“Ravenna.” I nod. “Well, I’m Sariah.”
“Oh, I know. Everyone here knows.”
I purse my lips, but…of course. Why wouldn’t they? I’m the only human here.
Silence settles between us. Ravenna’s dark eyes rove as if searching for the next topic of conversation, eventually landing on the hairbrush on the windowsill.
She gestures toward it, then my hair. “I could help you with that, if you want.”
I frown. “Oh, no. I don’t expect you to attend to me. At all. You’ve already brought me food. And books.”
“I know. But I should’ve been gentler with you the other night. You’ll have to forgive me for that. I’ve just never met a human before, and I don’t actually know how to make friends with one.” Her gaze drops to the floor and stays there.
Surprise fills me. How can this overture of friendship possibly intimidate her, when she has no qualms with being ravished on a public dinner table?
The fae mystify me, truly. And yet this woman’s reticence—her downcast eyes, the quaver in her voice—wriggles past my defenses.
This much, at least, is universal.
“You have nothing to apologize for,” I say. “And you don’t owe me anything.” I retrieve the hairbrush from the windowsill, then cross the room and press it into her hand. “But if you really want to help with my hair, I’d be grateful.”
She glances up, hopeful. “I’d love to. Maybe I could show you some fae braids?”
I hesitate. I’d rather not be shown more faeanything, but braids seem innocuous enough, and I’ll need something besides loose locks for my return to the labyrinth. “Sure. Something that’ll keep it out of my face, maybe?”
She nods. “Of course.”
I make for the vanity and sit, as much to offer her my hair as to take a moment to gather myself. “I appreciate the help.”
She comes up behind me. Gentle hands sift through my waves, followed by the soft hiss of the brush, and I find myself leaning into her touch. Goddess, I haven’t had physical contact with anyone in days, not since I laid my hand against the Shadow’s shoulder. But that was overwhelming, and fraught with significance. Meanwhile, this is a simple, friendly connection—woman to woman, like she said.
My lashes flutter shut as I savor the feeling.
“I liked what you did,” Ravenna murmurs. “The other night. When you carved your name into Amriel’s Shadow.”
My lashes part again.Amriel’s Shadow? I know that goblins have no names, and that Amriel himself refers to the Shadow as his, but hearing it from someone else hits differently. Really, what a strange thing to call him. As if the Shadow is no more than his brother’s possession.
Then again, Amrielisking, here. Maybe it’s no different than calling someone the king’s guard, or his advisor.
“It was just my initials,” I say, “not my name. And it was a mistake. A moment of…insanity. Or something. I don’t know. I’d just…had a bad day.”
She chortles. “I can imagine. But you impressed everyone, and nowthey’re all rooting for you. There’s even talk that you might beat the labyrinth. Set Amriel free.”
The muscles of my shoulders knit together. Knowing what I do of the maze, I doubt that, but I have no desire to dampen her enthusiasm. “Is that what everyone hopes for? Me breaking the curse?”
“Oh, yes. No one likes seeing him suffer. And the curse doesn’t make him very pleasant to be around, if you haven’t noticed.”
I snort. That’s an understatement, at best. “Was he pleasant before?”
She lifts a hank of my hair, working through a snarl before letting it fall again. “I wish I knew. But I’m not old enough to tell you. Even if I was, I’m not from here. I grew up in the Cloisters. I only came to Velindra sixty years ago.”
“The Cloisters?” I linger over the unfamiliar term. “What’s that?”
She makes a humming sound in her throat. “The fae city, across the mountains. Where everything’s produced. Our food, our furniture, everything we use here at the castle.”
I study her face in the mirror. She doesn’t glance up, too absorbed in conquering another tangle. “Everything here comes from somewhere else?”
“Mmm-hmm.”
