Something else clouded Keshel’s face then. A different kind of concern. “He’s a human prince, Marai. Perhaps this is for the best.”
A bolt of fury shot through her. “I should condemn him to death because he’s human? We have human blood!”
“Yes, and humans killed your mother, one of their own, because she dared fall in love with a faerie. Most humans, especially those in power, do not have your mother’s kind heart. Prince Ruenen may not have harmed you, but you could never fully trust him,” Keshel replied, staying neutral, staying calm. “His own ancestor began the hunt on our people.”
Keshel had always gravitated more to his fae roots. His human father had abandoned his faerie mother when he’d found out she was pregnant. As a child, Keshel had watched his mother be butchered right in front of him by radical Tacornians, men in Rayghast’s army. They would have killed him, too, if he hadn’t hid with Marai and the others.
“Ruenen deserves to die for his grandfather, King Talen’s, crimes?” Marai stepped away from Keshel. She was close to punching that smooth, perfect face of his. “Our fae ancestors kept humans as slaves. That makes them no better than humans. I’ve killed people, Keshel. I’m just as dangerous, as untrustworthy.”
Marai didn’t miss the flicker of unease in his face. Her words rattled him. At his hesitancy, she stomped back towards the mouth of the cave, still dripping wet.
“I’m only trying to ease your guilt,” Keshel called after her.
Guilt? What did he know of her guilt? What did he know about anything real? All Keshel knew and experienced were inked words on paper, visions seen through a pane of glass. Marai headed back towards the cave, hoping the distance would allow her anger at Keshel to dissipate.
None of the others had ever spent time amongst humans. While they held deep prejudices against those with any amount of fae blood, Marai knew not all humans were hateful. Not all of them were possessive and greedy like Slate, or as cruel as King Rayghast. Ruenen had taught her that. Against all her held beliefs, Ruenen had shown her compassion and understanding. And she’d repaid him with betrayal. Perhaps humans were right to despise the fae . . .
Marai stalked past Aresti at the tunnel entrance, who said nothing, but raised her eyebrows. Aresti was Keshel’s cousin, but they were more like siblings. They both had the same brown angular eyes, jet black hair. Aresti’s skin tone was tanner, deeper, whereas Keshel was as pale as paper.
Aresti kept walking, no doubt heading out for her patrol shift. Marai returned to the cavern to find Thora and Raife once again in quiet conversation, side by side, arms touching. Thora’s face tilted upwards, and Raife chuckled at something she said.
They both fell silent when they spotted Marai.
“Oh! Marai, um . . . ” Thora’s voice was high and flustered. She stepped away from Raife and removed her apron, busying herself. “Where are the dishes?”
Raife cleared his throat. He murmured a casual “goodnight,” and disappeared down the other tunnel to where he, Leif, and Keshel slept.
The sight of Thora and Raife, so casual, so close, ruffled something in Marai. A longing that left her feeling queasy. And envious.
“Keshel can bring them in,” she said tersely.
Thora frowned. “Why are you all wet?”
“I bathed.” Before Thora could speak again, Marai jumped in, “Where am I sleeping?”
“Kadi set up a bed for you on the floor. It may not be the most comfortable, but—”
“Perfect.”
Marai stalked off into the right tunnel, not trying to be quiet as she collapsed onto the heap of blankets and pillows on the floor. The youngest fae had given Marai all but one of her blankets. Marai’s heart clenched at the sight of Kadiatu’s brown feet peeking out the bottom of her cot. Kadiatu was always sacrificing so others would be happy and comfortable.
And Marai, being the selfish soul she was, covered herself up in those blankets and refused to move again.
Chapter 3
Marai
She slept through breakfast. She slept through lunch. She wanted to sleep through dinner. But at some point in the afternoon, Thora ripped the blankets off of her.
“That’s enough,” she said, her face set in that stern motherly way.
Marai pulled them back over her head. “Piss off.”
She didn’t want to see anyone, especially Keshel. She merely wanted to stay in her bundle of blankets for the next several weeks.
“Whatever happened to you out there, you’re not going to feel any better by lying here,” Thora said, yanking the blankets back again. This time, she threw them onto Kadiatu’s cot, leaving Marai uncovered. “Hiding won’t solve anything.”
“You know nothing about what happened to me,” Marai hissed at her.
Thora’s scowl deepened. “No, I don’t, because you won’t tell me anything. I’d be happy to listen, Marai, but I’m not here to pry.” She put her hands on her hips. “Until then, you need to help with chores. So get up.”
Thora didn’t leave. She watched as Marai slowly got to her feet with a groan and a grimace. Everything still ached; sorrow had a way of burrowing into bone, never leaving, settling there like an arthritis. Thora had healed Marai’s physical wounds, but the scars and shame still remained.
Someone had brought Marai’s boots in from the riverbank, so Marai turned her back on Thora and slid them on. Then gloves, hiding those tainted fingers. Thora then led her into the cavern, where Raife stood leaning against the cave wall. Waiting.
Thora thrust a starchy desert vegetable into Marai’s hands. “Eat first.”
The vegetable had little flavor and became a thick paste in her mouth. Marai wanted to spit it out, but she forced herself to swallow.
“How well can you wield that sword?” Raife gestured to her father’s faerie-made blade, Dimtoir, sitting in the corner with the other weapons.
“Better than you,” Marai challenged.
Raife’s eyes brightened. He grabbed a bow and quiver of arrows, and handed Marai her sword. “Good, then you can help on patrol.”
“Wait—” Thora said, stopping Marai. Her hands hovered over Marai’s body, and Thora closed her eyes. Cobalt and white magic coursed down her arms and covered Marai in warmth. It smelled of sparkling wine and rich ether, as elemental magic always did. “Now you won’t get so sunburned. Be sure to take Kadi’s hat with you.”
Raife turned on his heel and stopped at the mouth of the tunnel, an invitation to follow. Marai left Kadiatu’s straw hat behind.
