“A bathtub,” the Shadow says. “One that’s always full and always hot.”
“A bathtub,” I repeat dumbly.
“Yes.”
I succumb to the demands of my curiosity and swing my feet to the floor, then drift toward the tub as if pulled by invisible strings. The water swirls in welcome, more inviting than any bath I’ve ever seen.
When I draw close, I spot some kind of metal apparatus embedded at the base of the trunk—a nest of wheels and cogs, reminiscent of the wayfarer’s gyre. I lean down to inspect it. Gears whirr within a boxlike contraption of metal and glass.
I reach out, but hesitate to touch anything. “Is this…technology? Or magic?”
Long moments trickle by in which the Shadow doesn’t answer. When I glance back, I find him perchedon the edge of the bed, exactly as before. Only something is wrong, now. One massive hand curls around the headboard, his claws embedded deeply enough to score furrows in the wood. The rest of him strains toward me, held in check only by his grip on the bed. Fangs poke from beneath a peeled-back lip while his chest heaves on a pant.
Then I realize. I’ve just done the one thing he asked me not to.
I whirl to face him, straightening as I go. “Sorry. Ishanna’s blood, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to turn my back on you.”
“You can’t…” His voice splinters around the edges, breaking into equal parts husk and heat. With a lick of his lips, he swallows and tries again. “You can’t do that, Princess. Youcan’t. Not unless you’re giving me permission.”
“I’m not.” A harsh swallow scrapes down my throat, but I keep my words measured, masking the horror underneath. “Of course I’m not. I just forgot.”
A few fraught heartbeats measure out the silence. The Shadow masters himself with obvious effort, his claws retracting from the headboard, the heaving lines of his body forced into submission. “You need to understand,” he says roughly, “that I have very little control, in this form. Almost none.”
I absorb that. “Why not use your fae form, then?”
He holds my eyes for an overlong beat before directing his attention toward the floor. “Because I can’t.”
I frown at that, but he apparently has no intention of elaborating, because he rises from the bed, his movements stark. When he unfolds to his full height, I swear he expands to fill the entire room.
I stem an inhale. Goddess, he’s so…improbable. Beautiful and horrifying all at the same time, and for the briefest of moments, I wonder what he looks like when not encased in armor. From what I can tell, he wears dark linens beneath those leather plates—a navy shirt and pants, maybe, though it’s hard to tell in this ethereal light.
“To answer your question,” he says, not looking at me, “the bathtub is powered by technologyandmagic. Here in Velindra, they’re almost the same thing. Beyond the ability to shift, most fae don’t have intrinsic magic, so we harness what power we do possess, then focus it using machinery. It’s a complicated art, one only the most skilled masters canmanage, but it makes magic accessible to everyone. Because magic isn’t a birthright for us, like it is for you.”
I glance away, my bottom lip folding between my teeth. He has no idea, does he? “Actually…I don’t have magic, either. Ishanna hasn’t seen fit to bless me yet.”
His head swings around, the hunger in his eyes replaced by confusion. “I thought all Aethrolian royalty had magic.”
The words land like a blade against my throat. I must flinch, because his stance softens, his eyebrows drawing together.
“Sorry,” he says. “I didn’t mean?—”
“No,” I say, not wanting his pity. “It’s fine. I should be used to it. I’ve been the odd one out for years now. The useless one. Thefailure.”
The divot between his brows deepens. “You’re anything but a failure, Princess.Anythingbut. For me, you’re nothing short of a miracle.”
The declaration sparks a fiery ember in my chest, but I twine my hands together until the warmth flickers out. I won’t let this heathen endear himself to me. “I’m no one’s miracle. I’m just a magicless human. Which is probably why my father didn’t fight for me, back at the Claiming. Because I haven’t earned my place, like my sisters have. I haven’tprovenmyself. But…” I trail off, swallowing hard enough to smooth out the shakiness in my voice. “That’ll change, once I get home. Once I pledge myself to Ishanna. She’ll bless me then, I know it.”
The Shadow considers me with new eyes, his look softer than I would have thought him capable of. “You shouldn’t need magic for them to accept you,” he says quietly.
I chuckle, dry and humorless. “Maybe not. But I want it, more than anything. I need my magic so I can acceptmyself.”
He nods. “Is that why you’re so dead set on going home?”
“Well, no. It’s because I belong there, not here. I mean…look at this place.” I sweep out a hand to indicate the foreign room. “I don’t even know what any of this is. I’ve never been anywhere like this before. You seem to think I should stay, but what would I even do here, if I did?”
“Anything you want.”
Another bitter laugh jets from my nose. “That’s the thing, though. What Iwantis to devote myself. I want the temple, and the priestesshood, and Ishanna. I’ll never want to be chased, or laid out on a dinnertable for dessert. This is a world I want no part of. One I can’t even begin to understand.”
