10. Chapter 8 Emyth

Chapter ten

Chapter 8: Emyth

A s teenagers, we used to disappear to the villages regularly. It was fun for us to come out here and stir up some trouble. It was never anything too serious: just picking fist fights with locals, and terrorizing people in our shifted forms. It was the best way to blow off steam without pissing off our parents. Being back here brings back a lot of good memories.

"Do you think we'll really find anything else worth knowing?" Livarius asks.

"Probably not, but it would be a wasted opportunity if we didn't at least take a look around," Zorvan says. "The seamstress here, Savarra, works closely with Blevora who is a gossip if there ever was one. Let's stop by there first."

We step inside of the beautiful shop full of fabrics of all types. My heart aches thinking of all the clothing Blevora made for Arden that she never got to wear.

She had dropped some of it off before Arden had been taken, but wasn't done with the rest of it until a few days after. Blevora initially asked Airen what she should do with it, and Airen had the unsettling task of bringing the conversation up with Zorvan.

After throwing a dragon sized fit, he finally settled on putting them in her closet as a sign that she would be returning home.

A tall female fae glides from the back, shouting something over her shoulder as she approaches.

"What can I help yo—Oh goodness! Prince Zorvan," the petite dark haired fae says, bowing before us. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"We're trying to get information about the Sentinels and put a stop to this nonsense once and for all. We're making our rounds, and seeing if anyone has any information."

"Oh, I'm afraid not," she says, shaking her head. "They've been here, of course, but I didn't see any of them. I heard the commotion and hid in my little panic room until they were gone."

"You have a panic room?"

"Yes! After the first attacks happened, I installed it myself. I'm actually a very good earth mage. It only took me a day. Would you like to see it?"

"Yes, actually. If it worked, it might be worth finding a way to implement them in all the homes in Feldorn."

She mosies over to the door and glances outside before turning her sign around to read 'closed'. "Right this way," she says and leads us to the back of the shop where the dressing rooms are.

A mousy fae woman is sitting on a pillow on the floor reading a book and eating a sandwich when we enter. She glances up and is about to return to her book, but does a double take and nearly chokes on her food.

"Pull it together, Micah," Savarra hisses. "This is my assistant," she says as the small fae scrambles to her feet and bows.

Savarra opens the door to one of the dressing rooms and crouches down to grasp the small rug that occupies the floor. When she pulls it back, it reveals a small hatch in the floor that fits perfectly flush with the rest of its surroundings. If you weren't looking for it, you would never know it was there.

"It's entirely crafted out of wood, and I can move it using magic. It gives off no magical signature so anyone looking specifically for magic won't notice it, and it's carved perfectly to mesh with the floor around it."

She holds out her hand and calls the wood to her, and it pulls up. The hole in the ground is small, but big enough for her and at least three other fae.

"I fashioned it so that I could fit Micah, and at least two customers in there with me. I've been meaning to make a couple others in the other dressing rooms, but I haven't had the time. It's a little simple, and archaic, bu—"

"It's genius," Zorvan says, peering down into the small hole. He turns to face the small fae woman and takes her hands in his. "I'm sorry that you've even needed to come up with something like this. I'm doing my best to find the fae who have been taking our people, and I've got a lead. If you hear anything at all that might help us, please send word to the castle immediately."

Savarra's face turns red, and she sputters out a bunch of nonsensical syllables before finally saying, "They're slippery evil fae. I have no doubts that you'll eventually track them down and give them what they deserve."

"We're staying at The Misty Shift until tomorrow morning. If you need anything before then, come find us," Zorvan says.

For a second, I forget that he's the reason that Arden is missing. For one glorious, blissful fraction of time, I'm proud of my friend and not angry at my incompetent ruler. But then the reality seeps back into my bones and my death magic begs to be free.

Being around him and not accidentally killing him has been nearly impossible. My reaper magic, much like my basilisk, has a mind all its own sometimes. When I'm reminded of his wrongdoings, I have to practice more self control than I ever have—even more than when I was a young untrained fae.

"Emyth," Liv whispers, and places his hand on my back, bringing me back from the edge.

"Sorry," I mutter, and step back out into the showroom portion of the shop.

I run my hands along the rows of fabrics as their conversation continues, muffled behind the door to the back of the building. I'm so wrapped up in my own gloom that I don't notice that Savarra's assistant followed me.

"Are you okay?" she asks, startling me.

"Yes," I say with a chuckle. "I'm fine."

"No you're not," she argues. "You wanted to kill your friend in there."

I raise a brow at her. "He's my ruler, not my friend. And what do you know of it?" Most fae flee from me when they realize who and what I am, but this little shifter sought me out.

A dense fog pulls up around her and glistens silver in the sunlight pouring in through the large bay windows. Hers is prettier than mine, but there's no mistaking what that is. She's a reaper.

"I didn't realize there were any more reapers in Feldorn aside from myself and my immediate family."

"Yes, well, my mother insisted that I never let anyone know what I am. She claimed it was a recessive gene and that I would be killed if people found out what I was."

"That's not true," I say with a laugh. "If she had registered your gift at the castle, you would have been pulled in for training with myself or my mother."

She shrugs. "That's just what my mother told me. I'm not sure what gave her that impression. But we figured it out." She practically crawls inside of herself, trying to disappear. Talking about her gifts makes her uncomfortable.

"Would you want to come train with me at the castle? I'm currently in need of an apprentice."

"Oh...I-I don't know."

"There's gotta be some reason why you told me about your gifts."

She scoffs. "I wouldn't call them gifts. They've made me an outsider my entire life."

"Reaper magic is most certainly a gift, and you should never let anyone tell you otherwise. Come to the castle and let me help you."

"I'll think about it. I really appreciate it. I was honestly just excited to meet someone who might understand, but it seems like we have had two very different experiences with it."

I nod. My reaper magic was revered among my family. My younger brother has it too, but it's not nearly as strong. I can understand why it would feel like a burden, but I hate that she feels that way.

"If you want to learn how to love your magic, you're always welcome."

"Thank you..."

"Emyth," I supply for her. "My name is Emyth."

"Well if things get too intense for me here at the dress shop, I may show up looking for help," she says with an awkward smile.

Zorvan and Liv exit the back with Savarra who says, "So if you want me to help the locals install theirs, just let me know."

"We might take you up on that. I'm hoping that our current lead pans out, but it'll be good to have a back up plan. I would pay you for your efforts of course."

"Any time. And don't be a stranger in the village. I promise you, the people would feel a lot better if they saw more of your handsome face."

"I'll keep that in mind," Zorvan says, and I think that he might actually mean it.