Chapter 11

L ily brought a pair of silken pyjamas as soon as Ember mentioned, somewhat embarrassed, that she felt too exposed— prudish— sleeping in the nude. A new door had appeared in the wall of her chambers, and Lily showed her through to a bathroom, which Ember was sure had not been there before. Perhaps the fae didn't need to take care of bodily functions? thought Ember. Perhaps this room had appeared just for her.

She stepped under a cool shower with drops as gentle as summer rain and spent some time trying out the rack of lotions and perfumes that covered the fragrance spectrum from floral to woody musk to fresh pine. Clean, refreshed and smelling like a florist's shop, she sank into a bed was just as cool and soft as she remembered.

She fell asleep almost immediately, the strain of the day reflected in dreams of a burning tree beside a column of stone. There was an etching of something carved into the slab, the shadow of the outline flickering and moving under the flames of the tree. She drew closer and closer, the carving almost becoming clear, and then she woke.

It wasn't quite light in her room, and she thought dazedly that it must be well before dawn, but then she remembered that the castle lay in twilight, and it could well be the middle of the night, or late afternoon, it didn't matter. She was rested … and she was hungry.

The door opened as soon as the thought popped into her head, and Lily entered carrying a tray of … something delicious, Ember thought, as she sat propped up against her pillows, inspecting her breakfast—a thin pancake drizzled with sweet sauce and fresh fruit on the side, followed by juice and an invigorating bitter chocolate drink.

As Ember ate, she watched Lily move about the room, tying back the curtains to let the sweet air in, fluffing up the cushions on the couches, cutting white roses from the window to arrange in a crystal vase. She was light on her feet, but now and then she gave a funny little skip, before appearing to catch herself and resuming her usual graceful movements. Today's uniform was narrower, more utilitarian than the last, and for the first time, Ember noticed two jutting bulges on Lily's back, as though her shoulder blades were swollen. She couldn't help staring and blushed when Lily turned suddenly and caught her.

"I'm sorry," Ember said. "I didn't mean to be rude."

Lily gave her a surprised look. "It's not my place to judge rudeness or not. There is no offence. I am a servant. It doesn't matter what I think."

Ember was quick to refute that. "You're entitled to your opinion. If I was rude, you can say so. You can tell me. I won't mind."

Lily smiled, but she still looked confused. "Certainly. You're curious about my …" she rolled her shoulders back and a faint shadow of pain crossed her face. "They cut my wings for disobedience. It's … difficult to get used to."

Ember stopped eating, the thin pancake a mashed-up ball of dough in her mouth that she found hard to swallow. "You had wings?"

She remembered the magnificent trailing wings of those she had seen in the corridors and in the ballroom, the height and width of them, the strength, and then she recalled Lily's funny little skips, as if she were about to take flight—and had suddenly remembered she couldn't.

Lily's eyes grew glossy, and she turned away. Ember didn't like to ask any more questions. Someone had mutilated and brutalised her for doing something wrong, and she clearly didn't want to talk about it. She wondered what Lily had done, who would have done that to her.

"I'm sorry," she said, and set the tray aside, the food only half eaten. She'd lost her appetite.

She went to wash, spritzed herself with some perfume, and returned to find that Lily had laid out a new outfit for Ember to wear. This one was a deep peacock blue, with a scooped neckline and Arabian-style pants that flowed over the hips and tied at the ankle, and a pair of soft blue slippers to match. Lily helped to tie it at the back, and once again, fussed with Ember's hair and tweaked at her clothes until all was to her satisfaction. Without a mirror, Ember couldn't tell, but she felt pretty.

"The prince said I might explore the castle," she told Lily. "Will you help me find the forest?"

"Of course," Lily said, and it wasn't long before they were passing under the forest archway.

It was lighter here than in the twilight castle, a peaceful, soft light that recalled early mornings and summer showers. The leafy canopy soared over Ember's head, and she caught the flutter of bright feathers in a tree—a parrot of some sort. It was a dense greenery she'd never experienced before, and it reminded her of tropical forests she'd seen in pictures.

She took off her shoes and left them at the base of a tree, not wanting them to get moss or dirt stained. "I think I'll just hang around here for a bit," she told Lily. "Don't worry about me. You can go, if you like."

Lily gave a little curtsey, telling her that a guide would show her the way back, and left Ember alone to wander the twisting paths. She crushed a handful of scented leaves in her palm, inhaling the sweet fragrance with delight, and picked a red star-shaped flower, tucking it in her hair.

A group of fairies darted around a cluster of white roses, and she paused to watch them, fascinated by their perfect tiny faces, so serious and intent, and their iridescent dragonfly wings. She wandered down more paths, and eventually came to the columns of stone she'd glimpsed earlier.

The columns were arranged as if they were the five points of a star, and looked as though they'd been standing a long, long time. Parts of the lichen-covered stone had crumbled along the edges, and one of them had completely collapsed into a pile of rubble. Each complete column had a symbol etched into the surface—the three drops of water and curling fern frond she'd seen earlier, a jagged peak, and a pair of wings. A complicated mosaic of many-coloured tiles filled the space between them, and creeper plants poked up from the cracks.

She stared at them for a long time. They intrigued her. She wondered what had happened to the collapsed column. They were inside the castle; it was hardly likely to have been knocked down in a storm. Or perhaps it had—she couldn't exactly claim to be an expert on fae meteorology.

Eventually, she left the columns and wandered on, finding herself beside the still pool of water that reflected the painted sky. She sank down next to it, catching sight of her reflection on the surface. She looked … different, as if a clever make-up artist had enhanced all her features. Her eyes were bigger, her cheekbones more defined, her lips plump. And her hair, usually an unruly mass—the curse of a curly girlie—now coiled obediently about her head, falling past her shoulders in shiny waves. Perhaps it was just the water, she thought, and dabbled her fingers against the surface. Her reflection broke up into ripples, and then she drew back in fright as something pushed its way up out of the water, sending water everywhere.