Chapter 3 The Portal key
The next few hours were a blur of laughter and tears.
I danced with a stone gargoyle who was so old he remembered the founding of Nyxara. I let a pack of Shade-Kits—children of the elf-folk, all big eyes and wispy tails, drag me into a game of chase that ended with all of us collapsing in a giggling heap. I ate too many night-berries and let an ancient spider-weaver named Grandmother Silk read my fortune in the lines of my palm.
"You will face a great trial," she said, her eight eyes glittering. "A choice between shadow and sun."
"That sounds ominous."
"It is. Also, you will meet a very handsome stranger."
"I'm about to meet my betrothed. He's supposed to be handsome."
"Ah." She clicked her mandibles thoughtfully. "But will he be a stranger?"
Before I could ask what that meant, someone tugged at my sleeve.
I looked down. A tiny selkie child stared up at me, her skin the color of twilight and her eyes enormous pools of silver. She was maybe five years old, clutching a wilted night-flower in her grubby fist.
"Princess Nyx," she whispered. "Are you really leaving?"
The noise of the party seemed to fade. I knelt, bringing myself to her eye level.
"For a little while," I said. "But I'm coming back."
"Promise?"
I took the wilted flower from her hand and tucked it behind my ear. "I promise. And do you know why?"
She shook her head.
"Because this is my home," I said. "And no matter where I go, no matter how far away the surface world takes me, I will always, always come back to Hel. To you. To all of you."
Her lip wobbled. Then she launched herself at me, wrapping her tiny arms around my neck.
"I'll miss you," she hiccuped.
"I'll miss you too." I held her close, breathing in the scent of starlight and the sea that all selkie children carried. "But I will return. And when I do, I want to hear about everything I missed. Can you do that for me? Can you be my eyes and ears while I'm gone?"
She pulled back, her silver eyes suddenly fierce. "Yes. I can do that."
"That's my brave girl."
She scampered off, the wilted flower still tucked behind my ear. I rose to find Maz watching me, his expression unreadable.
"What?" I demanded.
"Nothing." He offered me a fresh glass of night berry wine. "Just marveling at how disgustingly charming you are."
"I learned from the best."
"I assume you mean me."
"I meant Eris."
Maz clutched his chest. "Wounded. Mortally wounded. Right here, in the heart you just broke."
"You don't have a heart."
"It's the principle of the thing."
I took the wine and drank. Around us, the party pulsed on, laughter and music and the kind of joy that only existed in the defiance of darkness. My people were celebrating, even knowing their princess was leaving. Because that was what Hel did. We found light in the shadows. We found joy in the dark.
I would miss this.
I would miss it so much it already felt like a blade between my ribs.
\-———————————-
The morning of my departure arrived gray and cold, even by Hel's standards.
I stood in the courtyard of the Palace of Ten Thousand Shadows, surrounded by a small army of servants, guards, and family. Vesper was crying, or what passed for crying among the Nocturni, which involved a lot of wing-fluttering and distressed chittering.
"I should be going with you," she insisted for the hundredth time. "I am your handmaiden. It is my duty. My honor. My..."
"Vesper." I took her claws in my hands. "You know why you can't come."
"Because I am too monstrous."
"No!! You're beautiful. It's only because the Aurelian Court is full of small-minded fools who would not appreciate your magnificence," I corrected. "And because I will not subject you to their stares and their whispers. You deserve better than that."
"I do not care about stares."
"But I do."
Her wings drooped. "Who will braid your hair? Who will dress you?"
"I'll manage."
"You cannot. The last time you tried, it took four hours and you ended up looking like a hedge-beast."
"I'll learn."
"You will not."
Behind us, someone cleared their throat. I turned to find Eris approaching with a small procession of three young women. They were all painfully beautiful, all perfectly normal-looking, all clearly looked human, with maybe some other mix in origin. But they had no extra limbs. No compound eyes. No exoskeletons. No special features. They looked ordinary.
"Your new handmaidens," Eris said. "Liriel, Thalia, and Sera. They're Hel-born but surface-passing. They've been trained in everything from etiquette to assassination."
The one in front, Liriel, with her dark hair and steady gaze, curtsied deeply. "Princess. It is an honor."
I studied them for a long moment. They looked terrified. Good. Terror kept people sharp.
"You understand what you're signing up for?" I asked. "The Aurelian Court will not welcome us. They will sneer at us, whisper about us, and probably try to poison us at least twenty times. It is not an easy task."
"We understand, Princess," Liriel said. "We volunteered."
"Volunteered?"
"My grandmother was fae, but she married a shifter. She took refuge in Hel during the Purges." Her jaw tightened. "I want to see the surface world. I want to look them in the eye and show them what their ancestors tried to destroy."
Well. That was a sentiment I could appreciate.
"Fine," I said. "You'll do. Go help Vesper finish loading the luggage."
They scattered. I turned back to Eris.
"I still don't understand why I can't just go alone."
"Because you are the Princess of Hel, not some merchant. You have a reputation to maintain."
"My reputation is that I eat the hearts of my enemies."
"Exactly." He stepped closer, lowering his voice. "There's something else. A gift."
He pressed a small object into my palm. It was a pendant, a sliver of obsidian no larger than my thumbnail, strung on a chain of silver-thread. It pulsed faintly, warm against my skin.
"What is this?"
"A portal key. Forged from the heart of the Abyssal Ridge." Eris's voice was grave. "It will open a direct path back to Hel. But it can only be used three times. After that, the magic burns out."
I stared at him. "Three times?"
"Use them wisely. Once to return for a visit. Once to escape if things go terribly wrong. And once..." He hesitated. "Well. You'll know."
"Eris..."
"It took three years to make. Don't lose it."
I closed my fingers around the pendant. It hummed against my skin like a second heartbeat.
"Thank you," I said quietly. "For everything."
"Don't thank me yet." His smile was faint, strained. "Thank me when you come home."