The shimmer that surrounds her is unnaturally bright today, so much so that I can’t meet her gaze without the light stinging my eyes.
“No, thank you,” I reply again, reaching for more bread. Anything to keep her at a distance.
Lanneth exhales, the sound heavy with frustration, just as I knock over a glass vase. It crashes to the floor, shattering into jagged pieces.
“Damn it,” I mutter, instinctively reaching down to collect the shards.
Lanneth snaps her fingers toward the servant standing nearby. “Leave it, Amara. They can clean it up.”
But I ignore her, whether out of stubbornness or a need to focus on something other than this gnawing hunger. I continue picking up the shards, my movements clumsy and unfocused. It’s only a matter of time before a sharp piece slices into my palm. Blood wells up immediately, hot and painful, dripping onto the table as the broken glass slips from my fingers and shatters further.
“You silly girl,” Lanneth scolds, her voice cold with irritation. “Look at what you’ve done.”
I glare at her, prepared to snap back, but my anger dissolves into pure horror. Her shimmer is gone. In its place, her face… it’s not hers. Not anymore.
The skin hanging from her skeletal frame is sagging and grotesque, stretched like thin leather over sharp bones. Her mouth is a gaping hole of crooked, broken teeth, her eyes are nothing but empty, black voids. And there, in the center of her forehead, is the mark—an inverted crescent, dark and jagged, just like the one I saw on the Archdruid at our wedding when he cut my palm. I stumble back, my heart racing as I knock over the chair behind me. A silent scream catches in my throat as I backpedal, desperate to put distance between myself and the monster she’s become.
Lanneth rises from her chair, reaching out toward me with skeletal hands. “Amara,” she growls, her voice low and dangerous, “what is wrong with you? Look at me.”
I can’t. I squeeze my eyes shut, trembling, my back pressed against the cold stone wall. I can still feel her presence, looming, suffocating.
“Do as I say, girl!” she snaps, her voice sharper now, filled with impatient command.
Slowly, fearfully, I force my eyes open, just a sliver. But the monster is gone. Lanneth stands before me, appearing as she always has, poised and immaculate, her face elegant and refined, the shimmer back in place.
Everything I just saw… vanished as though it never existed.
“Forgive me,” I stammer, stumbling toward the doors of the dining room. “I have to go.”
Lanneth’s voice follows me, but I don’t look back. I clutch the hem of my dress and run—away from her, away from the horrors my eyes can no longer seem to avoid. My heart poundsin time with my footsteps, the weight of her gaze clinging to my back. Only when I reach the sanctuary of my chambers do I let my body give in, collapsing onto the bed, my breath ragged, my mind a mess of tangled thoughts.
I press my face into the pillow, desperate to hold back the tears threatening to spill. My fingernails dig into the fabric, clutching at it like it might somehow anchor me, keep me from spiraling further into the darkness. What is wrong with me? Why do I keep seeing these horrors? Ghosts, demons, monsters—it's as though they’ve been waiting, creeping at the edges of my vision, only to pounce now that we’ve returned from Pariseth.
A sob hitches in my throat, but before it can escape, I feel the soft, comforting brush of fur against my legs. Ashen. He rubs his smoky back against me, his soft, rhythmic purring like a balm against my fraying nerves. It’s a small comfort, but in this moment, it’s everything.
I tap the bed beside me, inviting him up. He bounds onto the covers with graceful ease, curling into a small ball at my side, his belly exposed in a rare show of vulnerability. I can’t help but smile, my fingers running through the smoky tendrils that drift from his body, scratching him where he likes it most. His purring grows louder, filling the quiet with a sound that soothes the storm inside me. How did Daed know Ashen would wrap himself around my heart in a way that makes everything feel a little less unbearable?
I’m so absorbed in the comforting rhythm of Ashen’s purrs that I barely register Solena’s entrance until she bursts through the door.
“Amara,” she gasps, her eyes wide with worry. “I heard you were hurt?”
Her gaze drops to my hand, and I follow her eyes to the blood trailing down my arm, staining the bed covers. I had completely forgotten.
She hurries to my side, her hands deft as they clamp around my wrist to inspect the wound. I wince as she applies pressure, the sharp sting dragging me back to the present.
“Again?” she mutters, incredulous. “How does this keep happening?”
I don’t answer. My focus drifts to Ashen’s purrs, still steady beneath my touch, as if nothing in the world could disturb him. Solena works quickly, wrapping my hand in fresh bandages, though each movement sends a jolt of pain up my arm, awakening me from the haze of last night.
“Pain,” I murmur, the word slipping from my lips, unbidden. “Awaken.”
Solena pauses, her brow furrowing. “What was that?”
“Only pain can awaken me,” I repeat, stroking Ashen with a calmness that feels at odds with the frenzy inside me.
Solena mutters something under her breath, likely cursing my rambling nonsense, but I’m not paying attention. Instead, I sit up, watching as Ashen leaps from the bed, his smoky form disappearing into the room’s shadows. My thoughts shift, focusing on something she mentioned at the banquet.
“You spoke of those Fae at the banquet,” I say, my voice distant as I recall the details. “You said they use magic to change their appearance.”
