Heir of the Underground

Chapter 3: Aurelia

The candleflame danced on its wick, glowing an iridescent shade of orange. All the while Aurelia sat deathly still, watching intently, not wanting the small flame to be extinguished. To her, there was a fascinating quality to fire, and something oddly poetic and lifelike about it too.

She continued to sit and observe it, avoiding the true task at hand: prayer. It was a common practice, and a part of the daily routine of a Child of the Patron. Go to the chapel, light a candle, and pray to the Patron for knowledge, strength, or simply give Him thanks—it was simple enough, and yet, she wasn't in the mood to complete such a thing.

Her mind was too busy, too abuzz, to focus on prayers. The events of the previous night, of the High King's ball, kept playing through her mind. She thought of the ridiculous songs, of her disdain for Magni, of the undeserved gifts. But most of all, she thought of Kassius and of what he had told her.

"You told me that I look inhuman," he had said, "but have you ever stopped to consider that perhaps we are one and the same?"

A shudder ran down Aurelia's spine as she thought about what he had been implying. It was a nauseating thing to consider, one that hit her like a punch to the gut. The thought of being a Fey seemed awful and entirely untrue, and yet, it didn't.

It certainly explained a lot, like why she never fit in, and why she always felt so unnerved around the Fey servants. And it explained why she could never seem to fully comply or understand the religion in which she was raised. No matter how much she learned or how well she was taught, nothing would ever erase the Fey beliefs that had been written in her very blood.

Yet, at the same time, it didn't explain everything. For one, she had never displayed magic, which was one of the most, if not the most, defining trait of a Fey. And her features—the ones that Kassius had called Fey—weren't entirely inhuman. Black hair was common, and lights affected everyone's hair, all the time. As for amber eyes, they were rare, but they could still appear in humans. And she spent most of her time indoors, which could easily explain her pale skin.

But then there was the issue of her ears. Zachariah had always told her that the scars had been there since birth, which could mean that they were birthmarks. Still, the coincidence of the marks being on the tips of both her ears was odd, and it was enough to leave Aurelia's head spinning.

She took a moment to glance down at her hand. The black ribbon was still tied tightly to her index finger, glowing and practically begging to be unraveled.

Kassius was very adamant to take her away, to get her out of Rheolaeth and to the Underground. He hadn't even tried to make his insistence subtle, and the ribbon just solidified that point further.

That in itself was even more confusing. She had never met him in her life, and yet he knew her well enough to claim that she was a Fey, and he seemed to care an awful lot about her.

Regardless, she felt comfortable with her decision to stay. He was a stranger. He was Fey. And while he did make some reasonable points regarding her potential parentage, nothing he said was definite, nor was it worth giving up a perfectly fine life over.

She turned her attention back to the candle with a sigh. Perhaps praying would be a good idea after all. She could pray for happiness, for the feeling of contentment. She could pray to be oblivious, to forget all about Kassius and the ribbon and potentially being Fey. But she knew that none of that would come true, even if she did pray with all of her might. And so, she didn't pray at all. It wasn't worth the wasted breath.

The candle flame continued to jump in place, shrinking and growing, wiggling back and forth, doing a dance routine on its wick. Candlewax dripped down the sides of the candle, flowing like an endless stream of tears.