Charlotte was pungent but proud as she slumped into a chair at her workstation in the kitchen. She'd scrubbed her arms up to the elbows before daring to enter Idhrenes's domain, and yet the cook still wrinkled her nose in displeasure at the three disheveled elves that trooped into her pristine haven in search of nourishment.
"You," Idhrenes said as she set three heaping bowls of stew in front of them, "smell like horse manure."
"Charlotte insisted on cleaning the stalls while the horses were out," Haedirn said. He scooped up a spoonful of stew, thick chunks of carrots and potatoes and venison piled high as the broth dripped back into the bowl, and shoved it all in his mouth with a groan.
Idhrenes vanished long enough to grab a small basket of crisp rolls to place between them, and Haedirn instantly seized one.
"Careful," she said, swatting the air as his hand dodged hers. "Those just came out. You'll burn your tongue straight off."
"I'm famished." He ripped the roll in half, and steam curled from the fluffy interior. "I'll take my chances."
Idhrenes only rolled her eyes and nudged Charlotte. "Well, go on then," she said. "You best eat, and then you can go to the springs for a long soak. It'll save you the sore muscles later."
"I'll nip up to my chamber soon and get a bath," Charlotte shrugged.
She was achingly hungry but also warring with the exhausted desire to remain completely still, as if even the twitch of a finger would be too much effort to exert in her current state. She'd only cleaned the stalls of the few horses that had been left, and she'd had help! Her lower back was screaming at her, and the calluses that crowned her palms were inflamed and burning. Apparently, being immortally blessed with an Elven figure didn't necessarily translate to superior fitness. "I need to work out more," she muttered.
"Don't let Ellavorn hear you say that," Maethor said. He was consuming his stew at a more sedate pace. The spoon dangled between his fingers as he absently stirred. "He's been itching to get you back into training, but we're trying to keep you out of Cúthon's sight until Thranduil returns."
"It seems Cúthon has overgrown his position." Idhrenes sniffed, and then catching a fresh whiff of Charlotte, said, "Did you roll in the stalls? Goodness."
Charlotte flushed hotly and hissed to a mischievous Haedirn, "Don't you dare say a word." Which only made Haedirn laugh silently into his stew.
"Sídher!" Idhrenes barked.
The willowy elleth dusted the flour from her fingers using her apron and looked up. A plump spongy dough rose from an island of flour on her wooden workstation.
"Leave that," Idhrenes ordered, waving Sídher over. "You're dismissed for the afternoon. Lady Charlotte needs someone to escort her to the springs."
"Oh," Charlotte coughed around her stew. "It's fine. Really, I can bathe in my room."
"The water will be warmer in the springs," Idhrenes insisted.
"Maethor and Haedirn can—"
"Maethor and Haedirn are ellyn." Idhrenes rolled her eyes. "They cannot enter the springs with you."
"I think I should like a long soak," Sídher said dreamily.
"Then the matter is settled." Idhrenes clapped her hands. "Eat. Eat!" She said to Charlotte. "Time is not your friend today." She left before Charlotte could argue any further.
Charlotte, realizing that she'd been backed into a corner, nodded politely at Sídher. "Thank you then. I'll grab a change of clothing after this and meet you in the entrance hall?"
"Wonderful, my lady." Sídher bowed her head and drifted off. She paused, turning her head to add, "Do be quick, please? The evening meal should be served soon."
Charlotte had the strangest feeling this was about more than a bath.
Her guards grumbled at being left outside the massive doors that guarded the antechamber for the ellith's spring.
"Idhrenes is right. Guard or not, you can't come in, and you know it," Charlotte said. She crossed her arms over her chest, clutching her clean gown so it dangled away from her body. "Sídher will be there too, so it's not just my modesty at risk here."
"Scream if you need us," Maethor said solemnly.
"I will, but I shouldn't need you." She squeezed his arm gently. "I'll be fine."
"Wonderful," Haedirn moaned, covering his eyes with his hand. "Every time she says that, something awful happens to her."
Maethor nodded, his lips pinched in a tight line. "Orcs."
"Wargs," Haedirn supplied.
"Giant spiders."
"Evil spirits."
"Mandos."
"Lothuial." Haedirn shivered dramatically.
Charlotte rolled her eyes and laughed. "I promise to cry for help should an orc appear in the bath."
"She'll probably tell him to scrub behind his ears first," Haedirn joked as she vanished into the antechamber.
Sídher was patiently waiting for her, having gone in without hesitation while Maethor and Haedirn held Charlotte back. Her bare feet poked out from under the hem of her mint green gown, and she'd already picked apart her braids until her blonde hair curled down the length of her back. She pointed to the carved stone shelves in the wall. "You will find fresh towels there, and there are small soaps to use. If there is any left when you are finished, you may keep it."
Charlotte was relieved she wouldn't be faced with used soap. When she grabbed a towel, she fought the urge to bury her face in it. "It's so warm," she sighed happily. She'd missed the feeling of towels and blankets fresh from the dryer.
Sídher's voice floated behind her. "The stone is warm here, and it shares its warmth with the towels."
"And what about— oh, goodness, I'm sorry," Charlotte whirled around and covered her eyes.
"For what?" Sídher asked innocently. Charlotte waited until she heard Sídher's footsteps approaching the doors to the spring before she opened her eyes, but Sídher, seemingly unconcerned about her nudity, stood waiting in the entrance.
"Are you coming?" She held the door open. Beyond her, the cavern arched high above their heads, the ceiling supported by tall pillars carved with vines, and in the center, an enormous clear pool glittered, lit by golden sunlight pouring in from a hole in the cavern roof.
"I thought we were beneath the palace?" Charlotte stepped past the elleth in awe, her eyes darting from the carved platform surrounding the pool to the beautiful steam rising from the water.
"We're actually closer to the falls," Sídher said. She set her towel and fresh gown on one of the ledges and bid Charlotte do the same. "The corridor leading to the healing hall and library burrows beneath the passageway that leads up through the mountain to the stables. Since that passageway circles around to the back of the palace, we are actually beyond the archery field."
That would be just her luck: some rogue arrow would come tumbling through the skylight to impale her, and Maethor and Haedirn would be proven correct in their hypothesis.
"It's quite safe," Sídher said, dipping her toes into the water.
Charlotte wasn't sure if she meant the water temperature or the skylight.
Sliding into the pool with a sigh, Sídher swam to the far side of the cavern, spearing through the water like a dolphin, until her blonde head popped up with a splash at the other end. "Are you coming?" She called.
Charlotte turned her back and quickly stripped off her gown and slippers, tossing them onto the ledge before diving into the water. She came up, wiping the water and loose hair from her face before she realized she'd been in such a hurry to protect her modesty that she'd accidentally left it braided.
Before she could get it, soft hands were gently pulling the strands apart. Charlotte jumped at the contact.
"I'm almost finished," Sídher said and stepped forward once more to tease apart her hair. "You are nervous, though you should not be." Her fingers worked through Charlotte's loose strands until they were all untangled. She handed her the band that had held her braid. "Elves are no strangers to nudity. Least of all Silvan elves. Perhaps it is the Noldor, with their stringent ideals, that have given you a false impression? Or maybe it is from your own world?"
"I just… You're, uh…" Charlotte fumbled and uncomfortably studied the ceiling. "You are very naked," she said dumbly.
"As are you," Sídher said, unconcerned.
It's not like she hadn't bathed with Meluieth before, but Meluieth had been quick to pick up on Charlotte's anxiety and had given her plenty of space to wash in private.
"You will get used to it," Sídher said, "if you decide to stay. The Silvan elves stick to a truer way of life, a way that connects us to the forest. Many of our traditions eschew Noldor propriety. My favorite celebration involves running through the forest under the stars. To feel the sky on your skin, the earth beneath your feet, it is exhilarating."
"When is that?"
"Not until spring," Sídher said. She dipped her head into the water to smooth her hair back and then grinned as she caught sight of her fingers. "I do love the water. It is the closest I will ever get to mortality, to watch my fingers age as if time held them. What it must be to be mortal? It is all so immediate, is it not? There is a rush, an energy and passion to existence."
"I suppose," Charlotte said. "Though, it often feels like swimming against the tide." She took the soap off the ledge and worked it into a lather. Idhrenes had been right about the warmth of the water on her muscles, now she just needed to eliminate the smell. "There are quiet moments too."
"Truly?"
"Mhmm," Charlotte said, scrubbing down her arms. "Like the moment when the sun first peeks over the horizon, or…" She hesitated. There was an ache in her chest as if she'd pulled something and only just noticed. She fought the urge to rub her hand against it. How long had it been since she'd mentioned her to anyone? Really she'd only talked to Thranduil about it, and occasionally Maethor and Haedirn. She didn't know Sídher very well, but... could she live in a world where so few knew who she was before? Where the beginning of her life, the people in it, were a painful secret?
"My mother and I," she said finally, "we used to sit on the back porch with sweet tea or wine and watch the lightning bugs flicker across the yard. Sometimes we'd have a fire crackling in the pit, but the stars were always bright and beautiful and shining down on us. It felt like the whole world stood still."
"It sounds beautiful."
"It was." There was that ache again, that tightness, as if her rib cage had shrunk. Charlotte didn't stop herself from smoothing her hand across her skin, trying to rub the pain away. The room was silent for a moment, save for the sounds of Sídher drifting through the water and Charlotte washing her hair. Charlotte dove beneath the surface to run her fingers through the strands and rinse her scalp. When she came up, wiping the water from her eyes and slicking her hair back again, she said, "So why am I really here?"
Sídher didn't speak at first, though Charlotte could hear the water droplets plinking against the pool as she moved. When Charlotte thought she couldn't bear the silence any longer, Sídher finally said, "Though you were quite odorous earlier, it is true; Idhrenes did not insist upon our meeting here purely for cleanliness."
Charlotte turned, truly gazing at her for the first time since entering the spring. "Then why—"
"Look around you," Sídher waved her hand at the cavernous hall. "This is one of the few places where you can guarantee a private conversation. With your guards at the door, we would know if anyone should try to enter."
"And why did we need to have a private conversation?" Charlotte backed away, suspicious.
"I pose no threat to you, Lady Charlotte." The elleth seemed amused by the idea. "We have lured you here to warn you. Your late-night adventure did not go unnoticed. Fear is a powerful motivator, and some report even now on your movements through the caverns. Lothuial failed to find you last night, but this morning, others reported seeing you and your shields leaving the library. It has confirmed their suspicions."
"But they have no proof other than a few whispers?" Charlotte asked. They had been so close to being caught last night.
"Whispers are all they require. They are going to trap you tonight," Sídher warned. "He is aware of your interest in the archives and thrilled at the idea of capturing you after you find it. His trap is set. Tonight, you will enter to search the library, and he will be waiting."
Damn Golodhon! He had to have gone straight to Cúthon after their meeting to relay his suspicions. Charlotte pinched the bridge of her nose. She didn't have time for Cúthon's petty jealousy when someone issued an order with Thranduil's seal that could've killed them all. If those wardens had remained in place, no orcs would have slipped through. Cúthon's hatred for her and his dogged pursuit of a marriage between Thranduil and Lothuial… Charlotte's brain stalled. Unless it wasn't just jealousy. Was Cúthon attempting to cover his tracks? Had he been trying to kill her by ordering the wardens out of the way? She had to get into those archives.
"I am pleased to see you will not be forfeiting to him," Sídher said with a firm nod. Her hands settled on her hips. "After you're clean, I will vouch for your presence here, and you and your shields will search the library. Everyone will be at dinner, and Idhrenes wasn't quiet about demanding you bathe here."
Charlotte's eyes widened, and she scrubbed furiously. "The library is right up the stairs."
"Precisely," Sídher beamed as if Charlotte had been a particularly good student. "And you will be able to slip back here and pretend you've been in the springs with me the entire time." She gazed through the gap in the ceiling at the sunlight and said, "Your chance is soon. Hurry, mellon nîn, they will be flocking to the great hall as we speak."
"What if he has something set up during the day?"
"He does not."
Charlotte raised a brow in question.
"It is well known that you search the library for answers about your gift during the day. He would be unable to prove anything," Sídher explained. She leaned back until she was floating atop the water. "But at night? Scurrying around in the dark with your shields? It would be enough to at least detain you."
If she were fast enough, she might be able to find what they needed, slip out, and rejoin Sídher before the elves finished the evening meal. Meals could go on for ages in the palace, but she still hadn't found the archive entrance. Charlotte pushed through the water, wishing she could run, and scooped up her towel.
She did a lackluster job of drying and had to fight her gown to get it on, and it was still crooked as she jogged to the antechamber.
"No gelin idh raid lîn, a no adel len i chwest," Sídher called.
Charlotte snorted and shook her head. May your paths be green and the breeze behind you. Sídher was a strange elf, but Charlotte could see herself warming up to her.
Maethor and Haedirn reached for their blades when she burst through the door.
"No," Charlotte whispered. "Library. Cúthon plans to trap us there tonight. We need to go now while the others cover us."
"You are sure?" Maethor asked, tucking his dagger away.
Was she? Did she trust Sídher? She definitely trusted Idhrenes, and Idhrenes trusted Sídher enough to orchestrate the warning. "I'm sure. Sídher swears that they know we snuck out last night, and they're hoping to catch us in the act tonight."
Haedirn slapped his palm against the wall in frustration. "If Sídher has spoken, then it is true. She misses almost nothing that happens in this place."
Maethor nodded in agreement and led them up the stairwell. "He's right. We need to go now if we're going to search while they're all at dinner. I'm assuming that's the plan?"
"We still haven't found the entrance though," Haedirn said. They reached the top step, and Maethor peeked around the corner to check for any eyes that could report on them. When he deemed it safe, he rushed them across the corridor to the entrance and slipped them through the doors. The library was blessedly empty.
"Let's start at the top and work down," Charlotte suggested. "We were rushing last time because it was so late. Maybe we missed something?"
Haedirn led them up the curving stairs set into the wall, and Maethor covered the rear. They made it up the first set without incident, but Charlotte got tangled in her damp skirt and nearly tripped again on the second flight of stairs. "Remind me to purchase tunics as soon as I attain legitimate employment," Charlotte grumbled.
"You have a job already," Maethor argued as he straightened her.
"I'd hardly consider it a paid position, and I'm dreadful at it," Charlotte huffed. "If I could be fired, it probably should have happened after I poisoned everyone."
"At some point," Haedirn said, "you'll have to come to terms with the fact that the river curse wasn't your fault." He stepped onto the third level and studied the shelves with his arms crossed over his chest.
"I don't see how it wasn't," Charlotte muttered. "My emotions, my memories, my necklace, they are the tools that enchanted the river, and I wielded them. Unknowingly? Of course, but it was still by my hand that it happened."
Haedirn opened his mouth to argue, but Charlotte gently stopped him, "Please, we don't have much time. We can disagree about this later."
They split apart once more, whirling through the top floor, pulling and tugging on books and shelves, and running their fingers along every surface they could reach. Her heart raced in her chest, and time itself rushed forward, fighting against them. She quickly covered a third of the level, growling in frustration when she bumped into Haedirn's section and had yet to find anything. "It must be here!" She whispered furiously.
Haedirn gave her a sympathetic smile and nudged her toward the stairs. "Come, there are still two more floors to search."
Maethor halted her before she could place her foot on the first step. "Let's take these slowly. I would hate to see you survive all that you have, only to be slain by the library stairs."
Charlotte snorted. "Hilarious," she said, but she pulled her skirt up and studied each step as she followed Haedirn. She was halfway down when she felt it. She froze on the step and pressed her right ankle closer to the wall.
A slight breeze fluttered against her leg, chilling her damp skin. Her hands roamed the wall in excitement.
"Charlotte?" Maethor scrunched his brows. "What are you doing?"
"There's a draft," she said, her hands pushing against the stone. "The entrance has to be here. Otherwise, where would the air be coming from?" Her hands scuttled along the wall, pushing at the stone, and she was about to give up and chalk it up to wishful thinking when there was a soft crack and a thin line split the wall beside her hands. Charlotte bit her lip in excitement and grinned at Maethor and Haedirn.
Haedirn helped her shove the stone slab wide enough for the three of them to slip through, and then Charlotte let her fëa light the room as her guards closed the door behind them.
The chamber was cool and dry, completely encased in stone and shielded from the elements, with shelves growing from the floors, reaching high until they pressed into the ceiling. Some were tall enough to hold leather-bound books, but others were small cubbies containing folded letters and scrolls. A worn oak table stood proudly at the center of it all, and she could picture a younger Thranduil pouring over his adar's history in one of the three high-backed chairs.
"Where do we begin?" Charlotte asked, spinning to study the room. Small holes delved into the rock just below the ceiling, likely the source of fresh air in the chamber.
"You," Maethor said, sweeping past her, "will have to listen at the door for now. Your hearing isn't as strong, but it should still give us some warning."
"But—"
"You'll have to trust us for now," Maethor said gently. "You cannot read these. Haedirn and I will search for the order while you keep guard."
"Keep us safe, yes?" Haedirn winked before he turned to the shelves. His fingers ran along the wood, searching the labels beneath each gap. "It's sorted by date, at least," he called quietly to Maethor.
Maethor gave her a gentle nudge toward the door, and she begrudgingly moved to press her ear to it. With one ear on the chamber behind her and the other straining to catch any wisp of movement in the library beyond, Charlotte prayed to the Valar that they would find the order quickly.
"Over here," Haedirn said, "These are from the past year."
She heard Maethor's soft steps, and the rustling intensified. She glanced out of the corner of her eye to see them ruffling through the scrolls and letters side-by-side, and then Haedirn pulled out a heap of scrolls and moved to dump them on the table. "It should be in here," he said.
How long had they already been gone? Dinners ran long for the elves, but at this rate, they were cutting it close before they'd have to rush back to the springs to meet Sídher and solidify her alibi.
"Got it," Haedirn cried softly. Charlotte watched his face fall, and his lips twisted into a frown. "Golodhon was correct; this is Thranduil's seal."
"No," Charlotte abandoned the door, and Maethor took her place. "It can't be. He never would have put us in danger like that."
Haedirn passed her the scroll before she could take it. Her heart was fighting her rib cage. She knew Thranduil, knew his soul, and he would never put Legolas at risk. Her hands nearly ripped the scroll in her haste to unroll it.
"I recognize his signature. It's all there," Haedirn sighed. "The orders detail the reassignment of the Second Grove to the northeast region, closer to the northeast guard post. It would leave a clear gap, a funnel for the orcs to filter through. We're fortunate there were only three."
Charlotte's eyes roamed the slanting text, hoping to find something to distinguish a difference between what was in front of her and the single sample of Thranduil's handwriting she'd seen, but it was impossible when the characters held so little meaning for her. Her gaze fell to the damning seal, her eyes traveling over the delicate tines of the elk.
"Wait," she pulled the scroll closer, studying the impression in the dark green wax. Her chest expanded as if filled with light. "This isn't Thranduil's seal." She grinned, turning to show it to Haedirn.
"Then whose seal is it? And why would the wardens obey an order without Thranduil's seal on it?" Maethor asked from against the door.
"Because they didn't recognize the difference."
Haedirn and Maethor gazed at each other in confusion as she flipped through the other scrolls on the table, searching until she found one with a seal at the bottom.
"It looks just like his," she said, placing the scrolls side-by-side. "Almost, but not quite exact. Look," she said, pointing at the green seal at the bottom of the second scroll. The same elk was pressed into the wax, with one slight but noticeable difference. "They're not the same. Thranduil's seal… the elk holds a star between his antlers. This first seal doesn't."
"So this is an impersonation?" Maethor asked.
Charlotte shook her head, but her face fell as she followed the puzzle pieces to the end. "This seal is Oropher's."
"But that would've been buried with the king," Maethor said. "Or, at the very least, destroyed."
"Thranduil kept it," Charlotte whispered, "and according to him, only one other elf knew about it: Galion."
"Galion?" Haedirn asked, his mouth wide. "Meluieth's Galion?"
Maethor suddenly froze and pressed himself firmly against the door. "Shh!" he said, and then wide-eyed, turned to Charlotte. "Shield your light!"
Charlotte dampened it quickly, throwing them into darkness, and quietly shuffled toward the door with her hands and arms waving in front of her and her toes searching for obstacles. Once she found Maethor, he guided her closer to the stone so she could press her ear to it.
Maethor stiffened beside her, and she realized he must have heard something she could not. Moments later, a voice drifted past their hiding spot.
"My lady," Eithoril said, "they do not appear to be present. Please, can we not attend the evening meal? The young prince will be waiting."
"They have to be here," Lothuial hissed. "I missed them last night, but I will not fail today."
"But you heard the elves," Eithoril argued. Their steps sounded right outside the stone door. "The cook ordered her to the spring, and the elves reported seeing her entering the stairwell with Sídher before dinner. They're likely still down there unless they've returned to their rooms."
"I cannot check there," Lothuial said. "Not without arousing her guards' suspicions, and no one would believe I would bathe in the springs. Everyone has access to it."
"They're not here, my lady, please," Eithoril tried again.
There was silence for a moment, and Charlotte had to strain to hear Lothuial's hissed reply.
"Why do you attempt to rush me away?"
"Rush you?" Eithoril cried. "My lady, I apologize. I am only concerned for your health. You have many responsibilities and have been skipping your meals and rest in this quest to capture her. Did your adar not lay a trap for her tonight? Please, I beg you to come to dinner. Eat, rest, and tonight you will have contained the sorceress. Eryn Galen will be safe once more after tonight. We need only be patient."
There was a shuffle of steps and a sigh. "You are right, mellon nîn," Lothuial said. "Adar is frantic. She has cursed our people and now attempts to enchant the king and shatter our arrangement. I worry the realm will fall should she succeed."
"It ends tonight," Eithoril soothed.
"Adar has promised it," Lothuial agreed. "Let's hope it is so. The king should arrive at the northern borders soon. Our best chance to free him from her influence is now."
"And what of young Prince Legolas?"
"Adar fears it may be too late for him." The steps descended, the sounds softening as the distance between them grew. "I hope he is wrong."
Charlotte could scarcely breathe. Maethor stood rigidly beside her, and she didn't relax her stance until she saw him exhale and peel from the door. She let her light flood the room so she could study his worried expression.
"We need to ensure that you are highly visible this evening," he said. "Tonight, when not in company, we'll remain in your chambers and far from this section of the palace. If you're in agreement?"
"I don't need to give them even the slightest excuse," she said. "But we need to move this along before dinner ends or someone else comes through here."
"Didn't we already find what we came for?" Haedirn asked, holding up the scroll with Oropher's seal.
"We need to see what else this person has been ordering," Charlotte said, digging through the shelves. "Grab anything that matches that seal during Thranduil's reign."
"You can't mean to take them from the archives?" Maethor's jaw descended.
"We can return them once Thranduil is back, but for now, it's too dangerous to return here again. We won't get a second chance at this room with Cúthon in charge. And if Golodhon ever caves and gives up the location of this room to Cúthon? He wouldn't hesitate. Cúthon would destroy the evidence before anyone could find out. So we take them."
"Wicked," Haedirn grinned, and he dove through the shelves searching for Oropher's seal.
Maethor clung to the door, ear pressed against the cool stone to listen while they searched. They found very few. By the end of the century of Thranduil's reign, they had only amassed two counterfeit orders. Charlotte was digging through the cubbies beside Haedirn, rifling through the scrolls as fast as possible when she found the last one. Haedirn pointed to the sign below it and shook his head.
"These are during Oropher's reign," he said.
"Take it anyway and douse the light," Maethor whispered. "Someone is coming."
Charlotte dropped them into darkness once more and frantically searched for a place to hide the scrolls on her person. She felt terrible doing it, but she flattened them on the table, folded them, and stuffed them down the neckline of her gown, in between the layers of her tight sleeves, until they were trapped beneath her tricep and held in place by the firm bands encircling her arm. She kept her elbow bent and her arm tight to her ribs to prevent them from shifting and tumbling from the openings.
A lulling melody reached her ears through the stone as an elleth walked past their hiding spot, humming a tune.
"Wait," Haedirn whispered. Charlotte heard his soft feet padding across the room, and then his own deep voice was humming the same song.
There was silence on the other side of the stone and then a soft whisper, "It is safe, mellon nîn."
Charlotte slumped in relief at the sound of Sídher's ethereal voice. Haedirn didn't hesitate to push the stone open and greet her.
"Did the others see you?" He asked.
The elleth shook her head, her wet hair flicking droplets onto the stone beneath her bare feet. She clutched Charlotte's dirty gown and her own slippers in her hand.
"I thought I would send this to be laundered," Sídher said. "It smells like the stable."
"Thank you, Sídher," Charlotte said. She didn't dare move her arms to take the dress. "That is very kind of you."
Maethor pulled the stone back into place until the weight of the door took over, and it fell closed, sealing the opening and leaving only a smooth, unblemished stone wall. "We need to get out of here and get you where people can see you," Maethor said.
"If you are quick," Sídher said, "you can catch the end of dinner."
The last thing she wished to do was sit at the high table with Lothuial and Cúthon with stolen documents shoved into her gown, but Maethor was right. She sighed and allowed them to escort her from the library after checking the hall to ensure no one would see them leaving.
Sídher was silent as she followed until Charlotte could feel her tugging on her hair once more. "If they see you like this," Sídher explained, pulling Charlotte's wild hair into quick braids, "they'll suspect you. As it is, it's already dried quite a bit. If they ask, you soaked your feet for a while while I swam."
Charlotte bobbed her head, and anxiety twisted her stomach. The corners of the folded scrolls poked her skin.
She could not be caught with them. The consequences for her and her guards... Even Sídher would suffer. She could only imagine Cúthon's glee if they were to drop from her sleeves during dinner. The soft melody of elves grew louder as they emerged from the corridor into the entrance hall, and Charlotte tucked her arm tightly against her side.
Maethor elbowed her gently. "You appear as if you are walking to your death."
"We very well could be," Haedirn said.
"It is all terribly exciting," Sídher chimed in. "The kitchens are not as adventurous as this. Perhaps I should reconsider the wardens?" She hummed.
Maethor snorted, "I doubt Haedirn will survive the experience a second time."
"You son of an orc!" Haedirn hissed.
Charlotte's eyes widened, and she laughed. She could hardly picture the wispy elleth knocking Haedirn out cold. She appeared so calm and gentle.
"I did apologize for that." Sídher blushed.
Haedirn glared at Maethor and softened his expression as he faced Sídher. The tips of his ears were pink as he straightened his neat tunic. "Your apologies were not necessary, Sídher. You were outstanding, and I stand by my words that day." He cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck. "The guard lost a fierce recruit when you transferred to the kitchen."
"Perhaps I will transfer back." Sídher shrugged. She stopped, and Charlotte realized they stood in the back of the great hall. Eyes flickered over them, and she was thankful that they were the picture of serenity. A quick glance at Maethor proved that his teasing had been intentional, designed to relax them.
"Thank you," Sídher said to Charlotte with a deep curtsey, "for joining me this afternoon. I'll see that your gown is promptly returned to you."
"Thank you, Sídher." Charlotte beamed. She could definitely see an odd friendship forming between them, and as she watched Haedirn track the elleth until she vanished down the kitchen stairs, Charlotte suspected a friendship might give way to a little opportunistic matchmaking. She could almost hear Thranduil teasing her now.
Her shoulders slumped. She'd managed to avoid thinking about the distance growing between them for most of the day, and now was not the time for her to wallow.
She glanced at the head table, both disappointed and pleased to see that Cúthon and Lothuial were present. It was time to cement her alibi.
Walking to her seat on the dais, she noticed that many of the elves still sported the white flowers on their clothing and in their hair. Even Legolas had taken to carrying his and had pinned it to his tunic. Still, his appearance was concerning. His eyes were cast downward, watching his fork push his dinner around his plate, and tight lines had appeared around his mouth. Dark purple blossomed beneath his lashes, and Charlotte worried he wasn't sleeping well with his adar gone.
"Good evening, Legolas," Charlotte greeted, settling once more beside Lothuial and completely ignoring her.
"The prince is to be addressed properly," Lothuial snipped. "It is either 'Prince Legolas' or 'Your Highness.'"
Legolas's fingers turned white around his fork. "Since Charlotte is a personal friend of mine and of my family, she has been given permission to drop my honorifics, Lady Lothuial. She may greet me however she pleases."
"Your Highness," Cúthon's oily voice interjected.
"No," Legolas said sharply, clinking his fork on the table. A flash of his adar's temper reigned in his eyes. "It is as I have said. Enough."
What had they done to her little leaf today? Tired and cross, Legolas sat rigidly in his adar's seat, looking for all the world as if he were bookended by taipans and he knew it.
Charlotte shook herself out of her thoughts as a plate was settled before her. "I saved you a slice of your favorite," Idhrenes said with a smile. Charlotte was shocked to see her outside of her kitchen. She knew how rarely Idhrenes trusted its management to others. "I hope the springs were helpful. Sídher seemed delighted by an afternoon of relaxation."
"It was wonderful," Charlotte said. "Thank you for arranging it."
"Of course," Idhrenes beamed. "Now, eat before it gets cold. There's plenty more if you want to visit with me in the kitchen afterward."
"I'd love that."
"Are you not required elsewhere?" Cúthon interrupted.
Idhrenes raised a brow at him, and Charlotte was amazed to see him wilt for a moment before he rose to his full height.
"Caution, Cúthon," Idhrenes warned, and she turned to Charlotte with a gentle smile. "I'll see you after dinner then."
Cúthon watched the cook leave with narrowed eyes, his fingers fidgeting with the sleeve of his tunic.
"Eithoril," Lothuial suddenly said.
"Yes, my lady?" Eithoril slid from her post behind the high table and bent her head.
Charlotte's eyes were drawn to the guards discreetly lining the wall behind Eithoril. Her brows furrowed, and she searched the room. Sure enough, more guards were posted throughout the hall. How many of them would be tailing her this evening? How many would waste their night waiting for her to show up in the library?
"Would you be so kind as to fetch my cloak?" Lothuial asked her lady's maid. "I am considering a walk around the archery fields this evening, and the wind will tangle my hair terribly." She patted the blonde braids and smoothed the loose strands over her shoulder.
"Of course, my lady," Eithoril said. As she turned, her eyes met Charlotte's, the same fear from the previous night evident in her eyes.
"Quickly," Lothuial ordered, shooing her along. Lothuial's icy gaze tracked her maid until she could no longer see her.
"Legolas," Charlotte said, "would you like to join me after dinner in the kitchens?"
"King Thranduil," Cúthon interrupted, "has left explicit instructions for his son's care in his absence. I am afraid the prince will be unable to join you this evening as he is required to retire. He will need his rest before lessons tomorrow morning."
Explicit instructions. Charlotte rolled her eyes. She highly doubted those instructions included separating her and Legolas or having Cúthon in charge of Legolas's routine. She would find some way to spend time with him. It was clear that the separation from Thranduil and the constant attention from Lothuial and Cúthon were depleting him.
"Lady Charlotte," Lothuial said, leaning forward to block her view of the prince. "I am rather surprised to see you have joined us again. Twice in one week. You are to be commended."
Charlotte shook her head and opened her mouth, but Lothuial continued, "I suppose you have to surface for food eventually." She winked at her as if they were in each other's confidence, privy to a great secret between them.
"I'm afraid I'm not following your implication."
"Well, it's all over the caverns, of course," She said with faux sympathy. "It is alright. You no longer need to attempt these elaborate excuses. We've seen how you all are together."
Charlotte stiffened in her seat, her face flushed, and her hand tightened on her fork.
"I mean, they are quite handsome. I can hardly blame you," Lothuial continued, seemingly oblivious to the rage building in Charlotte's body. "But both of them." She tsked. "It's a bit scandalous, do you not think?"
"Careful which words you chose next," Charlotte hissed.
"Oh, dear," Lothuial said, leaning back into her chair. Legolas met her gaze and rolled his eyes at Lothuial before taking a deep gulp from his goblet. "I did not mean to upset you. Of course, when I heard they were spending the nights in your room with you, I did not wish to impune on your honor in such a way." She dipped her head, whispering as if they were two friends conspiring. "Of course, with the king out of residence, I imagine you would be very lonely. He has such a voracious appetite. I'm not surprised you required the both of them to satiate such needs."
Charlotte's blood boiled. How dare she imply that Charlotte would ever cheat on Thranduil. The lowly little cockroach! Charlotte watched the elleth fight against a grin and realized that she had almost fallen right into the trap. For a moment, she felt pity for Lothuial, to have been raised by such an adar, twisted into something hateful and vicious. Her necklace warmed, and oddly, Lothuial beamed at the sight.
"Charlotte?" Legolas moaned. His tiny hands clutched at his head. "I do not feel well."
"Legolas?"
He wobbled, his chin drooping before he jerked his spine straight, and his thick lashes fluttered.
Charlotte jumped from her chair, knocking it over with a loud thwack! Lothuial scootched her seat back as well, blocking her path.
"Move your fucking chair before I beat you with it," Charlotte growled.
Lothuial gasped. "How utterly horrid!"
Charlotte reached for her own chair—
"Charlotte?" Legolas moaned.
She watched in horror as his eyes rolled back, the lids fluttering over the whites.
He dropped forward with a thud on the table.