Mortal Fantasy

✴｜chapter thirty

I sit by the terrace, my knees folded to my chest as I look through the paned glass doors. It is the height of spring, when the golden bloods will be preparing for the annual eve's ball, an occasion which is prized for their momentary inattention to the people. At home, these would have been happier times—a welcoming of the harvest season, filled with dance and drink and laughter. The memories of the tavern, of the apothecary and the hill by the lake, seem far away; now I can only watch the budding trees about the courtyard and try to admire their beauty, all while I am trapped here in the palace, like a butterfly against a glass.

The warm springtime breath through the eaves has done nothing to calm my constant unease—since the last night I have barely slept, tormented by my thoughts. Idly I trace patterns on the glass, my other arm wrapped about my knees, and try to focus. Finding my mother might offer some clarifying piece to the puzzle of the queen's true intentions, but how can I be certain as to her whereabouts? Seven years have passed since I last saw her; there is almost no way to know whether she stays in the palace as a servant, concubine or prisoner. If there is, Adlyn might provide my best chance—yet despite having protected my secrets in front of the queen, I cannot be certain she will do so again. After all, sneaking about the palace in hopes of finding my mother is no inconspicuous task.

Another thought surfaces, and I still. For all I know, my mother could very well be...

The soft clink of silver shatters my reverie, and I lift my head to see Adlyn at the other end of the room. She holds a platter of fruits and viands, balanced rather precariously in her small arms; the display is so innocent, so void of pretense, that it makes me inwardly cringe at how easily I had been deceived. I want to believe that the queen's assignment was the only secret she had been keeping from me, yet my uncertainty festers at the thought of confiding in her again. How can I trust a girl so disciplined in hiding the truth?

"Ithena," Adlyn murmurs. "You haven't eaten the entire morning. Please, have something."

I lower my head into my arms to stare out the glass, a bitter flavor in my mouth. "It's alright. I'm not hungry."

"You will lose your strength," she persists quietly. "And you barely ate before you left for the tavern yesterday—"

"I'm fine," I say sharply, immediately regretting how severe the words sound once they are out of my mouth. "I—" I exhale roughly, irritated with myself. "It's alright. Just keep it on the table there."

"As you wish," is all Adlyn says, and I feel a brief pang at the resignation in her voice. Her footsteps begin to subside along the floor, but then she pauses at the threshold of the room. "I... is there anything else you'd like?"

I hesitate. I may not trust her, at least not yet—last night has proven that she is capable of much more than I had ever imagined, and she may very well be forced to speak in front of the queen. But if there is any possibility she may know of my mother...

I have to take this risk.

"Adlyn," I say, carefully. "Is there any chance... you knew of a concubine named Lileas Avonstef?"

The young maid is silent a few moments; she seems to be lost in thought. A terse beat passes between us, and she says softly, "Is that your mother's name?"

My mouth tightens. "Do you have any recollection of that name at all?"

There is a brief pause, after which she answers, "I'm sorry. I don't remember any specific concubine with that name. As it is, the servants are rarely privy to that sort of information..."

I dig my fingers into my knees, trying to stifle my disappointment. Of course she wouldn't know—there are dozens of concubines within the palace, hundreds of them. I sigh and lean against the glass, already feeling defeated; it is foolish to think she might have run into my mother, of all people...