Chapter 5

UNA

I paced the bedchamber I'd been put in days ago. Gollaya had tossed me in that small parlor and left me there with two guards outside the door, I hadn't seen him since. For some time, I heard the echoing yells of fighting in the palace halls, the marching of feet, calls of orders by one wraith fae to another, then eventually silence.

I'm not sure how long I stayed in that dark parlor, but I'd drifted off in a chair, awoken by the door unlatching and the bright streak of light through the opening door.

The wraith fae with two horns, his head shaved on the sides with a long, braided tail down his back stepped inside. Pullo was his name.

"Follow me, my lady."

For a moment, I was shocked with how respectfully he'd spoken to me. I worried what would become of me now. Gollaya obviously had staged a coup to kill his father and to take the crown himself.

Gollaya.

A shiver trembled down my body. I'd never known that the young wraith fae who'd saved me from certain death in that dungeon had been the lost son of our enemy, King Xakiel. The Prince of Northgall had saved me from that dungeon. Back then, I'd thought he must be a high noble, related to the wraith fae royal family. His unusual eyes told me as much. But I never knew he was the lost prince.

Baelynn had told me there had been rumors that King Xakiel had killed his only son and heir for some unknown reason, while ambassadors had reported there were tales that he'd fled the palace and was still alive somewhere.

It had never mattered because our sole enemy had been King Xakiel for these past five years of war. The war my father started when I'd returned home battered and bruised, my luminescent white wings cut off.

My wings fluttered at my back at the memory. When they had grown back, I'd believed it a miracle of the gods. Lumera was shining her divine light upon me. But as they unfurled—at first the deepest purple giving way to black as they dried and stretched bigger—I knew I'd been cursed. Besides being the shade of the palace where I'd been tortured, they were useless. I could not fly.

And here I was again, a prisoner in the infamous Black Palace of N?kt Mir.

At least I wasn't being held in a dank pit. I wasn't quite sure where I was, but the room Pullo led me to was certainly a space most likely meant for an honored guest.

The chamber door was made of blue-gray wood with gold filigree painted around the edges. The black obsidian walls of the corridors extended into this room as they apparently did through the entire palace.

Along one entire wall, a giant tapestry hung. It was filled with sprites and nymphs and bursting with flora, all in lovely shades of green, gray, and blue. There was a female skald fae—one of the sea fae who lived in the luxurious blue waters of Morodon—sunbathing nude on a rock. Her beautiful green hair hung over her porcelain skin and down the rock into the water. Her webbed feet dangled in the transparent water, one of her webbed hands rested on her rounded belly, the other arm bent beneath her head.

In the water, a male skald fae watched her, his entire body and half of his face hidden beneath the surface. Only his dark, expressive eyes and his blue hair curtaining sharp cheekbones could be seen. He worshipped her with that gaze. I thought it a strange tapestry for a dark fae bedchamber, though it was beyond lovely.

A giant four-poster bed, double the size of my own in Issos, was draped in a pale blue counterpane. The rest of the room was furnished in rich blue velvet chaise lounges and chairs, carpets sewn with threads of silver and gold, giant black iron candelabras, a beautiful golden dressing screen in one corner, and a golden tub peeking from behind a semi-transparent screen covered in white muslin.

The crown of the room was a white marble mantle with a flourishing, feminine design framing a fireplace I could literally walk into had there not been a crackling fire kept burning a bright blue flame for me since I'd been put here.

I stepped toward the fire now to warm my hands, trying to grab hold of my emotions.

This was not at all what I expected when Pullo and the other one called Tierzel had escorted me here. While grateful not to be housed in the damp, fetid dungeon of my first visit to N?kt Mir, I hadn't expected this. I wondered how long before I knew what my fate would be. I was well aware that I was a valuable prisoner.

Of course, I hadn't seen my host since I was put here—assuming Gollaya was now in charge. No one would tell me anything.

I still couldn't reconcile that the young-looking fae who'd saved me from that dungeon was the lost heir of King Xakiel. And that he'd cut off his own father's head. Bile rose up my throat with the memory of it. Not that I mourned the king. He'd been battling and killing my people for years now. And it was obvious he'd had foul plans for me. Perhaps, Gollaya would be more open to a treaty and an end to this war.

I remembered the brightness of his eyes as he sliced through his father. It seemed more than revenge or wrath that lit his face. It was more like joy that had flickered across his expression.

I shivered and walked to the boarded window where, yet again, I could at least see through the crack to the outside. There had been comings and goings of troops of wraith fae on horseback the past few days. I'd been brought food and water by quiet, solemn soldiers who said nothing at all to me as they came and went.

When I asked the one called Pullo how long I'd be kept prisoner here, he seemed surprised I spoke their language. That was probably because I spoke it so well. When I'd returned home, I'd worked earnestly to learn and even practice it with one of our ambassadors who frequently had to travel to Northgall.

Perhaps the gods knew all along that I'd be brought back here. But for how long this time?

A soft knock came at the door, then it opened. Frowning, for no one had ever knocked before, I stepped closer to the hearth, watching as a dark fae female entered carrying several folded garments in her hands. She was unlike any fae I'd ever seen before.

She was tiny, by far the smallest dark fae I'd met. Her skin was dark gray, her two slender horns curled prettily back over fine black hair that was cut short and close to her dainty head, little wisps hanging over her forehead. Her pointed ears stuck up rather long, out of proportion with her delicate features. She also had black leathery wings stretching tall from her back, but thin and elegant.

Even petite, she had a fine hourglass figure with a tiny waist. She was dressed in black form-fitting trousers with a red overskirt and a black top that formed to her breasts and ribs, all with ornamental silver stitching. Her clothes appeared more like what a warrior might wear to a formal ceremony, the craftsmanship absolutely magnificent.

But the most wondrous thing about her was her beautiful, wide red eyes with dark, long lashes and her bright smile with tiny fangs. She visibly vibrated with excitement.

"Hello, Princess," she said in demon tongue. "Can you understand me?"

I nodded.

"Pullo said you could speak our language. How wonderful, for I never learned high fae myself. I am Havallah. I have the great honor of being your lady's maid here at N?kt Mir. You will have others to tend to you." She gestured behind her where several wraith fae females entered the room, none of them with wings, their eyes downcast in supplication, hands clasping buckets of steaming water. "But I will tend to your daily personal needs."

Another handmaiden walked in with a covered tray. Havallah pointed her toward the fireplace, and the female glided over to set it on a table.

I glanced toward the door, expecting a soldier to enter behind them, or even Gollaya, but the door closed and I heard the familiar click of it being locked from the outside.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Havallah." I could keep my good manners, even if I was obviously still a prisoner.

Her eyes grew impossibly wider, then she laughed, a sweet, infectious sound as she hurried closer to me. "You may call me Hava, if you like. My friends call me Hava. I am so, so, so very happy to finally meet you."

Hava made a tsking sound and snapped her fingers. The other handmaidens instantly hurried toward the dressing screen and the golden tub behind it. For such a pleasant, small fae female, she seemed to carry weight in this palace.

"Let's get you into a nice hot bath, shall we?"

A bath. A luxury I didn't realize how badly I wanted until now.

She took my hand and led me behind the dressing screen. I found her familiarity endearing, rather than alarming. It reminded me of Min. I blinked away the tears that quickly stung my eyes. I still hadn't mourned my dear friend properly.

"Hava," I asked as I turned and let her unlace the dress from the back while the handmaidens poured their buckets of water and added spiced and floral-scented oils that smelled heavenly. "You are not from here, are you?"

"No, no." She smiled sweetly. "I am from Gadlizael, the shadow fae kingdom."

"You don't look like the shadow fae my brother described. Except for the wings." I'd never even met an ambassador of their kind, since they avoided us altogether. The shadow fae lived far outside Lumeria in the Solgavia Mountains. "I'm sorry. Is it rude of me to say so?"

"Not at all."

She was working on the buttons of my sleeves now and helped to remove the dress I'd been wearing since the king had been beheaded a few days ago. There were dried dark spots of his blood on the white fabric. I didn't mind since it reminded me that what I'd seen had actually happened, and that our enemy, the Demon King of Northgall, was actually dead.

"My father was a wraith fae," Hava continued. "That's where I get my gray skin. The wings I got from my mother who was a shadow fae. But apparently, there is naiad blood in our ancestry as well. That's why I'm so small."

Naiads, nymphs, and sprites all shared a common ancestry to the lesser water goddess Beatha. Legends claimed she was small in stature but mighty in the magick she wielded over nature.

Hava helped me out of my shift and lifted a silver silken robe for me to slip my arms into while we waited for the handmaidens to finish preparing the bath and setting out cloths and more oils.

"I think you're lovely, Hava," I told her truthfully. "And very kind."

Her eyes and mouth widened into pure joy. "It means so much to me to hear you say that, my mistress. Plus, I'm a zypher. I inherited the power of feyfire from my father. That's another reason I believe my king assigned me to you. I can protect you if needed."

My pulse tripped faster at her mention of her king . "He assigned you to me?"

"He did," she said proudly, then she held out a palm and whispered a word, which caused a ball of orange fire to appear in her palm. She grinned at me. "I can keep you safe."

"So, Gollaya has now been crowned King of Northgall?"

Since none of my guards had told me anything, I had no idea what had happened beyond what I'd seen in the throne room.

Hava shooed the chambermaids with buckets away. Once they'd left the room, the door closed and locked behind them, I slipped off my robe and stepped into the bath.

After I slid into the warm bath, sighing with contentment, Hava smiled. "My lord has not been crowned yet, but he will be."

She wetted a cloth and began scrubbing my shoulders and upper back.

"When will he be crowned?" I asked in earnest.

"That, I am not sure of. But he has won favor with his father's soldiers. Well, the ones he let live. Would you like me to wash your hair?"

A little overwhelmed by Hava's extreme turn of conversation, I nodded. I lowered, dipped my head back, and then sat up again.

She lathered some soap into my hair and continued on. "After what they said happened at the front, I dare say he'll be crowned any day."

"What happened at the front?" I snapped quickly.

"Oh, I'm sorry. How rude of me. I keep forgetting you are a moon fae."

I wasn't sure how she could possibly forget. I didn't look anything like her kind. She became unnaturally silent for a while as she dipped a small pitcher into the water and then poured it over my hair.

"Won't you tell me, Hava?" I implored after wiping the water from my face.

"I'm not supposed to talk too much."

"Did your sire tell you that?"

"He did. He knows I am loyal and trusts me very much." She began putting vials of oils back on a table where they were kept. "But I must tell you this," she added excitedly, holding out a large toweling for me as I stepped out of the tub.

"Tell me anything, Hava. No one has even spoken to me since I've been here."

While I patted my body dry, she fetched my robe and helped me slide into it.

"Come and sit by the fire and eat and I'll tell you how Prince Gollaya won his father's soldiers."

I followed her though I hadn't been able to eat since I'd been imprisoned here. But when Hava lifted the domed lid, revealing a tray of herbed fowl, a round of cheese, and buttery bread, I found that I was hungry.

Perhaps it was because of her company. While the guards hadn't been cruel, they certainly hadn't been overtly kind. Their wariness of me was obvious since I was the daughter of their enemy. And so, I'd been steeped in anxiety since my capture.

Now, sitting on a settee by the fire—the blue-coal burning brightly—I felt at ease for the first time.

She served me a plate from the tray of steaming food then sat back while I tucked a napkin on my lap and the plate on top of it.

"I apologize we can't go to the great hall for your meals." She frowned. "I'll have Pullo bring in a proper dining table for you."

I didn't bother asking why I couldn't eat in the great hall. I didn't want to be amongst the wraith fae.

"Thank you, Hava. Won't you eat with me?"

"Oh, no, my lady." She poured red wine into a brass goblet and handed it to me. "I am most content to just sit here with you." Then she poured another. "But I will have a drink if you don't mind."

"Of course," I encouraged her, hoping it might loosen her tongue. "Please tell me the tale you were going to tell me. About the prince."

She clasped her clawed fingers around her goblet, her red eyes glittering by the pale blue firelight.

"It was wondrous, I was told. After the prince and his allies took the palace, he rode his dragon to the war's front."

I coughed on a sip of wine. "His dragon ?"

"Oh, yes. You didn't know?"

I shook my head, completely dumbfounded. "No."

There hadn't been a wraith king dragonrider in centuries. It was believed that the rightful kings of Northgall had dragon blood pulsing through their veins.

"According to legend," Hava added in whispered excitement, "their blue and gold eyes are a sign of their dragon ancestry. There have been many kings come and gone in his line." She added with a haughty tilt of her chin. "But Prince Gollaya is the only one in ages who has ridden a dragon. He's been riding Drakmir for many years. But he has kept him a secret in the mountain caves outside Silvantis."

For a moment, I was silent, wondering how I'd never read about this in the many books I'd read on wraithkind. But then I hadn't ever focused on their royal line. I'd never known that the one who'd saved me was their prince.

"But why?" I asked, tearing off a piece of bread and eating it. "He could've killed his father with his dragon and taken the throne any time he wanted."

"No, no, no. He could not." She shook her head, wisps of black hair hiding one eye. She tucked it behind her high, pointed ear. "In order to be considered the true king, he must face his father. He would've been contested by others if he had used his dragon to usurp the throne. It must be by his own hand."

"I see." I ate a piece of the roasted fowl. "And what happened when he flew to the front?" My gut clenched, knowing the front was in Lumeria, near my home.

"He stood high on a hill above them all and promised he would finally end this long war his father had dragged them into. He raised his father's head high above and—"

"The prince carried his father's head?" I interrupted.

"Yes, yes. He did. It was a glorious sight"—she beamed brightly—"or so I was told."

My stomach twisted at the barbarity of it, but I didn't interrupt again.

"He promised to be a better king to his people, to raise Northgall to its rightful place as ruler of all faekind and without the shedding of more of our kinsmen's blood. That was when the soldiers roared and chanted his name."

"How?" I asked, my stomach souring as I placed the goblet and napkin back on the tray. "How does he plan to win the war without more bloodshed?"

For I knew my brother, and he wouldn't simply roll over and give up our homeland to be subjugated under Northgall.

Hava dropped her gaze to her lap then gestured toward the tray. "Would you like some more wine?"

She evaded my question, which spread a sickening feeling through me. I shook my head.

"Where was he at the front?" I asked. "Where was he in Lumeria when he made this fine speech?" I couldn't help the tension hardening my voice.

She cleared her throat and stood. "I cannot tell you more, my lady."

Silence tightened between us.

"I see," I said softly, despondent. "I'd like to be alone now, Hava."

Reality sank in again. I wasn't visiting with a friend or an ally. I was still a prisoner, and I feared what the prince, the new king, planned to do with me now.

"Of course, my lady."

She gave me a comfortable sleeping gown and offered to help comb out my damp hair.

"No, Hava. Thank you for the meal and the company. I'm tired now. You may go."

Her brow pinched, and she looked sad, likely mirroring my own expression. "I understand. I'll leave you now and return in the morning with breakfast. You'll feel better after a good night's sleep."

When she was gone, I crawled into the giant bed and slid under the covers, facing the boarded window, yet another reminder that I couldn't let my guard slip and believe that I was a welcome guest here. No matter how kind Hava was or how luxurious my cell was now, I was indeed a prisoner of the new king of Northgall.