“Can you keep a secret?” I ask, Lillian nods her head, leaning in close. I wonder whether she would know what an Etherealist is and try my luck. I hold onto her hand and look her in the eye.
I am an Elemental fae.
Her eyes go wide and she squeaks in response. “Wowie you’re pretty special! I’ve never met someone like you before,” she says.
She does not prod further about the topic though which I am unsure how I feel about. I wonder what she knows about Etherealists and if there are others like me. She said I am special but how special could it be? Perhaps she just hasn’t encountered one from within the confines of this estate.
“I also heard you almost caused Olaf to flip? You’ve got to be more careful Nuria!” she scorns, waving her finger at me like she is the adult here.
“What did I do? I was just asking whether the gromlins owed Pyralis a debt like me,” I say, showing her my brand.
She makes a humming sound in her throat. “Well, that would’ve done it. That’s not just a sign for a debt. It’s a slave brand. The gromlins are very touchy about injustice. What did you do to Pyralis to get such a mark? He doesn’t usually do that to his servants,” she asks, sounding worried. She reaches out to touch the scar but thinks twice and pulls away. “This ties you to him for life, or until he removes it,” she adds with a big pout on her face.
“I did nothing! He is the monster who tried to kidnap my sister! I freed her from his vargs and for that I have been enslaved!” I say, trying to keep my temper under control so I don’t scare her but internally I am envisioning setting Pyralis on fire and watching him burn like Garr did.
There is no time for revenge, escape is the only goal.I reassure myself, but still allow a brief moment of imagining Pyralis getting a taste of his own cruelty.
“Wow, so you’re like a princess locked in a tower who needs her shining knight to come rescue her! Jacob used to tell me bed time stories of princesses just like you,” Lillian giggles, clearly unable to fully comprehend the situation and using fairy tales to make sense of it.
“Except I am no princess and my shining knight will have to be myself. Besides, not every woman needs to be rescued, Lillian. Sometimes we have to watch out for ourselves and I’m doing just that,” I say, reaching out to grab her little hand to give it a squeeze.
“You’re leaving aren’t you?” Lillian says, pulling her hand away and frowning at me.
“Lil, I can’t stay. My sister is still out there and I need to find her. I don’t belong here; I belong in the human realm,” I say, looking into her eyes. She is hurt by my not wanting to stay. I wonder if she has ever had a friend.
“Will you take me with you?” she asks as she chews the end of her braid, looking at me with hopeful eyes. My heart sinks.
“It is too dangerous, and would you really want to abandon your brother? If you aren’t indebted to Pyralis you two can just leave. If you come with me you will be seen as aiding an escaped slave,” I explain, clearly disappointing her but also seeing her resign to my logic. She lets out a big sigh.
“I don’t know anything other than this life… but perhaps if I had someone from the human world to guide me…?” she asks, but I just shake my head. I’m not even sure if I can return to the human realm, but I do know that my escape plan does not include towing along a child.
“Well, if I can’t join you, I can still help you!” she says, her bright demeanor returning as she does a little hop dance. “Tell me what to do! I can be your shining knight too,” she giggles at the thought. Her hopeful face reminds me of Marissa and melts my heart enough to accept her offer.
“All right Lil I trust you, here’s my plan.” She leans in close, eyes wide. “I have tracked when the vargs settle into their evening meals and there should be a brief window of overlap during the important dinner with the visiting lords tomorrow night. I will only have a window of a few minutes but if you can get Jacob to have a horse saddled and the stables unlocked I should have enough time to escape. The vargs are fast but not faster than a horse,” I explain my plan to Lillian. She tells me the little information she knows of the rebels that I hope to find in the forest.
I pray the plan works, it has minimal room for error but if I time it right it should work. If not… then I don’t even want to think of what Pyralis might do to me.
After Lillian has departedwith her part of the plan to sort out for me tomorrow, I am left lying in my bed, staring at the pointed, wooden ceiling, wondering whether it was a wise choice to trust a ten year old. My still damp hair is creating a stain on my pillow that I can feel creeping towards the back of my neck, giving me a chill but the plans for my upcoming escape are plaguing my mind and I can’t be bothered to get up to grab a towel.
Thoughts of what I may find in the forest haunt me.What if they are hurting Marissa, what if I have to fight the rebels? I have no weapon…
Holes are already forming in my plan but I cannot dwell on them. Tomorrow is my opportunity and the wheels are already in motion. I close my eyes and try to slow my breathing, willing sleep to come, when I start to hear a woeful song being played on the piano downstairs.
At first, I think that it is the ghost of Oleander’s mother singing her lament. The song starts out slow and sweet but is now moving towards a heartbreaking crescendo and I can feel myself being physically pulled by the notes as I sit up and walk towards the door.
What am I doing?
I open the door and poke my head out into the stairwell. No one is there, so I tiptoe my way down the steps and reach the door on the left. I have never left my room at night before and the feeling of wrongness causes my heart to pound.
I should go back.
I look up the stairs but my hand has a mind of its own and grasps the door knob, pushing the door open. No one is in here but the melancholic music fills the dark room filled with ghostly furniture and pulls me in.
When I get to the door of the drawing room I have to physically stop myself from swinging it open and turn my back to the door instead, leaning my head against the wood and closing my eyes.
The music winds its way around my limbs and swirls into my heart. It speaks to me of a warm motherly embrace. The feelings I had when I first put on my mother’s necklace are perfectly captured within the notes. I lift my hand to my cheek and feel it is wet from tears I did not know I needed to release. At the acknowledgment of my own sorrow, I let out a little sob.
The music abruptly stops. I hold my breath, hoping whoever is on the other side did not hear me. I go to tiptoe away, when a deep voice sounds from the other room.
