Heir of Stardust and Secrets (Mythic Spark #1)

31. Sticky Aftermath

Chapter 31

Sticky Aftermath

A fter our pleasure-filled nap, Thaddeus slipped out to fetch some food, aiming to satisfy my grumbling stomach until dinner.

Waking in the sturdy embrace of his arms, limbs tangled, stealing kisses just because we were within proximity, had been a strange and delightful sensation.

With Eithan, it was different. Now, with something to compare it to, I realized those moments of pleasure we’d shared stemmed from convenience, rather than any deep-seated feelings, and I think he mistook familiarity and comfort for love.

This newfound intimacy helped me understand that, while I did love Eithan, it was in the way someone loved a dear friend. I’d never grasped the difference between loving someone and being in love with them until now. Not that I could claim either kind of love for Thaddeus yet, but the depth of connectedness between us had already surpassed what I’d experienced with Eithan. I was glad for what Eithan had meant to me during that time of my life, and I missed him dearly. But looking back, he seemed so young, green compared to the men I’d found myself surrounded by—and the one currently sharing my bed. In a way, I’d outgrown him. Trauma and grief aging me well past my years, I supposed.

A knock rapped on the door. Presuming it was Thaddeus, arms too full to turn the handle, I opened it. A tall, awkwardly lanky female with shimmering pale-green skin walked past me into the room.

Her movements were…unique; arms swinging as if they were dragged down but more slow than labored. There was an unconventional grace about her as she crossed the room swiftly, her large strides making up for her languid movements.

Her feline eyes bore into me, and I decided to leave the door open. She sniffed the air, and her nose crinkled before she turned to open the windows. Turning back to me, her sharp gaze judged me from head to toe. I pulled my robe in a little tighter.

“Your stench and person are that of a swamp, child,” she said, tone clipped, if not annoyed, and I remembered the voice from the other night—she was the servant who’d tried to get me to bathe.

“Close enough,” I said.

She tsked, but whether it was at my response or my current state, I couldn’t tell.

“Bath. Now.” She snapped her fingers, pointing to the lavatory. “The feast is an hour hence, and you are far from suitable. Not to mention, I had to bird-dog you. Why are you not in your own chamber?”

Thinking why I was here and not there, a chill scampered down my spine as the memory of Amos in that suite flooded me. She must have sensed my fear, because her look softened as she said, “Very well. I will have your garments relocated accordingly.”

Moments later, we stood before the bath, and she held out her hand to me. It took me a moment to realize she was expecting my robe. I steeled myself, remembering that, if I were highborn, I would be unabashed by a servant attending me.

Obliging her silent demand, I handed it to her, feeling utterly exposed .

A gasp left her, and she lurched toward me. “What in all things Lumnara?”

I looked down to see what she was referring to. Right, I’d forgotten that the oily black substance still stained my fair complexion. Although, it was no longer oily and had morphed into a dull film that had fused to me like a second skin.

“I’m not sure,” I said, and she cut me a sharp look. What did she expect me to say, Amos’s power splattered everywhere, and its guts are stuck to me?

She brought her long, bony fingers up to one of the larger splotches on my chest, prodded it, and ultimately hissed as if sensing evil. Brows furrowed, she pointed to the bath. “Get in,” she ordered, then left.

I did as she bade and sank into its warm, comforting depths.

No sooner had I drifted off then the female returned.

“Sit up,” she demanded.

I bristled at her tone, nearly quipping a retort, but held my tongue—we weren’t in the human realm anymore, and there was a very real possibility that, in the grand hierarchy of things, mere mortals were vermin that belonged below the bottom rung. Although, it could have just been her. Regardless, I did as she asked and sat up enough for the water to sit just below my collarbone—the same delicate feature Thaddeus had dragged his tongue across mere hours ago.

“I require the marks above the surface,” she said, shattering all traces of that delightful memory.

Awkwardly, I slid onto my knees, propping myself higher for her, my breasts now exposed and taut from the temperature change. More than anything, I wished Ava were here instead of this brisk, demanding, unkind female.

She twisted a jar open that appeared to contain some sort of salve and rested it on the side of the tub. Leaning in, her fingers probed around the black stains, her brows scrunched in concentration as she assessed .

Finding what she was looking for, she reached down into the bag next to her and pulled something out.

The instrument came to a fine point, like a knitting needle, but indefinitely sharper, and not for knitting at all. Pointed end poised, the bony fingers of her free hand prodded the largest patch on my upper chest above my heart. Pressing her finger down, she dug the needle into my flesh.

I gasped at the pain and jerked away. “What are you doing?” I yelped.

“Tending to your wounds.”

“Can’t Myron fix them without hurting me?”

“No.”

I glared at her.

“The High Lord of Spring tried to administer treatment to Lord Caius, to no avail. This was the only method that proved successful.”

I gripped either side of the tub with my hands, bracing myself, and hoped they’d taken my humanness into account when they’d deemed it successful . I clenched my teeth and nodded for her to continue.

The sharp edge scraped back and forth around the darkened perimeter like she was skinning game, and I bit down to stop myself from crying out as the burning pain sent my nerves on fire.

A snide part of me wondered if maintaining the visions would have been preferable.

After what felt like an eternity, she put the instrument down and gripped the edge of the patch like someone pulling up their boots, then slowly peeled it back. My hand pounded down against the tub’s edge from the searing pain, and a slurping sound filled my ears as layers of my own flesh were stripped away with it. The middle was more sensitive, and when she exposed it, the scream I’d been biting down slipped out in a sound of guttural agony.

In a flash, Nevander was standing at the threshold, peering down at me. A slight blush dusted his cheeks from my nakedness, but he’d sobered when he took in what was happening .

Anger crossed the female’s features. “Out,” she commanded.

Nevander turned to face away but didn’t make to leave. A silent compromise. The female huffed her indignation, then continued.

I groaned, my body already aching from the coiled effort it took to stay put. Nevander tensed at every sound, as if he, too, were being hurt.

The black mark was now gone, replaced by an angry patch of raw flesh where beads of blood pooled like morning dew.

She slid a cool, greasy salve over the oozing wound, and I hissed at the unexpected stinging that hit me like a thousand burning needles. Nevander turned his head, nothing but cold fury in his eyes. I was grateful it was him and not Thaddeus—I doubted he’d allow it. But it needed to be done.

After the initial shock of the salve ebbed, the female gently laid a green leaf over it, and an instant cooling seeped into the wound. I heaved a heavy sigh in relief.

Instrument poised, she probed the next mark, and I grabbed her wrist before she could continue. She looked between my hand and my face, eyes narrowing.

“I need a moment,” I breathed, feeling lightheaded as beads of sweat trickled down my face.

“The feast starts soon.”

“I don’t care,” I said flatly. “I need a moment.”

“Lord Caius did not have such problems with his treatment.”

“Well, good for the high lord of the Summer Court and his magical, perfectly crafted, immortal body. I’m so happy that he didn’t have such problems ,” I spat, releasing her wrist.

She gave me a withering look but relented.

I took a moment, head bowed, eyes closed, willing the dizziness to go away as I forced myself to take slow, steady breaths. I heard Thaddeus attempting to enter the room, only to be turned away by Tarrin. Good—I didn’t want him here for this.

I steeled myself and let her continue .

Piece by piece, she patiently removed each mark, no matter how small.

“Stand,” she said.

I did, and she searched my body thoroughly, making sure she’d gotten all of it.

I caught my reflection in the mirror—pallid, gaunt, shadowed. Exhaustion weighed heavily on me, and the idea of attending the dinner seemed insurmountable. But we were here for a reason.

I can do this. I can do this, I silently chanted, forcing myself to rally, willing the words to be true.

With focused care, she removed the remaining patches and rinsed away the salve. Looking down, I blinked several times. The raw, bleeding wounds were replaced by flesh. It was tender and inflamed, but mercifully healed.

She had me lay back in the tub and emptied it out before the rich, sweet citrus scent of the freshly drawn bath calmed me in a deep, satisfying way, like water quenching the desert’s thirst.

I leaned my head back and almost moaned when her long, bony fingertips worked their magic along my scalp. Letting out a sigh of relief, I relaxed into what she offered.

Nevander’s footsteps crossed the tiled floor, and the door clicked closed.

“They fuss over you,” she said, and I could tell she wondered why.

“Yes. They do,” I said a bit dreamily, enjoying her pampering touch. If her hands were this deft, I was curious what the treatment would have been like if someone else had administered it and shuddered at the thought.

Seated before the vanity, I studied my reflection. The pallor had been replaced by a healthy flush in my cheeks, and somehow, despite everything, I felt…refreshed.

I caught the woman’s eye in the mirror as she brushed my hair. “What’s your name?” I asked.

“My name is Kai.” It was the softest I’d heard her speak .

“Thank you, Kai,” I said in earnest. She seemed to bristle at my gratitude, as if she weren’t used to such sentiments.

“Kai,” I said softly, “your skin is breathtaking. I didn’t know fae had such unique tones.” I marveled at its indescribable beauty.

I swore I saw a light blush bloom on her cheeks, or it would have if her coloring hadn’t obscured it.

“I am lesser fae,” she said, averting my eyes.

“Lesser fae?” I asked, not sure what she meant.

“That is what we are called, those who are not high fae,” she explained.

“What’s the difference?”

“Well, high fae look like you, and are blessed by the Mother with great power and strength.”

“And you’re not blessed with such things?”

“No.”

I wasn’t sure what to say. Lesser fae… I wondered what the societal implications were, if the distinction meant a divide in rank and status, or if it was a coincidence that she was a servant.

“The summer here is sweltering,” I said, changing the subject. “Back home, it’s not like this until well after solstice.”

She gave me a crooked smile, amusement dancing in her eyes. “As is our custom, the solstice is a celebration to venerate the Mother and our star, but summer is eternal in our land.”

I swiveled to face her. “Truly?” I asked, wide-eyed with wonder.

She turned my head back to the mirror, pinning another section of my hair up as she chuckled. “Truly.”

Kai continued putting me together piece by piece, eventually outlining my eyes in black and sweeping a rich eggplant purple across my lids, which contrasted with the delicate shimmering pink she’d applied to my lips that bordered on nude.

My breath caught as she held out the dress—I hadn’t seen this one before, and excitement bloomed in me at the prospect of wearing it.

Now ready, I beheld the dress in the mirror’s reflection. The top of the two-piece set was a skintight, dusty-purple nylon that could almost be described as a bodysuit, although the bottom was a tight skirt that came to mid-thigh.

The sheer, delicate nylon feathered at my neckline, and matching sequins glittered across the front of my chest just below my décolletage. The back had no such adornments and was fully sheer until just below the dimples on the small of my back.

By far, my favorite part was the flowing tulle skirt that draped down in layers. It wrapped around the high, tapered curve of my waist, the front open like a cape, allowing the sequins to peek through while showing off my legs. The fabric was longer than necessary and trailed behind me.

My necklace had been fashioned into a bracelet, the pink diamond going beautifully with the ensemble.

The heels, although uncomfortable, were a nearly perfect match to the deep purple shadowing my lids. Matching delicate straps weaved up my lower legs like vines, bringing the entire look together. If Alejandro had seen this dress on me, he would’ve beamed, clasped his hands, and said, “My work here is done, darling.”

I didn’t just feel beautiful in this dress; I felt sexy.

“Thank you,” I said again to Kai, and squeezed her hands between mine—she had worked a miracle.