I sat still as Mirabelle and her flock of helpers cleaned the ink from my face and applied rouge to my cheeks and lips to match the dress laid out on the bed.
“Such a beauty,” she cooed as she pulled the corset laces unbearably tight. The stays dug into my skin from breast tohip, cinching my waist before flaring out at the hips. The heavy crimson skirts spilled in voluminous waves, each pleat giving subtle contrast in varying shades of red. “Once everyone sees you looking the picture of health, the rumors will die down.”
“Rumors? There are rumors about me?”
“You’re the first human to set foot in Hiraeth in centuries, and you think people aren’t going to talk? But don’t mind your head about it. The only excitement we servants get is castle gossip—it’s harmless, really. There’s talk that you’ve got... the Tribulation,” she whispered the last part into my ear as though someone might be listening. “Some think that’s what sparked the new illness plaguing the peasants in Dunharrow. But they’re just looking for someone to blame for all this death and hardship, rather than risk saying what’s really causing it.”
I tensed. My arms instinctively rose to shield my exposed décolletage, as if she could see the sickness burning in my blood. “Then what is causing it?” I asked, trying to deflect.
Mirabelle froze mid-tug, and the birds fell silent. I glanced over my shoulder in time to see the color drain from her face.
“I may have been too bold, My Lady.”
“No, please continue. You did say you were here to educate me on Hiraeth.”
She leaned in close. “Between you and me,” she whispered, “not everyone in this court is an ally of The Seven. The Bruin princes have been away for far too long. Males lose their crowns when they’re off conquering the cosmos.”
The chill returned despite the roaring fire and the pleasant company. Mirabelle had been a welcome distraction, but the unease was back with a vengeance. “Are you saying the princes aren’t safe here?”
She hurried to tie off my laces and ushered me back to the chair, fidgeting with my hair as though nothing had happened. “All I’m saying is keep your head. You seem like a smart enoughgirl. Just be mindful—these are dangerous times. And it’s still not clear whether The Seven can fix that.”
I turned to face her after she slid the final pin into my hair. “Tell me more,” I pleaded, grasping her hands. “Something feels wrong here. What do you know?”
“I’ve said too much already.”
“Please, Mirabelle.”
She drew in a breath, about to speak when the groan of ancient hinges interrupted us. My bedroom door opened again, followed by the rhythmic clicking of heels across the slate floor.
My pulse quickened into a frenzied pace when Lady Fallon stepped into the candlelight. Her flawless, pale skin stood out in contrast to the shadows, like a specter stepping out from the darkened corners. She exuded an air of confidence that was palpable the moment she entered the room.
I stood from the vanity as Mirabelle fell into a deep curtsy beside me. The petite lady’s maid and her entourage of birds had gone silent. I froze—like a fawn in the jaws of the enemy—panic plucking any pleasantries from my throat.
She appraised me with sharp, fathomless eyes. It only took a moment before my hands began to fidget and my entire psyche squirmed under her silent scrutiny.
“This is the best you could do?” she asked, her tone dripping with disapproval. The beaded silver dress she wore glinted in the firelight. The satin garment clung to her slight frame as she walked around me.
“Please forgive me, My Lady. She was in a terrible state when I arrived. If I had a bit more time, I could?—”
“It’ll have to do. All the time in the cosmos wouldn’t wipe the human smell from her. You could dress her in the latest fashions and cover her body in Hiraethian runes and our enemies would scent her from a mile away.”
“I don’t have to go tonight. Apparently, that was your decision,” I blurted.
Her dark eyes widened for a beat before a smug smirk lifted her lips. “Leave us.”
As soon as the words had been spoken, a flutter of wings filled the room.
“Not so fast, Rook. Get some clothes on. The missives are ready and must be delivered to the houses immediately.”
In the blink of an eye, the tiny finch morphed into a gangly young male, cupping himself as he bowed to Lady Fallon. “Yes, My Lady,” he said, and quickly ducked out into the hall.
Mirabelle grasped my hands, drawing my attention back from the naked male that had been a bird only moments before. “Good luck tonight, My Lady. Hope to see you in the morning. Remember what I said.” She gave me an empathetic look before the air around her shimmered. A slight percussion, like the pop of a balloon, made me blink. When I opened my eyes, she was gone—replaced by the fluttering wings of a tawny little sparrow. A heap of clothing was all that remained of the young female.
“What in the bloody hell…” my words trailed off as Mirabelle flitted out the window, leaving me alone with Lady Fallon.
Fallon’s long, delicate finger twirled absently in her cropped, ebony hair. She reached into a jeweled clutch hanging from herwrist and pulled out what appeared to be a cigarette. A mask of boredom settled on her face as she pulled it to her lips and lit it on the sconce set into the wall. Smoke curled from her scarlet lips, smelling faintly of cloves and some other rich herb I couldn’t place. She was stunning to look at, like a 1920s socialite who’d just walked out of a Gatsby party.
“Loyal help is hard to come by. She’s a good one. One you can trust,” she said.
