Chapter 4

“Y ou’re uncharacteristically quiet,” sneered the guard when we were beyond the gates of the grand hall and in the lower echelons of the palace.

“Fuck you,” I hissed without turning to her, quickening my steps along the golden corridors. The beauty of the intricate paintings, marble carvings, and glittering gemstones were lost on me entirely. My mind was moving at a pace I could barely keep up with, my stomach still churning as I held the pathetic blanket I’d been given around my shoulders, trying to conceal my naked body.

She chuckled. “Ah. There it is. The true nature of the copper-haired brat. Lord Orm will enjoy you and your barbed tongue, I’m sure.”

For a second, my steps slowed, as I almost turned and landed my fist in the middle of the smug expression I knew she would be wearing.

But I forced my legs to keep moving. Getting the lash for hitting my guard would take too much time. Time I no longer had.

I kept my lips shut tight as we made our way back to the workshop. I shared the space with four other gold-givers who had been found and enslaved to the palace. Two of whom I loved dearly, but the other two? They could sail straight to Hel for all I cared. My copper hair had been all the reason they needed to treat me like dirt for years.

“Reyna!” Kara leaped up from her workbench and raced over to me as soon as I entered the workshop. The young girl’s face fell when she saw me. Her eyes flicked to the blanket around me, then back to mine.

“He’s coming to get you tomorrow morning. Clean up,” the guard barked, then turned and left, locking the heavy door behind her.

“Oh no. Oh no, no, no,” Kara whispered, her eyes wide and round. “We heard you got called for consideration for Lord Orm. Please tell me he didn’t choose you?”

I took a deep breath. “He chose me.”

She bit down on her lip, making herself look even younger than she was. “Maybe… Maybe he won’t be cruel to you?”

“He killed a woman. In front of everyone. One of the women brought for consideration.”

Her brown eyes widened further. “Killed her? Why?”

“She tried to stamp on his foot.”

“Precisely the reason I schooled you in being meek around powerful fae.” The deep voice belonged to Lhoris, my mentor. I turned to him as he lumbered toward me. His age and experience in crafting vald-staffs meant he was allowed a single braid in his huge beard. He had fought valiantly for his clan before he was recognized and enslaved as a rune-marked, so a blue smear of war paint permanently adorned the cheek under his left eye.

I nodded at him. “I did as you told me. I bit my tongue. I even took my damned clothes off without a word.”

One of his eyebrows twitched, and anger flitted through his wise eyes. “I am proud of you, Reyna.” He paused, shifting a razor-sharp sculpting blade from one hand to the other. “And… I am sorry.”

I fixed my eyes on his. “Don’t be. I’m leaving, Lhoris.”

I saw no surprise on his face. Only sorrow.

Kara gripped my arm. “You can’t leave!”

“Well, I’m sure as Odin not being bound to Lord Orm.”

“But you're a gold-giver !” I looked at my young protégé, my emotions churning. I had to look strong for her. I had to hide how I really felt about abandoning her to this twisted fucking Court. I had to make her think I would be safe.

“I will find a way to hide my rune-marks,” I lied. There was no way the marks could be hidden. And even if they could, my copper hair drew attention like a flame to the moths.

“No, no, Reyna! The other Courts will find you. The raids are constant now! You would be running straight to your death.”

Her fears were not unfounded. The runes that marked me as valuable to the Gold Court also marked me for death in any of the other four Courts.

The wars between the fae raged long and deadly, and the quickest way to cripple an enemy court was to remove their magic. The highest prize besides killing an actual fae member of the Court was killing one of the rune-marked they relied on for their staffs.

Kara shuddered and whispered, “What if the Shadow Court found you?”

Which was the only reason I hadn’t left already.

If a gold-giver was found by Ice, Fire or Earth Courts, then they would be killed on the spot, then their body would be dragged back to their palace for a reward to be claimed. But if a member of the Shadow Court found a gold-giver ?

The Queen of the Shadow Court, along with her stepson, was supposed to be the most cruel and vicious of all the living fae, and the war between Gold and Shadow was the oldest and most brutal of all the feuds. Odin help any gold-giver the Shadow Court got their hands on.

“I’ll stay in the Gold Court. Live with the humans in the lower villages,” I told Kara. Another lie. Lord Orm was too powerful to hide from in his own Court. Kara was looking at me, a mix of doubt and fear on her face. “Or the Earth Court,” I said cheerfully. “They aren’t known for exceptional violence.”

She gave me a look. “They burn thralls every full moon,” she said, fisting her hands on her hips. “And they get raided by the Shadow Court more than any others!” Her voice wobbled. “The Shadow Court make you kill your own friends,” she whispered. “And I heard they feed humans to the Starving Ones.”

I swallowed hard. Would that be worse than being bound to Lord Orm? Killing my own or being eaten alive, versus a life in servitude to that greedy, sadistic fae?

An image of the warrior woman’s crushed skull swam through my head. She had died quickly. She was honorable, and a warrior, so she would go straight to Valhalla.

But Lord Orm wouldn’t kill me. I was too valuable. And as one bound to the fae, I would share his much-extended lifespan. An eternity enduring whatever he deemed his concubine deserved. My stomach knotted.

“You should dress,” Lhoris said, glancing between me and Kara’s tear-filling eyes. “And then, if you have time, I could do with your help with finishing a staff. Once it is complete, we can discuss the practicalities of you escaping the palace.”

I nodded at him, feeling a swell of gratitude both for the offer of help, and his practical tone. My mind was swimming with fear and confusion, and I didn’t think I was hiding very well from Kara. I turned back to the girl. “Kara, can you prepare me half an ounce of gold, please?”

She nodded, then scurried toward the forge.

* * *

The rune-marked wing was essentially one giant workshop, with four rooms off it that housed two bunkrooms, a toilet and tub, and a larder. The workshop was split down the middle by a massive stone trough filled with molten brimstone, traded at a high price from the Fire Court. Lining the outer walls were our benches, well-lit by large windows that let in the sparkling light of the Gold Court.

I glared at the view. More than half the humans who lived in the towns below were thralls to the fae.

They said humans were too barbaric to be allowed to rule themselves. They said that’s how the Starving Ones came into being. I shuddered. The ancient mythical clan were said to have become so hungry and desperate that they turned on each other. Ate each other. And the gods punished them with the intensity such an abhorrent act deserved.

But that didn’t explain why the fae hadn’t been able to put an end to their miserable existence.

I forced down the familiar feeling that came whenever I thought about the Starving Ones and moved quickly to the bunkroom I shared with Kara and the other female gold-giver. To my relief, the room was empty. I dressed quickly in a black shirt, brown leather corset and black breeches and swapped the slippers I’d been made to wear in the grand hall for my leather boots.

* * *

“Kara’s right,” Lhoris said when I exited the bunkroom and found him waiting for me.

“About which part?”

“If the Shadow Court find you, they’ll kill you instantly.” He glanced over his shoulder at me. “Or worse.”

“I won’t be going anywhere near the Shadow Court. I’ll hide in the Earth Court. I’ve always wondered how they make staffs from wood.”

“Reyna, they’ll kill you too, the second they see your rune-mark. The other courts are—.”

I finished his sentence for him, so often had I heard him say the words. “Cutting the head off the golden snake. I know, Lhoris.” He stared at me, and I laid my hand on his arm. “What would you do, in my position?”

Pain turned to anger in his dark eyes. He must have made a fearsome warrior. Valhalla would welcome him for certain. “I would not become the toy of that monster.”

I shrugged, trying to keep my growing panic at bay. “Exactly. It’s the monsters within, or the monsters without. Only, this one already knows where to find me.”

He nodded, resignation making his jaw tight. “Run.”

“Run,” I repeated on a breath.

Saying the word aloud helped. This is happening, Reyna. You’re really running.

Freedom. Just so long as I spent my likely short life in hiding.

“Do you really need my help finishing a staff? Or did you just wish to speak privately?”

He grunted and turned back to his bench. “You are better at feathers than I am,” he said. “And if you are really leaving, then you might want to use your craft one more time.” I followed him, trying to keep my face from showing my sadness.

I would miss him fiercely. And Kara. They were the only thing like family I had ever known.

And I would fear for them too. Lhoris could fight his own way to his destiny, but Kara? She was pretty, and easily cowed. A dangerous combination in a world where one was surrounded by gilded sharks. I had made some progress with her confidence over the two years she had been under my tutelage, but she could still so easily be taken advantage of.

Lhoris interrupted my thoughts once more as I sat down at his bench, leaning his bulk over my shoulder. He pointed to an intricate gem-set arch at the end of a gleaming staff laid across the worktop.

“You see this halo section, over the gem?”

“Yes.”

“She wants feathers all along both sides.”

“No problem.”

Kara appeared beside me, and her small hand shot out, a tiny ball of shining molten gold in the middle of her gloved palm.

“Thank you.”

“Can I watch?” she asked me. “As… as it might be the last time…” She trailed off, eyes filling again.

“Of course you can.”

I took some forceps and lifted the gold from her hands. The rune on my wrist heated, glowing brightly — the signal that I could touch the heated gold.

None of us knew how or why, but those born rune-marked had access to a vein of magic within the gold itself, and it overpowered the senses like a drug.

As soon as I picked up the metal, my vision changed. A tinge of warm yellow colored everything, and lines of shimmering, liquid magic swirled around the nugget of gold. As they swirled, I could see little runes in the ripples, sparkling as though they were made of glitter. With my other hand, I moved the arch I was supposed to decorate toward me. The runes changed, the magical streams flowing from the nugget to the staff.

It was a language I had never been taught, but innately understood. The more I used my ability, the more runes I could read. They told me where to put my fingers, how to use my finer tools, exactly where to join the precious metal. They showed me the steps to a dance nobody could ever perform unaided.

I fell into the trance, my fingers moving practically of their own accord, following the playful, sparkling instructions of the tiny magical golden runes. I never knew how much time passed when I was working, never needed to stop for a break or for refreshment. It was an escape from the world entirely.

At least as long as I was doing it. Once the work was over…. That was different.

When I had twenty tiny, perfectly detailed feathers attached in a flowing line over the arc, the gold-vision fell away, the cold, harsh tones of real life slamming back into place before my eyes.

Exhaustion seeped through me, bone deep. “How is that?” I asked Lhoris, pushing the stool back. I knew what was coming next, and I wanted to be alone.

“Perfect,” he said, leaning in to examine them. Kara leaned in too, eyes darting over the details of the staff. “Rest, and then we will make plans.”

I nodded and made my way quickly to the bunkroom. The first wave of darkness hit me as I reached my bed. I closed my eyes as I sat down and drew a breath. There were usually three or four waves. The first was always the easiest. Shadows and dankness, a strong sense of unease.

I gripped the hay-stuffed mattress as the second wave hit. Unease changed to fear. Sounds I had never heard in real life before filtered through my ears, an unearthly screeching laugh. I saw nothing but darkness, interspersed with flashes of deep red.

I had always had the dark visions after working with gold, ever since I was a child. When I had been brought to the palace, and Lhoris had taken me under his wing, it had taken me months to build up the courage to ask him if he experienced them too.

He had told me that he didn’t and to keep them to myself.

The third wave reached me, always starting with a splitting scream, followed by the awful screeching laugh. The shadows cleared a little, enough for me to see figures moving awkwardly, figures that were not right somehow. The smell of blood filled my nostrils.

You’re in your room, Reyna. There’s no blood here. It’s not real.

The smell always got me the worst. I didn’t understand how a vision could carry a smell.

A face started to come into view on my left, and fear crawled up my chest. The vision faded.

“Please let it only be three today,” I whispered aloud.

I’d never told anyone but Lhoris about the visions, and I hadn’t even told him the full truth.

I had never told him what I saw in the less frequent fourth vision.

I couldn’t.

I knew what I was seeing, but I didn’t know how it could be possible. I didn’t want to know.

Bile rose in my throat as a feeling of pure terror washed over me. “Fuck,” I swore, then blackness took my eyes. The face moved clearly into view, a maniacal grin on the blood-stained maw. She had once been human, but it was clear she wasn’t any longer. Parts of her cheek and her ear were gone, ragged edges on the torn skin. Her eyes were completely black, and she had no lips. A gnarled hand moved toward me, three fingers missing.

I hissed out a desperate curse, and the vision cleared. Panting, I dropped back onto the bed. Sweat seeped through my shirt.

It didn’t matter how many times I saw the Starved Ones, it always terrified me like it was the first.