Escape From The Green

by Gadziala, Jessica

  But there were too many questions left unanswered to stay silent, to accept what he had given me as the whole truth.

  "You said you weren't stupid," I reminded him, backing up into the wall, aware of the pole to my side, attached to mop, no doubt, but big and heavy, something I could use to defend myself with if necessary. "How so?"

  To that, he snorted, leaning back into the wall nearest him as well, arms crossing over his chest as those freaky eyes stayed fixated on my face.

  "When my father told me of our... betrothal," he said, spitting the word like venom from a snake bite wound, "it got me wondering. Why you? You're Light. You're lacking any skills to speak of. Your lineage, while decent, is certainly not worthy of royalty."

  "I get it. I'm beneath you," I shot back, annoyed, words sharper than I had ever heard them on my tongue.

  "Exactly," he agreed, shrugging. "My father is nothing if not opportunistic, cunning. Your mother seems cut from the same cloth, so surely you know what I mean."

  "I do," I agreed, a bit frustrated that there was any kind of kinship between us.

  "It didn't take more than a moment or two to put the dots together. Care to prove you're not utterly useless and come to the same conclusions yourself?"

  My spine stiffened at that.

  Sure, he was raised as royalty, he was aware that as a future king, he could do or say anything he wished.

  But that didn't make it okay.

  "In case you weren't aware, Jet," I started, voice cutting. "This is not your kingdom. I am not some peon you step on for fun, who you can belittle to prove how big and mean you are. Watch how you speak to me. You might be bigger than me. Stronger. But I have a hell of a lot more to lose."

  "Are you threatening me?" he asked, brows drawing down as though he almost couldn't process that information.

  "Yes."

  "With a mop?" he asked, lips twitching, seeing where I was standing.

  "A mop, sure. Or that piece of steel to my other side."

  "Interesting," he said, nodding, almost sounding impressed. "I underestimated you. I won't apologize. I don't apologize. But I will attempt not to condescend to you. Unless, of course, you prove too stupid not to put this little puzzle together. The one where we stand off to the side in our wedding finery with our parents smiling in satisfaction. Not for the marriage, of course, but because they both got something else they wanted."

  This was a test.

  And, sure, I owed this man nothing.

  But I still somehow felt as though I had something to prove.

  Maybe because he had pressed his cruel fingers into a very sore spot.

  My so-called uselessness.

  My lack of skills.

  My utter unspectacular-ness.

  Maybe I was not graced with powers, but I was not stupid.

  Why did his father want his son to marry the likes of me?

  His only son.

  His only heir.

  Oh.

  "Cece," I told him, feeling a bit of pride as he nodded slightly.

  "What about Cece?"

  "She's the heir. And she is powerful. A child of both Courts. If she could be persuaded to your father's side, the balance would tip entirely to his side. He would have all the power in the realms."

  "Precisely. And how do you play in?"

  My saliva went bitter in my mouth, hard to swallow. "I'm the bait." There was no question about it. It was the only thing that made sense. "He wants to use me to draw out Jasper. Who would then bring Cece with him. Then he could capture them. Brainwash Cece. Kill Jasper."

  "And you," Jet piped in, making my stomach swirl. "You'd be useless. Wedded and bedded and disposable, easily replaceable."

  "You'd let your father kill your wife?" I asked, whatever bit of kinship or even begrudging respect that had been building evaporating at the very thought.

  "Wife," he spat, shaking his head. "Just a title, Amethyst. You're speaking as though you'd have captured my heart when I got between your thighs. Make no mistake, babe, I don't have a heart."

  "Clearly," I grumbled, not even able to make eye-contact with him.

  "No one is taking my throne from me. Especially not a sister who doesn't even want it. I have earned the title. The Dark Court will be mine. So this plan of my father's can not come to pass."

  "He will be looking for you," I told him in case the idea hadn't occurred to him before.

  "Which is why I am going to head back out there, find him, and steer him back toward the dinosaur you were standing beside for so long. While you sneak out some other way. Go home. Pack. Leave. And this time, don't leave a fucking trail of breadcrumbs leading right to you. What were you thinking?"

  "I didn't leave..."

  "A note?" he cut me off.

  My stomach dropped at that.

  "You should have known better," he added, tisking his tongue at me. "Innocents having to lose their lives because you needed to be loved so badly."

  Oh, God.

  No.

  Had I freed him only to be the reason he was dead?

  My heart shrank, dried, splintered at the thought.

  "Mourn later," Jet demanded, pushing off the wall, moving toward me, hand moving out to snag my chin, dragging it up. "Survive now." His voice almost seemed to lose its edge, its coldness for a second. "Maybe I don't want to marry you and become your widower, but I like your spirit, Amethyst Winters. I'd kinda like to know you were still around in the world. Even if it is in this hellhole of a human realm. So go. Start over again. Never try to reach out to your family. Unless you want everything to fall apart."

  With that, he released me, moved to the door, and threw himself outside without another word.

  The tears stung at the backs of my eyes. What was left of my heart crushed to dust.

  But I pushed myself off of the wall, moved on numb feet across the floor, reached for the handle.

  Everything was falling apart.

  I was losing everything that mattered.

  I had already lost Drake.

  Killed Drake.

  There was simply nothing left to do.

  But survive.

  My never-to-be husband was right.

  I had to go.

  I could mourn later.

  I kept my head down as I moved out of the hallway, back toward the front entrance, trying not to run, trying not to draw attention to myself, even as I heard the faint sound of Jet's voice behind me, steering his father and their men back away from me.

  My stomach was in knots, my heart a frantic pounding as I broke out of the front entrance, the humid air smacking me in the face as I tried to take a breath, tried to calm myself.

  My foot had just met the first step when my gaze moved outward, scanning perhaps for threats.

  But my eyes were drawn to a group standing at the edge of the sidewalk, their backs turned to me.

  Out of place.

  That was my first impression.

  Not that being out of place was uncommon in a place that no one truly belonged.

  But this wasn't tourist cluelessness, or starry-eyed newcomers.

  This was natural fabrics, weird hair adornments, and the rigidity that could only come from a mix of overwhelmingness and likely a twinge of pain with all the metal around.

  Fae.

  A group of fae.

  My back stiffened, immediately thinking it was more of Cass' minions.

  But then a head turned over a shoulder, giving me a view of a profile.

  A profile that was supposed to belong to a dead man.

  I didn't pause to think it over, to blink a few times to make sure my brain wasn't playing tricks on me. I just flew down the stairs, ramming a shoulder or two on my way, not even bothering to say excuse me as I barreled toward the trio.

  Even if Cass didn't know that Drake was involved in my escape, he was in danger. Because like my parents, Cass liked to collect special fae. A Draca would make a great addition to his collection.

  My hand re
ached out, closing around Drake's, squeezing hard.

  His head whipped around, confused for a second, then relieved, followed by worried.

  "We need to run," I hissed at him, at them, grabbing his hand tighter, turning, and bolting.

  I was vaguely aware of his friends falling into step behind us, their presence right at our backs.

  I had no idea who they were, if they were relatives, if he had made it back to his land.

  Hell, I had no idea why Drake was here at all.

  But all I knew was whatever the reason - and whoever his friends were - we needed to get as far from the museum as quickly as possible.

  "Amy," Drake's voice called, almost annoyingly in control of his breath while my lungs felt like they were in a vice grip. "What's going on? Where are we going?"

  "Cass was at the museum," I managed to gasp out, dragging him down another block, knowing it would eventually lead to my apartment building.

  Only when we were standing out front did I slow, stop, take in a breath that burned in my lungs.

  Reaching up, I swiped my forearm across my damp brow, trying to get my heartbeat to slow down.

  "I have to pack and leave," I told him when I found my voice again. "Jet said I have to get out of here."

  "Wait... Jet told you?" Drake asked, brows furrowed.

  "He no more wants to marry me than I do him. And he certainly doesn't want Cece to get this throne. He wants me to disappear. Who are they?" I asked, moving a step closer to Drake, realizing I was still holding his hand, and not dropping it as I turned to face his friends.

  One was a woman a bit older than me, likely closer to my siblings' age than my own - tall, thin, almost painfully thin, with dark hair in an array of braids and twists, little adornments twined in. I didn't know her, of course, but something about the way she held herself said she was someone to fear. Or someone to respect. Both, maybe.

  Beside her was, well, some type of reptilian fae. You could tell by the eyes, ones not even attempting to look human, even in full human-like form. Again, tall, lithe. And in his case, very handsome in a way that said he knew it, used it, and liked the attention he got from it.

  "This is Smoky and Sal," Drake supplied, giving my hand a reassuring squeeze. "They helped me get back to the human realm more quickly."

  "But why?"

  To that, Drake's shoulders seemed to hunch forward, defeated, maybe?

  "I handed off your note to your brother to a family heading to the Light Court. Cass had them slaughtered, found the note, and followed you here."

  "A whole family?" The words were twinged with the ache I felt in my chest, something real enough that my free hand rose to press over my heart.

  "Cass didn't get the reputation he has gotten over the years for being a kind leader," Drake reminded me as I tried to push the image of children slain out of my mind.

  "I'm just going to throw this out there," the woman - Smoky - started. "Cass usually has trackers with him. And we're all just standing out here, getting our scent on the wind."

  "Right," I agreed, nodding, pulling Drake with me up the steps, finding my key, letting us in.

  "This is yours?" Drake asked as I opened my apartment door, inviting them inside.

  It didn't look like much, I guessed. With all four of us inside, it felt packed, cramped, even though my bed was nestled back in the wall, allowing a precious few feet of standing room.

  I looked around as if seeing it for the first time. And, in a way, I was. I was seeing it through the eyes of someone new.

  The light sage walls.

  The soft off-white curtains pulled wide to let in sunlight to feed my small array of plants scattered around.

  I had a table which wasn't really a table at all, at least not one meant for dining. It was golden-legged with a fake marble top, something meant to be a side table. In a way, it was. On either side of it were two chairs - mismatched. One was a typical wooden chair, painted a bright, happy yellow, a small cushion on the hard seat - finches and flowers. The other chair was a small accent chair in a deep, emerald green, the velvet soft to the touch.

  There was a teacup and saucer sitting on top of the table where I had left it earlier, a golden and royal blue floral that I had found in an antique store along with the book that sat beside it - a sad story about lovers never meant to be together.

  There was a fruit basket stacker beside my kitchen counter overflowing with apples, bananas, pears, and plums - indulgences I still hadn't gotten used to. Being from the family I was, I often had fruit even in the off-season, but never as much as I could eat, never until I got a belly ache from all the sugar. Whenever I passed a market now, I couldn't help but go in and get more, even if I already had a bunch at home.

  Off the side of the kitchen that really only had two cabinets, a miniature refrigerator whose rumbling noise I had almost gotten used to - almost - a sink, and a hot plate was the open door to my bathroom.

  There wasn't much I could do to warm up that space - all white tiles on the floors, walls, in the shower. But I had gotten a pink and yellow shower curtain, yellow bath mats, and hung a creeping plant from a hook in a corner.

  It wasn't much.

  But it was mine.

  And I felt a pull akin to sadness at having to leave it - this thing that was wholly mine, the only thing in life that I could claim that about.

  "Yeah, it's mine," I agreed, smile a little wobbly.

  "It's very... you," Drake decided, giving me a small smile that didn't reach his eyes. "I'm sorry you have to leave it."

  "Do you have bags we can bring back into The Green, doll?" Sal asked, making my attention snap in his direction, finding his gaze on Smoky whose eyes was on the fruit baskets.

  "The Green?" I asked, brows drawing together. "Why would I go back there? They'll find me there."

  "Not with my kind, they won't," Drake told me, voice soft like he was trying to soften the blow of them. "Our land is hidden. Has been for generations. No one will find you if we go there."

  I felt pulled in two directions at once.

  One, there was happiness. At Drake being alive. At knowing he was okay. At being able to see him again.

  But going back to The Green would mean I would no longer be in control of my life. I would be stuck. Again. I would have to live under someone else's rules. Again.

  And, what's more, I knew nothing about the Draca. I didn't know their ways, their customs, their rules, what they ate, how they treated outsiders. Specifically the offspring of the people who had imprisoned, enslaved one of their own for so long.

  Maybe they were a vengeful sort.

  Maybe they would want an eye-for-an-eye as the humans said.

  Maybe they would want me to suffer all the ways Drake had been made to suffer over the years.

  I didn't believe Drake would want that to happen, of course, but who was to say he had any sway on the matter?

  "I know it's not what you wanted for your life, honey," Drake started, seeming to read me. "But it is the safest place for you. If Cass thinks you're here, he will comb every inch of this realm to find you. He has the resources to do it. You know that. You need to be somewhere that he won't find you. And it doesn't have to be forever. Someday, Jet will take the throne. And then you can do whatever you want. You'll still be young. You can still have the life you dreamed about."

  "What if they hate me?" I asked, voice barely more than a whisper, not knowing his friends well enough to bare my insecurity to them.

  Brows drawn low, Drake reached for my hand again, pulling me with him. "Pack the food," he told his friends as he pulled me into the bathroom, pushing me inside, closing the door behind him.

  While having been aware of the smallness of the space before, it had never felt quite as cramped as it did right that moment, with Drake's giant frame taking up all the space, trapping me back against the shower.

  It seemed like he sucked up all the air.

  My chest felt tight.

  "Why do you t
hink they would hate you?" he asked, reaching down to snag my chin, forcing me to face him. "You saved me."

  "After my family enslaved you."

  "You are not your family."

  "You don't know how things are there now. It's been so long."

  "My kind has a code, Amy."

  "A code?" I prompted when he didn't elaborate.

  "For fae who can literally make the world burn, we are a peaceful tribe. We don't get involved in the wars between other fae. We don't allow ourselves to be used as weapons to hurt innocents. We try - as much as we possibly can - to do no harm. No one will want to make you pay for the deeds of your family. You are innocent in all that. And you freed me, honey. You allowed for me to go back to then. They will treat you with respect. I wouldn't allow anything less. You have my word on that."

  I don't know what made the words bubble up and fall out, maybe the privacy, the physical proximity, whatever it was, there was no stopping them from blurting out. "I thought you were dead."

  "What?" His brows drew down, head shaking slightly. "Why would you think that?"

  "Jet said someone was slaughtered for the note. I thought... I thought they killed you." Just as there was no stopping the words, there seemed to be no stopping the sting of tears in my eyes either.

  "Hey, none of that," he demanded, thumb moving up to catch one rogue escapee before his hand slid around to the back of my neck, applying pressure, pulling my whole body flush with his. There was the barest of pauses before my arms went around him. Then another short one before his arms went around me, nearly crushing me.

  But, oddly, I liked being nearly crushed.

  It felt good.

  Safe.

  "That family is dead because of me," Drake said, lips moving against my hair as he did so.

  "No, they're not. They're dead because of me. All of this is because of me."

  "No," he insisted, giving my body a hard squeeze. "That's not true. All of this is because of Cass. Because he is a heartless, power-thirsty bastard. Don't take his sins on your back, Amy."

  "How did you get here?" I asked, not moving away. He didn't either. We just stood there as though it was completely normal to have a conversation while embracing in the bathroom. Both of us, it seemed, were too starved for affection to care how it may have looked. Besides, no one was around to see.