A Court of Blood and Desire

Chapter 4

Theresa POV

"Do you remember your story?" Larson said, breaking the silence.

We sat in the back of a fruit wagon, wedged in amongst the crates of apples and pears.

The journey from the capital to the coast took 3 days by carriage, and Larson had bribed the fruit driver with whatever money he had stored away to let us travel in the back. It was uncomfortable; the wood of the crates and floor provided no padding for sleeping and my back and legs ached from not being able to stand up for the past few days. I'm pretty sure my hair smelt like cabbage and I wished for nothing more than to turn back and submerge myself in an icy tub.

But no matter how miserable we both felt, I was stuck in a wooden cage with one of the most insufferable people that had ever roamed the earth- Larson had insisted my leaving was one of the few things that crawling out from the sewers was worth. I supposed I should've felt honoured, instead I felt slightly creeped out.  My left hand rested casually on the hilt of my dagger- not that I knew how to use it, but it was a comforting weight nonetheless.

Larson was the descendant of a water- wraith who was partially skilled in glamours, and despite only having a drop of her blood in his veins, he'd inherited the power. We'd spent our trip carefully altering my appearance: making my pasty skin sun- kissed and freckled, my grey eyes into a pretty blue- green,  transforming my face and body so that it appeared fuller, nourished and more elegant. My round ears now ended in long points and my mess of hair into wavy blonde locks.

I smiled at the reflection nonetheless.  Like this, I was positively beautiful. Glowing. I could pass easily as one of the court ladies, maybe even a lover of the King himself. Not that that was particularly desirable, but it was the thought that counted. I looked very much like one of the women that I would target.

He couldn't transform people often, as his well of power was small, and the spell disappeared when one dunked their head below water. Larson had warned me constantly about it, that I should keep my hair in a braid to avoid washing it and to only enter bathing tubs to my neck. Should it start to rain, I was to cover my head and immediately find shelter.

"My name is Wren Highgate. I have three older brothers. My mother and father are both alive. I possess no other powers aside from heightened strength and healing. Before the war, my family and I were cheesemakers in the countryside near Velaris. When the war began, we all left to stay with distant relatives in Vallahan. Once the war was over, My parents and siblings wished to stay, but I wanted to go home. I am on my way to stay with a cousin that lives in Velaris," I recite perfectly, looking Larson dead in the eye.

He stared at me for a moment, looking at my face for any kind of weakness. "Good," he said finally. His face was hard, but I didn't mistake that for being emotionless. I crumbled inside, but I kept the same expression on my face.

I only hoped that I would never actually have to say it to another person.

+++

I had only been to the portside town of Eastwell twice before, and neither had been a happy occasion.

I had lived there before the Resistance found me, with my mother and father. I didn't have many memories of them, just vague faces, the sound of my father's laughter and the cool hand of my mother stroking my face. They had both been killed in our home by unknown assassins, and by some miracle, they hadn't found me where my mother had hidden me in the wardrobe. I was barely two when they died. The Resistance had been drawn to the bloodshed, and had found me. They've been my family ever since.

The second time I remember vividly. I was nine, and one of the King's personal maids. I had accompanied him to the city to look pretty and bring him food, but my real mission was working out his guard patrols. I'd only been working for the King for two months at that point, and this information was crucial to the Resistance. Work out how many guards and security he has, the more chance of a successful attack. He had no children, no heir, no wife so if he was killed, chaos and anarchy would be the perfect time to seize the throne for ourselves.