Foxglove wrings his hands. “They’re bringing her from the caves now.”
“Take me to the shore,” I demand.
“My brother has the lower part of the palace heavily guarded,” Cobalt says.
I face him. “I need to see her.”
He holds my gaze. “You might not like what you see.”
I don’t want to consider what he means by that. Instead, I grit my teeth. “I don’t care.”
“The dining room,” Lorelei says. She takes off down the hall, and I follow. Up the stairs we climb until we reach our destination. I rush to the other side of the dining room to the rail at the edge of the open expanse. There, beneath the dim light of the rising sun, I see the narrow sliver of beach, crawling with guards. The rest is hidden by the tide, revealing only the slightest hint of a cave as the crashing waves recede.
To Carve a Fae Heart (The Fair Isle Trilogy Book 1) Page 13
