CHAPTER 2
Isnuck in through the back door of the east wing.
“You’re unacceptably late,” Farah bit out, startling me.
“I—I’m sorry, my great-aunt, she—”
“Come with me.” I followed her to the servants’ kitchen, her stride far too hurried for my tired legs.
What the f—
My pace slowed, and I lingered by the door before joining the other servants, doing what Mounir would describe as loitering.
“Here, take one,” Farah said, offering me a biscuit. “Now what would go well with biscuits?” She lifted her pointed nose at me. “Care to make us a cup of tea, Delia? Tonight, we shall sip tea and eat biscuits like the royals. But discreetly, of course.” Farah said the word “discreetly” while looking at each of us with wrinkled eyes that conveyed a warning.
“What if Mounir sees us?” I hissed. My hand trailed up my arm, to the hidden finger-mark bruises that were forever changing their shape and colour but never really went away. “We would surely be punished.”
“Just make tea, Delia.”
“Fine. I’m sorry I broke curfew.” I looked over my shoulder. “Nadya, can you get the sugar and milk?”
“Two sugars for me, please,” Sabriela ordered with as much sweetness as the sugar she had just requested.
“One for me,” said Ralfe.
As we sipped tea and Farah spilled some, it reached our ears that Mounir’s youngest brother had passed from some strange illness and that Mounir had to leave abruptly to attend his Sand Cremation Ceremony, three days away from Sharlam. I hid the start of a smirk beneath my teacup. I thought that Daekon—god of hell and taker of tainted souls—might claim my soul for an eternity just for that, but to imagine a week without Mounir…I thought,What anutterly splendidday.
Then the day became just splendid when Farah revealed that in a few weeks’ time, Fae from Silch would be visiting Ramel. Rumours were that the Ice Fae were coming to purchase an absurd amount of glass for the castle of Nivaria. She said they would be staying at the Sand Castle until their order was ready.
Ralfe almost choked on his tea. “Ice Fae, from Silch?” he asked, eyes wide.
“Yes, Ralfe.”
“Do you know who will be coming?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Will they be males from Nivaria, King Ryvar’s men?”
“Do I look like the Seer to you? I don’t know all the details, Ralfe,” Farah replied flatly. My eyes dropped to my shoes.
“Ralfe and Tomas told me that Fae are brutal creatures. That they are much more powerful than humans,” Sabriela said, worry filling her innocent eyes. I moved next to her, my arm making its way around her auburn curls, and I held her from her shoulders.
“You don’t have to be scared, Sabi. I have a Fae friend from Sijar, and he is a very kindhearted male. I also heard that many Fae visit Ramel for the Dunehaven market. I’m sure they can act civilised, you might actually be surprised.” Words to caress, but not ones that I would swear were true. I suspected that Faern might have been an exception, or perhaps the human side of him was somehow more dominant.
“If you’re talking about Faernand, he doesn’t count. He’s aSijari Demi-Fae who’ll probably never even reach immortality. Despite his pointed ears and sharp canines, he is no less human than you and me, Delia. The Fae I’m talking about are the Silchan brutes—brutesas pale and white as snow. Merciless beings that fight and battle as if death is nonexistent, as if immortality itself makes them unhinged. The brutes who not only can lift thrice as much as any man could but they are also empowered with unique abilities, as if that’s not enough. The brutes that bite their women’s necks like wild animals. Why do you think they are called males and not men, huh, Delia? They’re beasts.” His eerie storyteller tone gave me the urge to strangle him silent. Especially since it was all lies. Had they been all that, they would have fought for their fellow Hydrans. They would have battled for the Ilmans.
“You’re scaring Sabriela,” I hissed, each word coming out through gritted teeth. “And I don’t think that the Ice King will send his male ‘warriors’ or anyone of importance to buy some glass.” Sabriela held me at my side, her brows furrowed. “Go on, Sabi, it’s time for bed.”
“But I want to st—”
“They’re here! They’re here!” An agitated man rushed in, his face as red as a tomato, his forehead gleaming with sweat. “The Ice Fae are here,” he breathed.
“Calm down and catch your breath, Sonny,” Farah said, her own voice saturated with apprehension.
“Please, come quickly!” he told Farah.
“Delia?” Sabriela lifted her face, her red-brown eyes filled with concern.
