No wonder I was paranoid. Anyone could climb over and break into my room if they so wished. Farther up was a full lounging area, complete with sofas and coffee tables decorating an open space, as well as a doorway that led to the ensuite bathroom worthy of royalty. Which I suppose I was now.
I had no recollection of getting back here, but there was only one explanation as to how I ended up safely in bed. My mother must’ve brought me.
I grimaced. Not a great way to spend your wedding day, dragging your drunk adolescent daughter to bed because she embarrassed you in front of the whole wedding party. What a great way to start your reign. Nooot! I wouldn’t be surprised if I got an earful in the morning.
Was it morning yet? I peeked through the thick curtains on my way out of the room and caught a ray of sun reaching over the horizon. It was early enough to know my mother wouldn’t be up yet. It was bad luck for the couple to venture out of their party before every last one of the guests had gone to bed.
I wouldn’t know how long the festivities lasted. The courtyard outside looked abandoned and as if a hurricane had torn through the set-up. They must’ve gone at it until the late hours of the night and only just recently headed off to bed.
That gave me a decent six hours before I had to hear about my performance. I could only hope the fae ended up worse than me and forgot the little incident altogether.
A lot could happen in one night, and I knew with all certainty it hadn’t yet been midnight when I walked into the venue. That left plenty of time for them to get up to an assortment of revelry in my absence, which would explain the mess.
My stomach growled again, reminding me of my mission to scavenge something edible from the kitchens. Yes, kitchens as in plural! Who needs more than one? The King of Death, that’s who.
Go figure. Even the death fae had to eat proper food.
I opened my door a crack and peered through to the hallway. It remained still as a grave. Tiptoeing my way out and down the stairs I jumped at any creak and groan the floorboards uttered.
During my short stay here thus far, I hadn’t yet fully explored the whole palace, but I knew where the kitchens were. The scent of tumeric and cardamom mixed with garlic had pulled me towards it the first evening; a lot of good that did. The chef, a death fae like the rest of them, took one look at me, crinkled his nose, and sent me away with an eccentric wave of his hand.
Something you might see directed towards a stray dog, if I recalled correctly.. Off with you, beast. No beggars across this line. I hoped he was not there at this early hour.
I hadn’t yet gotten used to the eerie quiet of the palace. The stillness pressed on my chest and made the hairs on my arms stand on end. No birds chirping away, no constant roar of the nearby waterfall, just my soft footsteps and whatever creaks the building made. Even the wind seemed nonexistent outside the halls.
All the way down the stairs, off through a servants’ entrance and several turns later, I stood in the hallway opening up to a sterile workspace.
A clanging and bubbling reached out to where my feet stopped moving, and the rich aroma of a broth being stirred wafted over to me. Seemed I was out of luck once again. But try as I might, I couldn’t turn back either. I needed something to take the edge off the gnawing in my stomach, at least a loaf of bread if they couldn’t spare anything else.
With my nerves thrumming through my body in a wave of electrified current, I edged closer to the open doorway. I was so focused on seeing who was inside that I paid no attention to where I stepped, nor did I see a bucketful of potato peels and other leftover slur before I literally stepped on it.
My surprised “ouch” was louder than my toes hitting the rusted metal. But the whole thing toppling over with a cling-clang slurch made my heart lodge in my throat, and any complaints I might’ve had died on my lips.
“Who’s there?” a female voice called out from the kitchen before its owner showed up at the doorway.
We stared at each other for a heartbeat. She stiffened, her hands clenched at her sides and her nostrils flared, eyes widening in surprise at finding me instead of whomever she’d expected.
“I’m sorry, I can clean it up,” I muttered, referring to the mess the fallen over bucket had left behind, and her eyes dropped to the floor.
Shaking her head, she rushed to action. “No, no. I’ve got this, m-my princess. Lord Grath wouldn’t look kindly on me having you slave away in the kitchens. You shouldn’t be here.”
Slave away? My brows furrowed. “It’s no trouble at all, especially since I made the mess.”
But the woman heard none of it. In mild panic she was already mopping up the remnants of whatever had filled the bucket. Once finished, her alarmed eyes fell on me again. “You’re still here.”
“I’m hungry,” I blurted. “I’ll just grab a few things from the cooler and be on my way.”
The maid, because she couldn’t possibly be anything else, threw herself in my way, blocking the entrance and stopping me in my tracks. “Food will be brought to you in your quarters, miss. The kitchen is not a place for you.”
“I don’t see why I’d need to wait for room service when I’m already here.” I took a tentative step forward and saw her tremble slightly. After another step that took me just a metre away from her, she caved and pressed herself against the doorpost to let me pass without brushing against her.
“Please,” she begged. “It’d be better if you left.”
I scoffed, “Unless you’re butchering humans here and serving them up on the platters, there’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”
The kitchen was spacious and airy, with no bodies in sight. It was kept spotless and even the unused cooking plates shone in the artificial light like they were installed just yesterday. A wall of refrigerators stood on the other side of the room.
On my way over, I passed the broth she’d been making and peered into the pot. Inhaling the heavenly aroma of parsley and garlic, my stomach growled again.
I reached for the ladle, and the maid ran over with her apron swishing. She pulled it out of my hand before I could dip it into the boiling soup to grab a taste, her fingers brushing mine, and I felt a tug at my heart. It was gentle and stopped the moment the contact ended, but it was enough to leave me gasping for air.
My hands trembled and looked pale, while her cheeks now held a rosy sheen and healthy glow. Her eyes remained wide in shock and fear as she backed away from me, still gripping the ladle in her hands like it could save her from being executed. That’s what King Grath had told the court, anyway. Anyone who touched me would die.
“It’s fine,” I gasped. “I’m fine. No one needs to know. It was an accident.” I held onto the countertop, hoping it would keep me on my feet as dizziness overtook me. “I just need a moment.”
I’m not sure if I was trying to reassure her or myself, but neither of us were convinced when I kept hyperventilating. Searching the kitchen for something to draw from, my eyes fell on a half-chopped bundle of parsley. I wobbled my way over to it and pressed my palms over the chopping board it lay on top of.
Freshly picked. That was good, better than if it’d been in the cooler for a day or two. This one had been grown in a pot which weakened the power within considerably, but it had been watered regularly and sat in a sunny place. I gathered all of that from pressing my hands against its delicate leaves.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, then pulled at the strength it held onto even in its chopped state.
The parsley wilted and dried under my palms, losing all of its qualities until it was nothing more than a pile of ash. It was sufficient to regain enough of my strength that my feet stopped shaking and my breathing turned to something close to resembling normal. My vision cleared to make out the maid now standing back at the doorway to the kitchen, eyes round and wide.
Next to her stood a much bigger shape, gripping at the woman’s upper arm and preventing her from escaping.
My nerves were back as my eyes trailed over black leather-covered muscular chest, roving up to a curly beard shades lighter than the rest of the death fae I’d seen, finally stopping at striking blue eyes—a colour I hadn’t seen on any other dark fae before.
My breath hitched, this time not from any physical touch nor malnourishment. As if I’d been caught doing something forbidden, my heart galloped, and I could feel heat rising to my face.
