17. Already Betrayed Me

seventeen

Already Betrayed Me

Alessia

S eeing Sheila dredges up a mixture of old emotions. The joy on her face showed me a different future—one where little girls like her and past me are safe, healthy, and happy . The dark ink marking her cheek stirs up palpable anger at the people in Dovenak who stand by and let the Trade happen or, worse, people like the lord and lady who take an active part in it.

I watch Sheila work, catching a whiff of something sweet. My stomach rumbles, and I yearn to join her and Das Lulu. Even in my darkest moments, baking in the kitchen has always been a comfort. It’s a form of stress relief for me. My heart softens as I realize Sheila finds solace there just as I do.

Rainer squeezes my shoulder, and I smile genuinely at him.

He and Seraphina are right—my mistakes do not define me, and I’ll likely make more in the future, but that shouldn’t stop me from trying to do the right thing.

Like the visions I saw of myself in the Cave of Reflection, perhaps my shadow-self is only one alternate version of me. But it isn’t my entire identity.

I am more than my guilt, fear, and fury.

Despite my imperfections, I, Alessia Lírshadow, am determined to protect the goodness within me, but I will no longer run. Anytime the lord or lady punished me, I faced them without cowering. I may have been meek before, but I never hid out of fear. I cried and trembled, but I never broke.

I might never learn to overcome the darkness fully, and every day that passes is another day others continue suffering needlessly. Rainer is waiting for me to head to Dovenak. Not only is he waiting patiently to get the iron he needs to break his woods’ curse, but he’s also willing to help me stop the Trade and free the Tradelings.

Once we succeed, many beings on both sides of the Gleam will have better lives. We’re bringing greater freedom to people and fae.

But we need to get started.

“Rainer,” I whisper, turning to him. He watches me with rapt attention, ready to cling to anything I say. “We shouldn’t wait any longer.”

He kicks off the doorframe, standing tall. “Dovenak?”

I nod. “I’ll never forgive myself if we miss our chance.” Before he can reply, I continue. “The man that I found—he wasn’t an assassin. He had a prisoner marking on his neck—tattooed numbers.”

Rainer strokes his jaw, eyes glazing over as he focuses on the wall beyond me. “I know.” He clears his throat. “I’ve sent Kenisius and Viveka to spy. A group of soldiers is taking up residence in your old house just beyond the Gleam. We’ve gathered that they’re prisoners who were offered a chance at freedom from Queen Wyetta.”

“What does it mean?” I ask.

“She’s using them. It’s a sleight of hand. We’re looking over here, distracted, instead of seeing what’s happening there.” He gestures obscurely into the air .

“Distracting us from what?”

His eyes darken as he narrows them into slits. “Her preparations for war.”

“What are we going to do?”

“Avoid said war at all costs.” He runs a hand over his face. “I need to talk to my brother.”

After Rainer sets off to find Tynan, I decide to practice trusting myself around others. Seraphina and Rainer have both instilled in me a sense of empowerment. If no one else is afraid of me, maybe I don’t need to fear myself. Perhaps desensitizing myself to my shadow-self is the answer.

As I move through the court, I appreciate the diligent effort of the visiting fae. I smile at everyone I pass, letting them see my gratitude. Words cannot express the immense amount of appreciation I harbor for what they’ve done here.

I turn a corner, and a gust of wind sends me flying backward. I stumble, almost losing my balance.

“Oops,” Ez says. “I didn’t see you there.”

I shoot him a playful glare, my eyes narrowing in jest. It quickly turns into a chuckle. I can’t be mad at the male after everything he’s done—bringing all these fae here to help clean.

He delicately flicks his wrist. A gentle breeze encircles him. Skillfully directing the wind, he stirs up dust from the corridor’s nooks and crannies. His magic creates a tornado of dust, whimsically demonstrating its usefulness. He rotates his wrist, directing the funnel into a trash bin and settling the mess.

Once the air settles, he lets out a long, low breath and plants a hand on the wall to hold himself up.

“How is it going?” I ask, taking in his pallor. A thin sheen of sweat lines his face, beading on his brow and upper lip. “You look ill.”

“Very kind of you,” he says. The smile he gives me is forced, his eyes revealing a glimmer of pain.

“You need to recharge.”

“Ah, yes, I probably should.”

“Come on,” I say. “We need to get you some food.”

“It’s not food I’d like to eat right now,” he murmurs, wavering on his feet.

“Oh gods.” I rub my temple. Apparently, he’s never too weak to make sly jokes. “Should I fetch Seraphina?”

Taken aback, his face contorts into bewilderment. “Why her?”

“I—” I almost say because I know she’ll help him, but I think twice. If she were an option, he would’ve mentioned her, surely. “Well then, who? Can’t you just… do it yourself?”

His response is a breathy chuckle. “Not how it works.”

“How does it work?”

He licks his lips, glancing away, but he doesn’t answer.

“It’s irresponsible to overexert yourself like this.” Frowning, I place his arm over my shoulder and attempt to keep him steady as we traverse the hallway.

“I’ll be fine,” he says quietly.

“Damn you, Ez. ”

His weight is heavy as he leans on me for support. The shadow fidgets beneath my skin, pent-up energy begging for a release. It would be so easy to let the darkness out to help me carry Ez…

No.

That’s how it starts. The lines will blur if I start relying on my shadow-self for little conveniences.

Grunting with exertion, I carefully guide him down the hallway. His weight slows me down. After a few steps, my hair dances in a gentle breeze that quickly fades away—Ez’s pitiful attempt at using his magic to help, but he’s exhausted his reserves.

He makes a noise of frustration.

“Can you die from this?” I ask, morbidly curious.

He emits a short, stifled laugh that turns into a sharp inhale. “Of embarrassment, yes. Arguably worse than death itself.”

We barge into the kitchen a short while later, nearly colliding with one of the workers. My breath escapes me in ragged gasps as I assist Ez to a chair. Gripping the counter, I steady myself and take a moment to regain my composure.

“I assure you, food is not what I need,” Ez mumbles, lifting a brow.

“No, I know—I figured we might find someone to help.” The kitchen serves as the central meeting place for everyone, where they gather between tasks.

“This ought to be interesting.”

I quickly scan the room, counting at least two dozen fae. They stay busy by engaging in a range of cooking and cleaning duties.

Blowing out a frustrated breath, I turn back to Ez. “Who should I ask?”

He chuckles again, slumping down in the chair. “Whoever is willing, darling. If you are willing to reconsider—”

“Hush up.” I purse my lips and shake my head. “Do I just approach someone and ask if they’ll make love with you?”

A slow smirk spreads across his face. “Making love isn’t exactly what I’d call it.”

“Ugh.” I rub my forehead, groaning. Deciding to get this over with, I clap my hands, instantly grabbing the attention of the bustling crowd. An awkward moment of silence stretches as they peer at me curiously. Mustering up my courage, I clear my throat and yell, “Would anyone like an orgasm?”

The resounding silence is so awkward and sharp that I want to crawl into a hole and hide. Perhaps I should’ve thought about my approach.

Recoiling, I scrunch my nose and glance at Ez, giving him an apologetic look.

His eyebrows flick up as he tilts his head, appraising me. “I find your method quite fascinating.”

I turn back to the various onlookers, clearing my throat. “The Prince of Pleasure could really use some assistance.”

With hungry anticipation, their eyes begin to light up as they draw closer to him.

“Well?” I ask, shifting impatiently.

Without delay, the fae erupt into chaos, each one desperate to be chosen to share a bed with the Aer Prince. I flush, wanting to extricate myself from the commotion.

“Have your pick,” I say to Ez, shimmying out of the crowd.

His eyes twinkle in delight as he watches me leave .

I whirl around to exit the kitchen just as a familiar face enters. She looks past me, gaping at the uproar. I double-take. Her burgundy hair flows in soft waves around her shoulders, matching her lipstick. A thin layer of cosmetics smooths her peachy skin and complements her brown eyes.

“Fern? It’s nice to see you.”

She turns her attention to me, giving me an unsure smile. “It is—isn’t it?” Her button nose scrunches, and she glances down at her flats, toeing at the floor. I’m glad to see she’s not in those neck-breaking shoes again. “I mean, good to see you .”

“Yes,” I agree.

A light laugh spills from her lips as she looks back up at me.. “I’m not good with small talk.” She waves her hand toward the crowd gathered around Ez. The various fae vie for his attention, and he smirks, eating it all up. “What’s going on, anyway?”

“He’s… hungry, and they’re arguing over who can feed him,” I say suggestively.

“Another arrogant prince.” She rolls her eyes, and then she sucks in a sharp breath. An apologetic look crosses her face. “Not that your prince is arrogant, of course. At least not these days.”

Gently, I touch her shoulder. “It’s okay. I get it.”

And I do. Rainer was arrogant when I met him. He still can be, although he’s softened a lot. Beneath that arrogance is a softer interior that not many see. I’m privileged to know the pieces he hides away, but Fern doesn’t know him like that.

Her lips quirk. “Are you thirsty? I need a drink.”

“No.” I grimace, knowing she means faerie wine. It’s nice to see Fern sober. But I know she needs the magic she’s addicted to. Rainer said withdrawals can kill her, and it breaks my heart. “Do you ever wonder what life would be like—without the dependency?”

She gives me a sad smile, tilting her head. “I try not to.”

“Why not?”

“It’s too late for me, Alessia. It’s a waste of time to hope for the impossible,” she says softly. Her face drops, and she blinks rapidly, glancing away. “I’m lucky for the luxuries I have. It’s no big deal.” Her voice cracks.

Not for the first time, I glimpse the woman beneath the confident aura and beautiful makeup. She reminds me so much of me when I was Lord Edvin’s Tradeling. I wavered between holding onto hope and considering it a waste of time to wonder . This is another reason why getting the iron is so important—so Seraphina can make a viable concoction to help break Fern’s addiction to magic. The human woman deserves a life of her own, free from her addiction.

I make a silent vow not to let her down.

“I will say…” Fern leans toward me, plastering on a broad grin and brushing aside the heavy moment. “The silver-haired prince makes my lady bits tingle. Maybe I’ll put him to use—make a faerie prince work for me for once.”

We both giggle. Ez glances up as if sensing we’re talking about him.

Slowly, he stands from the counter. He drags his eyes up and down Fern, then smirks, straightening up before sauntering toward us. She turns her back to him, flicking her long hair over a shoulder and whipping him in the face.

“No,” I say, shaking my finger in warning. “ Not her.”

Fern turns, narrowing her eyes at Ez. A slow smile spreads across her face when she glances back at me. Her eyes twinkle with mischief.

“Fern,” I groan, feeling oddly protective over her. “Have you taken anything today? Drank at all?”

She shrugs a shoulder, flipping her hair again. “Not yet.”

My muscles loosen a bit, and some of the tension dissipates. “I swear to the gods, Ez, if you hurt her…” I glower at him. My shadow churns like a storm beneath my skin, sensing conflict.

“I assure you, Alessia, any pain is mutually consensual,” he says, winking, before holding a hand for Fern. She grips it, giving him a coy look.

A collective groan of disappointment rises through the kitchen as the fae realize the Prince of Pleasure has chosen someone to assist him. They scurry to their various stations, returning to work as if there had never been an interruption.

Ez leads Fern toward the exit at the far end of the kitchen.

“The bedrooms are that way!” I yell, jerking my thumb over my shoulder in the opposite direction of where they’re navigating.

“We don’t need a bed,” Fern yells back, casting me a sly grin over her shoulder. She takes the lead, tugging Ez out of the kitchen.

A weird feeling niggles in my stomach—not jealousy, but something else I can’t name. They’re both consenting adults, and Fern doesn’t appear to be under the influence of anything. On top of that, Ez is someone I’d consider a friend—I trust him. But I worry about her.

She deserves joy, though, and I hope she finds it.

“I don’t like her,” Sera says sternly, appearing beside me with crossed arms. She stares in the direction Fern and Ez left with narrowed eyes.

“Be nice,” I admonish, scrunching my nose at her. “You don’t have to like her, but if you try anything, we’re done for good, Sera.”

She turns to me with a frown. “You don’t need to threaten me. You need me as much as I need you.”

“I don’t need anyone.” I incline my chin, and my shadow-self thrashes against my insides, begging to come out and play. “I mean it. If you harm any more of my friends, everything is off.”

“Okay, okay.” She puts her hands up placatingly. “I won’t harm anything—not even a pixie.”

“You better not hurt a pixie,” I say, appalled. “What are you even doing here?”

“A gal’s gotta eat.” She shrugs. “Join me?”

The last time I joined her for a meal, she tried to kill me. Like wafting steam, a faint, dark fog begins to expel itself from my skin. A bolt of terror crashes through me.

I don’t want to harm anyone else—not even Seraphina. The terror must be written on my face because Sera reaches out, gripping my hand to keep me in place.

She sighs, clearly unconcerned with the darkness hovering around me. “Wait.”

I count my breaths, trying to quell my shadow’s unease. “I need to go.”

“I came to find you, to give you this.” She reaches into her pocket and pulls something small out, but I don’t move to take it. Instead, I eye it suspiciously. It’s an amber-colored jar and dropper. “What is that?”

“For your monthlies.” Stepping forward, she shakes it gently, urging me to accept it. “And for… you know. Avoiding faelings. Unless that’s what you—”

“Got it.” I quickly accept the tincture to quiet her. Pregnancy is decidedly not something I want right now. Maybe not ever. I’m not sure, but I know I want to be ready for such a massive commitment if it happens.

I unscrew the top and give the liquid a sniff. It smells like the one Char used to make for the lady, which eases my nerves. Slowly, the dark smog begins to thin out, absorbing back into my skin.

“It’s safe.” Sera touches her chest. “You have my word. Take it once per month. I take mine with each full moon.”

Nodding, I say, “Okay.”

Her eyes shine with emotion as she holds my stare. “You can trust me.”

“I know, Sera, and I said I forgive you. I’m trying.”

“Then why does it feel like you hate me?”

“Because rebuilding trust takes time.”

She nods. “I understand. And I appreciate you trying at least.”

With a heavy sigh and a heavier heart, I tuck the small vial in my cleavage for safekeeping until I can put it away.

It’d be much easier to trust the sorceress if she hadn’t already betrayed me.