“Stars, your teeth are sharp,” I whisper.
She nods as if I need her to confirm this fact, and my lips kick up at the edges.
“Did you sleep well?” I ask, and she nods again. “I’m glad to hear that.”
I find Tig waiting at the end of the bed with her head cocked to the side.
“How about you? Did you sleep all right?”
She shrugs, then nods, a little less enthused by the sleepover than her sister appears to be. I pry myself from my warm bed and the sisters help me dress for the day before I ring the service bell, asking Enrik to have breakfast sent to my room. The sprites make quick work of my morning bowl ofberries, and I tuck the information away in my pile of curious sprite facts. It can’t be the only thing they eat, otherwise they would have no need of their pointed teeth. It’s not hard to imagine them tearing into flesh as the juices from a particularly plump raspberry slide down Eon’s chin in a thick ribbon of red.
“Awri took me to see a seamstress yesterday. The masquerade has a fea theme and she’ll be sewing my costume,” I tell them.
Though the few conversations I’ve had with the sprites have been largely one sided, they do seem to enjoy the engagement.
“Would you like to know what my costume will be?” I ask around a small piece of dried fruit.
The sisters nod enthusiastically as I tell them, “Bagya,” then quickly shake their heads from side to side and furrow their brows.
“It isn’t that bad,” I say and Tig quirks a brow at me. “I’m sure the dress will be lovely.” I hope it is.
I catch a glimpse of Awri’s carriage coming up the drive and give the sprites a quick goodbye before heading for the courtyard. My dark blue dress kicks up in the light breeze wrapping about my ankles as I haul myself onto the bench. The carriage jolts forward the moment I close the door, delivering me to Awri’s cottage not long after.
The front door is open when I arrive and I let myself inside, the small act making me feel a little more welcome than I have been before. Awri stands across the table with Riesh on one side and Kishek on the other. The general looms over a thick stack of papers, glaring down from the head of the table, knuckles white where he grips the edges. At least this time his glower isn’t directed at me.
“Good morning,” Awri says, beaming, and runs around the table to greet me.
Kishek and Riesh share a grin when their heads bob up and they catch sight of me walking through the door.
“Good morning. What is all that?” I ask, pointing to the papers splayed out beneath the general’s arms.
“Battle plans,” he says, and I wince when he turns to meet my eyes.
The bruise is worse than I expected. But his proclamation of warquickly overshadows the shame I feel for inflicting the mark. I step toward the table, my stomach sinking in on itself.
“Battle plans for what?” I wonder, my stomach pitting.
“He means plans for the masque,” Awri giggles.
I try to laugh along with her but when the noise sounds as nervous as I feel, I clear my throat instead. Of course, they wouldn’t invite me into a room where they are discussing war.
“I heard you managed to land one on Xeyvian last night when he followed you into the forest,” Riesh says. My eyes whip up to him, only to find him boasting a wide smile and a gleam in his eye.
I turn to assess the general wondering what else he told them.
“Is that what you heard?” I ask, a little too amused. “I was under the impression I fell into a shallow pit. As helpless maidens tend to do.”
“I told you, your uncle would have had too many questions,” the general says.
I shrug as if I’m completely unbothered that his friends have been told his version of events, entirely unsure how that story might differ from the one I would tell.
“I’m just surprised you wanted your friends to know I’m responsible for that.” I gesture toward the bruise.
“I was caught off guard. It wouldn’t happen again.” He says it so matter-of-factly, resuming his position over the table, that I want to show him just how easily itcouldhappen again.
“I’m not so sure, Xey. She looks like she’s about to prove you wrong,” Riesh says from across the table, and I school my features under his annoyingly amused gaze.
My face is settled into a well-rehearsed indifference by the time the general looks up to see what he’s talking about. I glance down at the papers scattered about the table. Probably for the best that the memory of last night fades with the mark under the general’s eye. Knowledge that I can, at the very least, defend myself is something I would rather have kept secret until there came a time I needed those skills. I’ve lost the benefit of surprise to a small degree, if it ever comes down to it.
