Chapter THIRTY-ONE: Ayer

                                    

                                          
The Coven's heavy iron gates slammed shut behind her, creating a hollow ringing Ayer had only ever heard muffled inside the decaying walls of her prison. Although Domira often commanded her to fly the length of Blackwater on stormy nights, breathing healing flames across the diseased land, Ayer was hardly in control of herself during those clandestine expeditions. Her memories in dragon form were hazy, but she was certain of one thing: thirty-foot long dragons with lithe, undulating bodies and dozens of talons–each the size of a short-sword–didn't enter and exit through manmade gates.
Domira lifted her hand to Ayer's back, guiding her onto the cobbled streets of Nightfair as the last rays of sunlight slipped behind the peaked and conical roofs of the brick buildings hugging the narrow throughway. The smell of flowers was thick in the air, emanating from the tangled vines and robust shrubs lining candlelit windows or spilling through iron fences flanking the winding sidewalks. 
Purple lights flickered on in the lampposts scattered at intervals between shops, a novelty enchantment Domira used Ayer's magic to sustain. 
Nightfair was an attractive village, if somewhat eerie with its pointed rooftops and strange occultist statuary. This was Ayer's first time stepping foot into Blackwater's noble district, and she wasn't sure what to expect. Domira was taking her to her personal dressmaker to commission a gown for the Revelry. In the past, Ayer had worn glamour over her rags, or one of Domira's old, out of season dresses. A new, tailor-made gown seemed like an act of faith or goodwill, a reminder of what Domira expected of her prisoner and what the reward might be if Ayer did as she was told. But an expensive gift wouldn't fool her. After last night with Edril, there were fewer secrets held over her head. Domira's promise to return her zizhi was a lie. Of all the questionable truths Edril divulged, Ayer knew he had been honest about this one. 
"You look nervous, Ayer'lora." Domira's honeyed tone was full of condescension. "Don't worry, no one here will gossip about you outside Nightfair. Unless they'd like to have their head separated from their neck." 
Sensual laughter echoed over the bumpy road, drawing attention to the unlikely pair as they made their way down the sidewalk. 
"Do I need to scold my brother? He was looking less glum than usual this morning. Dare I say, almost happy? I can't imagine that whatever he did to you to boost his spirits had the same effect on you... Did it?" 
The knot in Ayer's stomach twisted. Domira was too perceptive. But she couldn't know about Ayer's desperate agreement with Edril. As vile as he was, the man was talented and smart. He was also paranoid. She doubted Domira had ever been inside Edril's study. He'd probably warded the room against eavesdropping, too. Anyone trying to get in would likely need a dose of Ayer's magic to penetrate his defenses. 
Of course, there were ways Domira could hide evidence of her zizhi use from Ayer. But she doubted the witch would have felt compelled to do so just to spy on her brother. Although that might have been changing. 
"You don't have to play coy with me, princess. Edril goes to such great lengths to make himself appealing to you. I wouldn't judge you for indulging him from time to time. You're a woman now, and we have needs too." 
Ayer thought she might be sick. This morning, the higher servants had reprimanded her for being late to the scullery for breakfast duty. She'd lost track of time scrubbing the memory of Edril's mouth off her face in the washbasin in her room. 
It hadn't worked, all she'd done was rub her cheeks raw. 
"That said, a lady should always be careful. This evening you will find a box of tea sachets on your bed. Drink a cup daily, and do not tell my brother. Do you understand?"