by Abbie Lyons
“What makes you think I haven’t tried?”
I blinked. If someone like Prince Tarian couldn’t even get out of here...
“Petal, I don’t think you belong here.”
I looked back to his eyes.
“You don’t?”
But before Tarian could reply, a commotion scuffled at the entrance.
“Where is she?”
Chapter Twelve
THAT WAS GAGE’S VOICE. I froze as booted footsteps rang out and my old friend drew to my bedside.
“What’s going on?” he said, a deep frown creasing his handsome face. “Why isn’t she concealed? What is—”
His attention landed on Tarian, who barely moved to register his presence. If anything, he leaned back to lounge further on his pillows.
“Just enjoying a chat,” he said to Gage. “And the curtain was in the way.”
“That’s a regulation violation,” Gage snapped. He looked at me, practically panicked. “Are you all right, Emerald? Did anything...did he do...”
His voice was too choked with anger to finish sentences. I was stunned; I’d never seen Gage like this. Even now, as the Gage who was a guardsman. It was intense.
“I’m fine,” I said. “In fact, I’m feeling a lot better.”
Gage nodded and spun on Prince Tarian. “You do not speak to her. Do NOT.”
Tarian quirked an eyebrow. “To her in particular? Curious. I thought I wasn’t supposed to speak to any of my fellow inmates now. Is there something special to you about Ms. Petal Pink here?” He looked Gage quickly up and down. “That’s not very seemly for an Azelorian guardsman.”
“Silence!” roared Gage.
And he lunged at Prince Tarian’s bed.
“Guardsman!” Nurse Clodia’s voice rang out sternly. “If you please.”
All business, she pushed herself between Gage and Tarian, snapped her fingers, and restored the partition curtain. I was alone again—alone with Gage.
Gage was breathing heavily, and swiped a stray strand of hair off his forehead.
“Sorry,” he said. “I just...”
“It’s fine,” I said. “He was kind of provoking you.” For some reason.
“That was an inappropriate accusation of him to make,” Gage said, staring daggers into the partition curtain. “I’m faithful to my vows.”
He swallowed hard.
“I know,” I said.
Trust me, I know.
Gage looked at me, fighting to keep his face professional. Seeing him like that made my heart ache. “I’ve come to take you back to your cell. Nurse Clodia says you should be sufficiently healed by now. Do you feel better?”
I nodded. I did feel way less dizzy—from the injury, anyway.
That whole convo with Tarian...that was another deal entirely.
And somehow, I had a feeling that this thing with him and Gage was weirdly personal.
“Great,” Gage said, breaking into a smile. “I mean, excellent. We’ll return now.”
He helped me off the bed, his hand warm on my elbow even through his tight leather glove, and we walked in companionable silence back through the hallways, back past the Warden’s door, towards my cell.
“I came as quickly as I could,” Gage said. His eyes darted towards me, although his head remained facing dutifully front. “Emerald, I should’ve been there. I apologize for shirking my duty.”
“You don’t have to apologize,” I said. “I’m the one who just...lost it in the middle of kitchen duty.”
“Lost it?”
“Yeah. I just passed out...more or less. And then I guess I hit my head.”
Gage was silent for a moment. “I thought there’d been some sort of fight.”
“Oh. Nope.” I shook my head, trying to force a laugh and lighten the moment. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to be a troublemaker for you.”
“Any time an inmate is injured during their initial few weeks, their protection is extended,” Gage said, his footfalls echoing as we returned to the cavernous cell block. “So I’m obligated to keep a closer watch on you. You should not be physically injured while in Enchanted Penitentiary. That is not an intended part of your confinement here.”
“Pretty big infirmary if you don’t expect people to get hurt,” I quipped. Gage glanced at me, and I withdrew. “Sorry.”
He closed his eyes and gave his head a little shake. “No, I apologize. It’s just that I’m really not supposed to have something like this happen on my watch.”
“Are you going to get in trouble?”
A few more silent steps. Thud. Thud. Thud.
“We’ll see.” Gage lifted his chin. “And that’s none of your concern, anyway. You’re healthy now, and that’s what matters.”
I was touched by his concern, as official-sounding as it was. But at the same time, it wasn’t all that mattered. My freedom was another huge, big thing that mattered a ton. And no one seemed to agree with me on that.
Until I’d talked to Prince Tarian.
“Can I ask you about the prince again?” I said, timidly. “Now that...”
A muscle twitched in Gage’s jaw. “I’d really rather not, Emerald. I’ve told you what I need to tell you.”
“Okay, okay.” Guilt seethed a bit in my chest. I didn’t like the idea that Gage would get in trouble for my getting hurt when it was just my own dumb ass’s fault. How is he supposed to control whether or not I have an intense, sudden flashback to my past?
Which, speaking of...
“Did you know Gia well? Back before you enlisted?” I blurted out. We were passing through some of the more populated cells, the murmur of other inmates rising to a noticeable hum, and I wanted to ask before we got back to mine.
“Gia,” Gage said, his voice low, like he didn’t want anyone to overhear.
“She was April’s friend,” I said, trying my best to gesture even though my hands were bound again—I hadn’t even noticed him slip the magical cuffs on. “Purple hair, kind of a...bad attitude, sort of? I didn’t really know her well.”
“Why do you ask?”
I sucked in a deep breath. “Because I didn’t just pass out. I lost consciousness and had this weird...flashback, I guess you’d call it. To our house in LA. The night...the night April died. But it wasn’t something I remembered until now. And Gia was there—she showed up. For my birthday party. And it just seemed so off. Because part of the whole case against me was that there were no other Fae at the party. Just me and April. But if Gia was there, that has to change things, right? I just don’t know why she’d be there. But then I woke up and...”
I was babbling, words falling from my mouth faster than I could make them make sense.
“...and I was back here,” I said. “And bleeding.”
Gage’s shoulders tensed, but when he looked at me, his face was open and honest. “I didn’t know her that well, no. But she did change a bit after you two left.”
“Really?” I wanted to leap forward and shake more information out of him, but I couldn’t. We were almost at my cell, anyway. “Changed how?”
“If I had to guess, she was depressed,” he said. “I suppose she missed her friends.”
“Friend,” I corrected. “She was only April’s friend. And they had some kind of falling out, anyway.”
Surprise swept over Gage’s features. “Funny. She said the three of you were thick as thieves.”
I nearly stopped in my tracks. Why would Gia tell everyone she and I were friends? And why would she conceal her huge fight—whatever it was—with April? She’d always struck me as quite the drama queen, so not breaking the news about some juicy friend break-up seemed really, really out of character.
“A lot of us changed after you left.”
Gage’s soft voice tugged me back to reality. He was looking directly ahead again, even more focused this time, if that was possible.
“You mean you?” I asked. What was he getting at?
He shifted as he walked, arranging th
e uniform even more certainly in place. Goddess, Gage is a guardsman. The truth of it struck me again in that moment—why, I couldn’t say, but it was astonishing. Almost as astonishing as the fact that I was in jail. For someone I knew to end up at such a highly regarded post...it was almost like knowing a celebrity.
Except the whole point of the Azelorian Guard was to act as one. Never to claim glory as the individual. To follow the rules.
“It was a difficult time,” Gage said at last. “For a lot of reasons. Enlisting...gave me purpose again.”
I didn’t get a chance to learn more, though, because at that instant, Gage threw an arm out, catching me across the chest.
“Fuck you!” A girl’s voice rasped. “I’ll kill all of you! Not everything is my fault, you know!”
It didn’t surprise me at all to see who it was: Delilah. A few paces in front of us, two of the guardsmen were wrestling her by the shoulders, struggling to contain her flailing body until one of them struck her soundly on the back of the head with an electric wand.
“Ahh!”
Delilah crumpled to the ground, her red hair fanning around her as she fell.
“Be careful,” Gage whispered to me. “She might have something concealed.”
But as the guards yanked Delilah’s head up, she just went slack. Until she spotted me.
“I didn’t do it,” she called. “Emerald, tell them I didn’t do it. I didn’t hurt you. It was just an accident!”
My voice caught in my throat. Did they think Delilah had hurt me?
“It wasn’t her,” I said quickly. “I just fell. It was entirely me.”
Gage glanced at me. “You don’t have to cover for her, Emerald,” he murmured.
“Quiet, inmate!” barked one of the guards. “You’re headed to solitary.”
“Ooh, you promise?” Delilah cooed, raising her eyebrows. The second guard pushed her forward, and she cackled, throwing another grin at me.
“It wasn’t her,” I said again, louder this time. “It wasn’t anyone.”
The guards looked at each other, then nodded.
“Let’s just get her back to her cell.”
Delilah crowed with victory. “Emerald Jones saved my life! I owe Emerald Jones a debt of honor!” Her voice echoed as they disappeared into a ragged portal that appeared with a sound like ripping cardboard.
The portal swirled shut, and Gage took a step back from me. He gave me a what was that all about? look.
All I could do was shrug. “Look, I don’t understand her. I mean, a debt of honor seems way extreme.”
Gage pressed his lips together. “I suggest you not take her up on it.”
A few steps later and we were back at my cell.
Home, sweet home.
After he waved me in, I sank onto the bed with a sigh and caught Gage’s eye one last time.
“Long day,” I said.
He chewed his bottom lip as if debating what to say in response.
“It’s good that you’re not permanently hurt,” he said.
The stiff formality made me want to smile in spite of myself. But I didn’t. It was clearer than ever that being a good guardsman was important to Gage, and I wasn’t going to tease him into breaking the rules.
“Thank you.”
“Good night, Emerald.”
The lights in my cell dimmed.
“Good night,” I said back. Whether he heard me or not, I couldn’t tell.
“Good evening, inmates,” the warden’s disembodied loud-ass voice echoed, almost as if in response. “I’ve been seeing many things in recent days here in the penitentiary that I very much dislike. Too much misbehavior. Too much disobedience. Some of you speak among yourselves about the ways in which you hope to atone for your sins and become better Fae. I’ll remind you that, first and foremost, you’re here to be punished. Any moment you experience a feeling other than misery should be nothing more than an aberration. Do not fool yourselves into believing you deserve a moment of forgiveness for the things you’ve done.”
His final words felt like a direct response to the things our teacher had tried to get across in class. Which made me feel even more as if he’d been watching.
But then again, maybe that was the point of never actually seeing the warden—to make us feel like he could be keeping an eye on any of us at any given moment, like some sort of all-knowing ruler. That bastard.
Chapter Thirteen
IN CLASS THE NEXT MORNING, it was obvious that many of us had taken the warden’s latest message to heart. It was crushing to know that the one in charge of Enchanted Penitentiary ultimately viewed us as trash. It had me wondering—as well as others, I’m sure—if he’d eventually use his power to suspend something as good-hearted as Citizenship class. It seemed at odds with everything he stood for.
The only one with a smile on their face was Wes, who presumably didn’t hear the warden’s announcement. As a volunteer, I doubted he was staying anywhere within the bounds of the prison. Probably up on the surface somewhere. Good for him.
“Good morning, y’all!” he greeted us, walking in and taking a bite out of an apple. “I’m looking forward to getting a good dialogue going today. I’d like to pick up where we left off. Yesterday we were talking about forgiveness. That’s where everything starts. Without it, there’s no moving on. You’re certainly not going to be a happy member of Fae society without it.”
Yeah—that did not jive with the philosophy of that invisible presence hanging over all of us.
Wes stepped to the chalkboard and wrote out the phrase SELF-VALUE, once again in big block letters.
“Here’s some food for thought. Forgiving yourself is only the start. From there, you have to develop a sense of self-value. And none of this is going to happen overnight! It’s a long road. And for some of you, it’ll be longer than it is for others. But as one of my favorite quotes goes, ‘the journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.’ I think it’s a human who came up with that one actually!”
He paused and looked the room over, as if he could tell that something was wrong. He grabbed a chair and turned it backward before taking a seat—classic teacher move, if human movies are to be believed.
“Okay, guys, I can tell something’s up. Give it to me straight: what has you down?”
It didn’t seem like anybody wanted to answer. I certainly didn’t.
Wait a second. Is this all just some trick to get us to say something incriminating? We say something negative about the warden or our living conditions and then it’s used against us?
I was probably just being paranoid. But saying anything still felt dangerous.
“I just don’t see how we’re getting any help here,” a girl’s voice called out. It was Katinka, the wood sprite. “You keep saying that the penitentiary is a place where we can work to improve ourselves. But I don’t think they, um—” She took a pause to choose her words carefully. “I’m not sure the staff of the penitentiary agrees. They just want to punish us for what we’ve done.”
Wes nodded, his hand on his chin. “I see. And what makes you feel that way?”
Now that felt like an even more dangerous question to answer.
“The way we’re talked to,” Blossom volunteered. She seemed like the type who’d never been treated with disrespect outside of here. The privileged kind. Not that I wasn’t privileged myself.
The look in Wes’s eyes betrayed that he could tell that there was something we were keeping from him. He got back to his feet.
“Message received!” he said. “Loud and clear. As an outsider I should be better at respecting that you each have struggles here that I couldn’t possibly understand. I’m just some guy. You’re going through something right now much more difficult than anything I’ve ever had to go through. I want us all to be open with each other, but if there are things you aren’t comfortable sharing...that’s okay, too!”
Oh that sweet, pure man. He was far too good for this place.
“Do
y’all mind if I monologue for a few minutes?” he asked. “I want to tell you about my ideas of how a place like this should work. That okay?”
The class lightly nodded, still afraid of doing the wrong thing.
He started pacing back and forth. “The way I see it, yes, you’re here to be punished. But that’s only one of many reasons you’re here! The most important of those reasons is to rehabilitate! To mold you into better Fae than you were when you entered! I apologize if I’m repeating myself, but it’s such an important point, you know? And I think there’s something beautiful about the fact that the same institution that disperses justice is also the one that builds you up into a greater version of yourself. And so yes! There will be tough days during your time here. There are going to be tough weeks! Goddess forbid, maybe even tough years! But overall, the goal of your stay here is to make you whole again.”
The sad fact of the matter is that Wes might’ve been too idealistic for this place. He didn’t know the half of it.
“You should always know,” Wes said, his voice now down to close to a whisper, “that if you think something about the way this place is being run isn’t up to the high standards it should be living up to, then that’s something we can talk about here in class. I know that doesn’t solve anything, but getting your frustrations out is important! Maybe it’s better not to think of this as a class—think of it as group therapy.”
A few students groaned. This touchy-feely shit wasn’t for everybody. It was easy to forget that some of these Fae were bad news. Some of them didn’t want to be rehabilitated. As somebody locked up for a crime she didn’t commit, it was super easy to forget that. And it wasn’t as if I was into the idea of sharing my feelings right now either.
“I’m just going to say it,” Hammer exclaimed, his high-pitched voice nearly making me jump out of my seat. “It’s the warden. Every day, sometimes a few times, he makes these announcements. He tells us that we’re worthless. That we deserve to be sad and miserable. And this is the man in charge! What he says goes! So how are you going to sit there and tell us that we’re not here to be punished? You’re the only one who seems to think that, and you don’t even work here! You’re just some volunteer without any power. No offense.” He looked down bashfully. “I didn’t mean to be rude.”