Unwinnable by May Dawson

Author:May Dawson [Dawson, May]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Goodreads: 53514497
Published: 2020-07-17T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirty-Two

Maddie

Before dinner, Raura and I spent some time together in her room—it was true, her cell wasn’t any bigger than my own. There was nothing in the room but a bed, a writing desk and chair, and a carved wooden clothes press. Vines grew up the wall and flowers hung from the ceiling, scenting the air with a heavy, languid floral scent—that was the only décor the room needed anyway, enough to make it magical.

She opened the clothes press and pulled out a long silver dress.

“Do you get many occasions to wear these around here?” I asked. “I got the vibe it was monster-slaying, twenty-four-seven.”

“I don’t wear them often around here,” she said.

“Is there somewhere else you go?”

She nodded. “I grew up noble. I didn’t care for it much, so I came to Fenig. I wanted to do a little more with my life.” She draped another shimmering gown against her body, spinning with it so that the skirt whirled around her legs. “Although I do miss playing dress-up.”

“What was it like being noble?” I was curious about this girl who would trade what sounded like a life of ease for a life of manual labor and bloodshed.

She smoothed the rumpled covers on her bed and sat down. “I don’t make my bed anymore—it’s my bit of rebellion. Fenig used to check it when I first came here, can you believe that? All that work she had to do, and she carved time out of her day to make sure the royal brat was making her bed.”

I smiled at that, and she went on, “Being a noble woman meant a lot of expectations. Some of us fight too. It depends on the court. We all value different things. The spring court values grace, softness, beauty, art, adaptability. In the autumn court, the girls all fight—the princess is expected to be the biggest badass.”

A rueful smile came over her lips as she pushed her hand through her tumultuous curls, pushing them back from her face. “I’m not exactly Spring personified. But all of us have to face expectations that might not suit who we really are.”

“How seriously do you all take the court seasons?” I asked.

It was one thing to read about the Fae courts. It was another to be face-to-face with people who lived this way.

She quirked an eyebrow. “How seriously do you take being a shifter?”

My lips parted.

“I’m sorry,” she said, “maybe that was a low blow. I know you lost your magic.”

She shed the robe she’d thrown on after the baths, and I averted my eyes as she pulled the shimmering gown over her head. Apparently, Fae didn’t do underwear.

“How did that happen, anyway?” she asked.

“We’ve been engaged in a war with the witches as long as I’ve been alive,” I said. “They finally got the chance to murder our wolves.”

“The Fae are always at war,” she said sympathetically. “It’s almost easier to just fight the monsters—those keep us busy now. How’d the witches do it?”

I didn’t

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