(Skeleton Key) Into Elurien (7 page)

A
fter unheated baths
in massive white marble tubs in a room with an incredible view of the sprawling city below, Auphel and I hurried back to Verelle’s rooms. I didn’t think of them as my rooms, and was glad that I never would. Though the space was beautiful, rich, and relaxing, I wanted nothing to do with this mysterious queen. I was stuck with her wardrobe, but at least that would be the extent of it as soon as I moved to the library.

Auphel lounged on the carpet, picking at loose fibres, as I laid dresses out on the bed.

“The white one is nice,” she offered.

I held the gauzy fabric against myself in front of the mirror. “It’s gorgeous, but it won’t work. The open neckline would be too showy for someone with my curves.”

She nodded. “Verelle looked like you could snap her in half as easy as a twig. You seem more solid.”

“Thanks, Auphel.” That might not have been a compliment where I came from, but she obviously meant it to be. I had to keep reminding myself that this was a different world. I couldn’t expect anyone here to understand why showing off that much skin would bother me.

But why shouldn’t I wear something eye-catching? I was the only human around, and it wasn’t as though Zinian was going to care any more than I would if a dog wore a sweater that didn’t fit right.

Still, I couldn’t help wondering about that as I slipped into the white gown and turned in front of the mirror. The dress was far more revealing than anything I’d have dared at home. The top was well-constructed enough, but gave the appearance of being little more than two broad strips of fabric, gathered at the shoulders and crossed at the front to attach to the waistline of the flowing, many-layered skirt. I imagined Zinian’s bright green eyes looking me over, and my heart skipped.

Stop being a friggin’ idiot.

I turned to Auphel. “Does this look silly?”

She shrugged. “I don’t understand human fashions. But you look nice. You should leave your hair down. Humans here always wore it up.”

“Hmm.” Without a blow-dryer or straightener, my hair was quickly drying into a mess of loose waves, looking a little flat at the top. I compromised by choosing a blue and silver comb from Verelle’s dressing table that I used to hold my hair back on one side.
Better. But…

I leaned closer to the mirror and frowned. It had been years since I’d wanted to leave the house without foundation and mascara as a bare minimum. Though my acne wasn’t quite as bad as it had been a few years before, my skin was dotted with the shadows of scars across my chin and forehead, and I broke out once a month like hormone-driven clockwork. My mother had taught me to cover them up when I was fourteen, and I’d never looked back.

I dug through the drawers and was pleased to find a few promising items housed in beautiful cut-glass jars—red cream for lips and cheeks, dark inky liquid for lining eyes, browns and blues for eyelids. I rubbed a little of a pale apricot-coloured cream on the back of one hand and drew a sharp breath as it made my veins invisible and the wrinkles on my knuckles disappear. It blended perfectly to my slightly paler skin tone and tingled pleasantly as my skin drank it in.

“I could make a fortune with this stuff at home,” I mused, and spread a little along my jawline to test the colour there.

Auphel hauled herself up from the floor and sat on the edge of the bed to watch. She wrinkled her nose. “What are you doing?”

“Making myself pretty.”

She sighed. “Verelle’s secret weapon, I suppose.”

I paused and watched the cream smooth my skin. “Monsters don’t use this, do you?”

“Not at all. I don’t understand it. Why would you want to cover your beautiful face markings?”

I watched her in the mirror, watching me. I’d considered her ugly when we first met, but now I thought nothing of her strange appearance. She was Auphel. Not an ogress or a terrifying monster, but my kind-hearted friend. And as our eyes met in the mirror, I understood that she was beautiful. Not as my world judged beauty, but on her own terms. The dark blotches on her green skin reminded me of lichen on rocks hidden in a mysterious forest. Her black eyes held the depths of the night sky, and her massive, protruding jaw displayed her incredible strength. The graceless limp she walked with and the scars on her arms showed that she’d lived a hard life and come through it stronger and wiser.

And here I was worried that a few blemishes would turn the stomach of a horned demon monster. I shook my head at myself.

I didn’t know how I was supposed to make myself presentable when human beauty was an abomination, but I knew I wanted to distance myself from the humans of this world.

I grabbed a cloth and rubbed the makeup off my face, trying to ignore the blossoming realization that I was going to be very lonely indeed if I couldn’t go home. Jake had been a shit boyfriend, and no great loss, but I would miss that kind of relationship. I knew I could make it alone, but I wanted someone to laugh with, to cuddle with at night, to love passionately.

And a life of celibacy… how horrible.

I pushed those thoughts aside. Things had changed, and I was the only human in town. Nothing to be done about it until I found a way to use the key again.

“Better?” I asked as I turned around, bare-faced.

Auphel’s eyes disappeared in deep wrinkles as she smiled. “Much.”

I ran my fingers through my hair again. “You must think I’m so silly. Do you mind doing all this? Finding me food and following me around? I promise I’ll be more self-sufficient soon.”

She leaned back on the bed. “No. I didn’t like you running from me, but I’m glad they think you need guarding. This is much nicer than fighting, or whatever they’d have me do next.”

I sat next to her and tucked my legs under my skirt.

“The war must have been horrible for you.”

She nodded. “I was barely beginning my adult years when they took me for the army. I didn’t know anything outside of my home and my family. I’d tussled with my brothers, of course. They hurt me, I hurt them… I miss them sometimes. But that didn’t prepare me for real fighting. Killing.” She rubbed her leg, then lay silent for a moment, staring at the ceiling. “I have terrible dreams about the people I killed and about friends I lost in the battles. I’m happy to be here with you instead of in the streets.”

She drew in a deep, shuddering breath, then sat up and smiled. “We should go.”

My heart ached for her. She had the body of a fighter, but had been cursed with the heart of a lamb. It was a wonder it hadn’t all broken her completely. I didn’t think I could have survived it.

She led me down the halls and up a flight of stairs. “Will you attend the fire tonight?” I asked. “Since you’re not on duty.”

“I might just rest. Wander a bit.”

She stopped in front of a wooden door and raised her fist to knock. The door swung open, and Zinian ducked out of the way before she could punch him in the face. He wore a shirt this time, a fitted tunic that had been tailored to leave his wings free.

He leaned out into the hallway and glanced both ways, as though checking to see whether anyone might be watching. “Thank you, Auphel. I’ll return her safely later tonight.”

Auphel pressed a hand to her chest, open-palmed, spun on her heel, and walked away. A salute, I supposed.

Zinian motioned for me to enter, and I stepped into his room.

The walls were lined with books, and the bed was covered in heavy red blankets. A table for two had been set with cutlery and long-stemmed water glasses in the open space near the roaring fire, which was safely contained by a metal grate in the heavy granite fireplace. The carpet was thicker and softer than the one in Verelle’s room, and I curled my bare toes into it.

“It’s not bad, is it?” Zinian asked. I turned and found him smiling slightly as he watched me. “This was the queen’s chief advisor’s room.”

“It’s lovely,” I said. I looked over the books again, and a tingle of embarrassment crept over the back of my neck. “I guess maybe the main library wasn’t so essential, after all. I never considered how many books they probably had here in the palace. Why didn’t you say something?”

He stepped closer. “Because preserving those books may help protect these ones, and I do have a certain affection for books, as a rule. Because we haven’t done any sort of inventory of what’s here or there, and you’re right. There may be something useful.” His gaze dropped lower, taking in my dress and everything it revealed, and heat crept into my cheeks as he drew in a long, slow breath. He met my eyes again. “Because you seemed so passionate about it, and I thought you might need that library as much as anyone. You don’t seem the type to enjoy being locked up with nothing to do. And you should be happy, if you have to stay.”

“Thank you.” My voice came out softer than I’d intended. “I have been feeling lost. It will be better when I have some kind of purpose.”

He motioned for me to sit, then carried over two covered plates from another table in the corner. I felt faint at the scent that wafted from mine as he uncovered it, rich and thick and promising more flavour than I’d enjoyed in days. Vegetables again, but smothered in a butter and herb sauce, and accompanied by some unfamiliar grain dish.

My stomach groaned.

Zinian’s meal was the same, save for the addition of a slab of meat, seared on the outside. He saw me looking and raised an eyebrow. “Does this bother you?”

“What is it?”

“Cow. I can put it away if it’s a problem.”

“Why would that bother me? It looks lovely.”

He stared at me for a few seconds, then laughed. “I’m sorry. I keep forgetting you’re not necessarily like the humans here. You eat meat?”

“Are you kidding?”

“Would you like some?” He picked up a sharp knife and cut the meat open. The inside was cooked, but barely. Bright red blood stained the rest of the food on his plate.

“Um…Sure.” I enjoyed rare beef. This was just a little more of the same.

We ate in silence. I couldn’t have talked if I’d needed to—I was too busy shovelling the divine food into my mouth. Fresh peas exploded with bright flavour on my tongue. I’d never cared for them before, but found myself suddenly in love. It was gone all too soon.

“Who made this,” I asked, “and where have they been hiding the past few days?”

“I did. We’ve started bringing food in from the farms outside the city.”

“Wha—I mean, wow. Thank you.”

He nodded and sipped his water. “Tell me more about your world. I suppose it must be quite different. Meat-eating humans are a good start.”

I told him a few things I thought he might find interesting, given what I knew about their world. It made me realize how shallow my knowledge of things like economics and politics were. He asked a little about my life, my schooling, and the town where I grew up. And he listened. Not the way most people listen, as though they’re organizing their thoughts and waiting for their next chance to speak, but actually
listening
. His eyes never left mine, save to glance at the door when the faint sounds of footsteps went by. The monstrous aspects of his appearance seemed to fade away. Not that they disappeared—I was still aware of the horns, the wings, the claws. They just didn’t matter.

“So this fellow you lived with,” he said. “Will he be worried that you’re missing?”

“I doubt he’ll notice. I made it very clear that I didn’t want to speak to him again.”

“Is that common in your culture? These intense relationships ending?”

My cheeks warmed. “It is when one of the partners goes on business trips and sleeps with every waitress who catches his eye on the road.”

“Ah.” He offered a sympathetic grimace. “I suppose I won’t offer my regrets if you’re better off without him.”

“Thank you.”

Silence followed, and I wasn’t entirely sure whether it was awkward or not. I broke it by saying, “I guess I’ll have to get used to the differences, if I’m staying here.”

“Elurien is different,” he agreed. “Even from itself a few months ago. Things have been bad for everyone, but in spite of what you’ve seen since you arrived, we are trying to create a better future.”

I rolled the stem of my water glass between my fingers. “And what about your future, personally? Now that the fighting seems to be done and Verelle is gone?”

He frowned at her name. “I don’t know. I won’t stay here, which should please many.” He said it without self-pity, but it made me curious.

“You seem to have a strange relationship with the others,” I said cautiously, well aware that he might care more about that than he let on. “You’re one of their leaders, right?”

“I am. And they take orders from me well enough. But it took me a long time to gain even that much respect, and now that they don’t need me, it’s better that I go. I look too human to be trusted.”

“I’m surprised they’re so shallow,” I said. “You look perfectly monstrous to me.”

He flashed me half a smile. “I appreciate that. But the fact is that I must have quite a bit of human blood in me somewhere. You’ve never met an amalgus?”

“Can’t say I have.”

“Amalgi aren’t a proper species. We’re a little of our amalgus parent and a little of the other one, and it all comes out like… well.” He gestured to his own body. “Like so. I don’t know anything about either of my parents. I was abandoned at birth and taken in by a harpy.”

“That’s terrible.”

He shrugged. “It’s how it goes. Inter-species relationships are generally frowned upon, which leaves my kind alone much of the time, as we’re quite rare. Giving birth to a child like me would have been shameful for anyone. The fact that I lived at all was probably a mercy on my mother’s part, especially if she was human.”

“I see.” So it hadn’t been cockiness when he implied that he got stared at a lot. He was unusual, even here. A misjudgment on my part, if a small one.

I tried to imagine what would have compelled a human woman of this world to make a mistake like that. But then, if Zinian’s father had been anything like him, I couldn’t blame her. His appearance had been shocking at first, but once I’d got past my fear and noticed his intelligence and compassion, he’d become rather distracting. I suddenly became aware again of my exposed skin, the alluring dress I’d worn. Had I really thought he wouldn’t care? That he couldn’t want me? He’d said it was frowned-upon, not impossible.