Chapter 15

E mber didn't know what to say. Ashe was the antithesis to Cole. The two princes were both devastatingly handsome, albeit in an alien way, exuding power and control. But while Cole gave off an aura of fun and merriment, of careless pleasure and light-hearted play, Ashe appeared as though he carried the universe on his broad shoulders and hated every moment. Even now, speaking innocuously to her, his heavy brows were lowered, his mouth grim, as though he'd rather set her on fire than speak to her.

"I was just waiting for a guide back to my room," she said, and added, "I hope it's not you."

She regretted it as soon as she had said it. What on earth did she say that for? How rude! What she'd meant was, she hoped he wouldn't waste his time on a servant's task, but it had come out utterly, utterly wrong. She peeped up at him, cheeks hot with embarrassment, half expecting to see a furious scowl. But to her relief, he didn't look angry—well, no angrier than usual. In fact, he didn't even look as though he had heard her. He was scanning the candlelit hall, left, right, and overhead, hand on his sword hilt.

"You should stay in your room," he said. "It's dangerous for you out here. There are too many rivalries, too many opportunities for you to get hurt. You're … more fragile than the rest of us."

"The Adjudicator said that lives are sacrosanct," she reminded him. "I assumed that meant mine as well."

"Accidents happen."

The loaded way he said it sent a chill down Ember's back. Quick as thought, he reached out and seized her arm, twisting it. She drew a breath to scream, but he wasn't trying to hurt her, merely inspecting a paint smudge on the back of her upper arm that she'd failed to remove earlier. "What's that?"

"Just paint," she said, tugging her arm free. "I was painting in the forest today."

He blinked, and a slow smile curved his mouth. It was disconcerting to see him like that, smiling. It changed his entire face, made him look almost … no. He definitely did not look friendly. "Creating something out of nothing? How human." He didn't sound patronising, rather, surprised and appreciative, and he hastened to explain. "We—fae—cannot create as such. We can replicate and elaborate on what is already there, but we cannot make something original from nothing."

"Oh. I didn't know that. That's … sad."

All those marvels she had seen around the castle, all copied from the human world? Nothing innovative, nothing created from a leap of intuition, hard work, accident, or luck. What would she do if she couldn't paint? That gnawing itch when an idea unbidden crawled its way into her skull, the leap of joy when the ephemeral was transferred to canvas and made tangible. How frustrating, to have an idea that could never be completed.

"It wouldn't occur to any of the fae to try," he explained, as if he knew the direction of Ember's thoughts. "They're—we're—not missing out."

For a moment, she felt almost sorry for the fae having their powers curtailed, limited by a lack of creativity. On impulse she said, "Would you like to see my painting?"

He looked surprised. "I cannot go into Cole's area of the castle. Only the common areas."

"The forest is a common area though, isn't it?" She remembered Lily saying so as they passed under the huge carved archway.

He considered this, his habitual frown creasing his forehead, and nodded. "Then it seems as if I am your guide, after all."

He moved off down the corridor, not the way she'd come, but in the opposite direction, and she hesitated, wondering what on earth she'd let herself in for, before trotting after him. They walked in silence, a circuitous route that took them down wood panelled hallways, along a gallery lined with colourful statues, and through huge, gilded rooms that looked out over the twilight gardens. The forest was further than she'd imagined, and she wished she could invite him into Cole's area, if only to shorten the distance. She took off her high heels and although he eyed them dangling from her fingers, he made no comment.

She continued walking a half pace behind him, noting the way other fae scurried out of his way pretending not to notice him, and she realised that when they'd been doing it to her it wasn't, as she'd initially thought, out of discourtesy or aloofness but as a sign of respect. She wondered uneasily if Cole would know she'd gone and what he would think if he knew she was here with his greatest rival. The thought was unnerving. She'd seen a glimpse of Cole's temper, and she didn't much like it.

On the other hand, this might be a good time to beg Ashe if he could use some of his powers to send her home. If the tournament didn't begin for another two months, perhaps he had time to recharge himself? Like a battery, she supposed with amusement, imagining Ashe plugging himself into a socket in the wall and lighting up like a Christmas tree. But he'd already said no, and she didn't want to nag him and perhaps push him into never letting her go.

Around and around her thoughts went, and she was about to tell Ashe that she was tired and maybe they should see her picture another time, when finally, they were there.

The forest was just as light and loamy as ever, and her worries flew out of her head, heart lifting, as she passed beneath spreading boughs and heard the faint trills of birds flying through the canopy.

"This is my favourite place," she commented happily, and Ashe lifted an eyebrow in confusion, as if he couldn't quite believe that she preferred the dirt of the jungle to the elegance of the great hall.

"I haven't been here since I was small."

She smiled to herself. A little Ashe! All dressed up in a black soldier uniform with a frown creasing his little boy face.

"Have you met Alena yet?" He had lowered his voice to a hush, and she wondered at that. It sounded as though he might be in awe of her.

"Yes. I liked her."

Ashe gave a little shake of his head, as if in disbelief. "She can choose to be likeable," was his cryptic reply.

It was Ember who led the way this time, and when they came to the columns of the kingdoms, he gave a little sigh and rocked back on his heels, hands behind his back, as he gazed at the four towering pillars and the heap of rubble.

"Where is the column for the Kingdom of Swords?"

He gave her a surprised look. "You only see the Sword Column when you're in another kingdom. They all have an area where the columns stand. They're doorways."

"You can use them to get into another kingdom? How do they work?" The columns had been fashioned from smooth stone. There were no seams showing a door that she could see.

"You have to be fae," he told her, and she frowned. Of course.

She retrieved her canvas from behind the rubble where she'd left it and presented it to him, suddenly shy. He looked at it with no hint of any reaction on his face. "You made the Shields whole again."

For an instant she wondered if she'd misinterpreted some other cultural rule she hadn't known about, and when he eventually said, "It's very good," she gave a mock ‘whew', wiping a hand over an imaginary sweaty brow and smiling at his obvious puzzlement.

He raised a hand over the canvas, and she gave a cry of delight. It was as though he'd turned the picture into a three-dimensional window. The leaves on the trees moved gently in an invisible breeze and birds flew from branch to branch. Insects darted in and out of the flowers, while the columns themselves glowed with a soft inner light.

"What did you do? That's amazing!"

He looked pleased, but also disconcerted, as though he hadn't expected her delight. "It's just a glamour, a way to manipulate the senses and make you think something is there when it isn't." His eyes flickered over her, pausing at the gold and diamond necklace around her neck, and then up to her face again. "It's a way of controlling someone."

The smile froze on her face. He'd made a simple, pretty trick into something horrible, perverse. She couldn't prevent the emotions passing over her face, and he frowned, waving his hand over the painting again, restoring it back to what it was. She took it back in silence. The painting that she had been so happy with suddenly appeared flat, uninspiring, amateurish. Carefully, she placed it back among the stones; it was still a little tacky and wet in places.

"I think I'd like to go back to my room now."

"Come now, Ember," he said, and she looked up at him in surprise, not used to such gentle tones from someone so habitually terse. "Don't run away when things don't go your way."

She started at that and blinked. "I'm not. I'm just tired."

Although … perhaps he had a point. She'd chosen to run from Bruno, rather than stand up to him and continue living her own life on her own terms in the town she'd made her own. That wasn't her fault though, she argued with herself. Bruno was a violent abuser, and he would have made her life a misery even if she had thrown him out. She'd never reported him though, had told no one else, not even those she'd thought of as friends. She'd never gone to the police, insisted they help her. She had felt embarrassed, ashamed. Besides, everyone said how difficult it was to get help through official channels, and so she hadn't even bothered to try. Why fight when you can run? Despite that, Ashe's words cut to the very core of her, as though she was in the wrong, and she didn't like it.

He considered her for a moment and then shrugged. "Very well."

He beckoned to somewhere beyond the trees, and a ball of light came zigzagging through the forest toward her. It hesitated as it became aware of Ashe, and then glowed brighter and brighter, growing larger and larger. Ember watched the swelling ball of light in some alarm, but with Ashe's words still ringing in her ears, she didn't take so much as a half step back.

Ashe, however, was smiling with wry amusement. "I think we may be in trouble."

Suddenly, the light exploded in a blazing fountain of sparks, and there stood Cole.