Heir of Stardust and Secrets (Mythic Spark #1)

20. The Trappings of Hope

Chapter 20

The Trappings of Hope

I abandoned any notion of sleep and slipped into my satin robe and plush slip-ons. Maybe a snack would calm my anxiety and allow me the reprieve of a few hours’ rest before setting off to the fae realm.

Swinging the kitchen door open, I found Nevander sitting on a stool, elbows of his lightly tanned arms resting on a high prep table, an empty plate before him. With a raised brow, he stood, retrieved another cup, and replenished the pastries before filling our empty mugs with what smelled like tea.

“Thank you,” I said and took a sip. “You can’t sleep either?”

Nevander was a man of few words. His features held a permanent scowl between his dark brows, and he had a menacing quality to him that I would have avoided in Leighmullan. This was the first time we’d been alone together, as he was typically off doing whatever it was he did for the king.

He didn’t respond, and I wasn’t sure he would. I took advantage of the silence and allowed my mind to drift as it pleased.

“It’s been five. Hundred. Years,” he said, pointedly dragging out each word. “Five hundred years, and here you are, right here, sipping tea with me. I’d always known what our mission was, but as decades became centuries, rage dulled to determination, which eventually morphed into habit. It’s changed with you here, though.”

His words reverberated through the silence that enveloped us.

“I don’t think I’ve ever felt this way before,” he admitted. “It’s unnerving and keeps sleep at bay.”

“What does?”

He looked at me with his mocha eyes, and said, “Hope.”

Hope. Hope . He was right. Hope could be a beautiful and devastating companion. I’d learned that over the past few months. The thrum of excitement that oscillated with the dread of doubt. I’d had those queasy moments with hope myself and locked it away in the same place I locked all the other emotions I was unwilling to dance with.

I said nothing, knowing there were no words I could offer that would temper his burden.

“And you?” he eventually asked.

“Nerves.”

We sipped our tea and finished the plate in silence. There was something comforting about him that calmed me, like a warm hearth on a winter night. I think he felt it too.

At last, sleep beckoned to us, and we made our way back up the stairs in the hope its summons was sincere.

The sharp sound of curtains being drawn was followed by a blinding light. Shielding my eyes, I tried to steal a peek, wanting to discern how far the sun had risen. They revolted in protest, and I shut them once more.

“What time is it?” I groused.

“It’s time to get out of bed. You slept straight through breakfast, and Alejandro is here,” Ava said.

Her chiding tone was one I knew all too well by now, but I risked pulling the covers over my head in hopes I could delay our departure, if only for a moment.

“Rise and shine, sleepyhead,” Alejandro’s loud, rhythmically accented voice filled the room. He could wake the dead with his enthusiasm—which meant there was no escape.

I let out a long-suffering sigh, flung the covers off, and tried to blink away the sleep. “Okay, okay, I’m awake.”

I was washed, scrubbed, plucked, and stars know what else. After what felt like an eternity, the thick, luxurious cream that coated my hair from the onset was rinsed out, and I was finally free to leave the tub.

A woman by the name of Artinia—Arti, for short—brushed my hair with some sort of contraption that apparently helped it dry faster. Once done, I ran my hands through my hair. I couldn’t resist savoring the silken strands flowing between my fingers and did it again. The softness, the scent—stars, it was beyond pleasing. I supposed that with the fae’s heightened senses, the minutiae mattered.

I winced as Arti pulled my hair into a tidy section above my head before giving it a trim, unearthing the unevenness of my previous attempts. It took her an hour to finish, but it was worth every second.

My hair bounced as I swayed my head to each side, exploring the new locks. Shiny, soft, and flowing, my hair now had a life of its own. Just as my fingers were about to sink in again, a sharp pain shot through them as the heavy side of a wooden comb slapped me.

“Ouch, what was that for?”

Alejandro wagged his finger at me. “Don’t touch my masterpiece.”

I rolled my eyes at him and rubbed the sting away.

Arti held back a laugh as she placed delicate jars of various colors on the vanity. Risking another thwomp, I picked one up to inspect it. Its deep-violet color shimmered as the loose powder shifted within its confines .

Watching my curiosity, Arti said, “It’s makeup.”

“Makeup?”

“Darling, have you been living under a rock your whole life. Maaaaaakeu—p,” Alejandro said, in a way only he could—popping the p loud enough for me to pull away slightly. “You know what women use to make themselves beeee-utiful? And some men, of course.”

My blank stare must have been answer enough.

“Stars, you’re just so cute,” he said as he pinched my cheek, and I couldn’t even be offended.

In the canvas of dusk’s gentle hues, I beheld a stranger’s reflection staring back at me in the mirror. Her hair flowed down in soft waves, the tips tickling her exposed back just below where her undergarment should be. She looked older—not in an aged way, but regal, mature. Like a woman.

Her lips were painted a soft pink and caught the fading light with their slight gloss. The color paired well with the stunning dress. Its formfitting white lace bodice caressed her striking curves, while the deep-V neckline plunged to the bottom of her sternum, her décolletage fully on display. But the viewer’s attention would be drawn to the pink diamond adorning her bare skin, teasingly resting between the soft mounds of her hidden breasts.

All modesty was forfeit, as the silky softness of her ivory skin was the unsung hero in the back. Her spine forced the eyes to travel down to the top of the skirt, which would have been deemed inappropriate if it were even a fraction lower. The textured pattern accentuated her body perfectly— my body . Those were my curves the skirt was draping from.

The skirt’s familiar material had more fluidity to it than I was accustomed to. The small amount of trailing fabric made the dress come to life as I swayed from side to side, feeling it out. Alejandro was a master, and I knew his art would paint the dance floor with my every move.

I stepped closer to the mirror, taking in the artistry of the maaaaaakeu—p . My eyes were traced with black and accentuated with a smoky gray. Somehow, they’d added black onto my eyelashes. They were mine, but longer, darker, thicker, and feathering below my eyebrows. I took in a sharp breath, noticing then that my eyes were a deep, rich blue.

I stepped back. “What did you do to my eyes?”

“Beautified them, of course,” Alejandro said.

“But…you made them blue, how?”

“Darling, it’s very rare that I can tweak the makeup and the eyes decide to play along. In the choice between green and blue, I felt blue would suit you best tonight, for this look. They are more striking against the skirt’s dusty pink, no?”

He put his hands over my eyelids, and my eyes went back to their normal green. I blinked a couple of times. He took his hands away. Damn it, he was right. The deep blue that now stared back at me was like the last piece of a puzzle being pressed into place.

He smiled triumphantly and took in his masterpiece, me , one more time.

“You ready, my wide-eyed willow?” he asked.

I clasped his hand in mine; it was all I could muster.

“Right,” he said, releasing my grip and clapping his hands together. “Well, my work is done here, and you have someplace to be, so hurry, hurry your cute little booty, my little willow. The king awaits.”

As I walked down the hallway, a flutter filled my chest. Nerves, but not the kind that’d stolen sleep from me the night before.

The timeless trio stood together in the foyer at the bottom of the grand staircase, looking strikingly handsome in their chosen finery. Their casual stances spoke to their relaxed friendship, which I’d witnessed from them countless times before.

Alejandro made a small sound from behind me—no doubt on purpose. The three men casually glanced toward the noise, then readjusted when they saw me.

The king stepped between his companions toward me. My heart pounded from the intensity in his eyes. They consumed me wholly, roaming from the hem of my skirt upward with deliberate intent until they met my own.

I slid my hand into his as he escorted me down the last few steps.

He held my gaze, speechless.

“Wow!” Tarrin said. I broke the gaze to see the king’s second-in-command grinning at me.

“Wait for us in the other room,” the king said, keeping his attention on me.

I’m not sure what came over me, but once we were alone, I took a step back from the king, released his hand, and showcased myself to him with a slow, dramatic turn. His shoulders rose with his breath, and my own flutters multiplied with every moment he drank me in.

He closed the gap between us. Even with heels on, I had to tilt my head up to meet his burning gaze. Those flutters deepened into something different. Bringing a hand up, his thumb grazed my cheek as he said, “You look resplendent, Nyleeria.”

I would have smiled at him using that word, resplendent —there were times when his diction couldn’t mask his age. But there was something in his tempestuous gray-blue eyes that swept away any thoughts beyond that moment.

I slid my hands to his waist, feeling his muscled body through the finery. His deep, earthy scent encased me as he leaned in closer.

“Pardon the interruption, Your Majesty, they’re here,” a voice said from the doorway Tarrin and Nevander had exited through.

The king and I stayed still for a moment until he took a slight step away, taking his hand from my cheek and placing it on the small of my back.

Ushering me forward, he said, “After you.”

As we entered the room, my breath caught. I would have stopped dead in my tracks if the king’s steady hand wasn’t still firmly in place, urging me forward.

Two fae males stood on a small, raised landing. My mind began cataloging every detail. They looked humanoid, as had been described to me, but also not. There was something intrinsically ethereal about them, but I couldn’t articulate it. Otherworldly, maybe? Or perhaps it was the unseen glow of divinity still coursing through their veins.

I wished I had the luxury to stare at my leisure and take in all that was similar and different between our people. People —was that even the correct term?

“Your Majesty,” the taller fae said with a slight bow, dark-mahogany-brown hair sliding forward from the movement.

“Well met,” the king said. “Welcome to my lands, my home.”

“An honor.”

“Is this your first time valenning?” the light-haired fae asked. There was no emotion or judgment in his words. In fact, it was a polite question given the history of the veil and our well-known ignorance of the fae and their magic.

A shiver ran through me at the thought. Nevander had explained to me what valenning was. Apparently, some of the fae possessed the power to jump through time and space, a form of teleportation.

“It is. For all of us,” the king said.

“We can each take two at a time. You will be here one moment and at our destination the next,” the dark-haired male said.

A letter had arrived after we’d accepted the invitation explaining as much. The four of us had already discussed that the king and I would go together, while Tarrin and Nevander would travel—or valen, I supposed—separately. This form of transport was more efficient, but it also prevented us from traveling to the Summer Court by ground—or learning its exact location.

The fae closest to me stepped forward, offering his hand. I hesitated, my every instinct recoiled at the gesture, at this strange being towering over me. The king put his hand in mine as he stepped up to the landing. I squeezed it hard, allowing him to be my tether once more as I accepted the fae’s hand.

“Ready?” the fae asked once my hand was firmly in his.

The king looked at me, allowing me to decide when it was okay to leave. I gave a tight nod, knowing there would be no amount of time that would make me ready .

The fae summoned his power around him, which looked faintly like heat waves wafting from the summer ground. I clenched my jaw, bracing myself as the power flowed and danced in a natural rhythm that seemed as much a part of him as the hand I held, and my own power deep within stirred in its presence. Then the air around us pushed in until, suddenly, the room ceased to exist.

One blink, we were in the palace, and the next, we were in a place wholly foreign.

The air was different. Warmer. Humid. It smelled of hot summer heat beginning to yield to the evening air. It was what I would have expected at the apex of summer back home, not on the solstice which was two months prior.

Taking in my surroundings, the male that had valenned us said, “May I?”

I looked at him, unsure of what he wanted. He gave a soft smile and glanced down to where our hands were still entwined.

“Oh. Yes. Sorry.” I released my grip and stepped closer to the king, who caressed my hand with his thumb before he released me.

Tarrin and Nevander made their way to either side of us.

“King Thaddeus,” a booming male voice echoed through the vast open atrium, “welcome to my home.”

His home.

It wasn’t just anyone greeting us, then, but the high lord of the Summer Court.