I nod my head towards the pungent concoction being brewed nearby. “Because of that dirty water?”
Her eyebrows knit together. “Limmeth is not dirty water. The first Fae brought the recipe from the old world. Ancient herbs grown in ancient soil. But Baev’kalath has no fertile land, so we have adapted a plant that grows in the mud on the shoreline.”
I cringe. “Delicious.”
She leans close, and my body stiffens. “But you have your own remedies, don’t you? Word has spread like wildfire of how you healed Arax. So why not heal yourself the same way?”
My skin prickles. Being human was enough reason for the Fae to whisper about me with disdain. My ability to heal will drive them into a frenzy.
She wields the powers of the Maledannan.
Those words spoken by the Blades aboard the ship were nothing I have not heard before. The Maledannan might have been our teachers once, but the Tenders surpassed their knowledge. After the war, Fae considered any use of magic by humans to be theft, especially by those who did not fight on their side. Just another excuse for them to despise us.
I shake my head in reply to her question. “I cannot use the gift for myself. For it to work, I must absorb a beings’ suffering. But if I am the one suffering, there is nowhere to channel that pain.”
A maid hands Solena a silver cup sloshing with the murky gray brew and she holds it out to me. “Dirty water it is, then.”
I gingerly take the cup, and I smell it long before it gets close to my mouth. She glares, her hard stare pressuring me to drink, and I change my mind several times before finally throwing it back in one gulp. It tastes as horrible as I imagined, bitter then gritty as it goes down the throat. I screw up my face and hand her the cup, which she sets down on the table as the other maids bring the hot water, towels and bandages.
“I’m going to dress your wound now,” she says before setting straight to work.
With all the delicateness of a wild boar, she unwraps the black cloth. Her eyes linger on the fabric and I wonder if it was her bed Daed visited last night. Perhaps that is why I feel the contempt in her eyes. She wishes to be a princess instead.Well, she is welcome to it.
Solena may not be gentle, but she is thorough and quick. She cleans the wound, then takes the bandage and wraps my palm three times over before tossing back my hand with a weary groan.
I furrow my brow, feeling a little worse than when she started as the bitterness lingers at the back of my throat. I swing my legs over the bed and sit upright before the world tilts violently, my vision blurring as the room spins around me.
“Do you still feel unwell?” Solena asks with mild concern.
“I’m just tired,” is my response as I pinch the bridge of my nose. I don’t believe that’s all it is.
There’s a weakness crawling through my veins. I feel it taking over, so slowly you might mistake it for an awful night’s sleep. But I am in touch with my body enough to know when something is wrong. Perhaps it is just the cut in my palm. Maybe I will feel better in a day or two. I can think of only one way to be sure.
“I want some time alone,” I state. “Can you leave me?”
“Do you want us to dress you?” Solena asks, gesturing to the gown I’m still wearing.
“I don’t need you to dress me every morning. I’ve got this far in life confidently dressing and undressing myself.”
“Clearly not,” Solena quips. “You are still in your dress from last night.”
“I command you to leave,” I grunt with exasperation. “Is that something I can do?”
“You are the princess now. You can do as you please,” Solena says, but even that feels like an insult from her lips. She bows nonetheless and the other maids follow. “If you need anything, ring for us.”
The maids file out of the room one by one and as soon as the doors close behind them, I climb to my feet. It takes a moment to get my balance, then I take a deep breath and reach behind my back, yanking at the hooks that keep me bound in this dress. I grit my teeth as I wrestle with the last button, and finally the mass of silk and lace falls in a pile at my feet.
The sleeveless tunic underneath leaves little to the imagination, so sheer that I can make out every curve and intimate detail of my body, but this cinched waist does not belong to me. The hooks of the dress had already pushed me to exhaustion, but I muster a burst of will strong enough to loosen the strings of the corset and rip it from my body with such exuberance that I throw it straight through the arches and over the balcony.
A snort of laughter slips past my hand before I can stop it, the relief bubbling up uncontrollably.
Good riddance.
Finally free, I stride over to the table where my serpentine vine rests, its pale green tendrils twisting in quiet repose. With a softsmile, I gently pour water from the pitcher, watching it soak into the soil.
“Good morning, friend,” I exhale, running my thumb gently along her stem. “How was your first night?”
When she remains silent, concern knits my brow, and as I lean in, I spot one of her newly grown leaves lying beside the bowl. I pinch the fallen leaf between my fingers and bring it closer, squinting to focus. Its edges have curled, the tip already turning brown. How could it have withered so fast? It had only just unfurled. I glance through the arch and to the sky, the densely packed storm clouds not allowing even a glimpse of sunlight, but there is no point in finding her a better position. Not a single spot in Baev’kalath is any better.
