Thousands of years before Feyre Cursebreaker was so much as a whisper of thought on the breeze, there was another girl in another forest - Carbhan, a half fae girl eking out a living in the largest and most vicious court in Prythian, the Dusk Court...
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Ashe opened the door when I tapped the firmly closed door to let him know that the terror of underthings was over. Now I was wearing the black top and leggings, my doeskin jacket laced tightly so only the collar of the top showed, the tips of the black sleeves peeking out. My bo was strapped across my back, but I'd decided to leave my bow and arrows hidden behind the dresses. Wandering around the court with the weapons I'd used to shoot one of their own would be asking for trouble.
He opened the door and greeted me with a bland smile. Entering his role. "Miss. My name is Ainmainm. I am to show you around the palace and the grounds." I stifled a laugh. Ainmainm means "pseudonym," in the old language.
I flattened my features into sullen hostility. I swept out my hand mockingly. "Lead on."
He did. And much as I hated to admit it, it was beautiful. Tall white pillars and marble floors, pieces of art like the finest craftsmen of Codlata Siorai would spend years to complete thrown around like common child's work. The few people we passed in the halls were dressed in things so ostentatious, they put my over-the-top wardrobe to shame. And Ashe was a wonderful guide, pointing out all the important things about the palace and ways to remember where I was and to find landmarks. We both ignored the people we passed in the halls for the most part, though Ashe always had us step off to the side and tilted his face down. It clawed at me, knowing that Ashe had to kowtow to these people, that he had already been doing so for over a year. He was worth all of them combined, had risked his life to keep watch over Codlata Siorai for years, and here he was, hiding his face from these over-puffed peacocks. I didn't say anything out loud, not only because it would break our act, but because I couldn't stand to stoke Ashe's ego so. I did, however, mutter the words 'over-puffed peacocks' in an empty hall when I was sure the most recent primped pair of tittering courtiers had passed out of hearing. Ashe's shoulders twitched. We continued the tour.
Eventually, we reached the throne room. This was a crowned center of the palace, a huge room of palest gray marble with threads of red and lilac tracing through it shimmering under the skylights. The floors shined with a polish so high it seemed a crime to step on them, and the pillars had geometric shapes protruding from them that sent out glittering beams where light refracted off of them. I realized that the shapes were raw gems imbedded in the stone, mostly rubies, but with chunks of deep blue that must have been sapphires scattered among them. I even caught a few sharp glints that had to be diamond.
The most central thing in the room's design was the throne. A behemoth of stone in gray only a shade darker than the rest of the room, it was made in the shape of a setting sun, with long spikes of redder stone spraying out from it in a glorious insanity. It looked sharp and elegant and so very, very dangerous. Though nowhere near as intimidating as the man to whom it belonged. A strand of ice licked down my spine remembering his dead gray stare, like a sword without shine.
Luckily, while the room was full of brightly dresses men and women milling around and gossiping, Caer himself was not present at the court. I'd heard from Ashe that Dusk's High Lord abhorred the early hours and preferred to wait until later in the day to make his appearance. I was glad to find it to be true. My relief was short lived, however.
"I'd heard rumors, but didn't believe they could actually be true." My stomach dropped. I recognized that voice, its rotten sweetness. I turned slowly, expressionless.
Ashe bowed. "Lady Ailleacht," he murmured to the beautiful woman who had been so very eager to kill me two days prior.
She smiled a venomous smile. "Servant," she responded without taking her eyes off me. I could feel the other courtiers subtly turning their attention to us. The disdain was almost palpable.
I knew I should bow, as well, but I just couldn't make myself do it. Not this time, for this woman who though she was so much better than me because of her blood. She knew nothing of me, of my blood—I cut off my thoughts. I did not bow, but neither did I challenge her by meeting her eyes. "Lady Ailleacht," I repeated Ashe's greeting blandly.
"Wildling," she said to me. She was trying to insult me, I could tell. She had never considered that anyone might be proud to be from the wilds instead of the court. Then again, she'd never know the truth of my forests, my mountains. It made it easier not to be bothered by the insults that I knew would be coming. "How are you finding the palace? Up to your standards?" She asked snidely.
"The palace is lovely, lady. Certainly, the decor is much shinier than rocks and dirt," I said politely.
Her brow wrinkled as she tried to work out the insult in that. She smoothed it quickly, before her audience could notice. "Isn't that wonderful." She snapped open a fan and held in in front of her, hiding what I was certain to be a very unladylike sneer. "Well, Wildling, I see you don't have anything to do at the moment. Why don't you entertain us for a while?" An edge had entered her voice, like a rusted knife.
This is what I'd been afraid of when I was told I would enter the palace. Artisan or not, the nobles would still have their appetites for sadism. I braced myself and didn't reply, staring blankly at the glittering walls behind her.
"Answer when a lady speaks to you Wildling." Her fan twitched and something flashed past my face. I felt the warm trickle of blood going down my face, but I refused to let the pain show. I could tell the cut was bad. It had gone about halfway through the flesh of my cheek, and the blood was pitter-pattering down onto the shoulder of my jacket and the collar of my shirt. What type of magic had she used? I wasn't sure. She clicked her tongue. "Bloodying the clothes that the lord so kindly granted to you? That's disrespectful of you, half-breed. You'll have to be taught your lesson properly." A titter ran through the surrounding courtiers. Her fan snapped shut, revealing the unattractive smirk curling her lips.
As she adjusted her grip on the fan, I noticed a hint of silver flashing along its edge. Shit. It was bladed. Her fan was a blade. And I knew exactly what she was going to do with it.
~~~~~ Hello everyone! No, I have not vanished off the face of the internet. As I promised, I will not abandon this story. Take breaks due to an erratic schedule, perhaps. But ACOBAT will always come back!
