Page 10

Several pieces of furniture had been covered with large white dust sheets, their shapes rising like ghosts in the dim light. Thalia hurried forward, looking mortified as she began pulling them away one by one, sending clouds of dust into the air. She coughed, waving a hand in front of her face as she gathered the fabric into her arms.

“I’m so sorry, my lady,” she blurted. “We haven’t had guests in some time. Not since before…” She trailed off, her expression faltering before she forced herself to continue. “I should have remembered… I should have prepared it better.”

“It’s fine,” I assured her, stepping farther into the room. “Honestly, it’s more than fine. It’s gorgeous.”

And it was.

The chamber looked as though it had been designed for some sleeping princess who had wandered out of a storybook and forgotten to return. A grand bed stood against the far wall, its frame carved from pale wood and draped with gauzy curtains that shimmered faintly whenever the air moved.

The ceiling above had been painted to resemble a night sky, though the stars scattered across it seemed to catch the light, making me wonder if they were truly only paint. Tall windows opened onto a narrow balcony, beyond which the battered city stretched beneath the bruised colors of the evening sky. There was a fireplace framed in white stone, a dressing table with a clouded mirror, and a wardrobe tall enough to suggest it might contain several secrets along with whatever clothes had been left inside.

Thalia set the folded dust sheets onto a chair and turned towards a door, half-hidden behind a screen painted with silver birds.

“The bathing room is through there. I would let the water run for a little while before you use it. The pipes can be temperamental when a room has been empty this long.”

“Temperamental pipes,” I repeated, because apparently even magical palaces had plumbing issues.

Another faint smile crossed her face.

“Yes, my lady.”

“And please, call me Alex.”

She looked conflicted by that but gave another small nod.

“There are dresses in the wardrobe that should fit you, my la… Alex.” She said, correcting herself with a small smile.

My gaze drifted towards the carved wood before I could stop myself. Dresses. Left waiting in an empty guest room in Atlas’s palace. Some ridiculous, unwelcome part of me immediately wondered who they had belonged to and whether Atlas had ever watched someone else wear them. The thought came so quickly and so sharply that I almost hated myself for it. After everything that had happened, after all the blood and terror and grief, my mind still found room for jealousy to curl in like a spiteful little cat.

“That’s fine,” I said quickly. “I can just stay in this.”

Thalia’s gaze dipped over me before she could hide it, and I followed her stare, finally taking in the full state of myself. My clothes were torn, stained with ash, dirt, blood, and things I didn’t want to identify. My skin wasn’t much better, and my hair probably looked as though it had been used to sweep up the battlefield.

“I guess not,” I muttered. “Maybe I should go with the dress.”

Thalia wisely pretended not to smile.

“I’ll leave you to get cleaned up. I can return in a little while to help you dress, if you wish.”

“That would be helpful. Thank you.”

She curtsied again, then made her way towards the door. Just before she stepped into the corridor, however, she paused and looked back at me, her shyness returning beneath something that looked almost like curiosity. The light that flowed in from the corridor windows surrounded her, making her look more ethereal.

“I won’t take too long,” she said.

“That’s okay. There’s no rush.”

Her eyes flicked towards the hallway, then back to me.

“The king has returned,” she said, as though the words still felt strange in her mouth. “And he seems… well, impatient to see you.”

Then, with a final small curtsy, she slipped out and left me alone in the fairytale room, surrounded by dust, silence, and the terrifying knowledge that Atlas would soon want answers I wasn’t sure I knew how to give.

The moment the door closed behind Thalia, I let out a slow breath and turned towards the bathroom before opening the door. The second I stepped inside; my breath left me with a silent gasp. Because if the guest chamber had looked like something from a fairytale, then the bathroom looked as though it belonged in a palace built for gods.

The floor had been crafted from pale stone shot with silver veins that glittered faintly beneath the hanging lantern lights. A massive bathing pool occupied the center of the room, carved from a single block of white quartz and polished until its surface gleamed. Four clawed feet supported its weight, though they weren’t the claws of any animal I recognized. The creatures appeared almost dragon-like; their wings folded against their bodies as they bore the enormous tub upon their backs.

Even the taps were elaborate.