Curse of Stolen Flame (Firebird, #1)

CHAPTER 7

The first thing Kindra noticed when she stepped into the castle was that it was deceptively bright.

Despite the exterior being built from that dark, black stone, the interior stone was a pale gray. As they progressed from the small entry hallway and into the main pathways of the castle, it grew even brighter, the outside walls lined with large windows that allowed sunlight to illuminate all it touched. The windows were framed by red velvet curtains trimmed with gold: the Annalindis family colors. The black marble floors were covered in plush rugs. She had expected the castle to be dark and intimidating, not this. This was… inviting.

Helena chattered as they walked, but Kindra found it hard to pay attention to what she was saying, too busy trying to steady her breathing and take in her surroundings. Already she was lost; all it took was a few turns and a couple flights of stairs to render her completely disoriented. Still, she forced herself to nod along and tune in every other sentence to make sure she wasn’t being asked a question. Other than that, all Helena was saying was going in one ear and out the other.

“…the first Annalindis rulers wanted the castle to be scary on the outside, but cozy on the inside,” Helena was saying as Kindra checked back into the conversation, “I mean, obviously, a giant castle fit with catapults can only be so cozy, but still. I think they did a pretty good job, what do you think?”

“Um,” Kindra stammered, “yeah. Sure.” She searched for a better thing to say, and settled lamely on, “It’s really nice.”

Helena hardly noticed her lackluster response, barreling on, “I think you’re really going to love your chambers. I looked them over myself before you arrived! Lots of natural light, a bathing room, a giant closet, and even a balcony, which is large enough for you to do some basic wielding on—”

“Wait,” Kindra interrupted, “I can still wield here?”

Helena blinked at her, shocked by the question, and stopped walking, turning to face Kindra directly. “Of course,” she responded, frowning slightly. “Did you think you wouldn’t be able to?”

“Well, honestly… no, I didn’t think I’d be able to. At least not without supervision,” she confessed, cheeks heating with embarrassment.

“You can wield whenever you want, Kindra.” Helena’s voice had shifted, and she now sounded as if she were speaking to a frightened and confused child, which, much to Kindra’s chagrin, was basically true. “I mean, don’t go flinging fireballs around at the dinner table, but we strongly encourage daily wielding here. My family… we aren’t Wielders at the moment, but we still know the harm that restraining one’s magic can cause.”

Some of the terror that had been pressing in on Kindra since the day she got that letter eased, and she found it easier to breathe. “Okay, that’s… that’s nice, then. I just thought… because I’m a Firefury, that it might be too dangerous. For me. Or other people.”

“I’ll admit, you may not be able to do anything elaborate unless you get into a training ground. But this castle is built from stone for a reason. The Annalindis family is Scaldor-blessed, remember?” She smiled, but it didn’t meet her eyes. “Well, was, at least.”

They began to walk again, and Kindra’s anxiety subsided a bit. “Do you… does it make you sad, to not be a Wielder?”

For a moment, Helena didn’t respond, and Kindra opened her mouth to apologize, afraid she’d overstepped. But then, Helena said, “Yes and no. Yes, because it’s frightening to be cursed, and to see the impact it’s had on my kingdom. No, because all I have ever known is this life as a non-Wielder. I don’t know what it feels like to have such power as you do, or my ancestors did. I think, many days, I am content not to,” she finished softly, and Kindra felt as though she’d just been told a secret. She couldn’t fight the fact that that it made her feel good, like she really could be friends with the princess.

Before Kindra could say anything else, they came to a stop before a set of white doors. “Here we are!” Helena chirped, any trace of seriousness gone. “I’ll leave you here. A couple of servants will be stopping by shortly; they’re yours, so feel free to ask them to do whatever you want—bathe you, dress you, bring you food, anything.” Kindra’s mouth fell open at that statement. “You can take your meals in your room for the rest of the day if you wish, but if you’d like to have some company tonight for dinner, Emeline and I will be dining in our rooms. Feel free to join us. But we also completely understand that you’re probably exhausted from your journey and won’t take offense if you decide to stay in for the evening.”

“Will Prince Jasper be joining you?” The words left Kindra’s mouth before she could vet them for any taste of spite or disdain, and unfortunately, they came out riddled with both.

Helena only smirked, eyes alight with mischief. “No,” she replied, “I can imagine you’re pretty sick of him, aren’t you?” She laughed. “No, he will not be there, I can promise you that.”

Kindra nodded. “I will think about it,” she said, “I need a bath and a nap first, though.”

“Of course, of course.” Helena stepped forward and turned the handle on one of the doors. “Well, I wish you a peaceful afternoon, Kindra. Enjoy your rooms!” She ushered Kindra through the doorway and quietly closed the door behind her, leaving Kindra, for the first time in weeks, blissfully alone.

The room was ridiculous.

It was at least twice the size of her old cottage in Harthwin, and that was just the main bed chamber. The walls were the same pale gray stone, the floors a matching gray marble, covered in plush white and beige fur rugs. The far-right wall was almost entirely filled with floor-to-ceiling windows. There was a set of glass doors in the middle of that wall that led, as Helena promised, to a large balcony. Pale gold curtains framed that wall, parted to let the mid-morning sun dapple the room with light. A few feet from the windows were a round dining table and chairs.

The rest of the walls were adorned with paintings of various landscapes, no doubt parts of Alverin, and beautiful, detailed tapestries. There was a line of tall bookshelves along the same wall as the door through which Kindra had just entered, and a small sitting area beside them. Next to that was a fireplace, a fire already lit. A plush cream sofa and matching armchair sat in front of it. On the left wall sat a large wardrobe and another set of doors, behind which Kindra assumed was the bathing room. Finally, along the wall opposite her was a large desk, and her bed, which was massive.

She moved across the room—which was so big, gods, it was just so big —towards the bed, hands outstretched as though she were in a trance. She ran her fingers over the lavish cream-colored quilt and gasped at how soft and smooth it was. Her hands moved up to the half dozen pillows, which were covered in silk cases. The thick wooden bedframe was almost the same color as the bedding, decorated with gold detailing. Atop the four bedposts stretched a sheer, gauzy off-white canopy, flowing down to create curtains that could provide her some additional privacy while she slept if she wanted.

The bed was so—light. Delicate, even. Looking around the room, she saw that the other furnishings were as well. There was no piece of furniture that was dark. The softly colored furnishings, along with the bright natural light, made the spacious room less intimidating. It was, in a weird way, homey.

Kindra was still admiring the room when there was a knock on her door, followed by the quiet entrance of two young women. They looked to be about her age, and they stood at attention as she stared at them.

“Who—” she began, but then remembered Helena’s parting words. Servants. These are my servants. She stopped herself mid-sentence and started again. “Are you my... servants?” Just saying the word felt strange.

They bobbed into curtsies. “Yes, Lady Kindra,” the one on the right said. Her hair and eyes were a plain brown, but the healthy glow of her brown skin reminded Kindra of the Healer from Harthwin. The other servant was a Windspinner, given away by her pale silver eyes. She had hair that was so blonde it was almost white.

“What are your names?” she asked.

“I’m Cerulle, and this is Sala,” the Windspinner responded, and they both curtsied again. Kindra bit back the urge to tell them to stop.

“Nice to… meet you.” She found herself unsure of what to say. What did you say to people meant to serve at your beck and call ?

A stretch of awkward silence passed, before Sala said, “Do you require anything of us, my Lady? A bath, perhaps?”

Kindra began to bristle at the insinuation that she was dirty, but there was nothing snide hidden behind Sala’s offer. They weren’t there to make her feel less than, or to remind her of her background. They were just there to serve her. And, in this case, give her a bath that she desperately wanted, and needed.

“Y-yes,” she stammered, struggling to put any bit of authority into her voice, “that would be very nice, thank you.”

“Right this way, then.” Sala gestured to the door that led to the bathing room, and Cerulle rushed ahead to open it for them.

Kindra could not have prepared herself for what lay behind it.

Like her bedroom, the bathing room was also flooded with light. The walls were made of smooth cream marble tile. The wall opposite her had a large window, in front of which sat the most enormous tub she’d ever seen. Shelves filled with soaps and other cleaning tonics stood next to it. Along the far-left wall was a huge vanity, complete with a sink and mirror, and next to that was a toilet.

“I’ve never—” Kindra spun around in a circle. “I’ve never seen a room like this before. We didn’t even have toilets in Harthwin.”

“I felt the same when I arrived here from Mistbarrow,” Sala said, and Kindra started. Mistbarrow was only a few days’ travel from Harthwin. “I couldn’t believe it really existed.”

“How long have you lived here?”

“About ten years. My family moved here because they were afraid living so close to Pryllia.”

“I know that fear well,” Kindra admitted, her discomfort easing slightly knowing Sala had lived, at least for a while, near her home. That she, too, knew what living out there was like. “And you, Cerulle? Where are you from?”

“A small village outside Roulierne, my Lady,” the silver-eyed girl replied as she moved over to the tub. Indeed, she had a slight accent, reminiscent of a merchant that had once passed through Harthwin many years ago: a bit nasal, her words flowing together like syrup. “I came here to attend Grydmarth.”

“The Academy?” Kindra asked, slightly distracted as Cerulle turned one of the nozzles on the tub and water started flowing from the faucet. Grydmarth Academy was the top school in Alverin, for Wielders and non-Wielders alike. There had been a time long ago when Kindra had dreamed of leaving Harthwin to go there. “Isn’t that for battle training?” The Wielder nodded, reaching out to test the temperature of the water with her hand. “But you’re—”

“A servant?” Her lips parted in an amused grin.

Kindra studied her, noting the graceful air with which she moved, the sleek muscles of her lower legs peeking out from under her gray dress. She recalled what little she knew about Windspinners. “You’re a bodyguard.”

Cerulle’s smile widened, and Sala let out a small giggle.

“Yes, you could say I am a bodyguard. I’m meant to be by your side, or at least within arm’s reach at all times. Here to serve you in whatever way you require, of course, but my primary duty is to protect you.” Cerulle gestured to Sala, who had come up behind Kindra and gently pulled her hair out of the dirty, matted bun it had been in for the last several days. “Sala is a Healer. Also a strategic appointment. She will always be close by, as well, in case of any…” She paused, deciding on what word to say, then settled for, “incidents.”

Kindra allowed Sala to help her in removing her clothes, feeling only slightly uncomfortable about being undressed and bathed by other people. Her curiosity helped her push through any awkwardness.

“So you’re not really servants, then,” she said as she pulled her dirty set of undergarments off. She handed them to Sala, frowning at the grime that coated them. She’d only had a few sets of clothes to wear while traveling, and without a proper chance to adequately bathe, it didn’t matter how many times she tried to wash herself or her clothes in streams. She was just plain filthy.

“We are still servants, my Lady, but we aren’t only servants,” Sala corrected, placing her hand on Kindra’s elbow and guiding the naked young woman over to the bath.

Kindra eased her way into the tub and could not hold back her moan of contentment. It was perhaps the most amazing thing she’d ever felt. She released a bit of her magic, heating the water up to the point of steaming. “ Yeah, I could get used to this,” she sighed, dipping her head back to allow her hair to be thoroughly soaked.

A burst of guilt coursed through her at her enjoyment. Was she really so easily placated by the lure of a hot bath and the innovation of running water? Was a plush bed and bubbly princess all it took to sway her?

Cerulle began slowly untangling her dark curls with a comb, and Kindra pushed aside her internal debate, resolving to sort it out later. Right now, she just wanted to be clean. That’s all it was. She wasn’t betraying her morals; she was just tired and dirty. Of course she was going to enjoy this. She would have enjoyed any bath, any bed.

At least, that’s what she settled on telling herself.

Sala lathered up a bar of soap onto a washcloth, reached out and took one of Kindra’s arms, and began to scrub away the weeks’ worth of dirt as Cerulle washed her hair. Kindra had honestly thought she’d done a fairly good job at keeping herself clean on the way here: they’d had some soap she’d been able to use every few days to bathe. But a handful of rushed baths in a creek and her unwillingness to strip entirely down out of fear of being ogled, had clearly not been as effective as she’d hoped, she realized as she watched the water begin to turn a pale brown.

The bath was slightly uncomfortable. Kindra hadn’t had another person clean her since she’d been a child and that person had been her mother. When they had her stand, she fought back the desire to squirm away as they ran their washcloths over her backside and inner thighs, instead focusing intently on how clean she now felt.

After one final rinse, they helped her step out of the tub, drying her off with fluffy towels. She gawked as they presented her with a new set of undergarments that were finer than any clothing she’d ever worn.

“Your dressing room is fairly empty right now, my Lady,” Sala informed her, nodding to a door on the right wall. “You will be fitted properly tomorrow. There are couple of sets of casual wear, in case you’d like to attend dinner tonight with Princess Helena, as well as a few different choices in sleepwear.”

“Thank you,” Kindra managed, and moved through the door. She was not surprised to find it was another giant room, filled with shelves and wardrobes and a mirror that took up almost an entire wall. It was, as Sala said, mostly empty, which made the size of it seem all the more ridiculous. She looked through the drawers until she found some of the sleepwear. Unlike in Harthwin, where the nightgowns she’d worn had been plain and modest, these were as intricate and colorful as fancy gowns, and twice as revealing. She selected a deep red one, surprised at how revealing it was with its light, flowing fabric and lacy detailing. It came down to just above her knees, held up by thin straps, and displayed far more of her cleavage than she’d like.

“Gods above,” she muttered as she studied herself in the mirror, “I might as well be naked.”

“It is traditional Alverinian fashion,” Cerulle said. “Before the curse, the Annalindis family, with their history of being Firefuries, wore lighter fabrics year-round, due to their—and your—ability to warm themselves with their magic. It was a symbol of their power, to walk about in a blizzard with their bodies bared to the elements. You will be fitted with the older attire in mind.” She smiled kindly. “You’re the first Firefury to be in the Annalindis family for almost a hundred years.”

Kindra flinched at the reminder that she was to soon be an Annalindis. Kindra Annalindis was going to be her name. No longer a common girl from Harthwin, but a Princess of Alverin. A wave of nausea rolled through her, the bliss of her bath immediately forgotten.

“My lady? Is something wrong?” Sala asked, brow furrowed with concern.

“I think… I think I’d like to take a nap.” Her voice came out barely above a whisper. “Alone, please.”

The two young women did not question her further, dipping their heads in understanding. “Of course. We will be only a cord pull away, should you need us.” Within seconds, they had exited her chambers, closing the doors quietly behind them.

Kindra walked numbly out of the bathing room and over to her bed. Her giant, obscene bed, in her giant, obscene room, in this giant, obscene castle. For a moment, she simply stared at it.

Loneliness stabbed through her, as sharp and brutal as a steel blade. The realization that she hadn’t seen her mother in two weeks, when for her entire life she had seen her every single day, slammed down on her. Tears gathered in her eyes .

She blinked them away before they could fall, pulling the covers back and crawling into bed. She could not cry here, could not be weak. She could also admit that it could be worse. Her rooms were beautiful and comfortable. Her wielding would not be restricted. Helena was kind, and Cerulle and Sala seemed sweet. But as exhaustion overtook her and she began to drift off, Kindra could not forget why she was here, and no amount of luxury or smiling faces would make up for the horrible sacrifice she’d been forced to make.