16. Vane

Vane

P anic rose in Saoirse like a tidal wave, clear as day on her face as she stared at the air that her mother had occupied only moments before. If I hadn't already known who they were, I never would have thought that woman was Saoirse's mother. Not with how cold and unforgiving she had looked at her, as if she was no better than the shit she had scraped off the bottom of her shoe.

A simmering rage brewed to life in my gut, and I stretched my neck as I took a deep breath, calming the feeling. What went on between Saoirse and her mother had nothing to do with me. I was here for one thing, and one thing only.

The Heartshard.

But still, a little piece of me was stuck in that moment with her. My thoughts drifted to my own mother, her kind face an easy thing for me to picture, a yearning for home. I was out of my element here .

Soon.

Saoirse inhaled loudly, her eyes shut in concentration as she clenched her fists to her side.

In. Hold. In. Hold. Release.

She did this three times in slow succession, before she opened her eyes again, turning to me. The expression in her eyes caught me off guard. Normally bright, they were now dull and sullen, a caricature of the girl I had left the wellsprings with.

"Are you okay?" I hedged. I recognized the breathing exercise, something I'd seen my mother do plenty of times in her darkest moments. I may be a stranger to the Lightlace, but I was no stranger to the emotions all of us felt. Saoirse's lived just beneath the surface, easily drawn out.

"We have a lot of work to do," she said instead, avoiding my gaze as she started storming around the kitchen, gathering supplies. "I hope you weren't intending on sleeping."

"Oh no, you're on your own with that," I protested. Baking bread had been one thing, but I wasn't here to waste my time on making silly pastries with so much at stake. "I'm here to find that shard, not play baker with you. Don't you have staff or something you can call? Maybe this Maeve person?"

She flinched slightly but didn't stop moving, throwing various jars of things I couldn't identify into a small box she had stored underneath the counter. "Maeve will show up when she wants to. It's my duty to run the bakery now. It always has been."

"That's not my problem."

"Didn't you hear what she said?" Saoirse snapped, her fiery hair whipping around the kitchen as it followed her around. It was so long it came down to her butt, the tendrils flirting with each other as they swayed back and forth. "We can use the pastry kitchen."

I only stared .

"The pastry kitchen inside the castle. She just gave us unrestricted access to the very place we need to be investigating. Plus, being inside the castle means we will have an easier time talking to Xan and seeing if she's learned anything."

I settled, realizing that a golden opportunity had just dropped into our lap. My shadows danced beneath the clothes that constricted them. "Won't there be people crawling around everywhere? Two hundred is a lot of people."

"The pastry kitchen is not far from the library," she said, sealing the box shut as she hefted it into her arms, struggling slightly under the weight of all the items she'd stuffed inside. It was hard to imagine what she would use all this for. I moved, grabbing it from her in one swift movement, easily supporting the box as I shifted it under my arm.

"I can carry that," she protested, her cheeks pinking ever so slightly as a burst of indignation sparked from her. She hadn't struck me as a woman easily ready to give up her independence, and I'd been right. Amusement settled in my chest. Maybe this baking thing would be more entertaining than I thought.

"You're welcome," I said loftily as I moved toward the door, paying no attention to her words. "Ready?"

The castle was as impressive on the inside as it was on the outside, and yet all I could think of was the aggressive opulence that these people lived in, while my people were forced to remain hidden, struggling to survive in a barren wasteland, punished for decisions we had never chosen for ourselves .

A dark, slimy feeling curled inside me, the deepness of my hatred slipping, my shadows vibrating in response.

I followed Saoirse as we entered the grand hall. Muted sunlight streamed through tall, stained-glass windows, casting vibrant patterns on the stone floors even with the sun dimming in the nighttime hours. High, vaulted ceilings adorned the space with sunbursts, their gilded edges shimmering as if lit by the power of the sun itself. Long wooden tables stretched across the room, already populated with various noble looking witches, wide awake after they'd likely slept all day.

Instead of walking through the hall like I'd anticipated, she led me off to the side, winding through sprawling corridors and twisting hallways, until we came to a stop in front of a small archway. I mentally cataloged each variation as we moved, hoping my memory wouldn't let me down. Every piece of information I could gather on this castle, the better.

Saoirse didn't move as she looked into the kitchen, so I peered forward, hovering over her right shoulder as I looked inside. A small breath of air slipped from her lips and I looked down at her, not realizing just how close I'd gotten. I cleared my throat, stepping back a respectable distance, my heart speeding up in my chest. She turned, moving into the room, directing to place the box on the nearest counter.

"Sorry," she started, a wistful look on her face as she took in the expansive kitchen we now stood. It was the size of three of her bakeries put together, the stoves much nicer than the ones she had been working with. "It's been a very long time since I've been back here."

"When did you leave?"

"Six years ago, on my eighteenth birthday." Her quick answer surprised me, the blatant honesty not what I expected. "But before that, I'd spend as much time as I could here. Not many know it's here, as mother doesn't like to see a lot of sweets at the dinner table. It was easy to sneak away here, get lost in my own little world and just ... create."

We fell into a comfortable silence after that, broken only by the muted grunts from me and pointed demands from her as we clamored around the kitchen, getting everything ready for the next day. She'd gone with a simple scone recipe, which had seemed anything but simple to me. In Umbra, we didn't do a whole lot of baking, usually having to eat whatever vegetation we managed to forage, or animals we hunted. There was not a lot of time or resources to spend on baking frivolous goods.

And yet, the art intrigued me, and even more than that, Saoirse. In her element, she was a contrast to the girl I'd gotten to know so far. With only pastries at her fingertips, her movements were sure, her aura confident as she barked orders to me while simultaneously working on her own tasks. Her face never wavered from focus, showing no signs of slowing down.

In this moment, with her hair falling into her face, flour smeared all over her apron, she was almost ethereal.

The hours blended together as we worked, brighter sunlight gradually beginning to rise back into the sky as the morning came upon us. Exhaustion had nearly taken me over, my eyelids heavy with the weight of my urge to sleep.

"Done," Saoirse grinned, backing away from the plate she'd been decorating with a satisfied smile. She must have been exhausted, but I couldn't tell. Her cheeks flushed as her wide eyes looked at the spread before us. We'd not had the time to do anything fancy according to her, but to me, it looked mouth wateringly delicious. She'd had me do most of the mixing, leaving the actual formation and styling to her, which had probably been a wise choice.

Large serving platters took over every available counter space that wasn't already cluttered with the mountain of dishes we'd created, some adorned with scones, cookies, and muffins, while the rest held the golden-brown baked to perfection loaves of bread we'd produced for the afternoon .

I'd sampled more than a few of the items, much to Saoirse's irritation, but she'd softened when I'd told her that the muffin I'd been stuffing in my mouth had been the best thing I'd ever tasted.

A head of spun gold bounded through the arch, Xan barreling through with excitement on her face. "You're really here!"

"I don't think I had much of a choice in the matter," Saoirse replied warily, not stopping her efforts to clean up the space.

"Have you guys been here all night?" She asked, snatching a scone off the nearest platter and taking a large bite, crumbs falling unceremoniously to the floor beneath.

"Unfortunately."

"You should go get some sleep. He looks like he's about to keel over and die," Xan said as she looked me over, a slight pinch of concern on her face as her healer mask slid into place. "You've gone through a lot in the past few days. Your body hasn't recovered enough to be staying up all night."

"I'll be fine," I huffed, but my body sagged against the counter as I fought to remain upright.

"Go," Xan urged, looking pointedly at Saoirse. "I'll have the servants tidy up in here, so you have a clean kitchen to walk back into once you've rested."

"We need to figure out where this shard is," Saoirse protested, and even through my haze of tiredness, I was grateful she hadn't forgotten the mission. "Every moment we waste is a moment that disease could be spreading."

"Sleep first. You're no good to anyone if you can't think straight," Xan said, already pushing Saoirse and I toward the open archway. "I have to entertain the Ocea delegates tonight, but let's meet up in the library tomorrow, after lunch is over. That's going to be our best place to start."

After a tentative look at me, Saoirse nodded, her shoulders sagging slightly in relief that we could finally stop working for the day.

"Tomorrow it is."