by Abbie Lyons
All I needed was to talk to him—really talk to him. Then I could explain more. Then I could fix things. Or start to.
Gage’s magic waved us into the dining hall once again. It was a little improved in the light of day—artificial lighting, mind you—but only barely. The food was more or less the same shape and color (and presumably taste) as the last night’s tray, but at least this time there was some watery tea and a bit of flowery-tasting fruit juice. At least they were indulging the Fae compulsion for sweet things somewhat.
As I made my way to my usual table—AKA the one I’d sat at yesterday—I tried to keep my eyes downcast. I didn’t want anyone starting anything with me, or catching anyone’s eye again. I just wanted to dissolve into the background. I’d been worried that everybody knowing I’d supposedly killed my best friend might draw unwanted attention, but so far, so good. I guess some of the inmates were here for crimes that were even worse. I didn’t know whether or not that was a fact I should take any sort of comfort from.
But when I went to set my tray down, I couldn’t help but overhear something off to the side. At first it sounded like just a lively conversation, but it quickly became super obvious it was much more than that.
“Look at me that way again, bitch!”
The red-haired girl from dinner last night had leaped to her feet, her own tray clattering to the ground. She stared down another girl with a deep-purple side shave and pale eyes that made her look almost blind.
“I wasn’t looking at you at all, dumbass,” she shot back. “I can’t fucking see!” Maybe she was blind.
I froze, as did the rest of the room, clutching my dull plastic fork in my hand.
“Bullshit,” the red-haired girl cried. “We all know you’re faking, and I know you were going to jack my shit!”
“I was n—”
The redhead sprang forward, hands out like claws, and a red slash of light flashed from her palms, tightening around the blind girl’s throat as she landed in a tackle. With her knees pinning the blind girl to the ground, the redhead wound her fists in a circle, and the red band of light followed suit, tightening and tightening until the blind girl was gasping.
“Guards!”
Gage darted out from behind me, motioning with a quick wave, and the other guardsmen standing around the perimeter leaped into action. They circled the tumbling girls, ripping their baton-like wands from their belts, but she just raised a fist and sent another jagged crackle of red light into them. A sizzling sound echoed through the hall.
“Fight!” someone yelled.
Instinctively, I jolted out of my seat, running backward to...I didn’t know where. I couldn’t leave the room, but I still wanted to get as far away from the action as possible. There was no way I was getting out of here alive and finding April’s killer if I ended up, well, dead.
The guards rushed the girl again, but she seemed to be able to hold them off—how she managed a spell in here, I had no idea. My feet stumbled over one another as I moved away, but I found myself thumping against something solid. Solid and warm.
I whirled around, terrified. Behind me was a tall, imposing figure with hair the color of the sea.
The guy I’d seen running past my cell.
For a moment, I forgot he was even a prisoner; he didn’t look like one. Still, I didn’t want to piss anyone off.
“I’m sorry,” I gasped. “I just...”
“Out of the way.” He held me by the waist, his grip firm, and moved me to the side with a little more force than necessary. My heart pounded, terrified he had something like redheaded girl’s lightning-noose up his sleeve, but he merely pushed forward into the crowd. And then looked back at me and winked.
Who the hell was this guy?
The guards couldn’t seem to break in, and the shouting was growing way too loud to hear over. I cast around for Gage—was he safe, after leading the charge?—and found him slicing into the air with his baton, grim determination on his face, with his pal Cobalt by his side.
“Stand down, inmate!” he yelled. But the girl simply cackled and neatly avoided them, leaping from table to table as her wings flashed and fluttered behind her.
“Stand down!” Cobalt echoed, not as forcefully as Gage.
The blue-haired guy had made his way to the inner circle of the crowd now. With a flick of his wrist, he lifted a hand to the air.
Everything rang out at once.
Whatever he’d done was some powerful magic, I knew that right away. It was omnipresent, sending the air rippling like a mirage in the desert, going tingly around the edges as though I’d hit myself on the head. I blinked, furiously trying to clear my vision, and when I came to, the crowd had dissipated, and the redhead was in handcuffs, with Cobalt pushing her towards the exit.
“You fuckers!” she snarled. And then, as though the storm had suddenly blown away, her face relaxed, the vine tattoo smoothing, and she gave a winning smile. “Just kidding. Lovely day! And you’re welcome for the show! I’ll be here all week! Maybe even the next thousand weeks!”
“Back where you were!” another guardsman snapped, and the crowd slowly obeyed. The blind girl was rubbing her neck, breathing heavily.
Gage, meanwhile, his hat askew, had the blue-haired guy by the lapels.
“You’re out of line, inmate,” he was saying through gritted teeth. “You can’t do that and you—”
“It seems that I can do that,” the guy replied calmly. “Seeing as I did.”
Gage, as if he suddenly realized he’d left my side, let the guy go, eyes wide. “You’ll be punished for this,” he said, and rushed back to me. “Emerald, are you—”
“Fine,” I said. “What just happened?”
Gage blew out a breath, his face still a bit flushed. “That was...”
The bell overhead interrupted him. I hadn’t even eaten anything, not that I really had the appetite. Gage’s shoulders slumped just a tiny bit.
“Come along. I’ll explain on the way.” We exited to the hallway, Gage firming back up into the guardsman he was.
“So?” I pestered. “I thought you said no one could do magic in here. Except you, of course.”
“Well...yes,” Gage said. “That’s the rule. But of course some prisoners choose to find ways around it. How, I don’t know. I suspect it’s reappropriating some of the spells we have in place here, siphoning off that magic for their own purposes.”
“So, like, the Fae equivalent of a shiv?”
Gage gave me a quizzical look. “A what?”
“It’s...a human thing,” I said. “April and I used to watch a ton of crime shows to pass the time. A shiv’s like an improvised knife.”
Gage’s expression flickered just briefly at the mention of her name, and I was reminded again that he thought I was guilty. I pushed the feeling down, needing a friend and an explanation now more than I needed absolution from my old friend.
“I suppose so,” Gage said, “yes. So occasionally, these disputes do break out. There are a few troublemakers, as you might imagine.”
“Who was that girl?” I said, looking over my shoulder even though I knew she’d been taken away to...goddess knew where.
“Delilah,” Gage said shortly. “You’d do best to avoid her.”
“Got it,” I said. We’d arrived at my cell, but I still needed to know something. “So then who was the other prisoner who cast the spell? The one that sort of flattened everything out?”
A muscle twitched in Gage’s jaw.
“Something personal?” I asked.
“That’s not...” Gage shook his head. “A guardsman does not engage in personal relationships with prisoners, or with anyone outside the guard, positive or negative,” he recited.
“Okay, okay.” I did a palms-up. “Didn’t know it was a touchy subject. But who was he, anyway?”
Gage gave me a confused look. “You don’t know?”
“Why would I be asking if I did?”
He shook his head. “Right. I forgot
you were...gone for so long.” Gage let out a short breath through his nose, drawing himself up to his full height. “That was Crown Prince Tarian, disgraced heir of the royal family.”
“What?” A crown prince? That might explain his powers, as well as his, well, regal appearance, but... “What did he do to get in here?”
“I’m not at liberty to say,” Gage said. “And if I were you, I’d stay far, far away from him as well.” His gaze narrowed. “You didn’t speak to him, did you?”
Something told me I should say no. So I lied and just shook my head.
“Good.” He waved, and my cell door sealed me in again. A panicked feeling rushed over me, the confusion at the news that a royal Fae was trapped in here and the realization that I hadn’t gotten to talk to Gage the way I’d wanted to, to explain more.
“Gage, wait—”
But he was already gone.
Chapter Seven
MY FIRST FEW DAYS AT Enchanted Penitentiary were skull-crushingly boring. The routine never changed: wake up to the sound of the warden’s voice, go to breakfast, back to the cell, go to lunch, back to the cell, go to dinner, back to the cell, sleep. Rinse and repeat. Now that I was apparently “acclimated” to my new home, Gage’s duties as my personal guard were beginning to dwindle. He’d still accompany me to one meal a day, but he was no longer required to sit with me. Instead, he’d patrol the whole mess hall along with the other Azelorians.
On the one hand, it was nice to feel like I no longer needed protection. I sat alone at a mess hall table, and nobody gave me any shit. I was doing a hell of a job at keeping my profile as low as possible. Back in my Hollywood life, I was always the girl who stood out in a crowded room. Sure, that might’ve been because sometimes I was literally glowing with enchantments, but either way, I wasn’t used to this lack of attention, and something about it was actually kind of...nice?
But on the other hand, Gage was all I had here. And he was still my only hope of proving my innocence. If I could somehow get it through to him that I didn’t kill April, maybe he could pass that further up the chain. But on our brief walks to and from the mess hall, the topic was a complete non-starter. Discussing my case would be “outside the bounds of his responsibilities” or something like that, and any further discussion about it would be “inappropriate.”
I was convinced that if I was given the time for a deeper conversation with him that I could at least get the gears turning in his head. In his heart of hearts, he had to know that I wasn’t capable of murder. But right now, all I was getting from him were the meaningless pleasantries exchanged over a walk to a meal.
In fact, my first week in the penitentiary was probably the least interaction I’d had with other people ever. Most of my time was spent sitting in my cell just thinking. I played the night of the party over and over in my head, hoping I might be able to think of some little detail that could lead to the identity of April’s killer. But so far, I had nothing. Nada. Zilch.
And so, with all the boredom, I was absolutely relieved to wake up one morning to discover—after another one of the warden’s unhinged announcements, of course—an envelope sitting on the floor. Somebody must’ve slid it through the bars during the night. On the front of the envelope were four words in the same plain black ink I’d gotten used to on the toothpaste tube and shampoo: EMERALD JONES WORK ASSIGNMENT.
I’d definitely noticed that some of the inmates were sometimes escorted from their cells at non-meal times, and I’d wondered where it was they were going. But this made sense. Of course prisoners were being put to work. Even in Fae society, capitalism was king, baby.
For me, this was big news: I was finally going to have a job for the first time in...well, ever. Sure, I’d dabbled in the whole influencer thing—my Instagram presence was huge, and I didn’t even need to use any enchantments to get followers—but let’s be real, “influencing” isn’t a real job.
I didn’t care what the work would be. Even scrubbing toilets would be totally cool! Anything to rescue me from the boredom of my everyday routine! I tore the envelope open and looked through the attached letter.
Ms. Emerald Johnson
On behalf of the Fae Government, you are not only required to fulfill your minimum sentence, but also to perform duties for the good of society and/or your peers while you remain incarcerated. Proper fulfillment of these duties will not only satisfy the requirements for release at the end of your sentence, but also provide you with the workplace skills needed in the outside world upon said release.
A job has been assigned to you, largely dependent on what is currently available and in need at the Enchanted Penitentiary. The role you have been assigned is: LUNCH KITCHEN ASSISTANT. Please report to the mess hall kitchen at exactly 11 AM each day, beginning tomorrow. Any tardiness is subject to result in disciplinary action.
We thank you for your cooperation and wish you luck in your new position.
Instead of a signature, there was a twisting, complex wax seal. I sighed. Seeing as I’d never been much of a cook—I was more the going out to eat type—this was for sure going to be a challenge. I was the kind of girl who could burn water. But just the idea of spending a few hours a week outside my cell and in a kitchen was—dare I say it—absolutely heavenly.
And so the next day, shortly after finishing breakfast—I pointlessly had to return to my cell for about an hour—I reported to the kitchen. I wasn’t quite sure what to actually expect out of the job. Until then I hadn’t even realized that all of the mess hall food was being cooked by inmates rather than some sort of outside staff. That made sense: who in their right minds would want to work in the kitchen of the Enchanted Penitentiary?
“You must be Emerald,” a middle-aged Fae with a shiny silver soccer mom haircut greeted me from her spot at a stove. She somehow had what unmistakably sounded like a New York accent, despite almost definitely growing up in the Invisible Cities. Maybe she was a fellow runaway?
“That’s me,” I confirmed.
“I’m Barbarina, but you can just call me Babs. Pleasure to meet you. Try this on for size.” She pulled an apron off a hook on the wall and tossed it over to me. “It ain’t exactly new, but it should do the trick.”
It was covered with countless grease stains, but I didn’t mind. It’s not like the penitentiary uniform I’d be wearing it over was much better.
“Ever worked in a kitchen?” Babs asked.
I hesitated. “Well, I, uh...”
“You haven’t ever cooked for yourself in your life, have you? That’s okay, honey, we can work with that. You’re gonna get a crash course. Think of it as a culinary school of sorts. You’ll learn a lot from me.”
Already, I liked Babs. She seemed so unpretentious, unlike approximately every other Fae in existence. Totally the kind of lady I could party with.
“Where do you need me?” I asked.
She put her hand to her chin in thought. “Let’s see, let’s see. How about you work over at the fryers? That’s a simple enough job. You just put some food in the basket and drop it in the oil. Simple as that!”
By now I’d had some fried food a few times in the mess hall, but it wasn’t exactly good. There was something that looked like fries (but not quite), and they were crispy, sure, but incredibly dull. Basically tasteless. This was not In-N-Out Burger.
“The girl over there will be happy to train you,” Babs insisted. “Now if you don’t mind, I’m going to man the grill. Nobody can beat my Salisbury steak!”
Babs seemed so nice that I didn’t even want to think about what she was locked up in the penitentiary for. I hoped it was something harmless. Maybe she was a Robin Hood type, stealing from the rich and giving to the poor.
Or maybe she killed somebody.
I glanced over at the fryers to see just who this girl training me was going to be.
She turned around and gave me a devilish grin. This definitely wasn’t who I wanted to be training under.
It was the redheaded girl—today,
wearing it in pigtails—with an enchanted vine tattoo on her face. The very same one who’d started a fight in the mess hall. Delilah. Goddess help me.
“Hey there!” she called out in a cheerful high-pitched voice. “Guess we’re going to be frying up some grub together! Let me show you the ropes!”
Even the way she said something so mundane came across as completely unhinged. Delilah seemed like the type who was here physically, but not entirely present mentally. Her mind might as well have been up in outer space.
“Don’t be shy!” she said. “I don’t bite. I mean, I do bite, but not right now.” She did look like the type to bite in a fight. I’d just have to remember to stay on her good side. “Aren’t you going to introduce yourself?”
“I’m Emerald,” I said, joining her at the fryers. “Em. That’s what people call me.”
She giggled. “Oh, you’re the one who killed your best friend! That’s so crazy!”
For a moment there, I’d forgotten that my reputation preceded me. “Actually—”
“Yeah, yeah. You’re innocent. So says pretty much everybody here. Except for me! I’ll admit to everything I did.”
I wasn’t sure how I was supposed to respond to that.
She dumped a bag of the fry-looking food into one of the baskets and dropped it into the oil with abandon. Why didn’t it surprise me that she wasn’t scared of a few measly grease burns?
“So aren’t you going to ask me what I did to get locked up here?” she asked with a big smile on her face. “Or wait! I’ll let you guess! Let’s make this a game! I love games!”
“Um...” I started. The last thing I wanted to do was guess something that would insult her. I’d already seen what Delilah was capable of. “Did you rob somebody?”
She rolled her head back in laughter. “Robbery? Boooo-ring! Where’s the excitement in that? Guess again!”