The cellars smelled of salt and old stone, of wine aged in shadows and smoke that never quite left.
Keira's feet struck the floor in quick, uneven taps as she descended the curling stair, her breath shallow, her pulse still stumbling behind the moment with Lord Aeren.
Mirien and Edra were standing near the racks of aged wine and barley loaves, their hands mid-task when Keira appeared.
They turned as one, their lined faces marked with surprise.
"Girl?" Mirien asked, narrowing her eyes. "Why are you so breathless?"
Keira shook her head too fast. "It's nothing, ma'am. I was only in a hurry to help you."
Edra's brows rose. "Did he speak with you?"
"Not much. He asked me to leave shortly after."
The two older women exchanged a look, one she couldn't decipher, and then Edra gestured toward the crates of supplies lining the wall.
"Hmm. It seems you still have a lot of energy. Come, use that energy to sort the root baskets," she said. "Gods know the last kitchen-hand mixed angel thistle with blight bark."
Keira nodded and got to work. But her hands were far from steady. Her mind spun and swirled like a leaf, always returning to the memory of Aeren standing so close she could feel the shadow of his breath.
The way his eyes had lingered on her face. The words he had whispered.
You remind me of someone.
Her thoughts danced again to the portrait in her chambers. The one with her eyes. Her mouth. Her sorrowful smile. Who was she? Was she who he was referring to?
Keira's fingers slipped, knocking a flask of violet wine. It clattered to the ground, but did not break.
"Keira!"
She straightened instantly, cheeks flushed.
"I am sorry."
Mirien stared at her. "You're rattled. You need fresh air."
"I'm fine."
"You're not. Come with me. Velithrae would have fouled her stall again. We'll scrub it clean, and that way you'll clear your head."
Keira didn't argue with the older woman. Anything to silence the roar in her chest.
They walked a distance in the direction of the stables. Keira's mind briefly wandered to the beast, shadowmare, dreading the thought of possibly seeing such a creature again.
Halfway there, a shadow slipped between the sun.
"There you are," said a cool, amused voice.
Keira and Mirien stopped mid-step.
Lady Nythera Veyne emerged from the cloistered arch, her robes sparkling with silvered threads, hair the color of rich indigo pulled high with sharp bone combs.
Her eyes were like fractured crystal, impossible to read and far too keen.
"I had been hoping to find you alone," she said, her gaze settling on Keira immediately.
Keira blinked, her head briefly lowering to display respect. "How may I be of service to you, my lady?"
Nythera approached them quietly. "You have caught the attention of important men. Most faes with dirt on their skirts never get that far, talkless of a mere mortal."
Keira's face squeezed. "I must apologize my lady, but I am not sure I understand you."
Nythera's lips curled. "I imagine you don't. What could you possibly understand?"
Mirien stepped forward. "Lady Veyne, forgive us, we were on our way to—"
Nythera raised a hand, and Mirien stilled like a puppet on a string. "Do not interrupt me." She spat.
"You know," she said softly, circling Keira, "there was another girl, long ago, who had that same face. She caught the eyes of the prince and Aeren."
Keira's heart thudded. She caught the eyes of the prince and Lord Aeren? What did that mean?
Was lady Nythera saying she had caught their eyes?
Keira pushed the thought to the back of her mind and asked. "And what happened to her?"
Nythera leaned in, her voice brushing her ear. "She was killed."
The words chilled her.
But before Keira could stop the words from flying out of her mouth, she spoke. "As expected for a species like yours. Cruel, foolish, and bloodthirsty."
Mirien gasped, her eyes widening.
A hard slap cracked through the space. The older woman's hand was already trembling when she lowered it. "Apologize. Now."
Keira didn't, her cheek throbbing with pain.
Nythera laughed. "Oh, she has bite. You slap her, but I rather like it."
She studied Keira for a beat longer, then turned. "Come. You and I have much to speak of."
Mirien paled. "My lady—"
"Calm yourself. She will be returned. I know how much Lord Aeren cares for his playthings," Nythera said over her shoulder. "Unless, of course, I decide I like her, and steal her from him."
Then she vanished into the inner court, trailing silver like frost.
Keira hesitated. Her cheek burned. Her blood sang.
And then… she followed.
~
As they walked, they turned a corner where a few young Fae, boys and girls no older than Keira herself, lingered near a fountain.
The moment they saw Nythera, their expressions changed. Fear flickered in their eyes like, and they bowed quickly, pressing fists to their hearts.
Then their gazes shifted to Keira, disgust twisting their perfect features. One of them, a girl with blue lashes, sneered and looked away.
Another whispered something behind his hand, his eyes never leaving Keira's face.
Keira ignored them. It wasn't news that a lot of Fae still hated and detested humans. The air shifted as they stepped beneath another arch.
Lady Nythera's chambers were behind carved oak doors, framed by flowering vines that grew in reverse, blooming into buds rather than out of them.
Nythera raised her hand, and the door opened like silk.
She didn't speak as they entered. Keira noticed little, only that the chamber was softly lit and smelled faintly of myrrh and crushed fig.
Tapestries whispered from the walls, and a fire glowed blue in the hearth. The space felt older than it looked, like time had thickened within it.
Lady Nythera motioned for Keira to sit on a curved bench near the hearth. Keira sat, her heart pounding.
"Do you have parents?" Nythera asked, her voice gentle now, stripped of its earlier taunt.
Keira blinked. "No. They were killed. By your people."
Nythera became still. Her expression did not change immediately, but her eyes narrowed, not in cruelty, but contemplation.
"I see," she said softly. "I am sorry."
Keira looked away. "You might not believe me," Nythera continued, "but there are those among the Fae who would see the bloodshed ended. Myself included. Even Prince Riven, though he hides it better than most."