Chapter 28

S he had almost become accustomed to falling asleep in Cole's room and waking in her own, but there was still that disconcerting sense of displacement when she opened her eyes, of a jigsaw piece being slotted into place as she recognised graceful arched windows that were always open, long white curtains shifting gently in the breeze.

Lily said nothing of her night-time escapades, but she always had a soothing bath ready, brimming with healing oils that calmed the visible marks Cole's passions left upon her. Ever since Ember had given her the gift of glamoured wings, she had been much more open with Ember, chatting about her family who lived down in the nearby village whom she hardly saw since she had taken service in the castle, of her likes and dislikes, and little gossipy titbits about other servants in the castle that made Ember laugh. It surprised her to learn that Ashe's servants weren't just loyal to him, as Cole's were to him, but that they loved him too.

"He was a kind boy," said Lily, soaping a sponge along Ember's shoulders and back during her early morning bath. "But after his cousin Serafina died, he became morose and difficult. He and Cole have always been at odds, but once the tournament is complete, they will become as one, and all will be well."

Ember rose from the tub, her skin glowing from the warm water and from the special oils that left an iridescent shimmer.

"I just want to be quiet today. I'm tired of having to be polite and sweet to all the visiting fae and pretend not to notice when they whisper about me behind their hands: ‘look, a human!' It makes me feel like a talking monkey."

Lily suppressed a sly smile. Outraged, Ember threw a towel at her. "I am not!"

Lily laughed. "Perhaps a painting day in the forest? You haven't done that in ages. The other fae won't go in there. It's off limits because of the columns. It would be too easy for someone to enter someone else's kingdom without permission and make mischief."

Ember chewed her bottom lip. The idea was very tempting, but—

"Do you think the prince will let me?"

Lily cast a quick look over her shoulder, a tad dramatic as the two of them were alone, and said in hushed tones, "In my experience, sometimes it's easier to ask for forgiveness than to ask permission."

Ember gave a surprised chuckle. Lily, wings or not, still had a rebellious streak.

Cole might not mind her dragging at his heels all day long, anyway. As the tournament approached, he was becoming increasingly quick-tempered, prone to cutting remarks and cold rejection, although just as quick to lavish extravagant presents upon her; a room filled with roses, a dance choreographed just for her and performed by a hundred fae, another sparkling collar for Rufus. Rufus was almost better dressed than she was.

"We can send a message," said Lily. "Perhaps you can gift him the painting? He might like that."

Ember, Lily and the two assigned guards went to the forest as soon as Lily deemed her fit to be seen in public as the prince's mistress, a person of high standing by tradition. Her dress was immaculate, and she wore diamonds and pearls around her wrists, and dangling from her ears. Lily was however, carrying a shirt she could throw over her gown to protect it from paint spills.

Ember plastered an abstracted smile on her face, nodding politely to those who openly stared at her as she passed them in the halls, and keeping Rufus tucked tightly under her arm because more than one hungry-eyed fae looked as though they might chew him up, diamond collar and all.

When they reached the forest, she told Lily and the guards that she was going to do some painting and she'd rather they weren't breathing over her shoulder as she did so. As a compromise, Lily settled herself against a tree to wait, eyes closed, ankles folded neatly together, while the guards took Rufus for a walk around the forest on patrol. Apart from her bedroom, the forest was the safest place she could be, and in any case, Cole knew where she was.

Ember had her easel set up by the columns, and she swept a single line of green across the canvas, as the beginning of one of the graceful trees that bowed over the Seeds column, the sweeping branches reminiscent of the fern frond carved into the stone. She stared at it for a moment, head tipped to one side, considering, and then took the canvas off the easel and replaced it with a fresh one.

Instead of the scene in front of her, she painted something from memory, something vague and amorphous, of what she could remember of her life before. Smoke, fire, a car upturned, a lonely road, flashing red and blue lights. She painted quickly, the scene not defined sharply, but in blocks and streaks of colour, an impression rather than a replica. The piece had an air of movement and urgency, as though the event had just happened and there was still more to come. As she painted, her memories of the accident became clearer, and she leaned into it, wanting to remember, but it was so difficult, like trying to look through fog.

There came a riffling of a breeze, and she jumped when Ashe said, "Hello."

She took a step back from him, her brush held like a weapon in front of her. "I'm not allowed to talk with you."

Ashe motioned impatiently and there came an almost imperceptible shimmer around them, like the iridescent gloss of a bubble.

"No one will hear us or see us for the moment. We're … occupying a sliver in time."

She gazed at him, not sure what to say. She hadn't seen him in weeks, ever since the event of the winged horses, and wondered if he knew what Cole had done to her after that, how he'd shouted at her until she cried, and then kissed her tears away, kissed her and caressed her until she had lost herself in a writhing, heated madness.

Ashe looked weary. His face was drawn, and there were shadows under his eyes. Perhaps he'd been sleeping badly too.

"What are you painting?" He moved to see the canvas and inspected it, one finger tapping his lips, his brow furrowed.

She hastened to explain. "It's my parents. The car crash. I remember the air was fresh and icy cold when they dragged me out of the car, but I still couldn't stop coughing."

"And you weren't hurt? Even with the fire?"

"I don't remember. No scars, anyway."

She rubbed her arms convulsively, as if to rid herself of sparks and smuts, and then blinked, letting the present time and day fill her awareness and anchor her again: the green placid trees, the moss beneath her feet, the birds singing high in the canopy.

He was studying her closely, his dark eyes inscrutable, the sharp slash of his mouth softened in the gentle light. "You look tired. I can only assume why."

Her hackles rose at that. "You look tired too. Worse than me. At least I put on make-up to cover it." She fell silent, wondering why it was she always felt the urge to snap at his teasing. She should just let it go. That would probably annoy him more.

"Training has been gruelling," he admitted.

"Perhaps you just need a rest?"

Cole hadn't let such a notion cross his mind; she was sure of it. He would never rest; he would work his team until they were dead from exhaustion. The ceremony for the opening of the tournament was the following day; the pressure was intense.

Ashe gave her an innocent look. "Go to bed, you mean?"

She pressed her lips together reprovingly, although there was a stirring of something in her at the expression in his eyes, not the insta-lust Cole wrung from her drop by drop, but something else. Warm.

"A break. An afternoon somewhere nice and quiet, away from the castle, away from all these visitors. Somewhere you can relax."

"We shouldn't have to socialise as well as train. And yet, they get so offended when you tell them to fuck off."

Ember gave a delighted gasp. "You didn't. Who?"

"The Seeds. Odious creatures. They're constantly at me. Big Cole supporters."

Ember hadn't yet met the rulers of the Seeds, Gered and Samara, but she'd seen them, regal and proud, prowling - for she couldn't think of a better word for the way they moved - around the castle, inspecting the gold vases and graceful statuary with amusement as though they were above such things as decor.

"Where would you go? If you were to have a break?"

There was a mischievous tone to his voice that should have alerted her, but she wasn't listening for it, and in truth, she'd never heard it from Ashe before.

"The beach," she said, promptly. "Where there are no nasties in the water, and everything is sunny and …"

There came a disconcerting jolt, as though someone had grabbed her and shaken her. She gasped. "Ashe! What have you done?"