The king brokered a deal.The Treaty of the Fall.
The treaty became a safeguard. The pillaging, the ravaging—it was over as suddenly as it had begun. Relief had come just in time. Another few weeks of upheaval and Kava would have likely been absorbed by another kingdom, their people and culture washed away like it had never been there at all.
A political miraclewas what the people whispered. The love for Garrison Blatz was almost akin to worship amongst the older generations. In the darkest night, he had preserved their home even if it was no longer what it once was, and for that they loved him.
But ever since that fateful day when magic died, every last thing within their kingdom had become kissed with soot. Elysia had once seen a tear rolling down a child’s face leave dark speckles in its wake. The sight had nearly broken her, given that it meant the child would soon die. Once the soot was inside you, there was no stopping it. Eventually, your blood ran black with it and your lips turned gray. People called anyone who contracted it the Fallen.
The charcoal laced mist suddenly looked far more haunting than ethereal. If the gray tinged skies in their infinite freedom could not escape this destiny, then neither could the ants of civilization below.
Elysia sped up her steps as the castle came into sight. Wet and bedraggled, she was more than ready to be dry. She approached the servants’ entrance, eyeing the singular man in uniform. He stood there, resting against the wall, cap tipped down over his eyes.Nothing like getting paid for an afternoon snooze.Not that she was complaining. This was exactly why she preferred the servants’ entrances.
The front gates tended to be overstaffed. A pompous show of strength that was ridiculous, considering the guards were more gossipy than a bunch of women in a sewing circle. Eager to earn a coin or favor, they’d happily narc on her in an instant for parading around muddy and unkempt. No reason to piss off her mother before the meeting even started.
The sleeping guard didn’t so much as stir as she strode past. She smiled and lit a single candle before descending beneath the castle. Lower and lower she went, the air quickly turning staleand old. She ducked into the old concrete corridors that wound below the enormous castle like a labyrinth. The halls crumbled with dust and it was only the candle in her hand that pushed back the dark even in midafternoon.
She’d always felt at home in these twisting, winding halls, though. There were no marks, no signs. She wondered if one could even learn their way if they had not crept through the tunnels since birth. Remy knew a few shortcuts throughout the castle, but Daphne had always declared them to bequite creepyand never set foot within them.
She turned one more corner and paused, feeling for the rounded entrance that would open into stairs and then a closet near her room. A few moments later, the fresh smell of linens hit her nose. Her shoulders relaxed, enjoying the pleasant familiar scent. And then the door swung open. Flame beneath her face, looking like a long-lost ghost, Elysia nearly startled a maid half to death.
Her lips turned up laughingly, a shine gleaming in her eye. “Oh, I scared you! I’m sorry—I didn’t want to drip down the main halls.” She held her drenched cloak out in explanation.
The maid couldn’t have been much older than sixteen years, with curly auburn hair and fair pink skin. She darted back, apologizing profusely. “So sorry, so sorry.”
Elysia started at the sight of the woman’s abject terror, but before she could offer another word of comfort, the young woman fled the closet with two towels tucked under her arms.
She frowned. A maid who she didn’t recognize that almost peed herself at the sight of a Parker? Her mother must be on the warpath again.Typical.
Her mother was not what she needed today.
She needed a damn nap and to be left alone.
Elysia trudged the last few waterlogged steps to her old rooms and dug out her castle keys. She'd always enjoyedstudying any of the castle keys she could get her hands on. They were so unlike the keys anywhere else. Perhaps, in the older northern half of Relaclave, one might find something similar on occasion, but not in the south side.
For all its modern buildings, the south side always felt lacking to Elysia. She could never quite put her finger on it, but there was something missing with all the standardized and oh so practically designed floor plans. There were no sweeping arches with curves like a woman’s back. No ornately carved buildings that had all been touched by an artist’s hands, or brilliant domes stretching their finger to the sky. She missed the sharp dark lines outlining the cream shapes.
She illogically loved the charcoal city, no matter how it wronged her over and over again.
Elysia held her old room key to the light to inspect the scrolling marks and symbols etched into its body. Despite the key’s age, the markings held true. Her eyes drank in the clear craftsmanship and skill that had turned a mere key into art.
The locks tumbled like any other door, though, and she brushed aside her fanciful questions. She was to meet Georgia Parker in less than an hour and she looked like a cat thrown into a muddy puddle. Flicking a switch, she listened to the hum of the light bulbs as they began to glow. Amber tinted light streamed across the room and she smiled. She still wasn’t convinced electricity wasn’t magic. Unlike the average home in Kava that still used oil lamps and chandeliers, the castle was slowly being renovated to include electric lighting. They lived in a strange world of innovation now, with new inventions from Relaclave’s iconic gas lamps to coal kitchen ranges and steam-powered ships constantly springing up. She’d even heard the engineers who’d designed the steamships were tinkering with steam-powered carriages.
Wet clothes fell with loud slaps to the floor as she tossed them overhead. Thank the undead gods for whoever kept up her room—her own flat was a hopeless mess that she had given up ever keeping completely clean. She shivered, dancing her bare feet on what felt like ice beneath her toes and berated herself for not first lighting a fire.
The fireplace’s sea-foam white bricks swept up in a low, deep arch and a flame-darkened grate rested in the space below. Carefully positioning a few logs, she sprinkled a pinch of dried juniper and rosemary.
Damn near nothing grew in Kavian soil, and it killed her botany loving soul. Herbs, spices, vegetables.Flowers.The majority of these prizes were imported from other lands. There were forests and mosses that managed to survive the loss of magic, but that was about it. As much as she’d like to blame it on the shit weather and lack of sun, that wasn’t the whole problem. Things like potatoes and carrots should have still done alright then. The soot, the inability to grow food, and the blackened sky were all consequences of the Fall.
Given how expensive food had become after the Fall, the average Kavian diet relied heavily on what could be mined from the sea. Growing up within the castle, she’d been spoiled with all types of meats and vegetables and spices imported from around the world. Now living on her own, she sometimes ate chowder three times a day, just like anybody else. She knew how lucky she was to have been fed a varied and nutritious diet throughout her formative years, to be able to swing the occasional treat at a place like Fillie’s.
She struck a match, pausing to watch the small, smoldering flames. She stayed there an extra moment, mesmerized by the sight.There’s just something about a fire, isn’t there?Elysia took a deep inhale, the sweet smoke curling into her nose. It brought a fleeting peace that was gone too soon, leaving abittersweet weight in its place. Brushing ash from her fingers, she stood, knowing she was running out of time.
A quick bath and she was wrapped in a towel, rifling through her closet, hunting for clothes that would appease her mother. Clean and simple would be best. A woolen burgundy skirt that swirled around her thighs and a silky long-sleeve top tucked in neatly. Fumbling to wrench on her stockings, she cursed and almost toppled to the ground. Tugging everything into place, she fanned her face. Why did getting dressed feel like exercise sometimes? Hands on her hips, she glanced at the timepiece on the mantel, thinking she should be on her way.
A heavy knock rapped on the door. Elysia opened it and was handed a small envelope. The envelope bore the seal of her family, and Elysia let out a groan of annoyance, already knowing what its contents would bear.
Must reschedule. Meet me in two days. Same time. GP
Elysia crumpled the note into a ball and chucked it straight into the fire. This was just like her mother. Demanding she come today, and then rescheduling no more than ten minutes before the meeting as if she wasn’t an adult with her own life and schedule to navigate.
