Her tone turns impatient. “I’m willing to offer you a place to stay and learn, Nym. With a life far better than anything you’ve experienced in your pitiful excuse for one. In return, you’ll trust that I know what I’m talking about. As the richest landholder in Faelen, I’ve a strong interest in protecting my holdings, which is why I’ve spent years finding and training Uathúils. So yes, I do know what I’m talking about. You have until tomorrow morning to decide. Otherwise, I will be forced to turn you over to the king’s men first thing.” She sits down and begins scribbling what appears to be the last part of a letter and waits for my response.
I’m stunned. This is so far beyond anything normal for a slave, let alone anything I’ve encountered, I don’t even know how to absorb her words. It’s as if I’ve just entered another kingdom where the rules have all changed, and instead of death or outright slavery, she’s offering me a form of redemption. It doesn’t make sense.
Which means maybe there really is a way to control my curse.
But even then . . . “Why?”
“Because we need you, Nym. Faelen needs you. The weapons Bron is bringing against us cannot be fought by peasants on the ground. They’ll be annihilated before they know what hit them. We need power and nature on our side, and I believe you can give us that. You can bring the victory we need and protect what we hold dear.”
“I doubt it.”
“I’ve had my trainer, Eogan, work with other Uathúils before you, and they’re the only reason Faelen hasn’t fallen recently. But none of the ones he’s worked with have had your particular gifting, nor the magnitude of your powers. He’s currently training a boy, and when we think you’re both ready, you’ll step into the war. You will answer to me and only me, and you will do everything I ask, when I ask. And you won’t tell anyone what you are or what you can do—you’ll leave that to me as your owner.” Her gold-lined eyes slide coldly over mine. “Even when it comes to the king. Is that understood?”
I bite my lip.
Adora folds the document she’s been writing, then lifts it to her red lips and licks the edge. Her face suddenly flinches as if she’s pricked her tongue and a second later a drop of blood drops onto the bottom of the sheet, spreading out in a pattern that looks like the shape of the poison-alder flower. I’d think she’d done it on accident except she doesn’t look upset at all that it’s stained the pretty linen paper. She folds it over again with one hand while reaching for melting wax with the other.
“As I said, you have until morning to make your decision. For tonight, you will stay with Breck and be allowed to observe the party from afar. You’re not to speak to anyone. Nor are you to display yourself in such a way that people would notice you exist. Are we clear?”
“Fine.”
“Breck!” she yells, her tone harsh and dismissive. I jump.
The auburn-haired girl appears immediately. Was she listening at the door? “Yes, mum?”
“Take Nym and see that she stays out of trouble. If she does anything . . . unfortunate, bring her to me.” She motions for us to go.
I’m practically tripping over my own feet to get out of the perfume-infused, awkward room.
“And, Nym?”
I stop. Turn. “Yes?”
“Stay away from the barn.”
CHAPTER 5
FANCY PEOPLE.
Tons of them.
Thick in embroidered costumes styled as everything from sin-eaters to exquisite fairy-animals topped with giant jewels and tiny hats that make their faces look even shinier. They arrive in a sea of glittery carriages, reflective of Faelen’s commoners only in the variety of beautiful ethnicities represented as they spill out one by one like jellyfish onto Adora’s estate steps. I’ve sat in an upstairs window for the last half hour describing each of them to Breck as they stand for exactly three minutes and visit with the frog-queen before entering the house.
“Their kiss-up moment,” Breck calls it. “Where they get themselves in Adora’s good graces so she’ll invite ’em back again. Ridiculous if you ask me.” She shoves another bite of greasy party food in her mouth.
“Nice to know groveling isn’t a respecter of status,” I mutter, and pass a rag over for her to wipe the butter and spices dripping off her chin.
“Nah, but money is.”
Another oily glob dribbles from the quail leg she’s chewing on and makes me cringe. The dinner upset my stomach after only a few bites—the rich flavors and fat so different from Faelen’s peasant porridge. No wonder half the guests are the size of whale cubs.
Before tonight, the nicest food I ate was a slop of cheap wine and squirrel meat at a wedding for a village provost. At the time, Brea’s attempt to get in the groom’s good graces got me volunteered to clean the squatty pots after each use. The memory still makes me gag.
“C’mon!” Breck gives me an impatient nudge. “What else is happening?”
“The High Court and Castle are lit up.” I stare out at the eerie glow created by the lanterns over the drive. The city hovers like a fairy goblin above the island kingdom’s interior valley. More beautiful and strange and massive than I ever imagined—its white, pointy-roofed towers jutting up to touch the smoke blown in from the war front.
“Not that.” Breck waves her hand and frowns. “I wanna know if King Sedric’s here.”