Shadow Cursed by May Sage Page 0,63

suppose “Darker Grove” doesn't sound quite as dramatic.

Everything about the seelie castle is alien, different, other, and yet, so very fae in nature.

At the gate, the two knights wear the exact same uniform, polished to perfection. They're even the same height. Both are dark-haired. I wouldn't be surprised if they were twins.

We're admitted inside, and everywhere, there's symmetry, perfection. The white stones of the path are polished, square, smooth. In the distance, I hear a chant similar to our winter songs, but peaceful, slow, tender, caring.

I want to vomit.

I've only taken a few steps inside their world and already, I'm bored.

The rose-stone castle is bathed with light inside—its high walls boast hundreds of humongous windows. Along the walls, there are statues and paintings of mournful maidens and still lifes of flowers.

"Do they ever have fun?" I wonder, whispering to Drusk.

He chides me with a look, but I see him wince as he takes in the gigantic painting of an apple. A boring apple.

We're led to a vast chamber where dozens of gentry are gathered around a table drinking wine as musicians play the most lifeless song of all time.

I guess I have my answer. Fun isn't their thing.

"My king. Apologies for the interruption." The hag bows deep in front of the last man I would have guessed was king, among those gathered here.

It's a boy with red hair and an easy smile that reaches the corners of his moss-green eyes. "What do we have here?" He sends Meda a wicked grin that makes me think that he, at least, does know exactly how to have fun.

His gaze takes us all in, but soon returns to Meda.

He gets up, leaving his companions without so much as a glance. He takes his goblet of wine with him, though.

"Come on, old friend. Let's get you attended to."

Although Meda stood tall and proud, never giving off that she was in any way injured throughout our walk, one glance and that man knew there was something wrong with her.

She gestures for us to follow, before setting off after him.

After walking through many corridors and up several flights of stairs, we reach what can only be the royal chamber—a vast room, larger than the entire throne hall of Whitecroft—filled with plush velvet-covered chairs and cushions, and a bed large enough for ten people.

I am guessing that it occasionally fits as many, from the king's vibe.

"Come, old friend. Sit, sit. I'll get supplies."

He disappears into a side chamber.

Meda drops on the sofa he indicates, and removes her cloak, shirt, and chemise, till she stands topless.

I stare at her. "You know him well, then?"

Meda shrugs. "You never asked about my life before I came to you," she points out.

She's right. I've always been too intimidated by her to do anything but obey her—or fight her when she demanded it. Meda wasn't an easy person to get close to. For me, in any case. She got along with my mother.

"I was the captain of Titus's guard."

My jaw drops.

"That's right!" the king chirps, returning with his hands full. "And one of my closest friends, too. Which is why when you promised to return, I believed you."

While his tone remains light, the accusation is unmistakable.

Meda smiles up at him. "And I'm here, aren't I?"

King Titus laughs, throwing the mess of things he's fetched on the rest of the sofa. Clean cloth, flasks, gauze, needles. He proceeds to unwrap Meda's wound. I wince along with Titus when I see its state. It's clearly infected. The skin along the edges of the cut is raised and greenish, the blood pitch black.

I want nothing more than to take a step back. Titus leans in and licks it.

"Just salt and iron. You've survived worse."

He cleans the wound carefully, and when he's done, places his hand over it. I can feel magic pulse through.

"I can probably speed that up, now that it's clean," I offer.

I couldn't think of healing her while she had poison inside her. Closing off the wound over salt and iron would result in pain for the rest of her days, and maybe kill her in the end.

The king directs his attention to me for the first time.

"You're the granddaughter, then?" he guesses.

I nod, joining them. I place my fingertips at the edge of Meda's collarbone and transfer some of my energy to her. I'm tired, but I haven't tapped into my magic at all recently. I barely feel the strain. The wound closes up in front of our eyes.

"Fascinating. You're a Void,