Chapter 6

Chapter Six

T he gates in front of me stood tall, laden with twisted wrought-iron bars that spanned the vertical length. At the tops and bottoms, sharp and glittering gilded spires thrust up towards the heavy iron bar that stretched across it. The guards heaved the bar up, and those immaculately gilded gates opened with a silence that shouldn't have been possible. The pageboy bowed, stretching his arm to invite me inside first.

"What have you brought me, Corbyn?" Pin-straight lengths of dark hair fell to frame the softly rounded face of the woman who crowded us before we could even step entirely through the gate. She reached forward and grabbed my chin, her long fingernails digging into the skin. I kept my eyes down and let her move my head from side to side.

She tipped my head back and tutted, pushing my face away rather than just releasing it. My stomach flipped, churning as I tried to keep from cowering in the face of that disappointed tone.

"She's marked. Visibly and far more than any of the others have been. What am I supposed to do with this? They'll think she's bad luck." She pointed her finger at me. "You. Take off your cloak."

"She can still work, Camelya," replied the man who'd brought me here. He did not look like a Corbyn to me; he carried himself too highly to have such a common name. "That was my instruction."

"See if he'll ever let you out again," she muttered. The woman snapped her fingers at me. "Off, girl."

I followed Camelya's instructions, counting the stone pavers at her feet as I undid the button at my throat to keep from looking up and meeting her eye. I was too slow, apparently, and she ripped the cloak from my hands and shoved my hair off my neck. She hummed as she inspected me, reaching out to yank my sleeves up and my neckline down.

She pushed the cloak back into my hands. "Disgusting marks, they are. But I suppose we will find a way to cover them. Your veil should do most of it. And perhaps we can get you gloves." She hummed again, and I could hear her nails clicking on her teeth as she tapped them. My blood simmered in my veins, but I forced myself to let her words slide off me like water over oil. Nothing she could say would hurt me. "You'll do. What's your name, girl?"

"Odyssa." The unsaid words, the ones protesting being called girl, sat heavy on my tongue, though if one cared to listen closely enough, they could hear it in my voice. Neither Camelya nor Corbyn cared enough. This was my chance to save my brothers, and my temper would not ruin things for them. For me.

"You'll do," she repeated.

I knew better than to ask what I would do for .

Her hand wrapped around my wrist, the delicate bones shifting beneath her tight grip as she hauled me down a corridor and further into the castle. I grimaced, but managed to catch any noise before it could escape.

Behind me, I heard the gates slam shut and the bars descend across them, sealing it once more. I'd thought my home was a tomb, but it was nothing compared to this. Castle Auretras would be my grave, and those jutting spires my headstone. I was sure of it.

My fool of a brother had just signed all three of our death notices. But at least we would be with our mother again soon.

I was ushered through hall after hall, winding deeper into the depths of the castle with every step. Stone walls arched around me, and even these insignificant basement halls were adorned with more wealth than I could have hoped to see in my lifetime. A feeling I couldn't put a name on rose up from the pit of my stomach, oily and hot as it curled around my spine and simmered in the back of my throat.

Each gilded frame, each alcove table groaning under the weight of fresh flowers, golden candlestick holders, and heavy iron sculptures, every symbol of wealth the woman herded me past was a reminder. He who elected to waste money decorating a musty corner in some forgotten hallway was the same as he who sat idle as his kingdom transformed into a charnel ground.

I would not forget why I was here. I could not afford to.

Thunder boomed in the distance, rattling a vase on the table as we passed. Something flickered in the corner of my eye beneath the table, a shadow that was there and then gone before I'd truly had a chance to see it. Nonetheless, it sent chills down my spine and raised the hairs on my arms. The taste of smoke was absent, but I could feel someone watching me despite no one else being in the hall.

"Do you know… you… here?" The woman hurled the question over her shoulder at me, not deigning to slow her pace at all, nor release my wrist. I only caught part of the words, the stone swallowing them up before I could hear them, but I had already grown used to having to fill in the gaps and I knew what she was asking.

I tore my eyes from the shadowed corners of the halls and returned my attention to the woman tugging me down the hallways towards my doom.

To find the cure and kill the prince and save my brothers from certain death. "To be a member of Prince Eadric's staff."

She snorted, the noise buzzing in my ears and settling deep into my chest in the gaping hole my brothers had left behind. The dismissal was clear as she turned back around, and while it sparked a familiar ember of anger at the back of my tongue, ready to spit and lash out, I swallowed it back. It met with the oily feeling of something that still clung to my throat, the anger joining the patiently waiting emotions there.

Gods help us all when whatever it was finally exploded.

"Where are you taking me?" Each word was carefully neutral, as dull and uninteresting as the mask I'd forced upon my face.

A more substantial shadow passed by the wall, walking low along the floor. It almost looked like an animal, the shadow of a cat or dog, but it was wrong . Too long and too angular to be either of those things. And then it was gone before I could search it out again. My heart raced against my breastbone. Was this creature part of the castle, or had it followed me in? I wasn't sure I wanted to know the answer. I swallowed hard as I focused back in on Camelya.

"The servant quarters. You'll need to be bathed, measured, and clothed. Then the other girls will prepare you for your first night."

I pulled to a stop, twisting my hand out of her grip to wrap my fingers around her wrist. The shadowy creature was long forgotten. My voice was deadly calm and as far from neutral as it could have possibly been. I knew better to ask, and yet I could not stop myself any longer. "First night doing what , precisely?"

She looked down at where I now held her wrist before bringing her eyes back to mine with a raised eyebrow. "So you do have a spine after all."

"I have far more than that, if need be."

"I would be cautious who else you let discover that." A heartbeat passed and then a smirk played at her lips, erasing the ominous expression that accompanied her first words. "But not to worry, you were only hired as a servant for the parties, not as entertainment."

I searched her face for any hint of a lie. Finding none, I slowly released my hold on her wrist.

There was little I would not do for my family, even though my brothers had disowned me, but my body was my own. It had been ripped apart by the blood plague and patched back together with the marks this woman had called disgusting. But it was mine , and only I decided what to do with it. "Good."

We continued down the halls, the only sounds our shoes against the stone and the distant claps of thunder. The atmosphere had shifted between us, now that I had let part of my mask fall. I wasn't entirely sure if it was a good thing or not.

Eventually, she came to a stop in front of a relatively plain-looking door. "This is the dressing room. You will have your own bedroom, which one of the girls will take you to later, but all the preparations for each evening are done here together. It's easier if you all get ready at the same time."

My stomach twisted itself into knots, but despite it, I forced a nod. I did not want to make friends, did not want to interact with anyone more than I had to. I was here to find how to save my brothers, kill the prince, and get the hell out. But I could not dismiss any potential advantage, coming in as an outsider. Perhaps these girls would be able to help me, whether they were privy to it or not.

The door opened and four pairs of eyes turned in my direction from inside the room. All activity paused, the other women freezing as Camelya stepped in, all but dragging me beside her.

"This is Odyssa," she introduced, giving me a slight shove on my lower back to step forward. "She'll be joining you all."

I nodded a greeting, not trusting my words to come out steady. I wanted to vomit, to run away and bang on the gates that had locked me in here, begging to be released. But there was no turning back now. This was the path I had chosen, and despite how little of a true choice it was, I would follow through. I had nothing left to lose. If I failed, my brothers would likely die regardless.

Silence met us, along with heavy stares that would have made me duck my head in another life. In this life, though, I did not care about their opinions, about their judgements. I cared about nothing apart from doing my work to send money back to my brothers and finding the treatment the Coward Prince had refused to share.

They could think whatever they liked of me. I was not here to make friends.

One of the women finally moved, setting down a hairbrush on the vanity in front of her and standing. Her strides were smooth and confident as she stopped in front of me and stuck her hand out. Across her skin were dark marks—delicate, unlike my own—that reminded me of a lightning strike stretched across the sky. She stared at me. "I am Zaharya."

I extended my own hand slowly. Again, my movements were too slow for the women in Castle Auretras, and she reached out with a huff and grabbed it, shaking it roughly before letting it fall again.

"Where are you from?" Her voice was smooth, no hint of fear or apprehension of Camelya still standing beside me.

"The city," I replied. I cleared my throat. Though my voice had not cracked, there was a weight of something at the back of my tongue, oppressive and uncomfortable. "You have Death marks."

She tilted her head, making the curtain of thick white hair fall over her shoulder. "You call them Death marks down in the city?"

"I—"

"Well, now that introductions are handled, ladies, please get Odyssa ready. She will just be observing tonight, but tomorrow she'll be serving, so be sure to prepare her." Camelya clapped her hands again and whirled out the door, closing it behind her before I'd even really had a chance to comprehend her instructions. My ears throbbed, still reeling from her loud clapping.

My head was swimming with emotion and thoughts, all tangled up in knots as I tried desperately to unwind them, though I knew better than to let it show. Instead, I looked out at the other girls in the room. None of them seemed harmed in any way, and though none of them were especially joyful, equally none of them seemed overtly melancholy. I did not want to know their names, but I knew I needed to remember their faces. Zaharya had white hair, bright like moonlight. There was also a tall blonde, one with hair like flames that seemed to want to make herself look as small as possible, and one with black hair like mine but with eyes that shone like sapphires.

Silence still reigned over the room, all of us watching each other and waiting for someone else to say the next words. It would not be me, that much I knew. So I stood in the middle of the room while the four other women studied me. Some of them seemed as if they were searching for any sign of weakness, but I knew they'd find none. I'd perfected the wall that hid my emotions well.

"Do you have any other clothes?"

I blinked, turning my gaze to the woman with ringlets the color of honey that cascaded over her shoulders and down her back of smooth, unblemished skin. She stood only a few inches taller than me but held herself as if she were towering above us all. I longed for that kind of confidence to take up space in the world.

It took a moment for her words to register and I looked down at myself, at the plain clothing I'd left the house in. I looked back up, taking in her own black silk dressing gown. "I was not allowed time to go back for any of my things."

"Pity," she replied, scrunching her nose up. She turned around to face her own vanity, brushing her hair back and pinning the sides up.

I bit my tongue.

"Pay no mind to Maricara. You don't need anything else truly," Zaharya said, waving her hand. She walked around behind me, putting her hands on my shoulders and guiding me towards the chair she'd been sitting in at the vanity. "Talyssa, can you go get her a dress and a veil? I'll start on her hair."

At her command, a petite woman with elegant waves of burnished copper hair that brushed against her freckled collarbones stood from where she had been tucked away in the corner, moving to a large wardrobe along the far wall. She bent and began pulling bundles of fabric out.

Beside the wardrobe, shadows flickered again. This time, though, eyes appeared, bright yellow in the gaping darkness. I blinked and they disappeared. Zaharya squeezed my shoulder. "Are you alright? You look frightened."

My heart skipped a beat at how easily she touched me, at how there was no hesitation in her movements as she swept my hair away from my neck and traced her finger over the swirling marks there.

She did not wait for me to reply to her question. "Yours are much bigger than mine."

Dread curled up my spine, an eerie feeling falling over me. I'd only heard of other survivors, heard of the marks that the plague left upon our skin. I'd never seen another's marks up close, never had been with anyone other than my family after the plague set in. But why would mine be normal, after all? I was a freak of nature, and apparently, this would be no different. Smoke curled against the back of my tongue and I fought to keep my eyes off the flickering mass of shadows in the corner. The eyes had not reappeared, but I could feel them on me, watching.

"Where are you from?" I asked, raising my eyes to meet hers in the mirror in front of us. The hair on the back of my neck stood on end and a chill swept down my spine. I wanted to run, to squeeze my eyes shut and pretend I was not seeing anything. I wanted to ask if she saw the Soulshades, too, but at the same time, I did not want to hear her say she did not. "You said you don't call them Death marks?"

"I'm from a small village outside of Jura called Konorya," she said, tangling her fingers into my hair and picking up strands of my thick, dark waves. "And they mean you did not die, so why would we call them Death marks? They are just marks. What does it matter how you got them?"

"Here, they mean you should get as far away from me as possible."

Zaharya hummed.

"How are they seen in the castle?" I jerked my head toward the door. "Camelya seemed displeased I was marked."

"There are others marked in the castle."

I waited for her to elaborate, but she did not. I had attended to enough of the wealthy alongside my mother that I knew the words she left unsaid. There were others, yes, but Camelya's reaction would be the norm.

The room was tense still, though some of it had started to ease around the woman weaving my hair away from my face and neck. One side of me wanted to ask about the others, to introduce myself and get to know these women I would be with, but the other part of me wanted nothing to do with any of them. Forming connections, emotional attachments, friendships , with any of them would only end poorly. As much as I longed for closeness, I could never have it.

"Here," the one with black hair said, coming over to us and draping the two bundles of fabric Talyssa had retrieved across a nearby chair. She leaned her hip against the vanity, looking down at me with an unreadable expression. "I am Elena. Did Camelya tell you what you'll be doing?"

I was beginning to grow tired of that question, of everyone passing me off to someone else to explain. "She said you all would." I pulled away slightly from Zaharya and turned around to look at both of them. "Please. I am here to work with you for the foreseeable future. Tell me what I'll be doing."

Zaharya sighed, moving to the other side of the vanity and resting her back against it as she crossed her arms. "If you live in Jura, no doubt you hear the parties every night. We attend to them. We serve the drinks, take away the empty glasses, do whatever is needed to ensure the guests are enjoying themselves. Tonight, you'll only be observing."

"And tomorrow, you will be helping us," Elena added. "It's quite simple, though."

"So we're to ensure they're having a wonderful time at the party while the city beneath them chokes on its own blood."

"See? You understand perfectly."

A whisper of something almost like a laugh came from the shadows at my feet. Even the Soulshades were amused by me, apparently.