A Cage of Moonlight

by Jenna Wolfhart

  Rafe could see that Taveon had gone from sadness to anger in the blink of an eye. But Rafe could hardly muster up the energy for the latter.

  “You do realize what this means, do you not?” Rafe asked. “Bree is gone. He has given her freedom, and she has taken it. And now he will inform the Court about what you are.”

  Taveon stiffened and glanced behind him at the guards roaming around the Great Hall, still searching for Bree. “I thought she did not tell him the color. I thought he did not know what I am.”

  “I misspoke,” Rafe said gently. “He does not know what you are, but he does know you are not Midas’s son. I imagine he will call an assembly with the rest of the Court as soon as he gets the chance.”

  Taveon sighed, dropped back his head, and stared up at the domed ceiling. “I suppose it was only a matter of time. That secret was never going to stay hidden forever. I am surprised it has not come out before now, if I am honest. My father had many moments when I thought he would reveal it all.”

  Rafe lifted an eyebrow. “You do not seem as upset as I thought you would be. You have spent your entire life dreaming of that crown. You have always wanted to rule, and you have always wanted to make Underworld a better place.”

  “What is done is done,” Taveon said grimly. “And it is my fault, in the end. If I had not treated Bree terribly, none of this would have happened. She came to me before she went to Dagen, you know. I think she wanted me to tell her the truth. And instead...I put a wall up between us, even after we tore it down. I am the one to blame for this. Perhaps I even deserve it. In these past few weeks, I have not been a better fae than my father.”

  Rafe wanted to argue with his friend, to tell him to fight, but he also knew that his old friend might be better off leaving this dream behind once and for all.

  “And Bree?” Rafferty asked. “What will we do about Bree?”

  The pain in Taveon’s eyes deepened. “We have to let her go, Rafe. She was never ours to keep.”

  Chapter 46

  Bree

  Bree wasn’t entirely sure why, but she was still in Underworld. In fact, she hadn’t even left the castle yet. She’d opened up the wardrobe and started sifting through the clothes, and then just abandoned the entire project when the tears filled her eyes.

  Maybe it was a bad idea to take anything back with her. It would only remind her of her time spent here.

  And it would only remind her of what she’d left behind.

  She wandered out of Rafe’s quarters and down the corridor. None of the guards were present for once. She guessed Rafe had called them off when he realized she would no longer be staying. No point in having guards stationed outside of a room when no one was staying inside. It hurt a little, to think he’d forgotten her that easily. All it took was a snap of fingers, and it was like she’d never even been here at all.

  As she made her way through the castle grounds, she caught the buzzing sound of a crowd coming from the Great Hall. Fae were streaming into the open double doors, whispering excitedly amongst themselves. Curiosity niggled in her mind. Maybe she could pop her head into the hall, just for a moment, just long enough to see what was going on. One last insight into the realm of the Dark Fae before she left this castle behind forever.

  She filed into the Great Hall behind the line of fae. A few of them cast curious glances her way. They all knew who she was now and that she’d come here to be Taveon’s champion. Had he told them yet that she no longer had the job? Had he replaced her yet? Or would he even go forward with his fight now?

  Could he? If he wasn’t Midas’s son, did he have a claim at all?

  Movement on the stage caught her eye. Taveon himself was standing on the platform at the end of the room. Lord Dagen was by his side, along with Lady Ethne, Lord Conlan, and Lord Branok. So that was why Dagen hadn’t come for her yet. He was here. And she had a sinking feeling in her gut that she knew exactly why he was standing on that stage with the Prince.

  Lord Dagen threw back his shoulders and raised his voice for the entire crowd to hear. “Spread your red wings and confirm your parentage, Prince Taveon. Show the Court the truth about who you are.”

  Prince Taveon’s jaw rippled as he clenched his teeth. Anger roiled off his body in waves, but Bree could see something else deep within those hardened eyes of his: sadness and defeat. And fear. “I refuse to spread my wings. It is an oath I swore the moment my father named me as his heir.”

  “An interesting oath, is it not?” Dagen asked, addressing the Court members gathered before them. “And a commendable one, if you are who you say you are.”

  Prince Taveon glared at Lord Dagen.

  “Spreading your wings now will not be considered a show of intimidation, my Prince. This is just to confirm your parentage. Show your wings to the Court. Let us see that you have Midas’s blood. If you refuse to do so, then we will be forced to declare that you are not his son at all.”

  The entire room was tense as the Court waited for Taveon’s response. Bree sat on the edge of her chair, gripping the wood tight in her hands. Her heart was going wild in her chest, beating so hard that it shook her to her bones. This entire thing was awful. As much as she hated the Prince, putting him on public blast like this seemed needlessly cruel.

  “I will not spread my wings,” Prince Taveon repeated, his voice a low growl.

  Dagen raised his eyebrows. “Then you concede that you are not the true son of the King.”

  A beat passed. And then another. The moments stretched out for eternity. And then the Prince stepped forward, raising his voice to be heard throughout the entirety of the Great Hall. “Lord Dagen is right. I, Taveon, am not a true son of King Midas. All this time I have known the truth, and King Midas knew as well. When my mother bore me, Midas came and saw that I was not his. In a fit of anger and jealousy...he slew my mother on her bed as well as the two wet nurses who had helped her through the birth. He did not want any witnesses.”

  The Prince’s jaw rippled. “So, now you all know the truth about me. I am my mother’s son, but I am not my father’s. And I will still be making my bid for the throne as I do have royal blood. My mother was a good female. It would do her great honor for me to ascend to the throne.”

  With that, Taveon whirled on his heels and stormed out of the Great Hall through the back exit underneath the thick curtains that hung from the ceiling, those bright red wings embroidered into the fabric. All those red-winged symbols around the castle made sense now in a horrible way. The truth had been right in front of her this entire time, and she just hadn’t seen it.

  Bree could barely move at the shock of it all. She hadn’t truly expected the Prince to admit the truth. She should feel glad. She should be celebrating his downfall. But she wasn’t. Instead, she felt almost...sad for him.

  While the Court went wild, Bree found herself on her feet and pushing the curtains aside to follow the Prince. All of this was her fault. She’d been the one to reveal the truth about him. And, as crazy as it sounded, she wished she could take it all back.

  “Prince Taveon,” she called out at his retreating back. He froze mid-step, his entire body going taut with tension. When he whirled to face her, there was no anger in his eyes. Only a sad resignation that made her heart throb.

  “Bree, now is not the time for arguments or smugness or whatever else you have come to say now. Truthfully, I do not want to hear a word from you. The damage has been done, and you have won your freedom. I would like to be left in peace.”

  “I haven’t come to say any of that.” Her heart beat harder, and she swallowed down the fear about what she was going to do. “I came to say...I don’t know, I’m sorry. I told Lord Dagen about the color of your wings. This is my fault. And I’m sorry. I really am. Okay?”

  “Yes, I know you did, Bree.” The sigh that slipped through his lips was longer and deeper than any she’d ever heard. “Rafe told me that you put two and two together. I do not blame you. I blame myself for never coming clean to the Court
myself. And I blame my father for wanting to hide the truth. He wanted an official heir to parade in front of the Court so badly that he did not even care that I was not his blood. No, that is wrong. He did care. Only privately.”

  Bree closed her eyes, wincing at his words. Why wasn’t he mad at her? Why wasn’t he yelling at her or punishing her or forcing her to dance in front of hundreds of jeering fae? This strange, quiet resignation unnerved her. She wanted him to be the Taveon she’d known all these weeks. The one who hated her. The one who trembled with anger when he looked into her eyes. It would make this conversation so much easier than this sad defeat.

  “You should blame me,” she whispered. “This is my fault. I could have kept my mouth shut. I could have—”

  “No,” he said firmly. “I understand why you did what you did. I stole you from your lands, fed you lies, and then thought I could force you to bend to my will. I have treated you as my father would have treated you, and that was wrong of me.” He took two steps back. “Take your freedom. I know that is what Lord Dagen promised you. It is time for you to leave.”

  “No,” she said firmly, striding after him. She would make him listen. She would make him understand that all of this was her fault. He couldn’t give up, not this easily. He had said some terrible things to her, but deep down inside, she knew without a doubt that he hadn’t meant any of it.

  Taveon was scared to let anyone get close to him. She could see that now. He’d been scared all his life, hiding secrets from the world, too scared of what his life might become if anyone became aware. And none of it had been his choice. His father had forced him into the lies, raising him as if he were his true-born son.

  Taveon could have run away, but he hadn’t. He had stayed. Not because he sought power but because he dreamed that he could one day turn Underworld into a different place.

  Bree saw all of that now, as clear as day. She didn’t know why she hadn’t seen it sooner.

  “What is it that you wish me to say?” Taveon threw up his hands. “That I am sorry? Well, I am. I am sorry I said what I did. I am sorry I brought you here against your will. You know, when you were lost—or when I thought you were lost—I had a sudden clarity in my head. Everything became clear, and I finally understood what I had to do. I was going to tell you that I was giving you your freedom myself. I was going to tell you that I would no longer force you to stay here, that I would no longer force you to be my champion. So, you are free, Bree Paine. You should go home.”

  Bree’s heart hurt at his words. It was the truth. She could see it written all over his beautiful yet pained face. His shoulders slumped forward as if in defeat, and his eyes were cast to the floor. With a deep breath, Bree closed the space between them and pressed her hand on his arm. He stiffened, but he didn’t pull away.

  “Thank you,” she whispered. “And I forgive you, if you’ll forgive me.”

  “Of course I forgive you, Bree,” he said roughly. “I never blamed you. Now, go. This world is not for you. You deserve better than...this. And you deserve better than me.”

  Chapter 47

  Bree

  The champions began to arrive only a few days after Lord Dagen’s big announcement. The news had seemed to bring claimants out of the woodwork, which was probably precisely what Dagen had been hoping. Bree watched them from the window in her room, staring down at the fae that would soon be forced to fight.

  To the death.

  She had moved back into her original quarters after her fights with Taveon and with Rafe. Lord Dagen had come by several times, asking her if she was ready to leave. She was not. Despite every logical bone in her body telling her to flee, she couldn’t get her feet to move out the gates of the castle.

  She didn’t know what she was waiting for. She didn’t know why she stayed. She just knew that she wasn’t quite ready to go. Not yet. Maybe in a few more days.

  Bree’s door creaked open, and Ethne poked her head inside. “Ah, you have seen them arriving then. I was just coming here to warn you. If you want to leave this castle, you should do so soon. Once the Battle for the Crown begins, it will be too difficult to sneak you away unseen.”

  “Lord Dagen told you what I did.”

  “Yes.” She cast a glance behind her shoulder before sliding inside the room and shutting the door quietly behind her. “I want you to know that I did not take you to those portraits that day hoping that it would lead to some kind of revelation about Taveon. I truly did just want to walk with you. There were no ulterior motives there.”

  “It’s fine,” Bree said. “You don’t need to explain yourself. I wouldn’t blame you if you’d been using the opportunity to get what you want.”

  “No, I was not using you. The truth is, I see a bit of a kindred spirit in you. I want to be your friend.” She lifted her shoulders in a shrug. “I know that ever since your arrival here, you have been used and used and used. From all directions. Even I did so that night of the feast. But not since.”

  “Why are you telling me all this?”

  “It is goodbye, is it not?” Ethne asked. “You will be leaving the realm now. I wanted you to know I consider you a friend before our paths split ways.”

  Bree turned and frowned out at the rolling hills of Underworld. Another claimant and his champion were striding up the long and winding path to the front gates of the castle. Bree had been so determined to leave all this time, but now that she held freedom in her hands, she wasn’t certain that she wanted it. Not like this.

  “All this time, I’ve held no loyalties to anyone here,” Bree began, trying to sort through her troubled thoughts. “Yes, I was spying for Dagen, but I wasn’t loyal to him. And I certainly wasn’t loyal to the Prince. It was easy for me to sneak around behind his back when I thought he was a monster. It was easy for me to tell Dagen everything I could when I’d never felt angrier in my life.”

  “What are you saying?” Ethne asked, crossing the room to stand next to Bree. “You are loyal to the Prince now? After everything he has done to you?”

  “No.” She shook her head. “Yes? I don’t know. All I can say for certain is that what happened that night was wrong. And I feel like I owe it to him to make it right.”

  “If that is how you feel, then you know what you must do.”

  Bree arched an eyebrow. “You aren’t going to try and stop me?”

  “Why would I?” Ethne crossed her arms over her chest and leaned against the wall. “It is your choice in the end. Is that not what you’ve always wanted? To be able to decide your own fate.”

  “Yes, but...” Bree frowned. “I thought you didn’t want Taveon to rule. I thought you were on Lord Dagen’s side.”

  “I am on the side of the realm.” A pause. “I have doubts about Taveon’s rule because he has always seemed weak to me. We need someone with strength and power. Someone intimidating. He is not that, at least not that I can see. That does not make him a bad fae. It just means that I do not think he is fit to be King.”

  “But maybe Taveon is right,” Bree countered. “Maybe it’s time this realm was ruled by a different sort of King, one who doesn’t need to rely on fear to get his point across. One who can show kindness to the rest of the fae. One who tries to promote the good instead of the bad.”

  Ethne’s lips flickered.

  “What?” Bree asked with a frown.

  “You should hear the way you speak. Your words paint quite a different picture than they once did. Gone is the hatred. In fact, you almost seem fond of the Prince.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.” Bree made a face. “I still think he’s a total asshole. Just an asshole that might not do a terrible job at the whole King thing.”

  “So, he is an ‘asshole’ as you like to call him, but he is also kind and good. Which one is it?” Ethne arched an eyebrow, a sly grin spreading across her face.

  Bree flushed and glanced away. This was a ridiculous conversation. She wasn’t fond of the Prince. She was anything but. Couldn’t she think he could be
good for the realm without actually liking the guy? But there was a strange niggling sensation in the pit of her stomach, a feeling she was trying desperately to push down.

  Suddenly, Bree strode across the room and frowned out the window once again. “No. There’s no fondness. I just think he might not be as bad as I originally thought. That’s all. And he’d make a better King than most.”

  Bree couldn’t get Ethne’s words out of her head, especially not when Taveon himself showed up at her door.

  “I think you and I should have a chat about your future here,” he said in that strange resigned voice of his. “Shall we go somewhere quiet?”

  “Sure,” she said, her heart throbbing painfully in her chest. “Come on in.”

  “Why are you still here?” he asked as soon as he’d shut the door behind them. “I was under the impression that you did all this for your freedom, and yet, you are still living within these castle walls.”

  “I’m not ready to go yet,” she replied, her voice small and quiet.

  He crossed his arms over his chest. “And when will you be ready to go? Once you have assured that I will not be King? Do not worry. You have done enough damage to my chances. And, without a champion, it looks as though I will not even be able to participate in the battle.”

  Bree licked her lips. “I think maybe I made a mistake.”

  He arched an eyebrow. “You think maybe you made a mistake? How can you stand there and say this to me after everything that has happened? You are telling me you have doubts now after the damage is already done? That is not fair, Bree. I know you hate me, but that is not fair.”

  “I don’t though,” she said in a whisper.

  “What do you mean? You don’t what?”

  “I don’t hate you, Taveon. Sorry, Prince Taveon.” She dropped her eyes to the floor, unable to look at him any longer. “I did. For a long time. Just not anymore.”