“Oh gods, I’m sorry.” I stepped back, putting space between us.
“No apology needed.” Lira raised an eyebrow, glancing pointedly at the dagger in my hand. “But I do have to wonder… where did you get that?”
My cheeks flushed faintly, and I tucked the dagger into a drawer. “Let’s just say I’ve learned to be prepared.” I managed a tight-lipped smile.
Lira chuckled. “Fair enough. Though perhaps a little less preparation would do for an early morning greeting.”
I offered a sheepish smile, but Lira appeared unfazed. She led me out of the room and into the hall, where she opened a chest of drawers. She hesitated, glancing between me and the contents.
After a moment, she handed me a woven blouse and a pair of pants, both crafted from silken, high-quality fabric. “Here,” shesaid, with a gesture to a chamber across the hall. “There’s a room where you can dress.”
I accepted the clothes and slipped into the room, pulling them on. The fabric was cool and comforting against my skin, finer than anything I’d worn in ages.
I adjusted my collar as I studied myself in the mirror.
I knew the face reflected there.
But it wasn’t mine.
I ran a hand over my skin, expecting the same texture, but it was… different. Smoother. Warmer.
My long copper-red hair gleamed, almost glowing, deeper and bolder than before. My freckles stood out like marks on a map I hadn’t drawn. My eyes—gods, my eyes—they cleaved through the glass. Too bright. Too beautiful.
My features had taken on a subtle, fierce edge. Each hardship I’d faced had carved its mark, leaving me with a presence that was seasoned, experienced beyond my thirty years. I had always been considered pretty, but this was different, otherworldly. The person staring at me was almost unrecognisable.
As I gathered my hair into a braid, an unfamiliar shape caught my eye, one that shouldn’t be there.
My heart faltered. A beat missed. A beat stolen.
I leaned closer as my fingers brushed back my hair to trace what should have been the curve of my ears. Instead, they were pointed, subtly but undeniably, tapering to a delicate, sharp edge.
I staggered back. My lungs forgot how to function, strangled by a cold so deep it felt alive. My fingers curled against the wall, pressed into the stone, willing its solidity to hold me together.This was what I chose,I reminded myself. But it did little to quiet the strange, unsettling stir beneath my skin.
I fought the wild urge to dash down the hall, to check my children’s ears, though I knew what I would find.
Once dressed, I stepped into the hall where Lira waited, holding multiple pairs of boots. “Try these,” she said, as she set them on the ground. I slipped on a pair that fit snugly, grateful for the feel of sturdy soles beneath my feet.
Lira stepped back and gave me a look of quiet approval. “At the end of this hall, you’ll find the High Lord’s private dining room. He’s expecting you.”
The word “expecting” caught in my chest.
“And the children?” She asked, watching my face. “If they wake, shall I bring them to the dining hall? Or would you prefer they eat here and perhaps join me in the garden for a bit?”
I glanced back toward the room where they slept. I pictured them in the garden, running through the sunlight, their laughter carrying on the wind.
“If they wake, let them eat here,” I said, my voice softer than I meant it to be. “Then… let them go to the garden.”
“Very well,” she said with a kind smile. “I’ll look after them.”
I offered one last grateful glance before heading down the hall. Each step a decision I couldn’t take back. As I neared the door to the dining hall, hunger rumbled in my gut. I couldn’t remember the last time we’d had a decent meal.
Surely fae food was different?I hesitated, but the pang in my stomach overruled any reservations.
I squared my shoulders and pushed the doors open.
The smell of food hit me first, rich and familiar. Across the long table, plates were piled high with roasted quail, stacks of potatoes, vibrant fruits, and trays of delicate pastries. It was abundance in a way I had forgotten. And that, more than anything, turned my hunger to ash.
“Morning.” I looked up to see Varyth seated at the head of the table.
