“Correct.” He tilts his chin up slightly but I can see my words cause some type of pain.
“That part is being handled,” the queen states blandly, expression bored.
“And does anyone know why my sister was there?” I ask my attention still on him. “Why would she go to the portal?”
“I cannot comment on that.” he states with an apology tinting his tone.
“And was she with anyone else?” I push forward. I see Isolde look in his direction from the corner of my eye.
“I cannot comment on that,” his words going more brisk and to the point.
“Why would humans from the portal want to kill her? I didn’t think we had much to do with their world.”
His eyes cut to Isolde and then back to the wall. “I cannot?—”
“Comment on that.” I deliberately step into his line of vision. “So you know nothing?”
“We’re continuing to investigate. Some information is privileged for the safety of the kingdom.” He has slipped back into his wooden demeanor that started this conversation.
I don’t expect to learn any more from him. “Right. So can I go now?” I turn towards Isolde.
“Yes, the seamstress is waiting for us.”
My shoulders drop, but I don’t argue. I didn’t learn anything beyond what Cillian already told me, and I’m tired of the lack of answers. I’ll find them on my own. If I’m “privileged” enough for them.
As Isolde leads me through the castle, she fills me in on the lessons I will begin immediately. With a plan to start first thing in the morning, she leaves me with a human female holding a cloth measuring tape.
If I had more of my clothes here, I would be offended that they were pushing a new wardrobe on me so quickly. If Nova and I shared the same element, I fully believe they would shove me into her wardrobe, since they seem to think we’re interchangeable. But Nova almost exclusively wore impractical, elaborate gowns. And with the seamstress inquiring about my preferences, I have a seed of hope that I will actually like my new clothes.
The rest of the day is spent having every leaf of my body measured before being handed off to two females who have a gleam in their eyes as they give me a once over. Makeup and hair products sit behind them like an arsenal ready to attack.
As the sun is setting, I am finally led to a dark green room with wooden accents where they put all my stuff. I take in the beauty as the servant shuts the door behind them. Leaving me alone for the first time since I walked into the castle this morning. I sit down on the massive bed, but I’m afraid to lie back in case I mess up all the hard work they just completed.
Thankfully my hair is the same, just styled better than I could ever do myself. But my makeup is over the top—similar to what Nova did every day.
My fingers trace the vines that hold the bed and the beautiful stone-colored bedding above the floor. There’s no doubt this room is a step up from my flat.
I drum my toes against the cold flooring and scrunch my nose, realizing it isn’t natural wood. Whoever designed this room did a stunning job but clearly wasn’t an Earth Fae with the ability to ground. I walk over to the live wall and run my hand along the moss-covered stone. Small plants are peeking out between the cracks in the rocks. Thankfully I brought some of my favorite plants with me, because this won’t be enough.
While it is beautiful, being closed in this room makes me want to climb the walls. The sooner I can get out of this life, the better. But I need answers before I can do that.
After being releasedfrom the second day of lessons, I stick my head into the hall and creep out of my room. I tiptoe through the corridor, heading back in the direction of the offices I saw the day I moved in. Yesterday’s search of Nova’s bedroom was fruitless so I’m hoping her study has more than the pretty dresses to search through.
After one wrong turn, I’m able to find the right area and subtly begin glancing into open doorways. Most have been left ajar, but a few at the end of the hall remain closed. I pass Isolde’s private study, then gently attempt to open two doors, first listening for any voices inside. Both are locked, and I move further down the hall. One of the last doors pushes open easily when I turn the knob.
The delicate scent of white jasmine surrounds me. The smell I will always associate with my sister. I hurry into Nova’s study—more of a dressing room, really—and ease the door shut. One of the windows that cover the wall is still cracked open, blowing the floor-to-ceiling gossamer curtains in the wind she loved so much. The fresh air swirls around the room, making me feel closer to my sister than I have since the bond was broken.
As I look around the room, my heart sinks a little in my chest. While I can feel her presence here, the space has few personal touches beyond the typical décor for a Wind Fae. Nothing screams “Nova.” Nothing tells me more about the sister I knew so little about. The space is bland, void of personality. Just like they had raised her to be—present but not heard. My shoulders drop as I realize it’s unlikely that I’ll find anything useful about my twin in this room.
I run my fingers through number windchimes and wind instruments in the corner of the room. I walk over to the changing area in the corner with its full-length mirror and small vanity.
Carefully sliding each drawer open, I find meticulously organized jewelry, makeup, and fragrant oils. I trace the outlines of a few of the magnificent jewels set in every type of metal you could imagine. There’s jewelry to match every possible Wind-elemental color, the perfect accessory for any dress.
Closing the last drawer, I take a deep breath and head to the elegant inlaid wooden desk. Everything there is equally organized. Slim books about past queens, etiquette, and royal events. Folders with calendars and menus.
When I reach the bottom drawer, there’s a light-blue leather-bound notebook hidden under a stack of new ones. The leather is soft and worn, the binding cracked from use. A flicker of hope for answers blooms inside of me.
But when I try to open the pages, the book fights against me.Locked. Though nothing appears to be holding it shut. I flip the book over in my hand, studying it. Again, I try to pry at the cover, attempting to pull it apart to no avail.
