Fated Crown by Eva Chase
Chapter Seventeen
Talia
“You’re lucky I like you as much as I do, Talia,” Zelpha remarks in a wry voice. “Because spending the day hanging out in Heart’s Resilience is not my idea of a fun pastime.”
“It’s not mine either,” I say, looking ahead to the glinting fortress of Laoni’s castle. The pale metal walls and spires look elegant and intimidating at the same time. The building reminds me of a cage more than I like. “But if we can make a case for changing how the arch-lords are treating the humans in their domains, then we have a much better chance of getting the other lords and ladies on board. I guess Laoni’s main strength is metalwork?”
Zelpha nods. “That place was her father’s construction, though she’s added bits to it here and there. Solid iridium. Not what I’d want to be surrounded by day in and day out, but we all have our own tastes.” She makes a face as if to say she finds Laoni’s particularly questionable.
We tramp the last short distance across the plain, our boots crunching in the thin layer of newly fallen snow. As we approach the front doors, our wavering reflections move to meet us. That’s not unsettling at all. I restrain a shiver.
The door opens, and one of Laoni’s guards ushers us inside. “We’re ready for you, Lady Talia,” he says stiffly. He doesn’t sound any happier about my visit than his boss was. I hope she didn’t take out too much of her frustration over my gambit on her staff.
I offer him a tentative smile. “Wonderful. Where can we speak to the human servants?”
He motions for us to follow him. “A few of them are still busy in the kitchen. The others we’ve gathered in their repose room to speak to you.”
The walls inside the castle are just as reflective as those outside. Skewed echoes of our forms ripple across them on both sides of us as we make our way deeper into the castle. They give the eerie impression that you could never be alone in this place, that there could be people watching your every movement no matter where you go.
A soft light beams down from fixtures on the high, curved ceiling, amplified as it bounces across the metal surfaces. I wouldn’t generally associate Laoni with anything soft, but a starker light would be nearly blinding.
It’s a long walk with several turns and a trip up a flight of stairs. The dry air tickles my nose. By the time the guard stops outside a doorway, my warped foot has started to ache. I keep my limp as in check as I can when I ease past him into the room.
A woman I recognize from Laoni’s coterie is waiting there, along with more human figures than I was expecting. At our entrance, a dozen of them get up from beds laid out in rows across the room as if on command.
Not just as if. They must have been commanded to do exactly that. One glance at them, and I can tell they’re all in the same drugged haze as most of the humans in Petalrise, too spaced out to react that quickly to my arrival otherwise. I doubt they have much room to make any decisions for themselves in their muddled minds.
As I take in the room, my throat tightens. The floor and walls gleam, the beds are small but neatly made with blankets that look brand new. I can’t help wondering how much work Laoni put into prettying up this space in anticipation of my arrival.
But there’s nothing in the space other than those beds and a single wash basin by the far wall. No shelves, no cupboards, nothing hanging on the walls. No sign of any personal possessions. They don’t even have storage for clothes. I suppose they wear the same outfits continuously, and the fae simply bring them replacements as needed.
The clothes they’re all wearing now are of the simpler winter-fae style, fitted tunics and trousers in shades of gray. I don’t spot any stains or wrinkles, and my suspicion grows that a lot of preparation has gone into making their situation appear as comfortable as possible. The servants can’t have done much work in these clothes, which means they were given new outfits specifically for my visit.
From their glazed expressions, they don’t have the capacity to care at the moment. The fae treat their horses better than the humans they’ve kidnapped.
“There, you can see them,” the coterie woman says, and glances narrowly at Zelpha. “There’s no need for you to remain. I can see to Lady Talia’s needs.”
A prickle of apprehension runs down my spine. I have ways of defending myself, including the new bronze bracelet with its delicate weight around my wrist, but I know I’m not a match for a fae when it comes to magic or physical strength. What would she do to ensure this visit goes well if I didn’t have one of Corwin’s people with me?
No doubt Zelpha has similar thoughts. She arches her eyebrows at the other woman. “That’s all right. My lord instructed me to accompany Talia the entire time, and I intend to follow his orders.”
Leaning on Corwin’s authority seems to work. Laoni’s coterie woman frowns but doesn’t argue further. She sidles closer as I step toward the humans, her gaze fixed on me now. I wonder if she’s watching for any excuse to complain about my behavior and kick me out of the castle after all.
I simply won’t give her any excuses, then.
I smile at each of the servants, even though they’re too out of it to smile back, and offer each a “Hello” and “It’s good to meet you.” When I hold out my hand to shake each of theirs, just to see how they move, I can’t help noticing bruises that look like fingerprints clamped around one man’s arm where his sleeve falls back. One slim woman’s grasp feels so weak and brittle I’m afraid I’ll break her fingers if I squeeze. Another man holds his shoulders awkwardly when he extends his arm, favoring one.
“What happened to your shoulder?” I ask him.
“I didn’t finish quickly enough,” he says in a dull tone, “and I—”
“It was an accident,” the coterie woman breaks in. “A momentary clumsiness. We healed him as well as we could.”
They healed him when it happened or only as well as they could now, who knows how long after it happened? And was he really just clumsy, or did it happen because of some kind of punishment?
I suspect pushing him to say more will get him in more trouble than it might be worth.
“How much time do they spend in this room?” I ask.
“It’s only for sleeping,” the fae woman replies.
I look around. “And what about when they have time off?”
Her mouth opens and closes again as she seems to grapple with her words.
“They don’t get time off, most likely,” Zelpha puts in. “Work them from waking until they’re falling asleep on their feet.”
“We aren’t so hard on them,” the other woman protests. “They have plenty of idle moments.”
“And what do they do in those moments?” I say. “Just stand there like they are now?”
“That’s all they want to do.” She turns to the servants. “Are any of you unhappy with your situation here?”
I get a chorus of murmured “No”s in response, but no audible enthusiasm. I hold my tongue against pointing out that they haven’t been allowed to feel unhappy. This woman isn’t the one making the decisions about what happens here anyway.
I’m obviously not going to get anything more useful out of them while she’s overseeing things, but I’ve seen enough anyway. I turn to her. “What about the kitchen servants? I’d like to see the space they’re working in, even if they’re not done with their jobs.”
The coterie woman wavers and then nods. “Fine. They should be just finishing up as it is.”
She stalks out ahead of us, clearly expecting us to follow her. The guard who brought us to the room has vanished.
As we trail behind the coterie woman, I glance at Zelpha, keeping my voice low. “Is there any reason fae would need to bring human servants in? I mean, Corwin only has a few. Sylas has managed to do without any for decades. There’s nothing they can do that fae couldn’t—and more easily, since the fae have magic—is there?”
Zelpha shakes her head. “Not that I can think of—other than giving the fae who wish it a better chance at having more children.” She winces just as I cringe inwardly. I know in an instant that some of those fae must outright rape the human servants while they’re in that drugged-up daze. There’s no way they could really consent in that state. They’d barely understand what they’re agreeing to.
“It’s tradition, like the arch-lords said at the meeting the other day,” Zelpha goes on. “Many think we shouldn’t have to handle any sort of drudgework, magically or otherwise, if we can get humans to do it. And I’d bet a great deal of the ones who think that way also enjoy always having someone around they can lord it over, regardless of whether they’re lords themselves.”
It’s not hard for me to believe that.
I exhale slowly, willing down the urge to squirm with horror. This isn’t an insurmountable problem. The fae don’t need the humans, so they could treat them better, or let them return to the human world, or—so many other possible compromises. I just have to find the compromise they’ll agree to. And with so many of the Unseelie seeing me as some kind of blessed savior, hopefully I can manage that just like I managed to get myself invited into Laoni’s castle.
We turn down a wider hall with a couple of painted portraits nearly as tall as I am hanging on the gleaming wall. The one we pass first shows Laoni with a slender, knob-chinned man I assume is her soul-twined mate. I’ve never met the man, but then, I’m not sure I’ve met any of the arch-lords’ mates. They don’t typically bring them around to the meetings.
The next painting shows a couple I assume are Laoni’s parents. The man looks as stern and brawny, and the woman has a turquoise tint to her hair like Laoni does. They sit straight and formal but with their hands clasped together in a way that seems to show genuine affection.
I pause, taking it in. Corwin said something about Laoni coming into her rule suddenly and early like he did, didn’t he?
“These are the previous lord and lady, right?” I say. “What happened to them?”
The coterie woman stops in her tracks and swivels on her heel. “They are no longer with us,” she says tersely. “As I don’t think it right to remind the arch-lord of, should she happen to pass by.”
It’s hard to imagine Laoni actually grieving, but losing one’s parents early can’t be easy for anyone, even her. But why would it affect her that badly to hear someone mention it after all this time? Just what did happen to them?
The woman taps her foot at my hesitation. “Come along. Did you want to see the kitchen or not?”
I bite back the questions she obviously won’t answer anyway and hurry after her. I’ll get a straighter answer from Corwin. I could ask him right now, but I’d rather not divert my attention while I’m in the home of someone I already know wants me out of the picture.
We descend a staircase and walk into a large room even bigger than the kitchen in Corwin’s palace. The pale iridium is broken by the darker metals used to form the ovens and countertops.
A few fae staff are setting some trays of pastries in the cold room to sit before baking. The coterie woman lifts her chin toward a man who’s just taking a final dish out of the sink of wash water. “There’s one you’re looking for.”
I limp over, and he turns toward me. His face is as vacant as the others upstairs.
“Hi,” I say anyway. “I’m Talia. How long have you been working in the kitchen here?”
He sways a little as if to some melody only he can hear. “Oh, it’s been… It’s been a good long time.”
A portly fae man with bushy eyebrows marches over to us. “What’s this about, now?”
The coterie woman speaks up before I can. “You should have heard, Serev. Lady Talia has come to check up on our mortal helpers.”
I look around. “Where are the others? We were told there were a few in the kitchen.”
Serev lets out a huff. “What you’d want with those dust-destined—”
The coterie woman clears her throat, and his mouth snaps shut. He glances at me again, and understanding seems to click in his eyes. I smile back at him tightly. It isn’t as if I’m surprised to find more fae with dismissive attitudes toward humans among Laoni’s staff.
“They’re sorting something out in the storeroom,” he says. “I’ll get them for you.”
He bustles off and returns a minute later with an elderly man and woman. The second I look at their whitened hair and the wrinkles lining their faces, I can’t help thinking that back in the world where they belong, they’d be retired by now. Instead, they’re still working away day in and day out. The horror inside me clenches tighter.
When I ask them how they feel about their work, the woman blinks at me with confusion. “Always something to do,” the man says in an unnervingly dreamy tone. “Keeps us busy.”
The woman nods slowly. “It does that.”
“What would you do if you weren’t working here?” I venture, aware of the coterie woman watching us like a hawk. I’m treading on thin ice.
But the elderly couple aren’t aware enough to really complain. “What is there but here?” the woman asks, sounding genuinely bewildered.
Beside me, Zelpha looks like she’s biting back a grimace. I step aside and let Serev dismiss the couple, ideas about all the ways I want to help these people whirling in my head. All I know for sure is that things can’t go on like this. Not while I’m here, not while I have some kind of leverage with which to stand up for people like me.
As I turn to tell the coterie woman I’ve seen enough, a few fae in guard uniforms barge into the kitchen. I don’t know two of them by name, but the third, coming up behind them, is Kesral.
They go to a shelf where it appears the food is up for grabs. The first two grab hunks of dried meat, but when Kesral tries to push past them to take something for himself, they jostle him back with their shoulders. One lets out a cruel chuckle.
“First pickings for those who don’t have dung in their veins,” the other sneers.
Kesral’s jaw tenses, but he steps back while they look over the offerings and grab a few more treats. “Have at it, son of dung,” the first guard tosses over his shoulder as they bump past him on their way out.
My hands ball at my sides on his behalf. My gaze darts to Serev, expecting him to join in the jibes after the way he started to talk about the human servants, but his expression has clouded over.
When Kesral has ducked out, I risk a much more pointed question than I’ve tried before. “You don’t think it’s right that the fae who are more human get treated worse?”
Serev’s head jerks around. His mouth works. “It isn’t the same. He’s still fae. Fae is fae. I don’t know why our lord allows them to get away with it.”
His lord participates in the harassment from what I’ve seen. I knit my brow. “What do you mean?”
He waves his thick hand in the air. “Ah, Kesral started hanging around the castle helping out where he could when he was a very young thing. He and Arch-Lord Laoni are close in age. They got up to rather a lot of exploits together, from what I saw. Back when they were children, you couldn’t tear them apart.”
What? I have to stop myself from staring at him. “I guess her opinion of him changed.”
“An arch-lord has many responsibilities without worrying about every member of the staff,” the coterie woman says tartly.
Serev shrugs. “True enough. They must have grown apart as they grew up. It happens. I just can’t imagine her approving of that kind of talk toward him, faithful as he’s been.”
And yet when I saw them together, she seemed incapable of doing anything but snapping at him. I catch Zelpha’s eye, but she makes a puzzled gesture in return.
Well, whatever’s gone on between Laoni and her former friend, it doesn’t change what I need to do. Maybe helping the humans in the fae world will help the human-leaning fae as well.
