I glanced at Cass, confused.
“Technically, Rook is forbidden from entering the city,” she said simply.
I gaped at her. Banished to the mortal plane? Forbidden from entering the Court of Light and Life? Who exactly was this quiet, stoic friend of Lark’s who had saved me from falling off a cliff just moments ago? I chanced a glance back at him but he wasn’t looking my way. He was staring out at the city below with something akin to sorrow in his expression.
The climb was torturous for a mortal such as myself. I didn’t have the stamina of the Fae and I was breathing harder and sweating worse than any of them by the time we made it halfway down. I stopped then, pulling my sweater up and over my head so that I was only in my tight gray racer back tank that matched my thin gray leggings.
Cass had chosen the ensemble herself, warning me that athletic attire, something that could breathe and withstand the heat, would be the most appropriate clothing for the journey and deciding upon gray to show that I belonged to no court. When I had bristled at that, she had taken my hand gently and explained that, while there was nothing she wanted more than to see me in black, I should take my time with the decision. Declaring yourself to be part of a court, wearing their colors, particularly when spending so much time with the royal family of said court, was no small decision. I decided not to tell her that her brother had already dressed me head to toe in the color of their court himself while we were in the mortal plane. It seemed like something that might start a fight and, though I was curious to see the results of that fight, it felt an unwise thing to start a fight between two siblings while the other two were trying to kill them. Or, at least, trying to kill Lark.
“Are you coming?” Rook asked, peeking his head back around the stone which they had all already passed ahead of me.
I took a deep breath and tied my sweater around my waist and nodded. He took one look at my exposed shoulders and grinned.
“Don’t,” I warned, and he just burst into a fit of laughter, reaching out a hand.
I took it, grateful for the assistance as the steps closer to the bottom had grown more and more rickety. Still, I couldn’t help but trail my fingers along the smooth sandstone as we passed it. The beautiful beige and ivory natural striped pattern was intoxicating, as it seemed to envelop the entire city within a sort of vortex motif.
When we finally reached the city below, we stepped onto a street that looked paved with sand itself, compacted and hardened but just as white and pristine as the loose sand blowing in the breeze on the cliffs above. Lark’s penetrating gaze passed over me once we were within eyesight of one another again, lingering on the part of my appearance that had changed. I didn’t dare tell him to stop. I wasn’t sure that I wanted to.
It had been a long time since any man looked at me how Lark always seemed to. And I didn’t mean the brief flares of desire. I meant the way he always examined me as if I had a puzzle etched on my face and he was forever missing one of the pieces. Like he was always curious about what I might do next and always surprised about what I chose. But he still didn’t trust me. I knew that because I didn’t trust him either. Not entirely. There were things that both of us weren’t telling each other but maybe we didn’t need to.
Rook pointed and Lark tore his gaze away from me and then we were moving and I could breathe again. I strode beside Cass on our way through the city. At first, she pointed out a thing or two, muttering a historical fact or cultural tidbit. This is the most famous jewelers in the whole plane. They have the absolute best olives here. There’s a woman who plays the harp at the top of the Tower of the Sun on the same day every year, some mournful lament, and no one knows why. But her commentary became less and less the deeper into the city we walked and then broke off entirely.
No one looked at us. No one stopped and stared as we passed, the Fae in their pure black that stood out in sharp contrast in this city of white, and me wearing clothes that so obviously did not belong in this place, sweating from the climb and huffing my way up the sand streets. I couldn’t have appeared more mortal if I’d tattooed the word across my forehead.
I guessed, from the direction we were walking and the surrounding buildings, that the Ivory Throne was the palatial estate just ahead of us, embellished with more gold than any of the others, huge golden gates cutting off the street just ahead.
“Bone Court,” a high, feminine voice cooed from nearby. I glanced ahead to find an ethereal-looking woman with long brown hair falling below her breasts, little pink flowers woven within it, standing on the other side of the gate.
“We are here to see Sophierial,” Lark said simply, his tone clipped compared to the girl’s melodic cooing.
“I am not permitted—”
“We seek refuge at the Court of Light and Life.”
Her jaw snapped shut. Her eyes widened just a fraction as she took us in then, all of us, those immortal eyes sliding over my companions and then landing on me. She gave a soft gasp of surprise.
“If you could fetch Sophierial—”
“Canis,” someone called out then, a soft and delicate voice.
I looked past the girl with the brown hair to see another striding up behind her, arms outstretched so that the long sleeves of her gossamer gown trailed behind her along with the train of her skirts. She wore a crown of ivy in her long auburn waves. Freckles dotted her nose and cheeks, leading up to her brown eyes. She looked young, even younger than us, but something in her eyes told me she was the oldest one here. Or, at least, close.
“Sophierial,” Lark replied, jaw clenched at the sound of his true name.
I looked between them, considering. She had called him Canis, not Lark, a name that he had claimed his friends called him. His words from before we shadowstepped away from the Court of Wanderers hit me then, a reminder, a warning.
When you meet them, it’s going to seem like they are the embodiment of all things good. Just remember they aren’t all that different from us.
“What trouble have you brought to my door?” Sophierial asked, her eyes sweeping over us in the same way her sentry’s had, lingering on me.
“We seek refuge,” Lark repeated and then added, narrowing his gaze to a point, “and hospitality.”
“Which you shall have.”
She clapped her hands and the sentry jumped to attention, standing straight and awaiting her orders.
“Canis, you may follow me to the dining hall. It’s nearing lunch and you must be starving from the climb. Semyaza, take the girls to the dressing room. Let them freshen up and find the mortal something… immortal to wear.”
