Young Immortals

Six: Questions

Madame glares at me when I step through the kitchen doors, her beady eyes just visible through the silts of her gold mask. While everyone else is already halfway done with breakfast, I'm the last copper to arrive, having spent my morning painting over my neck bruises. 

Most coppers can enter the kitchen with strange, unexplained marks without anyone batting an eye, but the princess' 'pet copper' would stir gossip, and might even reach Aerywna's ears.

"You're late," Madame says. I start to apologize but she holds up a hand. "Just fetch the eggs. And watch out; the pan is hot."

Technically, I am no longer hers to command, but Madame will occasionally do so anyway as a reminder that at the end of the day, no matter whose favor I secure, I am still a copper and she is still a gold; I am still a human and she is still a fae. 

Not wanting to draw her attention, I'm usually hypervigilant around her, but today I move through the kitchen like the walking dead, my head a million miles away, still stuck in the darkness of the cave. What I wouldn't give to –

"Hey!" someone shouts. "Watch the metal!"

I jerk back my hand, a second too late. The hot metal scalds my skin, forming angry red burns all along my palms. The other coppers do not reproach me, even though I delayed their preparations back half an hour, at least. 

But Madame does not share their concerns. "Didn't I just tell you to be carefull? Dammit, pay attention next time."

After I get the burn bandaged, I go to the gardens. Since Aerywna's busy with coronation duties, I'm working on the background alone today, or for however long I can stand before the burns force me to stop. 

I'm mixing colors when Hunkletoad arrives, skipping the greetings to list all the reasons I must fix his preliminary sketches. As he goes on and on, I rub my temple, sensing a pounding headache in the near future. Finally, I can't take it anymore. 

"Should I just do it for you?" I interrupt.

He stares at me, shocked. Then he practically throws his sketchbook at me. As I fix his sketches, my mind wanders back to the cave. The light shining off the wall was so bright that with every blink, I see the symbols burned into my eyelids. Each had a different shape, twisting across each other with no rhyme or reason –

"What on earth?" Hunkletoad cries, ripping his paper from my hand. 

I look down, blinking several times. When my vision clears, I realize that I was correcting his drawing – at first. But midway down the page, I started drawing the symbols from the cave, over and over again, so hard the charcoal ripped through the page at certain points.

"Sorry – I don't – let me fix it." I reach for him, but he jerks his arm back.

"It's fine."

"Hunkletoad –"

"Don't worry about it. I'll fix it myself." 

His jaw tight, Hunkletoad stalks back toward the palace, only to stop dead when he spots Silas approaching. He tries to tuck his sketchbook behind his back and bow at the same time but accomplishes neither, falling flat on his face. Without blinking, Silas steps over Hunkletoad's body, continuing his same pace until he reaches me.

"Nice company you keep," he says.

I bite back a scowl, staring down at the ground. "How may I help you today, Your Highness?"

His mouth curves. "Well that wasn't a very nice greeting. What happened to all your promises of gratitude? How quickly eternity expires."

All morning my patience has been hanging by a thread, but with that, it finally snaps.