Mortal Fantasy

✴｜chapter twenty-six

The moment I get through the door, a small, ginger-headed blur pelts toward me, catching me with surprising vigor around the waist.

"I thought something happened!" Adlyn says, squeezing me tightly with her tiny bare arms. "I thought maybe you'd been taken to see the queen—or someone found out about your leaving the palace, or..."

I flush at my carelessness. I hadn't considered that Adlyn would be awake and worried—I must have lost track of the hour with Stephen in the library. Had we spent that much time there? "Nothing like that, I just... went for a morning stroll." I catch an aroma that is both sweet and savory from farther inside the room, and pull back from Adlyn. "What's that scent?"

"I got you breakfast," the younger girl says, beaming as she points to my bedside. "Come on, you must be hungry."

The lavish assortment of foods at the palace never fails to astonish me, even after having spent a number of weeks here already. Sitting on the bed, I pick up a blood-red piece of fruit, eyeing its color as I take a bite. The saccharine flavor bursts overwhelmingly in my mouth—I set it down on its tray, the aftertaste almost burning my tongue.

"What is this?" I ask Adlyn, pointing at the bitten fruit. "It's... incredibly sweet."

"Sangria," she pipes, picking it up and taking a bite of her own. "It's a delicacy here at the palace, though I'd say it's more of an acquired taste."

It reminds me, oddly, of the nature of the angel court; the facade they put on is disturbingly congenial, as if to mask the disgusting truth of what takes place between the palace walls. My mind wanders to Lady Taria and her sugary tirade, and I take the sangria back from Adlyn, suddenly eager to drown out the thoughts in my head with its searingly sweet acidity. "I suppose it is."

"Anyway," Adlyn says, propping herself on her elbow next to me. "What were you doing out for such a long time? It's best not to wander out there by yourself, you know."

"I was looking for the prince," I admit, my fingers fiddling with the fruit on the tray. "He's... returned from Kyrie."

"So you happened across him! Did you get to speak with him?" Adlyn says energetically, practically bouncing on the bed. "Or is that why you spent so much time away?"

"You," I say, flicking her on the nose, "are too nosy for your own good."

She only smiles devilishly, falling back onto the immaculately done covers to make an Adlyn-sized wrinkle imprint upon the sheets. "So something did happen."

I purse my lips in an effort to keep from giving myself away. "That's not what I said."

"But your face is telling me right now," Adlyn says, rolling over to point at me. "You're absolutely terrible at hiding your blush, Ithena."

I internally chastise myself. So that's how Stephen always knows. "You're making me think strange things, is all," I mumble, leaning back onto the covers. "Nothing... nothing happened." It couldn't be farther from the reality, but what am I supposed to say? That Stephen took off his shirt and kissed me in his private room?

"Alright," Adlyn sighs, in a way that means she has already seen through my bluff or has chosen to leave the topic—for now. "If you say so."

I shake my head and reach over to pinch her cheek. "No more prying."

"Hey," she protests, wriggling and laughing helplessly in her effort to shake me off. "Ithena! Stop—stop holding my face—!"

A piercing shout from outside the room causes me to flinch away from Adlyn. I sit up, feeling disoriented, and look to the young maid as a dozen pounding footsteps resound from the hallway. Her face has drained of color, and a chill slides down my spine.

"Ithena, stay here," she says, more firmly than I have ever heard her speak. She hurries to the other side of the room, to the door, and my heart has leapt into my throat. Perspiration forms a fine layer of sweat along my neck—why am I so nervous about the guards? Does part of me feel as if they are coming for me? As if they know what I have done?

I sit rigidly, my hands fisted in the sheets, and I hear the sounds in the corridor grow sharp and then muffled as Adlyn opens and closes the door to glimpse the commotion. She returns sporting a grim expression and comes to sit wordlessly besides me, her gaze fixed to the floor.

"What—Adlyn, what happened?"

Her eyes hang heavy with sadness, but no surprise, when they meet mine. "It's a concubine who tried to escape. The guards are out to apprehend them." She twists her fingers together, her face pale. "Based on the number of guards alone, I'd guess that it's one of the king or queen's concubines."

"Do you—" It is a foolish hope, but I cannot help but harbor it. "Do you think they will escape?"

Adlyn takes in an odd breath, seeming less to contemplate my question than consider how to answer it. "Every year, there is the occasional concubine who tries to escape this palace. The plan is different each time, but the same thing happens in the end." Her fingers clench into her apron, forming deep black creases in the immaculate white fabric. "They are caught and hung on public display, in the courtyard." She grimaces, pointing to the terrace. "We'll have a perfect view of it this year."

My stomach drops sickeningly. In the commonplace throes of Atellyn, we had all heard stories, of runaway concubines pinned up to the walls and left to die in the scalding sun or thrown into the cellars to rot away in its cold, dark recesses. They were merely high tales, baseless gossip that would circulate in the kingdom, but never would I have imagined that the monarchy would breed something so gruesome into tradition. Yet another display of their cruelty should be unsurprising, but somehow it catches me unguarded—just because Stephen is unlike his parents and the rest of the court, it does not mean that the rest of them are exceptions to the renowned brutality of the golden bloods.

Adlyn hesitates at my terse silence. "I'll close the curtains if you don't want to see."

Distractedly, I shake my head. "Closing the curtains won't prevent them from killing that concubine. Pretending it doesn't exist won't stop it from happening again."

She sighs wistfully. "I know... I'm sorry. There's nothing we can do."

My brow furrows, my thoughts having flown elsewhere. "But if we could..."

Meir. There is no way to know how large or prepared the resistance truly is, but the last time I had spoken with Meir, it had seemed that they were merely waiting for the opportune moment to strike. And if I could provide them with that opportunity...

I turn to Adlyn, my pulse already beginning to race. "You helped me out of the palace once. Do you think you could do it again?"

The younger girl's eyes flash with surprise. "I—I think so. What for?"

I look out to the courtyard, my eyes raking across the bright sun-bleached stones, and resolve builds in my chest like a pillar of steel.

"There's someone I need to see."

A/N

This chapter was a bit shorter than I'd initially planned, but I want to keep posting regularly <3 As always, next update will be out in a week!

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Until next chapter,

Icelynn :3