Chapter 24

S he woke to a soft twilight that was lighter than the whirling darkness of the night before. She stretched, her body aching and bruised, with stinging welts across her flesh from the whip that Cole had so expertly wielded.

Lily applied a soothing salve to her wounds, most of which Ember couldn't reach herself. The ointment vanished the welts immediately, but she could still feel the ache beneath her skin. She didn't care though; she fell on her breakfast with a hearty appetite, and when Lily showed her the pair of jeans and white tee she'd requested just hours earlier, she told Lily she'd changed her mind, that Cole preferred she wear pretty things. Without a word, Lily brought her a pair of flowing pants and silk shirt with a loose, cowl style neckline that offered glimpses of the shadowed cleavage between her breasts. Ember looked at herself in the bathroom mirror and smiled, admiring the way the deep blue of the fabric gave her skin a luxuriant glow and the way her diamond necklace glittered in the light. She felt pretty. She felt desired. She felt wonderful.

When she returned to the room, Lily was remaking her bed with fresh sheets, the old, rumpled ones dotted with blood, lying in a heap in the corner. Ember watched her fondly. She wanted to please her, to make her as happy as she was.

She went to the dressing table and drew out the brush that Alena had given her. "Lily. Come here, please."

Obediently, Lily left the bed and went to her side, a questioning look in her eyes. Ember bade her turn around, and untied the ribbons in the back of her tunic, revealing the remains of her poor ruined wings, the stumps scarred and knotted in vicious tones of pink and red. Carefully, Ember took her brush and painted an arching line from the tip of one broken wing, to a point high above Lily's head. She painted the wings in the manner of the other fae she had seen, gracefully arching up and then down again, almost to the floor. As she painted each feather, she imagined them in colours that would suit dark-haired Lily: royal blue, crimson, and emerald green tipped with glinting gold, the vivid, vibrant colours of a tropical bird. When she had finished, she gently turned Lily to face her. Lily's eyes were closed, a trickle of a tear oozing down her face.

"Oh no, what's wrong? Do you not like them?" said Ember in distress. She'd thought to please Lily, not cause her sorrow.

In response, Lily flexed her new wings, folding them around her like a cape, and then snapping them out wide with a clap of percussion. She leapt into the air and took a turn around the room, and then again, faster and faster, the candlelight in the room blown out in an instant, drapes flapping wildly, tiny fairy lights dancing like erratic dust motes through the room.

Ember laughed, clapping her hands, and Lily dived, stumbling as her feet touched the floor.

"I'm out of practice." She laid her palm against Ember's cheek and gave a watery smile. "Thank you. You don't know what this means to me."

Ember hastened to explain. "They're not real. They're just a glamour."

"They're real to me," and Lily took to the air again.

"You could take a turn around the gardens," Ember called to her. "If you're up high enough, no one will know."

Lily dropped by her side, a little out of breath, her landing a little surer. "Do you think so? If I get caught, I'll be in terrible trouble."

"Then I'll deal with them," said Ember, confidently. She had the ear of the prince, didn't she? She was going to be a fae herself. She was a royal mistress, a person of standing. All who feared Cole should fear her too, and the knowledge of it felt dark and pleasurable within her. "When you return, you can take the wings off and hide them away somewhere where no one will find them, if you like. Go, Lily. I'm going to go to the training grounds. You enjoy yourself and I'll see you later."

Lily threw her arms around Ember and kissed her on the cheek. "I will never forget this," she said seriously. "Never."

She skipped to the windows, hoisted herself up onto the sill, and leapt into the air. Ember rushed to the window and watched Lily dive low and then flick her wings out, gliding up over the gardens and then the trees, along the walled boundary of the castle and out of sight.

Seeing Lily so free and unencumbered gave Ember a delightful glow. She finished making the bed herself, and as she smoothed her hand over the silken sheets, she thought about what she had done in this bed, wondered if Cole too was remembering all that they had done the night before. The carved chest had vanished from the corner, and she wondered if she would see it again, when she would see it again. Life was long with the fae. She had found her prince, and she was going to live happily ever after.

The guide came as soon as she called, requesting it take her to Cole. It bobbed in acknowledgement and led her out of the castle and down a sunlit path through a vast apple tree orchard. Boughs bent with red fruit, each smooth-skinned and shiny, without flaw. She had assumed that Cole would be at the training grounds she had visited before, where the centaurs had thundered up and down the obstacle course, but this path led to a different place.

A tented marquee with a fringed silken roof sat on a soft green lawn. Inside the tent, soft cushions lay scattered around knee-high tables spread with silver dishes of fruits and sweets, and bottles of wine with drops of condensation beading the glass. Lots of fae were there, reclining, laughing, and chatting, wings folded and tucked, jewels glittering in the sunshine.

Beyond the marquee stood two hills on either side of a gully, and in the skies between, were what looked like a flock of birds, whirling and diving. Ember halted, not sure what to do. She couldn't see Cole anywhere, and she hadn't yet met any other fae apart from Lily. She hadn't tried either because they all turned away from her when she approached. Even so, her humanity was a novelty, and perhaps they wouldn't be unkind to her if they knew their Prince had an interest in her. Thankfully, as she drew closer, she recognised Swirl, standing with a group of centaurs at the side of the marquee.

He turned as she approached and smiled in greeting. "Have you come to watch the Eagles fly?" His voice was sonorous, drawing the attention of the nearby fae. As they caught sight of Ember, they put their heads together, deep in gossip. Some flicked her hostile glances, and she guessed they knew what had happened to Lissa.

"I came to find Cole," she said, relieved that there was at least one friendly face there.

"He flies too," said Swirl. "There, look?"

He pointed up to the clouds. Ember focused and then stared in open-mouthed awe. Winged fae rode winged horses through the sky, performing complicated manoeuvres, as if they were dancing. The skill the riders employed to prevent their wings colliding with those of their mount was enviable. Wings beat in tandem, keeping the riders balanced, even on the tightest of turns and the deepest dives. Cole was amidst them, easily recognisable as the only fae without wings of his own, and he rode a horse of pale gold with a white mane and tail, its majestic wings dark bronze.

"Don't be too impressed now," said Swirl, teasing. "A horse with wings is practically an insect."

The others with him laughed and nudged one another, but Swirl's flippant mockery was wasted on Ember. She watched with deep admiration as Cole's mount climbed higher and higher before making a steep dive through the gully. She thought it must be like heaven up there, bound by nothing but the open sky, and her fingers unconsciously went to her necklace, fiddling restlessly with the links.

"Would you like some wine?" said Swirl and snapped his fingers for a servant who was there in an instant, pouring Ember a crystal glass. The bubbles danced merrily, the sweet fae wine warming her through as she sipped.

Over the rim of her glass, she saw Lissa standing alone on the other side of the pavilion. Ember had never seen Lissa alone before; it was as if the other fae were avoiding her. She didn't have the same aura of confidence that she'd had the first night Ember had met her, when the fae had fallen back from her left and right as though she were a grand ship parting the waves. She looked as though this was the last place she wanted to be, and it was only stubborn bravado keeping her there.

Ember hesitated a moment and then, murmuring a farewell to Swirl, approached her. Lissa watched her, nostrils flaring, dislike written all over her face, but she forced a smile and inclined her head.

"Good morning,"

"Good morning," Ember replied, and then in a rush, "I'm so sorry about what happened. I —"

Lissa raised a haughty eyebrow. "It's not your place to apologise for the prince's judgement. His word is law."

"I didn't mean that, exactly. I'm just sorry you got hurt."

"Don't worry about me." Her voice was brittle. "I'm tougher than I look."

She was using the exact words that Ember had once used to her, and Ember wasn't sure how to take that. Lissa gave an airy toss of her head, her tone becoming light.

"When I have helped him win the tournament, he will reward me. He won't forget me. Everything I have endured, that I have suffered, will have been worth it. His thanks will be immeasurable." She glared at Ember. "And if you do anything to impede that …" she broke off, shaking her head with a wry chuckle. "Goodness. How quickly you arouse disdain. I wonder if that's a human trait? I'm trying to control it, but it's desperately difficult."

"Thanks," said Ember, tartly. Despite the pity she felt for Lissa, she felt an inordinate amount of dislike too. "Perhaps we should just stay out of each other's way?"

"Done!" said Lissa, and strode away, leaving Ember alone and feeling a little silly. She sipped her wine, but the sharp sweet tang had become acidic and unpleasant, and so she tipped it out, handing the glass to a passing servant.

She decided she'd go back to the castle, perhaps paint a little. If Alena was there, she could ask her what it meant to become fae. Would it hurt? Would she have to die to be brought back as a fae? No, that's vampires, she reminded herself.

There came a rushing of air behind her, followed by the thudding of a great weight. Cole slid from his mount, tossed the reins to a waiting servant and strode toward Ember, lifting her in his arms and kissing her.

She clung to him, her limbs becoming liquid, and he smiled beneath her lips, easing her away.

"Not now, my darling," he chided, and she smiled, delighted to be in his sight again. "You look very content. Not too sore?"

Heat rose to her cheeks, and she caught a sly smirk between a couple of fae who were blatantly eavesdropping nearby, but she shook her head. "No."

"Good. Would you like to ride?" He led her toward his horse, and she followed hesitantly, unsure of what he meant. "This is Farla." He took Ember's hand and let the mare take her scent, her soft lips nuzzling at Ember's palm. "There. Do you like horses?"

Farla eyed Ember as if she understood every word, and Ember hastened to reassure them both that yes, she loved horses, although she hadn't ridden one since she was a child.

After her parents died, the authorities had sent her to live with an elderly aunt who owned a small farm, with a few cows, a couple of friendly dogs, hundreds of chickens, and an equally elderly horse called Bob. Bob had been stoic and uncomplaining with the lonely girl, letting her climb aboard and ambling around the pasture under her direction, enjoying the apples and carrots she pilfered from the kitchen as payment for the patience he showed her. Her aunt was too old to manage the farm and her as well, and she'd only been there a few months before the authorities had come knocking again, the animals sold, the farm gone, the aunt placed in an old folk's home, and Ember sent to live in one of the first of many foster homes.

She hadn't thought about Bob in years, and the memory wasn't solid and concrete, just a vague jumble of images of warm summer sun, and the feel of Bob's broad back, the gentle brush of horse lips as he snaffled an apple, and then … they were gone, as though it were a dream she'd had once a long time ago.

"I'm not sure if it's such a good idea." Falling from a normal horse was painful enough. If she fell from Farla's back, she'd likely die.

"There's nothing like it," Cole promised her, as a servant quickly strapped a new type of harness to Farla's saddle. "And I know you like being tied up," he added wickedly.

Ember gasped in delighted shock and tapped his wrist reprovingly. "Stop!"

He threw back his head and laughed and she laughed with him, noting that the surrounding fae were now all observing her high in Cole's favour. Politically, it would be unwise to be rude to the prince's mistress even if she were a human, and more than one caught her eye and gave her a quick, ingratiating smile. Her spirits rose, and then sank again as Farla gave a loud whinny, shaking her mane as if impatient to be off. But Cole was in a good mood and the last thing Ember wanted was to spoil it, even if she was terrified. He helped her into the saddle and the servant buckled a belt across her lap, effectively binding her in.

"Be gentle, Farla," said Cole and gave her a slap across her rump.

The horse broke into a trot, the great wings flexed as she leaped, and Ember screamed as the ground fell away beneath her.