A Delicate Darkness | AZRIEL (ACOTAR)

xiv. truth-teller

TRUTH-TELLER

THIS WAS A TERRIBLE IDEA.

She'd never known Eris nor Nostrus to be hare-brained, but she seriously doubted their intelligence now. Doubted her own, for agreeing.

Auroria wrapped the traveller's cloak tighter around her body, the chill of Dawn's night air nipping at her skin. She'd been wandering aimlessly for the past ten minutes before she located the place. There were worst places to be lost in, she supposed.

The building behind the largest red-domed townhouse, Nostrus had directed her. First Light, it's called. At this time, she'd be tinkering away by herself. But still. Be careful.

"How do you even know all of this?" she'd asked.

"Emissary for Dawn, remember? It's a place filled with knowledge and innovation as much as it is one filled with beauty," Nostrus had replied.

Eris had laughed. "Does this beauty have a name? Nuan, perchance? I saw the way you looked at her."

"And how was that?"

"Like you were the fat-cheeked little boy once again, and she held the shiniest slice of chocolate cake."

Bristling, Nostrus had muttered, "I was never chubby..."

"You were, brother."

The wooden sign above the door creaked as it swung on black-iron hinges. First Light.

She caught her own reflection in the front window of the smithy. So frighteningly Winter, Eris had smirked. She saw why now, with the white fur-lined cloak, the hue of royal blue, and a cotton dress beneath, styled in Winter fashion with whorls stitched in silvery thread. The cloak reminded her of her old toy, Ol' Blue Eyes, and it struck her a saddening that the furs belonged to the pelt of a Winter fox. Only the whiskey of her eyes and the tanner colouration of her complexion hinted at her Autumn descent.

The slightest of knocks had the door opening. Warm air spilled out, no doubt heated from the forge. Bracing herself, Auroria pushed the door wider, the bell above jingling as she stepped inside onto a rough-haired welcome mat.

"Coming!" yelled a female's voice from a stairwell that descended into a cellar.

Auroria primly settled in one of the seats by the entrance. The front of house was a quaint room, and looked more like a parlour than the entrance of a blacksmith. Some attempt was made to decorate the place, to make it seem more welcoming, with three landscape paintings on the walls and potted plants in the corners. There were a series of bottled wines lined along a shelf, caches of fruit and nuts sorted in transparent jars beneath, and lemon-and-lime-filled water jugs. Clearly, Nuan was accustomed to hosting prospective customers like her, seeking a manner of inventions from the female.

The owner of the establishment ascended the stairs, her footfall slapping against the stone steps, and she rolled into view wiping her soot-laden hands down with a cloth.

Auroria stood. "Hi," she began, "You don't know me but-"

"You're Auroria Vanserra," Nuan said evenly, sharp eyes surveying her head to foot. Auroria waited for the scowl or sneer to follow, but one never came.

She dropped her hand, releasing a short laugh. "Oh, well, I suppose you do."

"I do. Though better men could be fooled — you do not look like a Vanserra of Autumn."

Auroria kept her face even, posture straight. "It would be preferable if a Vanserra were not seen in Dawn," she said delicately.

"Which is why he sent you," Nuan surmised. "That is why you're here, are you not? At the behest of your brother? None of your brothers could claim the same anonymity as you."