by May Dawson
Relief flooded my chest at the realization. We weren’t nearly as trapped as the Fae thought we were.
“I’d like my cuff to stay on, but not suppress my magic,” I whispered, with no idea if that would work or not. I ran my fingertips over the cuff, making sure it was secure around my wrist. It closed with a soft clasp.
Silas moved subtly between me and the door to the roof, his shoulders blocking me from sight. Magic flared in faint wisps across my fingertips. I extinguished them hastily, thrusting my bandaged hand into my pocket as the voices came closer.
We were really racking up the secrets that we needed to keep from our hosts.
And the mysteries that I didn’t understand myself.
Silas and I traded a meaningful look and headed for the stairs.
Those mysteries would have to wait for later.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Maddie
Before dinner, Raura and I spent some time together in her room—it was true, her cell wasn’t any bigger than my own. There was nothing in the room but a bed, a writing desk and chair, and a carved wooden clothes press. Vines grew up the wall and flowers hung from the ceiling, scenting the air with a heavy, languid floral scent—that was the only décor the room needed anyway, enough to make it magical.
She opened the clothes press and pulled out a long silver dress.
“Do you get many occasions to wear these around here?” I asked. “I got the vibe it was monster-slaying, twenty-four-seven.”
“I don’t wear them often around here,” she said.
“Is there somewhere else you go?”
She nodded. “I grew up noble. I didn’t care for it much, so I came to Fenig. I wanted to do a little more with my life.” She draped another shimmering gown against her body, spinning with it so that the skirt whirled around her legs. “Although I do miss playing dress-up.”
“What was it like being noble?” I was curious about this girl who would trade what sounded like a life of ease for a life of manual labor and bloodshed.
She smoothed the rumpled covers on her bed and sat down. “I don’t make my bed anymore—it’s my bit of rebellion. Fenig used to check it when I first came here, can you believe that? All that work she had to do, and she carved time out of her day to make sure the royal brat was making her bed.”
I smiled at that, and she went on, “Being a noble woman meant a lot of expectations. Some of us fight too. It depends on the court. We all value different things. The spring court values grace, softness, beauty, art, adaptability. In the autumn court, the girls all fight—the princess is expected to be the biggest badass.”
A rueful smile came over her lips as she pushed her hand through her tumultuous curls, pushing them back from her face. “I’m not exactly Spring personified. But all of us have to face expectations that might not suit who we really are.”
“How seriously do you all take the court seasons?” I asked.
It was one thing to read about the Fae courts. It was another to be face-to-face with people who lived this way.
She quirked an eyebrow. “How seriously do you take being a shifter?”
My lips parted.
“I’m sorry,” she said, “maybe that was a low blow. I know you lost your magic.”
She shed the robe she’d thrown on after the baths, and I averted my eyes as she pulled the shimmering gown over her head. Apparently, Fae didn’t do underwear.
“How did that happen, anyway?” she asked.
“We’ve been engaged in a war with the witches as long as I’ve been alive,” I said. “They finally got the chance to murder our wolves.”
“The Fae are always at war,” she said sympathetically. “It’s almost easier to just fight the monsters—those keep us busy now. How’d the witches do it?”
I didn’t want to discuss the specifics, since the witches had stolen something from the Fae and we were here to do the same.
Also, I was leery to discuss the loss because it was my fault.
“Dark magic,” I said. “Wolves were stubborn and refused to embrace magic, and we paid the price.”
“Are you going to put on that dress?” She nodded at it.
“Am I allowed to wear underwear with it?” I asked, only half-joking.
She scoffed. “I’ve seen those men of yours, why would you want to?”
I couldn’t hide a smile at that. She quickly tied her hair up on top of her head, guiding in a pair of long, gleaming silver sticks that seemed pointed at the end. Without discussion, she moved behind me and began to braid my hair, her long, narrow fingers teasing against my scalp.
“It’s been a long time since I had a female friend,” I said, thinking of how alone I was in that way at the academy, and then felt embarrassed that I’d spoken that thought out loud. Raura and I didn’t know each other well enough to consider ourselves friends. The casual way she’d busied herself with my hair made it feel as if we were, though.
“Why?” she asked promptly, and my discomfort faded.
“The shifter academy is all male.”
“Oh, that sounds like a nightmare. Males don’t do well without a little female balance.”
I laughed at that. “Tell them that. They thought they were doing just fine without me.”
“Were they cruel to you?” she asked. Her fingers were quick and agile as she began to loop the braid against the base of my skull, forming it into some elaborate arrangement. When I didn’t answer, she said, “In my experience, males are always cruel when something about you suggests they aren’t as special as they thought.”
“In mine too,” I admitted.
“At least there’s one thing we all seem to have in common across the worlds. Males are often foolish and short-sighted.” She moved around to my front, eying me skeptically. “You look pretty.”
“Great.” I touched my hair lightly as I looked past her to the mirror that hung above her writing desk. “I can be pretty in a room full of beautiful.”
I smiled to soften the words, just before my gaze found myself in the mirror. I didn’t look like myself today, with that shimmering floor length gown and my hair tied up, revealing the long lines of my neck, my bare shoulders. I didn’t have a Fae’s slender grace, but I had a strong, powerful beauty.
“Oh, I have a feeling you can hold your own,” she said, hooking her arm through mine.
This time when we entered the dining hall, it didn’t have the pleasant, homey feeling it had the previous day. Tension seemed to crackle in the air. The Fae children were somewhere else.
“Where are the kids?” I whispered to Raura.
She leaned toward me to whisper something, but then Turic entered the room. His knights moved in behind him, their movements quick and menacing.
All around us, everyone knelt. She rolled her eyes and then she and I knelt at the same time, a beat too late. Rafe had told us to just go along with their ways. He’d said, “It’s not worth fighting. Mission first.”
But my knee was still sore, and being on my knees didn’t come naturally. I forced myself to hold still despite the throbbing pain.
I didn’t think the pain showed in my face, but the back of Silas’s hand brushed across my leg, and warmth soaked through my skin, spreading through the muscle like a glow. He didn’t even look my way as his healing magic spread through my knee and radiated up into my thigh, replacing the pain.
Wait. Silas had his magic back? I bowed my head, my gaze on the wooden floorboards, so no one would see the surprise across my face. Had my magic returned too? Or was Silas so powerful that he’d overwhelmed their cuffs?
No matter the answer, this shifted the balance of power in the room.
“Rise,” Turic said, his voice clipped, as if our kneeling was an irritation to him. He’d certainly raised a big fuss about it in the forest outside, though.
I knew we needed to focus on Cain’s shield and get out of here, and yet I found myself worrying about our new tentative allies.
Turic turne
d and his gaze locked on Fenig as she walked in behind him, her movement slow but dignified.
He moved to her side, and she said, “Lord Regent.”
Her tone wasn’t any more pleasant than his a moment earlier.
His lips twisted into a smile that didn’t make me feel confident tonight was going to be a pleasant meal.
Turic’s gaze swept to me, then to Fenig. “The human girl. She can join us at the table.”
His voice was imperious, and though none of my men moved, I felt their reaction through my bones.
I didn’t much care for Turic’s attention either.
Tyson’s gaze slid to mine as Turic and Fenig moved toward one of the long tables. Fenig didn’t give the blessing over the food as she had previously. The table seemed empty without the children clustering around her.
“Be careful,” Rafe warned us both as the sound in the room swelled as the knights took their seats and began to help themselves to food and wine.
“If only I knew how,” Tyson said. He offered me his hand. “May I escort milady to her seat in this murderous discount ren-faire?”
“Tyson,” Rafe said tightly.
“Rafael,” Tyson returned, and then the two of us swept off.
We joined Turic and Fenig and some of Turic’s knights at one of the long tables. Fenig was alone, without any of her knights. She gripped her crystal goblet lightly in her scarred fingers, but I noticed she never took a sip from it.
“Where is the high Delphin?” Turic asked impatiently, taking a sip. “I thought I asked her to make herself available—she is supposed to advise me.”
“And minister to your soul,” Fenig said agreeably, although I caught the way Turic’s eyes flashed to her. “She did come, Lord Regent, to wait for you. But she must have a vision coming soon, because she has a headache and fever, the way she always does.”
“Or perhaps she’s dying.” Turic didn’t sound displeased by the idea. “I hope she’s over her vision by tomorrow. I’d like to see her before I head to the southern edge.”
Fenig’s lips tightened, but her voice was calm when she said, “You’re not staying long. Perhaps I could head back to Rift’s Edge with the young knights. It’s easier to train them there.”
“Mm.” He looked at her as if he saw through her. His expression made me nervous, and then his gaze shifted to me. “What’s your name?”
His tone was brusque, his steely blue eyed gaze penetrating.
“Maddie,” I said.
“Maddie,” he mouthed, as if he found the syllables of my name strange. Maybe they seemed rough when he was accustomed to Fae names. “You look prettier than my own daughter tonight.”
I was not great at taking a normal compliment, but I had no idea what to say to that.
“You have a daughter?” I asked.
“Daughter, demonspawn,” he said off-handedly. “It’s hard to tell sometimes. So. What is your life like dirtside?”
It was quite hard to sum up my life in a sentence or two, especially knowing I had to be on my guard.
“I go to school to learn to be a warrior,” I said, trying to put in his kind of terms.
“Oh, I bet you would get along with my daughter,” he muttered. Then he smiled. “You’re lovely and strong. You must garner attention in your own world.”
“Just like in your court, males seem to prefer females lovely rather than strong in my world,” I told him.
Faint tension seemed to crackle in the air. Fenig’s brows rose, then she raised her cup to her tight lips, though I doubted she actually took a sip.
“I very much like females to be both,” Turic promised me, not sounding offended in the least. He shifted subtly toward me.
“She does garner quite a bit of attention in our world,” Tyson said suddenly, draping his arm around my shoulders. Tyson smiled down at me fondly. “She certainly has garnered mine.”
“Oh, interesting,” Turic said. “I thought you two didn’t care for each other.”
I frowned at that.
“They seem to be mated,” Fenig said. “Something we must respect, even though it’s not our way.”
Tyson pressed a kiss to my hair, his grip possessive around my shoulders. I made myself lean into his embrace, even though it felt awkward in front of these Fae, who were always assessing us. Turic had been flirting with me, yes, and it gave me a creepy feeling like something crawling up my spine. But that didn’t mean it might not be useful.
These men of mine needed to back way off, instead of being so protective.
And yet, I knew they were trying. I’d seen how they struggled not to spring to my defense in this world. And I knew that protectiveness was exactly why so many people would say I didn’t belong on this mission with them.
“Pity,” Turic said, something hard in his voice, but his gaze locked on Tyson’s. Suddenly, I felt invisible at the table. “You must grant me a dance with your mate at least, at the festivities tonight.”
“Festivities?” Fenig asked.
Turic’s demeanor changed again as he shifted back in his seat. He raised his glass as he turned to Fenig. “If they are not trespassers, they must be friends. From what I hear, Tyson’s performance today was exemplary—better than any of your own knights, Fenig.”
Wait. Fenig’s people had fought the Feddlewigs too? Had that been in pursuit of their mission, trying to kill off monsters—or had it been a brutal test that she subjected them to?
Or that Turic forced on them?
“He did quite well,” Fenig said. “That’s why, in keeping with our laws, I promised them safe passage to their final destination.”
“Yes, yes,” Turic said impatiently. “Tomorrow. Tomorrow, we will see them to their final destination! Tonight, we will show them how the Spring Court embraces life.”
He gave us a slow, dangerous smile.
“When we’re not embracing death, that is.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
Skyla
“Chase will be back soon,” I said, my feet accidentally thumping into the kitchen chair. The house felt too quiet without all my brother’s friends. “Why is it that big a deal if Blake looks after us for a little while?”
Aunt Jennifer sighed. “It’s a big deal because you and Blake are both kids. You’re supposed to be allowed to be kids.”
“Right,” I said. “You know what I was reading about?”
Aunt Jennifer set our plates down on the table with a little more thump than was really required, before she asked, “What?”
“For almost all of history, up until very recently, kids were an important part of the family’s work. Kids had jobs. They worked with their parents on the farm, or they worked in a factory, or as chimney sweeps—”
“Are you going to make a case for child labor?” Jennifer asked me. “Because if you are, I have a list of chores that need doing around here.”
“No, you don’t,” I said. “Chase and his friends keep the house very clean.”
Aunt Jennifer couldn’t actually argue with that, but her eyes narrowed with interest. Oh, man. That was the wrong thing to say.
“So, it’s really weird to me, given all the historic data, that we pretend children can’t look after themselves,” I said in a rush. “I’d be trusted with lots of responsibility throughout most of history, but now you act like I can’t be left alone for a few days with a sixteen-year-old. Who would be a man by this age in most cultures throughout almost all of history.”
Jennifer snorted at that. “Yeah, look at how well things have gone through most of history.”
“Okay, yeah, but just because history is a mess doesn’t mean that kids are dumber now than they were before.”
“It’s a good thing your brother won the lottery. He’s going to have to put you through Harvard Law one day.” The doorbell rang. Aunt Jennifer, who had just barely sat down in her seat, touched my head lightly as she got up. “I want to hear more about your brother’s friends later. Those are Chase’s same frien
ds I met? Are they here a lot?”
Her voice grew fainter as she walked through the house toward the front door, so I could pretend I didn’t hear her. Maddie and the guys were here a lot, but I loved having them here. The house was a bit too quiet when it was just Blake and me.
I liked when everyone was here. It felt like a real family house, like in one of the kids’ books I loved—full of noise and adventure. There was always someone who was happy to hang out with me. Maddie painted my nails and braided my hair. Honestly, if she wasn’t around, Jensen would do the same. I was rapidly becoming the best soccer player in fourth grade—boy or girl—because of the games I played with the guys.
Yeah, maybe Chase worried that I watched too many R-rated action movies, played too many video games, and heard far too many curse words, but I wouldn’t have traded them for anything.
My aunt came back into the house with a woman I’d never met before.
“Skyla,” she said, “This is Mrs. Long. She’s a social worker with Child Protective Services.”
“Hi, Skyla.” The woman sat down at the table across from me. “I heard from some teachers at your school that they were worried about your home life, so I came to talk to you.”
“My home life is great,” I said, and then mouthed at Aunt Jennifer, “Why did you let her in the door? You know legally you didn’t have to.”
“Ah yes, a totally normal thing for a child to think about,” Mrs. Long smiled. “It’s all right, Skyla. No one’s trying to take you away from your home, if that’s what you’re afraid of. All I want to do is talk to you.”
“Great,” I said. “And all I want to do is talk to my Aunt Jennifer. Hold, please.”
I grabbed Aunt Jennifer’s wrist and towed her out onto the deck, closing the door behind us. I didn’t like the idea of leaving that woman in our house unattended, but I had to talk to Aunt Jennifer. I looked through the glass doors and could see her watching us, and in case she could read lips, I grabbed Aunt Jennifer’s arm and pulled her across the deck and down the steps with me, so we were out of sight unless she stood up from the table.