Hair to the Throne Page 4

  Even if she wanted to reclaim their friendship, even if it was safe to do so, there was a ten year gap between the Abeille she remembered and the Abeille she saw in front of her now. She was sure it was the same for Abeille. Although Merle herself hadn't changed much, and although it didn't seem to her like Abeille had either, time built up, experiences built up, and their paths had diverged without them wanting that.

  The whole situation left her uneasy and at a loss. It wouldn't be so bad if she had some way to occupy herself, but there was little to do. They were allowed small tokens on request, or could barter for more from demons—that was how Belette stayed in art supplies—but Merle hadn't yet been able to think of anything she'd want.

  Abeille had a little forge two floors up, which she took Merle to one day when Merle complained she was bored. "Nothing wrong with showing a new roommate what I do," she'd said at Merle's questioning look.

  It's been so long since I've seen her work. It'll just be the two of us in there, too, and we can drop the act. She pushed herself off her bed and padded after Abeille.

  The process itself was much as Merle remembered, but she didn't stop Abeille from explaining things in her soft low voice as she prepared her station. Merle watched with fascination as Abeille put silver scrap in a crucible with some alchemical powders, then placed it in a small, closed-off brick oven and applied flame to it.

  Merle listened with only half an ear to the explanation. Sitting on the bench at the back wall, she was fascinated with how Abeille's hair looked when it was tied off her shoulders, how her arms looked in the short-sleeved shift she'd changed into so she could work with fire in this stuffy room. The light from the high heat she was applying to the crucible in front of her illuminated the long line of her neck.

  At some point, Abeille stopped talking, just focusing on her work, and Merle didn't prompt her to start again. She watched quietly as Abeille transferred the molten silver to a plate and pressed it, then took that and hammered it on an anvil. From there, Abeille switched it to a crank-turned machine to flatten it further.

  It was familiar and nostalgic. Merle thought about long afternoons sitting behind Abeille and watching her, kicking her legs. She remembered the sight of her own knees, awkward and knobby as she grew, and glanced down at them, hidden behind the longer material of her dress now.

  "At any rate," Abeille said aloud abruptly, "in a few more passes this'll be flat enough I can use it to make rings."

  "The prince must really love your jewelry."

  Abeille went still where she was for a moment. "She enjoys looking at it, at least," Abeille said slowly, hesitant. "She doesn't wear any jewelry herself, but some of her demons do. Some of her favorite humans do too."

  "Maybe I'll get to wear one of your rings someday," Merle said impishly.

  She'd meant it playfully, but Abeille's expression, as she abruptly turned to face Merle, was pretty awful. Merle hadn't realized how relaxed and happy Abeille had been looking until it was gone, replaced with some kind of tightness.

  "Don't try to become one of her favorites."

  "I just meant—"

  "Don't," Abeille said flatly. She took her hair down and apron off.

  I guess that's it for today.

  Merle stayed silent, lump thick in her throat as she followed Abeille back to the lift. While they waited for it to arrive, Abeille seemed to cave, anger turning into guilt on her face. "… Sorry," she said abruptly, into the silence. "I know you didn't mean anything by it."

  "I just remember really liking your jewelry," Merle mumbled.

  "I remember really liking it too," Abeille said, and sighed. "I know you're just… You're still learning this place. And you don't know what to do with yourself."

  Merle looked down at her hands, twining them together, rubbing the calluses on the edges of her thumbs against each other. "I'm not used to having this much free time," she said. "Normally, I get up in the morning and work all day. In the evening, we—me and Ors's other girls—practiced hair and makeup on each other, or played dice. Or I'd go out to one of the taverns. It wasn't like I had a lot of fun, exactly, but I wasn't so idle. Is it always like this here?"

  "You get used to it," Abeille said. There was no more heat in her tone at all, just some sort of quiet numbness. "It's not like we have a lot of fun down here either. I'm not sure even the demons have fun here." She shook herself, then dredged up a half smile for Merle. "Though that might be just as well. It's not like we usually enjoyed their idea of fun up in the city, right?"

  "Right," Merle said, a corner of her mouth twitching up in return.

  Abeille shook her head, sighing softly. "But any of the demons she decides to keep in the palace are slaves too, in a way. They're ones who outrank us, yeah, but the prince limits their powers and makes them behave how she wants, not how they want. Being in her palace means being under her watch. Actually, it's dangerous to go too many floors away from our quarters because that means you could end up in their quarters, and they're bored and frustrated too. You know how demons are when they want entertainment."

  "Yikes," Merle said.

  "Yikes," Abeille agreed, smiling properly now. The lift arrived and they got on it, but Abeille hesitated, then, instead of choosing their floor, picked the bottom floor in their tower.

  Merle blinked. "Where are we going?" It wouldn't be quite parallel to Vehr's throne room in the other tower, because nothing got as deep into the earth as that, but it would have to be pretty close.

  "I want to show you something," Abeille said.

  She didn't explain further, so Merle just watched the floors pass as they descended. When the lift finally stopped, it opened onto a very different landscape. Instead of the polished obsidian walls, the hallway was carved out of dirt, as though the tower were unfinished and at some point had been intended to be carved deeper. Even so, lanterns were placed in regular intervals on the wall, glowing, as always, with magical light.

  I guess enough people come this way to make it worthwhile, Merle thought. She put her hand against the dirt wall, feeling it come away slightly moist. "What on earth is this?"

  "Come on," Abeille said. She started walking down the carved-out corridor, trailing one hand on the wall herself.

  Jogging to catch up, Merle said, "Are they expanding the castle? But it doesn't seem like there's anyone down here, and it always seems pretty empty except in her throne room and the living areas. Did they have to halt construction for some reason?"

  "I don't know for sure," Abeille said. "Sestin showed me this once. He said it was from before he came here too. The legend is someone tried to dig their way out from the castle and gave up partway through. It doesn't seem likely though, does it? It's too big for an escape tunnel."

  "Sestin, huh?" Merle asked, probing.

  Abeille hesitated, then glanced back over her shoulder at Merle. She seemed slightly embarrassed. "He's a cubant. He prefers spending time with humans instead of demons because our souls aren't guarded and our energy is free to take, unlike theirs."

  Merle scrunched her face up. "Yeah, I know how they work. Well, I'm not going to sleep with him."

  "Nobody's telling you to sleep with him," Abeille said with exaggerated patience. "I'm just saying, most of us know him because he takes the time to get friendly with us. A lot of people here do sleep with him, though. Nobody would look at you strangely."

  "Sestin's not my type."

  "Sestin could be your type," Abeille countered, raising a brow at her. "Shapeshifter. Identity-changer. Sestin takes requests, and actually turned into Hibo's—one of our old roommates—old girlfriend for a while. I mean, it wasn't any kind of trick. Hibo described her because she just wanted to see her face again. She—Sestin, I mean—didn't try to pretend to be her. Just looked like her. "

  That sounds really damn weird. Who wants a fake? Merle looked at Abeille's back, still following her. "Have you ever made a request?"

  "Of course not. Who would I even ask for?" Abeille asked,
tone almost long-suffering. "I never dated anyone."

  She couldn't know that would hurt. Merle tried to remind herself of that.

  The corridor had begun to open up in front of them. Abeille put a hand out. "Wait here for a moment."

  "Okay…?"

  Abeille kept moving forward, peeking into an opening ahead of them into what seemed to be a large room. She looked around it for a long moment, then gestured back to Merle to catch up. "Nobody's here. Come on."

  She stepped into the room before Merle could catch up with her. A sudden, strange sense of being left behind overwhelmed Merle, and she hurried in after her—then almost stumbled over her feet.

  It was an underground garden, lush and verdant. Flowers absolutely filled the room, the scent and warmth of them almost a physical thing that enveloped her as soon as she was inside. They grew not only on the floor, but the walls and ceiling, climbing over everything. Dirt paths wound throughout the garden; there was no way it was accidental, as the flower beds were clearly meant to be seen from all sides. Space had been made on the walls and ceiling for more magic-lit lanterns, too, keeping the room in a gentle glow.

  She inhaled the rich floral smell and felt tears spring to her eyes. In the monotone world of the palace, it was a burst of color and beauty.

  "What," Merle croaked.

  Abeille turned on the path ahead, and whatever she saw on Merle's face made her light up. "Isn't it lovely? I've never seen anyone actually working on it, but it always seems carefully tended."

  "It's gorgeous," Merle breathed. She inhaled again, shivering at the richness after the dry, tasteless air of the floors above. She began to walk down one of the paths and heard Abeille fall into step behind her. Sweet honeysuckle bushes lined this one. "I never imagined anything like this down here. I mean, it's beautiful, but it doesn't seem like the prince's style."

  "I thought so too," Abeille said. "I guess either she doesn't know about it or considers it beneath her attention. You can come down here whenever, but be careful when you do. It's very isolated and you could easily get cut off from the lift. If someone's already in here, turn around and go back."

  "Relax," Merle said dismissively, her attention still fixed on the floors. "I'm not an idiot. And I've been around demons my whole life."

  "Sorry," Abeille said, not sounding very sorry. "I know. But the way you have to watch yourself inside the palace is different than outside."

  "Relax," Merle said again.

  Up ahead were some purple flowers, brilliantly colored and catching her eye. She took off at a run to go look at them.

  "Merle!" Abeille's voice had startled laughter in it, a suppressed delight, and Merle grinned back at her as she arrived at the tall winding vines. "You're acting like a child!"

  "And what's wrong with that?" Merle said back, playful. "Come here, have you seen these?"

  "I'm not the one who's visiting it for my first time," Abeille said, but fell into place beside her obediently, smiling. "… Maybe you're right."

  Merle tilted her head, looking up at Abeille. "Hm?"

  Abeille's expression was warm but wistful, eyes distant, lashes heavy over them. "About relaxing," she said. "I can't remember the last time I laughed like this. My cheeks ache from smiling—you're like a breath of fresh air. It's so easy to become cold down here. I hope you never do."

  "I hope you can warm up, then," Merle said. And then impulsively she reached out, plucking a blossom from the vine and placing it in Abeille's hair.

  Abeille's eyes widened, her cheeks growing darker with color. "You mustn't do that," she said, voice wavering. "This place does belong to someone. You could get in trouble."

  "It's one blossom," Merle said. "They fall off on their own, anyway. Look." She gestured at the ground, where a couple had fallen. "Relax a little. Nobody's here, just us. You don't have to watch over your shoulder all the time."

  "Just almost all the time," Abeille said, and raised her fingertips to the flower in her hair, dimpling one of the petals. "Just almost every waking moment. I have to watch myself even if nobody else is watching me. You'll learn that."

  Merle said, "I'm pretty hard to teach."

  "That you are," Abeille said, and smiled again, brows creased.

  But despite her protests, she wore the flower for the few hours they stayed in the garden. When they did finally leave, she raised it to her nose to sniff, and Merle thought she saw her lips purse, like she was giving it a kiss farewell before she dropped it into the bushes.

  And then they had to go back to their floor, where Merle was a new arrival and Abeille a near-stranger whose only kindness to Merle was because she was showing her around. Helping her fit in.

  Back to their floor, where they weren't, and had never been, friends.

  Chapter Five

  Merle took to exploring to pass the time.

  She didn't go too far, and tried not to ignore Abeille's warnings. But it was easy to justify it to herself. When she'd been up in the city, she'd explored all the time—when it was light out, anyway. If stopped, she just told people she was on a supply run for the shop. Here, everyone would expect her presence. She figured at least she could get to know the other humans.

  So she wandered from room to room, meeting people, seeing who did what. Some of the boys on the floor above hers played cards and invited her to a game or two. It was a way to pass the time, and she'd always had pretty good luck, so she hung out there now and then. They didn't play for money, but kept a tally of wins per day anyway. She was rapidly catching up.

  It was after one of these sessions of gaming that she ran into Sestin again, coming out of another room on the boys' floor as she headed back to the lift.

  For a moment he seemed startled, horizontal pupils narrowing abruptly, but he recognized her right away and smiled widely after the surprise passed. "Merle," he said. "Good to see you."

  "You too," she said. Abeille's first-day warning rung in her ears again. Nobody can know. Sestin started to brush past her and she grabbed onto his arm. "Um, hey—"

  His brows rose, but he stopped obligingly. She looked at the floor instead of his face, watching as he shifted his weight to one hoof casually, tapping the other on the floor. "Can I help you with something?"

  "There's something I want to talk to you about. In private."

  She still didn't look at his face and was just as glad not to when his voice came out extremely knowingly. "Is that so? Well, I know a number of private nooks."

  "Not like that!"

  "It's fine, really," he said, magnanimously teasing. "I am what I am."

  She huffed a breath. Not my type, she'd said, but even so, she was well-aware that cubants changed gender the way they changed hair color. It was all mutable to them; their form reflected how they felt, not the other way around, and they could flow from one mindset to another as easily as breathing. Sestin could be her type as soon as he felt like he was. "Get on the lift with me," she muttered.

  "As you wish." He bowed to her, and then took advantage of her hand still being on his arm to escort her there.

  Merle pounded the button to the bottom floor like it had done something to personally offend her. "I just want to talk."

  He smiled again, eyes slightly narrowed and watching her through his lashes. "Hm," he said. "If you're sure. I'd be happy to help you out however."

  He takes requests. For a moment, Abeille's face popped into her mind, the thoughtful, cautious expression she seemed to wear all the time these days.

  Her heart clenched around a thought, barely formed, and she shook her head to herself as if she could shake it out before she could give it shape. "Anyway," she said. "I just don't want to be overheard."

  "That's understandable," he said, more intrigued now. "I think most people have things like that."

  "Yeah, probably." The lift reached the bottom floor and they exited onto the dirt corridor. "Hang on, I need to see if anyone's in there—"

  "There aren't," Sestin said.

&nb
sp; Merle glanced up at him in confusion before realizing what he meant and chewing on the inside of her cheek for a moment. "Because you can sense life forces."

  "That's right. I can at least do that," he said agreeably. "It's like smelling food. I can even detect it from demons, even if they're less accessible to me."

  For a moment, listening to Sestin describe life force and food like that, she thought of what Abeille had said about not letting anyone catch her alone down here. How isolated it was. All that, and here she was inviting an incubus down there.

  "Well, okay. Great. That makes it easier," she said, and walked in. "So we're alone on this floor?"

  "That's right." He smiled lightly. "I see you found the garden."

  "Yeah," she said. Somehow, it seemed a bit less pretty today. Maybe whoever's in charge of it is slacking. "Abeille didn't know a lot about why it's here."

  "Hmm." He put a finger to his lips and leaned close. "Do you want to know?"

  Startled, she took a step back. "What! You know? Really?"

  "I have some idea," he said, moving in closer again, conspiratorial. "It's guesswork, but I've been here long enough to pick up all the hints. You see, when Vehr first conquered this fiefdom, she took over from the previous prince and started to expand the castle. She gave up soon enough and never finished this wing—as I understand it."

  Merle nodded. "I mean, I guess she'd have enough to take care of anyway. So that's where the room comes from… but who made the garden?"

  "Vehr did," Sestin said, simply.

  Merle boggled at him. "Vehr did that too? But it's nothing like her style! Hers is all… cluttered things and passive watching, not… something like this." Something wild and beautiful, teeming with life.

  "She wasn't always old and bored and meaningless," Sestin said. He broke eye contact with Merle, looking around the room himself. "Well, she was already by the time I got here. It wasn't that long ago. Like I said, I figured it out on my own. I could be wrong."

  Shaking her head, Merle said, "I just don't see it. It wouldn't have survived this long without someone taking care of it."