I pivot toward the wardrobe, fling the doors open and the sprites tumble out in a heap. One yawns theatrically while the other curses. Then they immediately start bickering with each other.
I do not have time for this.
I step straight over them and into the wardrobe, shutting the door firmly behind me. When I am finally dressed, and as presentable as one can be after changing inside a wardrobe, I step back into the room.
Atilia still stands beside the bed, her posture rigid, her gaze fixed so completely on Luceran that she does not look up when the wardrobe door opens. Not when it closes again. Not when I pause, lingering longer than necessary, half expecting her to speak, to issue an instruction, to ask something of me.
She says nothing.
I do not dare move closer, but even from here I can see the faint blush blooming along Luceran’s skin, where once there had been only that cold blue pallor.
Curled beside him through the night, our bodies wrapped together in shared heat, I had desperately hoped it might help.
It did.
Now there is nothing left to do but wait, and as I watch Atilia, I eventually understand that whatever she needs in this moment, it is not conversation. So I turn back to my responsibilities, the ones that did not pause simply because of the tragedy at the mines.
If I can be of no more help in Castle Frostwyn, then perhaps the Aurevault could use me.
I head for the carriage, summoning the sprites, whom I find in the pantry stuffing their faces with berries. They follow me outside, where they lower the carriage step and help me climb in. Once I’m settled, they scramble up to the driver’s seat, take the reins, and we set off.
I don’t know what I will find waiting for me at the Aurevault. I don’t know who survived that terrible day, or how badly the tunnels were damaged, or how close the mine came to total collapse. But I have to see it with my own eyes.
I have to know if they’re alright. If Pax is alright.
When the carriage finally comes to a halt, I stare out the window and freeze.
Because somehow… it looks almost exactly the same.
Miners move through the yard in their dark overalls and bowl-shaped helmets, dusted with soot, their motions as stiff and uniform as always. But interspersed among them are Fae, draped in fine clothes of pale blue and silver, their hair slicked back and braided neatly down their spines as they work alongside the men.
They operate massive machines unlike anything I have ever seen up close. Gilded mechanisms of elegant design, decorated with baroque swirls, carved wood, and hand painted edges. Regal beauty set among enormous cogs and pistons, spinning and humming with power as they lift, dig, and tow.
The adornments seem completely unnecessary. They add nothing to the function of the machines.
But it would not be Fae craftsmanship if it were not decadent and over the top.
Creation, invention and opulence are what Thyros and House Taramethos are renowned for.
And whatever else may be true, one thing is certain. The Aurevault did not stand still while I was gone. Reconstruction stretches out before me in a way I never imagined it could.
The shattered arches have been rebuilt, not crudely or hastily, but engineered to stand stronger than before. Stone has been set cleanly into place, reinforced with enormous timber supports etched faintly with runes.
A towering pile of rubble sits to the side of the entrance, rock shattered from the cave in and dragged out into the light. Carts full of new gear, coats, helmets, and axes are wheeled inside, ready for the next shift to begin without a hitch.
I step down from the carriage slowly, taking it all in.
When Atilia said she had sent her people, I hadn’t understood what that truly meant. I had imagined a handful of attendants, perhaps a small entourage dispatched out of obligation.
Not this. This is a court.
A full, disciplined force moving with quiet efficiency. So structured and so organized, every motion has a purpose. The Fae direct and distribute, standing tall and lithe among the humans, so utterly out of place amongst dirt and dust, and the humans obey these Fae without question. Atilia’s Fae. Her court, and suddenly, the way I once saw her feels… laughable.
That I mistook her for a common servant like myself is astonishing now. I have been working alongside a Fae noble this entire time, someone whochoseto cook, to sweep halls, to tend fires with her own hands.
Not because she had to.
But because shewantedto.
