A Cage of Moonlight

by Jenna Wolfhart

  “Perhaps a walk would do you good. Some fresh air and a chance to clear your head?”

  “I’m not supposed to go wandering around by myself,” Bree said with a scowl. “Not without all those guards who are standing outside that door. It kind of makes the walk thing not as pleasant.”

  “They will not follow us if you are with me,” she said with a shrug. “I would not mind a walk myself.”

  Bree stared at the fae, hesitating. As much as she did want to move around right now, she had felt a bit wary about Ethne ever since the night of the attack at the feast. Lord Dagen had assured her that Ethne had nothing to do with it, but Bree wasn’t totally convinced. Bree had given her the perfect alibi. No one would ever suspect her of being the mastermind behind it all because she’d been sitting right there beside Prince Taveon when it had happened. And she’d almost gotten shot herself.

  Ethne cocked her head. “I know what is going through that human mind of yours. You believe I had something to do with the attack that night. So, you think it is a bad idea to come with me now.”

  “You can see how I might be suspicious, right?”

  She gave a low nod. “I can see. However, I had nothing to do with it. This Court is my home. Prince Taveon is an old friend. I would never harm anyone in this castle.”

  “So, then what was all of that about?” Bree asked. “Where were you? Why did you want me to go to the feast? I’ve been mulling this over and over in my head ever since it happened. If you thought I’d overhear some interesting piece of information while being glamored as you, then why wouldn’t you just go yourself? My presence wasn’t necessary. Unless...”

  Unless you planned to attack the Court.

  “Truth be told, I was meeting with my lover.” Ethne blushed and glanced away. “My family does not approve of him, so...well, I did not want them to wonder at my absence and put two and two together.”

  Bree gaped at the fae. “Your lover? Who is he?”

  Ethne merely pressed her lips together like a seal she would never, ever break.

  “Come on.” Bree couldn’t help but smile. “I haven’t told a single soul it was me there that night instead of you. I’ll keep your secret. It’s not like I can tell anyone. If Prince Taveon found out I’d tricked him, he’d string me up in front of the entire Court again as punishment.”

  A pause, and then another shy smile. “My lover is one of the Wilde Fae. His name is Anken. He is not welcome in this Court. Only Lord Dagen knows about our relationship, and he has helped me sneak out of feasts and balls so I can meet him. Indeed, my lover might be hanged if the guards ever caught him here,” she said quietly. “There is great prejudice in the realm of the Dark Fae. Anything other is considered to be lesser than. The Wilde Fae, the shapeshifters, the Light Fae. And the humans.”

  Bree lifted an eyebrow. “And you don’t think that way?”

  “I try not to. That is all I can do.”

  Bree gave a nod. It was an honest answer and probably the best one she was going to get. So, Ethne had been meeting her lover that night. Which mean she couldn’t be the one behind the attack. It hadn’t been Dagen either, at least as far as Bree could tell. And it might not have been Fillan. He was an assassin, not some master manipulator who hired others to do his dirty work for him.

  Regardless, Bree really could use a walk. If she stayed holed up in Rafe’s room alone much longer, the delirium would only increase a million times over.

  After Bree slid on some shoes, she joined Ethne outside the door. They strode down the corridor, and Bree’s eyes were caught on the bulbous moon that hung low in the sky. It wasn’t quite as large as it had been during the Silver Moon Ball but it was still breathtaking in its splendor. The whole world was lit up in silvers and blues, and bright orange fireflies danced through the sky.

  “Underworld is much different than where you come from, is it not?” Ethne asked, her hands laced behind her back as she matched her stride to Bree’s.

  “You have no idea,” Bree said. “The human realm has its own kind of beauty, but it’s not like this. Perpetual night isn’t a thing, for one. We have a sun and a big blue sky. Long summers. Days that seem endless. Of course, we have night, too, but it’s not like this either. Everything here seems to....glow.”

  “You do not sound as though you hate it,” Ethne said.

  Bree tensed at her words and frowned down at the red carpet that passed beneath her feet. “I do hate it. Sometimes. At least parts of it.”

  “Would that part you hate just happen to be the Prince who has tasked you with being his champion?” Ethne asked, a curious tone to her voice.

  “I’m not sure I hate him anymore, even though I probably should,” Bree said. “After everything he’s done to me...”

  “I think the Prince is not as bad as you believe him to be,” Ethne said with a kind smile. “He wants you to hate him because he wants you to be safe. Showing you no mercy and only the darkest parts of his nature means that no one else will find it necessary to step in and do their worst. If he shows any softness to you, you can be sure that members of this Court would take advantage of that.”

  Bree didn’t think she liked what Ethne was trying to say to her, partly because she knew there was no way in hell she was right.

  “The Prince shows no softness toward me because there’s no softness in his heart. I did something horrible to him. Something that he can neither forgive or forget. And he’s been making me pay for it ever since.” Bree stopped herself before saying too much. The Prince had told her that he hadn’t shared what she’d done with anyone, save for Rafe. Because that would be a black mark against her life.

  “Whatever you have done, he may never forget. But the Prince is not one to hold grudges for long. The fact he allows you to live as you do, in those beautiful quarters with a view of the moon...well, it suggests that he does not hold you in contempt.”

  “He’s only letting me stay there because Lord Dagen ordered it to happen.”

  “Hmm,” Ethne merely said as she slowed to stop before a wall full of portraits that Bree had never seen. The Prince had never taken her this way on her daily walks, choosing instead to pace the same route every single morning without fail. The only other times Bree had left her room were to go to the Academy, which was down in the dungeons, or to the Great Hall in the Keep, which was in the opposite direction of where they now stood.

  “What’s this?” Bree asked, gazing at the long row of portraits. There were many of them, each showing a different collection of fae. In each and every one, a lone male stood in the center of a cluster of females, large blood-red wings spanning across the entire portrait. Bree had never seen anything like it. Rafe’s wings had caught her off guard, and so had Taveon’s, but these were something else.

  These were...demonic.

  She could practically smell the iron tang of blood oozing from the thick feathers. Bree shuddered.

  “Unnerving, are they not?” Ethne asked.

  “Unnerving or creepy as fuck. Take your pick,” Bree muttered, still scanning the wall. There were at least a dozen male fae in these portraits. Each one of them was different, but they all wore the same exact pair of wings. Only the women were different. Most had wings like Rafe’s—dark and ebony and full of shadows.

  “This is the Kavanaugh line,” Ethne said. “Each of their males has been King at one time or another. They were each cruel and terrifying leaders, relying on fear and intimidation to get their subjects to obey their every whim. There is Midas.”

  Bree followed the direction of Ethne’s finger, and she stiffened instinctively. There he was. The cruel King who Norah had killed, in order to protect Otherworld from his terror. Just like the others, he had those blood-red wings. A woman stood beside him. Taveon’s mother, no doubt.

  And there, in the corner, was a young Prince. His silver wings were nowhere in sight.

  “You see.” Ethne nodded at the portrait. “Taveon is not like the others. He understands what the
symbol of the red wings mean. This is the only family in the realm who has it, and it’s a signal of chaos, terror, and fear. He refuses to spread his wings. He always has.”

  Bree frowned, cutting her eyes toward Ethne. “So...Taveon. He has red wings?”

  “Of course he does,” Ethne said. “It is a hereditary gene, passed on from father to son. His mother had black wings, as most Dark Fae do. But as his father’s were red, so will his be.”

  Bree did her best to keep her expression as blank as possible. She stared hard at the portrait before her, trying her best to read the expression in young Taveon’s eyes. He had silver wings. She’d seen them with her own eyes. His father had red wings. And the trait was passed down, like the color of eyes and hair. Bree would have to be an idiot not to see what this meant, combined with the fact Rafe had said the Prince hid his wings from the rest of the Court.

  No one knew.

  No one but Rafe.

  And now Bree.

  The Prince was not his father’s son. He was a bastard. His claim to the throne was not what everyone thought it to be.

  Bree sucked in a sharp breath. This was the information she’d been searching for. This was what Lord Dagen needed in order to prevent Taveon’s rule. All she had to do was tell him the truth about what she’d seen that very first day in Underworld: Taveon’s wings were silver, not red.

  This was her ticket to freedom. The realm was giving her another chance.

  So, why did she feel so much dread when she stared into the eyes of young Taveon’s painted face?

  Bree paced back and forth in Rafferty’s quarters, still mulling over everything she’d discovered on her walk with Ethne. She needed to talk to someone about this, but who? She wasn’t ready to go to Dagen yet, and it wasn’t as though she could confront the Prince himself...

  Or could she?

  She didn’t have to tell him that she knew what the color of his wings meant. She could just bring it up, all casual-like, just to see what he said. Maybe there was an explanation. Maybe he wasn’t the bastard he seemed to be.

  She had the guards outside her door escort her all the way from Rafe’s room to the Prince’s chambers two buildings down and near the Great Hall. He was standing beside his library shelves when she strode inside, one arm propped onto a shelf, the other holding a large tome before his eyes.

  He lowered the book and shut it with a snap when he saw who had entered his chambers.

  “Bree?” He arched an eyebrow. “To what do I owe this...why are you here?”

  A flicker of irritation went through her. He’d been about to say pleasure, but then changed his mind. Because Taveon felt no pleasure in her company. In fact, he felt the opposite. Why had she decided to come here again? Why was she trying to give him the benefit of the doubt when she wanted nothing more than to smack his smug expression off his face?

  “I’m bored. Rafe and I aren’t training today, and there’s only so long I can stare out the window at the moon.” She crossed her arms over her chest and plopped onto his sofa. “Is your council meeting over?”

  “Yes, we finished just a few moments ago.” Taveon’s expression stayed neutral as he slid his book back onto the shelf before crossing the room to settle into the chair directly opposite of the sofa. “And you thought you might come here so that I can what? Amuse you? You do realize that I have important things to tend to at the moment.”

  “Yes.” Bree’s eyes flicked to the book. “Such as reading what looks to be some sort of mystery novel about a fae with a bakery shop and a wolf sidekick.”

  His lips quirked. “Alright, Bree. You caught me. Sometimes, I do enjoy a good book but only when I have a few spare moments of downtime. Which is not often.”

  “So you do have downtime at the moment.” She leaned back into the sofa and tried on a smile. It felt strange directing the expression at Taveon when she’d done nothing but scowl at him since the moment they’d met. “Then, humor me. Tell me some stories. I saw the portraits on the wall. Your family has some crazy-ass wings, let me tell you.”

  She tried to stay nonchalant, even when he stiffened. She had to act like her question was no big deal, that her entire future didn’t hinge on his answer to it. Otherwise, he’d never give her any indication that she was onto something.

  “You should not be wandering around the castle alone, Bree. It is not safe.”

  “One of your council members took me for a walk. Ethne, I think her name is.” Bree shrugged. “Anyway, I saw the portraits and got curious about it all. Your family seemed to be super keen about showing off their serious power. And yet you aren’t like that.”

  Taveon clenched his jaw and glanced away. “I have told you time and time again that I am not like my father. Or his father before him. I want things to be different in Underworld. I want our realm to be more at peace.”

  Bree met his gaze. “And you think you can do that?”

  It was an honest question for once. She wasn’t baiting him for an answer. She wasn’t trying to drive him to irritation. She truly wanted to know what he had in mind for this realm, and if he thought he could be the fae to change things for the better.

  “Some call me weak because I do not share my father’s zest for...intimidation, chaos, and violence. Some say that I am not fit to rule because I would rather lead by example, rather than by fear. But I think that is the only way to lead. This realm will never be at peace as long as there is a violent ruler on the throne.”

  Bree gripped one of the pillows in her fists, leaning closer to Taveon. “So, then why treat me the way you do, Taveon? You say you don’t want to be violent, and then you’re violent to me!”

  Bree realized she was getting a little off-track here. She’d come to try to sneak out some answers about the Prince’s silver wings, but somehow, she’d circled back onto the same old argument they’d had a million times before. But she wanted answers. She wanted an explanation for the way he’d treated her and not one that had anything to do with keeping up appearances for the Court.

  She could see glimmers of the softer side of him underneath. But only toward others. Never to her. What was it about her that he hated so much? What was it about her that he despised?

  She wanted to know.

  No, she needed to know his answer.

  “Bree. I thought I explained this to you in the forest by House Marlin.” The Prince sighed and leaned forward, propping his elbows on his knees. Their foreheads were close now, almost brushing. It was all Bree could do to stay where she was instead of pulling as far away from him as she could get. “There are a few things you need to understand. If the Court—”

  “Yeah, I know.” Bree rolled her eyes. “If the Court sees softness in you then they won’t want you to rule them. I’ve heard the song and dance before, Taveon. It doesn’t make what you’ve done okay.”

  “The Dark Fae view humans as lesser than themselves. Mindless creatures full of so much more violence and rage than we ever experience here. We hear stories of the wars humans wage upon each other. Humanity, to most fae, is not worthy of any respect or mercy.”

  Bree flinched and sat back at that. She’d wanted him to apologize, not tell her how sucktastic the human realm was. How awful she was for once being one of them. “Wow, talk about painting every single human with the same brush.”

  Taveon arched an eyebrow. “And do you not do the same, Bree? Do you not have opinions on the Dark Fae that cause you to look down on us as if we are all the same?”

  “No,” she snapped, even though she knew he was hitting a little too close to home as far as the truth was concerned. “I care about Rafe, don’t I?”

  “Rafe is different than the rest of us, and you know it.”

  “So, you think humanity is all violence and evil then. And you’re better than us? I know that’s what you think. That you and the rest of the Court think of yourselves as better than everyone else. Better than the Wilde Fae. Better than humans. So you can just destroy us all for our energy.”
Bree glared at him. “This is what I mean. You’re no better than your father if you truly think that.”

  “I’ll admit, I thought it at one point in time, but I am no longer so sure that view on humanity was correct,” he murmured, trailing off.

  “So, then what is it you’re going to do that is so different in Underworld? What is stopping you from ‘spreading your wings’?”

  Taveon stiffened and shot Bree a sharp glance. “Who told you I do not wish to spread my wings?”

  “Ethne. When she took me for a walk.”

  “She should not have shared that with you,” he said, his frown growing deeper. “Truly Bree, why have you come here? None of this is your concern. You have shown nothing but disdain for me and everything about this Court and this realm since the day you walked through the front gates. Why pretend to care about how I plan to rule this realm? It has nothing to do with you, and it never will.”

  “Gee, tell me how you really think,” she shot back.

  “You really want to know what I think?” Taveon growled as he stalked toward her, so fierce and so fast that Bree’s back hit the wall behind her. She swallowed hard, and her heart went wild. She was trapped here now, forced into place. She could go nowhere, not unless Taveon wanted her to. “Here is what I think, Bree. You have gotten it into your head that I could become some kind of friend of yours. Just because I have shown you an inch of kindness.” He leaned closer, his eyebrows furrowing, his entire body taut with tension. “But you are wrong. We are not friends. I am not fond of you. You and I are nothing alike. You are nothing but a human, one I can use for my own gain. And I should never have brought you here. You’ve brought me nothing but annoyance since the moment I looked at your face.”

  Bree gasped, despite herself. Taveon’s words hurt. They were like a slap in the face. Even tears had sprung into her eyes, as much as she hated to admit it. Because Taveon was right. Ever since their trip to House Marlin, Bree had forgotten the truth about the Prince. She’d let herself believe that they had become partners in this crazy thing. She’d let herself believe that he had an inkling of affection toward her. That he actually cared if she lived or died.