A Betrayal of Storms by Ben Alderson

Chapter 8

Entire walls, if not taken up with ornate windows, were lined with wardrobes that reached far up into the high ceilings. A small ladder was connected to the nearest wardrobe to me, with wooden wheels at the base. I gave it a push and it slid soundlessly across the many wardrobes.

I did not need to go looking for the bathing chamber. It made itself known. Steam flowed beyond an open door, beckoning me to enter with fingers of curling mist. There was not a moment wasted as I unclothed and walked across the bedroom towards the doorway. By the time I entered there was only the cold, dusting of air across my bare body.

I slipped into the warmth of the brass tub that was, as promised, filled with water. Time was not a concept I could grasp as I let the warmth wash away the day's events. The cage, the deaths I had witnessed. I thought of Father and our home, which conjured an ache to begin in my chest, a longing that flirted with the closed box deep within me, tickling a finger of consciousness across the lid as a reminder that it could open if I wished for it to.

The angry marks across my wrists were so faint now that they were almost impossible to see. But they had been there, and my skin had healed far quicker than I had ever experienced before.

The comments Althea had made about Mother's bracelet and the effects of iron trickled into my mind. Had that suppressed far more of me than I could understand? Even in the familiar, comforting cuddle of water I knew that it was Althea who would answer that question as well as other fey.

I climbed out of the brass tub when the water was cold and discoloured. Wrapped in a towel as soft as snow, I trailed wet footprints into the bed chamber.

My mind clawed onto the thought of my mother, making my stomach jolt with anxiety. I had never thought of her so often, not in the later years of my life when I had grown used to her lack of presence. But her dark raven hair and gentle voice were all I could think about now, conjured by the possibility that I would see her soon.

That thought was all that kept me stable. She would have answers, I knew she would.

I found clothes hanging within one of the many wardrobes. Not caring what I wore, I pulled on a pair of dark brown trousers and a fitted, long sleeved green shirt that had swirling gold thread across the shoulders. Turning before the mirror, I noticed how the design flowed down the back of the shirt like wings across the material, wings the shape of fallen autumn leaves outlined in gold, much like the design across Erix's cloak when I had first seen him.

"And I was beginning to think you had drowned," a familiar voice sounded from the living quarters beyond the bedroom.

I followed the soft voice to find Althea who sat with her feet up, resting across the low table before her. Her back was towards me, but her face turned slightly that I caught the lift of her sharp lips which tugged into a smile.

"I didn't hear you come in..." I said, fists relaxing slightly but not before she had noticed.

"What good will they do?" she asked, hazel eyes squinting as she laughed.

"Not that I have anything to prove, but they can do some harm..." My arms snapped to my sides and I tried to relax my posture. Althea turned back to whatever she focused on before her, which I soon saw was a pastry of some kind that she picked apart, pieces flaking across her lap.

"I am at least pleased to see you have some fight in you. Here." She took her heels from the table and sat forward, gesturing to a plate piled high with similar pastries and cakes that she devoured. "You should eat something. An expenditure of power can have a draining effect on a fey and the food will help."

I got the impression, from her erudite tone, that she knew I needed insight into the fey. It was unspoken between us, only adding to how different I felt. How... human I was in comparison. Althea was right though, I was hungry. And I did not realise just how much until the scent of warmed, sweet cake enticed me to pick one from the plate. Taking a seat in a plush chair opposite her, I began stuffing my cheeks with food. An explosion of sweetness filled me, with a hint of stewed apples as I soon found the pale, green filling in the middle of the bun.