A Court of Night and Shadows

Chapter 13

In the light the ink was actually blue - such a dark blue it appeared black. I swore when I moved I could see flecks of tiny stars within the magic pigment. I couldn't help but meet the gaze of the eye in my palm any chance I got. But for now that eye was blind as I scrubbed the floors of the hallway. I dunked the large brush into the bucket the red-skinned guards had thrown into my arms. I could barely comprehend through their mouths full of long yellow teeth, but when they gave me the brush and bucket and shoved me into a long hallway of white marble, I understood.

"If it's not washed and shining by super," one of them had said, its teeth clicking as it grinned, "we're to tie you to the spit and give you a few good turns over the fire."

With that, they left. I had no idea when supper was, and so I frantically began washing, though I couldn't help contemplating throwing the brush in their faces and letting them do their worst.

Maybe this was what Rhysand meant by the bargain strengthening our bond. I felt strange... powerful.

But I scrubbed anyway, my back already aching like fire despite less than thirty minutes having gone by. The water they'd given me was filthy, and the more I scrubbed the floor, the dirtier it became. When I went to the door to ask for a bucket of clean water, I found it locked. There would be no asking for help.

It was an impossible task - a task to torment me.

I twitched at the thought. I was trash to them. They were only toying with me, taking pleasure from my suffering. Laughing at my pain. I brought the brush back to the floor, but couldn't bring myself to scrub. I couldn't help the thought of my sisters. I thought of them waiting for me to come home with food, with money. I thought of them waiting for me to finish my work so they could reap the benefits.

I threw the brush across the room where I'd last moved the bucket. It slammed into the rim, sloshing water before it tipped, spilling its brown contents across the pale marble.

I thought of that wolf in the woods - Tamlin's soldier and once friend - waiting for me to kill him. Setting me up for this fate. I watched as muddy water spread across the floor like the wolf's blood in the snow.

I gripped myself with a foreign, self righteous rage just as the familiar warmth grew against my chest, rising up the chain around my neck.

Before I could remember the bizarre dream, or the Amulet of Storms, I followed an unseen impulse and placed my eyeless hand in the water on the floor.

The dirty water burned with soft, sweet steam. It boiled into burning tar at my fingertips, spreading like wildfire around the room. I yanked my hand away and rose to my feet, taking a few steps back through the muk. The steam became smoke and heat filled the room, the thick sweetness choking me.

Then smoke became fire.

Black fire.

It engulfed the room and I flung a hand to my mouth, swallowing my scream. I was surrounded by black flames that lit the room, as tall as the regal ceilings. The heat pressed against my skin, but I did not burn. My knees quaked beneath me as I stepped farther and farther away from where I'd started this, until I felt my back against the wall and I dropped to the floor.

As soon as I hit the ground the flames went out.

The bucket and brush were gone, not a drop of wood or bristle left behind - not even ashes.

And the floor was spotless, shining a brighter white than I was sure it had ever been.

The guards had said nothing about my completion of their impossible task, nor about the lingering sweet smell. If they were aware that I'd somehow managed to set the room on fire, they didn't tell me about it.