The tunnels below the castle were not what Ellanor had pictured. When she had imagined the place, her mind had shown her damp caves and rough stone; crowded rooms and terrible living conditions.

The passages were carefully cut from the red stone, narrower than those in the castle above but not uncomfortable, with candles burning at regular intervals along the walls. Now and then other corridors and stairs appeared, cutting away through the mountain, seeming to go on infinitely. They wound down, down, the air getting more frigid for every leven they passed, until Tara eventually stopped in front of a worn door, seeming no different from the others they had passed. Ellanor had no idea how her handmaid had learnt to find her way so quickly.

Lukas stood alert at Ellanor’s side as Tara rapped her knuckles against the wood. A shuffling was heard from inside, hushed voices too low for human ears.

“Ma’, we shouldn’t let her in, this is insane!”

“Hush, Aeleon. She is your sister, give her a chance.”

“I will do no such thing!”

“Just answer the door, boy.”

Their whispered conversation was clear as day for Immortal ears, and Ellanor felt Lukas’ glance toward her. She refused to acknowledge him, instead steeling herself for the coming confrontation.

The door swung open inward, revealing a fuming Aeleon.

“Now, let our guests in,” Gallyia said from behind her grandson. Aeleon seemed ready to slam the door in their faces, but reluctantly he stepped aside. Ellanor nodded her thanks as she passed by him.

The room was modest – a square space with candles burning all around, a simple bed in one corner, a cabinet in the other. Taking up most of the space were a table with two chairs, now set with food from the kitchen up stairs. Gallyia was seated, smiling up at Ellanor.

“Hello, dear,” she greeted, genuine warmth beaming off of her. “Please, come sit with me.”

Ellanor did as told, taking up the other chair. She awkwardly curled her tail close to her body, not wanting to bother her hosts by asking for a stool. Tara and Lukas both stayed on either side of the door, Aeleon stepping around the table to lean against the opposite wall. Tara had schooled her features to her usual neutral aloofness, but Lukas was looking about as awkward as he had done in front of the Legionaries. His eyes darted around the room, his wings tucked in tight trying to appear as non threatening as possible.

“Eat,” Gallyia smiled, gesturing to the table. Aeleon lurched forward, his temper finally snapping, but Ellanor spoke first.

“No.” Her brother stopped in his tracks. Gallyia just continued smiling. Ellanor lowered her hand, folding them over in her lap. “I cannot take your food – it is yours to eat.”

“It is also mine to give,” Gallyia countered. “Some would claim it rude to turn down food offered, especially from one’s grandmother.”

Ellanor smiled. “Well, I suppose I must be rude then.”

Gallyia stared at her, the room falling quiet. A long moment passed before laughter broke out from the old woman. “Oh, you are just as stubborn as Dorethy, that is for certain!” She dried her eyes with the cloth of her apron, collecting herself. “Well then, I suppose I will have this feast for myself then, and you can ask the questions I am sure have been bubbling in your chest since you got here. Go on, ask me anything you want.”

As Gallyia began eating, Aeleon took a step back, eyes never leaving Ellanor. She ignored him, as she ignored everyone else in the room, focusing solely on the woman before her.

“Was my mother happy?”

Gallyia did not pause at the question, just swallowed her food and dutifully answered. “Yes, as happy as one can be with this life. She knew the risks, the cost were they ever found out. So did the Duke,” she added.

Ellanor nodded, trying her best not to fidget. Why was she so nervous? She swallowed. “And– what about you?”

“Oh, don’t you worry about us, dear–”

“‘Don’t worry’?” Aeleon’s voice rose as he again closed the distance between him and Ellanor. “Don’t worry, really? Is that how it is?” He flung out a hand toward Ellanor, eyes burning with hate. “Are we really going to sit here and just ignore our whole history? Ignore that mother died because of her?”

Lukas took a step forward, reaching cautiously for his sword, but stopped as Ellanor put her hand up. She stood, facing her brother who towered over her, his hands balled into fists.

“I will not apologize for existing, as I did not choose to be what I am,” Ellanor said, not balking away from the anger in Aeleon’s eyes. “But I am sorry, for the pain I cause you by being here. And I will leave – to never return, if that is what you wish – but I ask of you to let me learn where I come from, to try and understand and untangle this mess that has become my life. Please.”

They stared at each other for a long moment, Aeleon grinding his teeth whilst thinking, Ellanor refusing to back down. Gallyia scoffed from the table and kept on eating. Eventually Aeleon relaxed and backed down.

“Fine,” he said, “but I’m watching you.”

Ellanor gave him a nod and sat down again, the air even heavier than it was a moment ago. The only thing keeping the room from being suffocating was Gallyia’s humming as she ate, the smacking of her lips as she tasted the food. Ellanor let her eat, not minding the quiet to think over her next question.

Once Gallyia set down the rusted fork and dried her mouth with her apron again, Ellanor took up the conversation.

“How did you end up here? At Redstone?”

“My fathers father was sold to the Daltons when he was a boy,” Gallyia said. “He was born in T’nagyan, close to the southern border, from where he was kidnapped during an Artárlian raid. Savages, the artans. He was very lucky to be sold to Avvyr, if you can believe that.” She shook her head. “We’ve been here ever since.”

Ellanor chewed on the inside of her lip. “When did you find out? About Dorethy and the Duke?”

“Oh, I figured something was up with Dorethy when she left Aeleon more and more in my care as she disappeared for hours a day, sometimes entire nights.” Gallyia waved a hand in the air. “She acted just the same when she first met Aeleon’s father, just this time it was… more intense, a bigger secret.

“I wasn’t worried at first – she was in her mid thirties and I was happy she had found someone. But then she changed,” Gallyia continued. “She put on weight – good, healthy weight – she came home clean, smelling of fancy soaps, bringing bolts of new fabric for me to sow clothes from, and for every day that passed she seemed to glow brighter.”

She smiled, a mix of sadness and love that made Ellanor’s heart break. “Then, one morning, my Dorethy came down here and told me she was pregnant. And that Duke Tor Dalton was the father.” Gallyia looked away from Ellanor, tears dripping into her lap. “I felt fear then, for her. She did everything to calm me, tried to convince me that the Duke loved her, that she wanted this. I trusted her, of course, but it took a while for me to trust Dalton.”

“What changed your mind?” Ellanor asked.

“You,” was Gallyia’s answer. “When he held you in his arms and there was nothing but love on his face. When he told me of his decision to send you away, let his close friend at Skyward raise you as her own, the only way to keep you safe.” She nodded toward the door, to the corridors beyond. “That trust has only grown since then. He might be avvir, but he is a good man. Took my Dorethy for him to take the risk, but he has saved more of us than I ever thought possible.”

Ellanor could do nothing but stare. “How do you mean?”

“The Duchess Yvet is, dare I say it, cruel – toward us at least. She doesn’t tolerate humans, and would have gotten rid of all of us when the Castle was left in her care if it wasn’t for the Duke. But she is still the lady of the house, and what she says goes at the end of the day.” Gallyia shook her head. “One small slip from one of us is all it takes. Or a bad day on her part. She’ll pick a person, a family, a corridor at random and have them sent away. I found out after Dorethy’s death that the Duke has helped smuggle all those people out of the country. For more than forty years he has been lying to his sister and done everything to help us.”

Aeleon had been quiet for a long while, but now he snorted. “Everything he can while keeping his own hide safe, that is. He wouldn’t dare cross his sister in public if push came to shove.”

“That would be suicide, Aeleon, and you know that,” Gallyia countered. “And it would mean the end for all of us down here. The Duke is no fool.”

“He’s a rich, avvir prick,” Aeleon muttered, but made no further move to interrupt the conversation.

“Anyhow, the Duke has earned my trust, and it is not something I give generously to Immortals,” Gallyia continued.

Ellanor knew by the gentleness in her grandmother’s eyes that she was excluded from the statement, but still she vowed to do everything to truly earn that trust and love. She was about to say something else when a knock sounded from the door.

“Aunt Gia?” a young voice came from the other side. Ellanor scrambled for an explanation to her presence in the small room, but the door remained closed.

“Yes, Noraj?” Gallyia answered. “Something wrong, dear?”

“No,” Noraj said. “Well, yes, but nothing big. Or well that depends, I mean–”

“Just out with it, Nor,” Aeleon grumbled.

Noraj fell silent, and Ellanor could swear she heard the person cringe. “Sorry, Aeleon. Deb told me to come here and warn you – the Duchess has returned.”

***

The underground levels that had been quiet a moment ago were now filled with running feet and murmured voices. Gallyia had thanked the person called Noraj who had run off, most likely to spread the word further. Aeleon cursed under his breath whilst he quickly collected the plates of food from the table and stacked them in messy piles, not bothering to save the food still on them.

Ellanor reached to help but Gallyia stopped her.

“No, dear,” the woman said, “you need to leave. Now.” She tugged Ellanor into a swift hug before urging her toward the door. Tara already held it open, eyes alert.

So many questions swam in Ellanor’s head as she followed Tara out of the room, into the bustling corridor. Humans of varying ages were hurrying up the stairs, stacks of plates and cutlery in their arms – the evidence of their feast, of the Duke’s generosity, Ellanor realized.

Despite her and Lukas’s obvious avvir heritage no one spared them a second glance. They either knew who they were, or rather knew who they were not: any of Yvet’s spies.

Tara swiftly showed the way through the throng of people, choosing alternative routes from the one they had taken down to avoid the largest crowds. The further they went, the calmer the corridors got, and soon they were alone in the servant’s passages in the upper castle.

They stopped before a familiar door marked with a number correlating to its placement in the castle. Ellanor heaved a sigh as she pushed it open and ventured into her bedroom, Tara and Lukas at her heels.

Ellanor stopped dead in her tracks and pushed the hidden door shut, leaving her handmaid and guard on the other side. The thump of the wood made the golden avvir standing with her back to Ellanor startle and turn, curiosity shining brightly in her eyes.

“Oh, there you are,” Clados chirped and smiled. “I did not see you.”

Ellanor swallowed. “I was in the bathroom,” she lied, praying that the servant had not checked in there already. She steered the attention away from the subject. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I came to inform you the Duchess has returned from her trip,” Clados said.

Ellanor feigned surprise. “Already? I was informed her return was to be postponed due to the bad weather.”

“The Duchess decided to brave the storm,” Cados answered. “She felt anxious being away for so long when she had a guest at home.”

“I see,” was all Ellanor said, not entirely believing the Clados’ tale to be true. “Anything else?”

“Yes, the Duchess invites you to dinner tonight at six,” the servant said. “The Duke will be in attendance as well.”

“Of course,” Ellanor said. She dismissed the avvir with a wave of her hand. Clados bowed in response, wings lowering gracefully, and then left the room. Ellanor did not dare relax until the steps faded to nothing.

“Lukas?”

The hidden door opened and the guard squeezed through, careful not to scrape his wings against the narrow frame. His face was hard, eyes surveying the room with trained precision.

“Are you alright, Madam?” he asked.

“Yes,” she breathed. Her eyes snapped toward the door. “Tara–”

“She left for the lower levels when I told her Clados was in the room with you.”

The knot in Ellanor’s stomach eased. “Good, good. I want you to find out how Clados got in here, and to make sure she cannot do so again.” She headed for the bathing chamber, already pulling the pins from her hair. “I need to freshen up before dinner."