Page 126 of The Curse of Golden Blood
She was becoming something beyond what either of us had imagined. Something that could reshape the balance of power between the courts.
Something that could win this war.
thirty-three
Polished to Swallow
Miralyte
Zydar'schambersfeltdifferentwhen it was just me and Pelbie. Quieter. More like a sanctuary than a throne room. I'd dismissed everyone else an hour ago, needing this moment with the one person who'd known me before wings and power and the weight of ancient bloodlines.
Pelbie sat cross-legged on the enormous bed, a leather pouch in her lap containing the dice Brond had carved for her. The ivory pieces caught the afternoon light streaming through the tall windows, each one perfectly balanced and etched with symbols from the old gambling halls.
"So the rules are simple," she was saying, shaking the dice in her cupped hands. "Each player starts with the same stake. You roll all six dice. The goal is the highest combination. Pairs, straights, or all matching give you bonuses."
I nodded, settling myself across from her. The movement was more awkward than it should have been. My wings, still new and unpredictable, swept wide as I adjusted my position.
And promptly knocked over a crystal decanter sitting on the side table.
"Damn it." I lunged for it, wings flaring again for balance. This time I managed to take out a small figurine and send it spinning across the marble floor.
Pelbie burst into laughter. "Mother above, Mira. You're like a bull in a pottery shop."
"I'm still getting used to them," I muttered, carefully folding my wings tight against my back.
"They're beautiful though." Her voice carried wonder and something else. Something sadder. "I still can't believe what they did to you. What the trials turned you into."
I kept my expression neutral. Let her think the transformation was artificial, a result of Varlath's procedures rather than my true heritage awakening. It was safer for her not to know the whole truth. Safer not to bear the knowledge that I was Emystra's daughter, heir to the Sun Court throne, the key to ending this war.
The less she knew, the less danger she was in.
"The healers say the changes are permanent," I said instead, which wasn't technically a lie.
"Are you... are you happy? With what you've become?"
I considered the question. Was I happy? I had power now. Real power. The kind that could reshape the world, cure plagues, challenge gods. But I also had a target painted on my back that would never fade.
"I'm alive," I said finally. "That's more than I expected."
Pelbie nodded, understanding flickering in her eyes. She'd stopped asking the difficult questions weeks ago, recognizingwhen I was hiding things from her. Better that than pushing and discovering truths that could get her killed.
"Your turn to roll," she said, holding out the dice.
I took them, feeling their weight in my palm. "So how's the healing training going? You never talk about it anymore."
Her face lit up. "Actually, it's incredible. Master Kelvane has been teaching me about fae physiology. Did you know their blood carries actual magic? Not just metaphorically, but literal enchantments woven into every drop?"
She rolled her dice, getting a decent combination, then continued while I took my turn.
"And the herbs here, they're nothing like what we had back home. There's moonwort that only grows in starlight, and bone-mend that can literally fuse fractures in minutes. Yesterday I helped heal a guard who'd shattered his wing in a training accident. I watched the bones knit themselves back together."
I smiled at her enthusiasm. This was the Pelbie I remembered. Curious, brilliant, passionate about learning. "You're actually enjoying it here."
"I am." She paused, dice forgotten for a moment. "I never thought I'd say that about any fae court, but Thunder has been... good to me."
"And Brond?"
The flush that spread across her cheeks was immediate and telling. "Things are going well with him. Really well."
