Trapped

by Jessica Lynch

  He doesn’t take it.

  “Come on. We have to go.”

  “I told you. You first.” Gripping my upper arm gently, Rys turns me so that I’m facing the shimmering portal. “I’ll be right behind you. It has to be this way. Siúcra will only hear one of us at a time.”

  I don’t like the way Rys says that. Like Siúcra really isn’t just a prison, but… a being.

  If it doesn’t like what we have to offer, it won’t let us out. Rys made that perfectly clear when he proposed this crazy plan. That’s the magic of Siúcra, what makes this prison a perfect trap within Faerie.

  I gulp, staring at the shimmering gate. I don’t know what’s going to happen on the other side of these bars, but it can’t be as bad as what’ll happen if the guards catch up to us.

  “Leannán—”

  “Yeah?”

  Rys takes his hand off my arm, lifting it slowly toward me. I think he’s aiming for my cheek and I stay still, waiting for the heat of his hand to fall against my face. His fingers keep going until he reaches the top of my head, stroking one of the stray hunks of hair that fell from my ponytail while he ran.

  Letting the strand of teal hair slip through his fingers, he smiles. His scar crinkles with the quirk of his lips, his eyes bright and shining as he watches me as if I’m the only woman in the world.

  It’s been so long since someone looked at me like that. Like I’m special.

  Like they cared.

  “Go,” he says again, softer this time but just as firm. “I’m right behind you.”

  I don’t bother arguing. If Rys can hear the guards coming after us, they’ve got to be close. If they catch us here, mid-break out from the jail, being tossed back into the oubliette will be the least of my worries.

  Just in case it’s the last time, I quickly rise up on my tiptoes and press a kiss against his cheek. “See you on the other side,” I tell him and, before I lose my nerve, I dash through the gap in the gate.

  The second I cross the threshold it feels like I’m swimming in jello. A heavy weight pushes down on me and it’s all I can do to stay standing. Actually moving? It isn’t easy. Only the reality that the guards have caught onto our jailbreak and that Rys is waiting for his turn to hop through the portal keeps me going.

  It’s bright. So bright, I can’t bear to keep my eyes open. I narrow them to slits because I hate the idea of going blind, but that doesn’t help. I get the feeling like I’m not alone in here. I don’t see Rys, though. I don’t hear him, either.

  There’s no turning back. I have to keep going.

  I push and I push, my feet shuffling forward. I keep my hands out front. It’s a good thing that I do. After about ten hard-earned steps, my hands press against something that feels like plexiglass. It’s cold and smooth and nearly impossible to break through. If I’d walked into it without knowing it was there, I might’ve whacked my nose.

  Who goes there?

  I just about swallow my tongue when the booming voice echoes all around me, it’s so loud and unexpected.

  “... Hello?”

  Who goes there? Which of my prisoners attempts to break free from my halls?

  Oh my God. Oh my God. It’s so incredibly hard to believe, but I think… I think it’s Siúcra who’s talking to me. And something tells me that telling the prison that I’m Elle isn’t going to fly.

  “Helen. I’m Helen.”

  You can not leave, Siúcra booms. Not without leaving something in your place. What will you give me for your freedom?

  Looks like I finally hit step four.

  The sacrifice.

  Man, I was really hoping we’d be able to skip this one.

  Guess not.

  Ever since Rys reminded me that breaking out of our cell is child’s play compared to actually getting out of Siúcra, I’ve been obsessing over what exactly he meant by “sacrifice”. Now, face to face with the heart of the magic that runs the Faerie prison, I get it. I really do.

  For a sacrifice to count, it actually has to be a sacrifice.

  I have to give up something that counts. Something that means everything to me.

  And there’s only one thing I can think of that fits the criteria. No matter how I tried to come up with something else, it all seems to pale in comparison. Rys was clear: if Siúcra says no, I’ll never get out.

  I have to get out.

  I pull off my promise ring. It isn’t easy—my fingers tend to swell when I’m overheated, over-excited, or angry—but I manage to twist it until the slender, silver band is nestled in my palm. I squeeze it once, then let it fall from my hand.

  “My home,” I whisper. “If you let me go, I’ll give up my chance of going home to my old life. To Jim. It’s all I want and I’ll give it to you so that I can go free.”

  I hold my breath.

  It is done. You may pass through my gates.

  I can sense more than feel the weird barrier disappear. I don’t hang around or give the disembodied voice the chance to change its mind. Instead, I hurry up and haul my ass out of there before I let the repercussions of my decision slam into me.

  I’m never going home again. I might not be in prison, but I’ll be stuck in Faerie forever. Like Siúcra said, it’s done. I gave up everything I ever had before I stupidly jumped into a fairy circle.

  No home.

  No parents.

  No friends.

  No Jim.

  But, if Siúcra accepts Rys’s sacrifice, at least I’ll still have him.

  16

  As I push past the last of the barrier, the first thing I notice is the warm breeze on my skin. The air is muggy, plus it carries the scent of damp earth on it.

  It’s nothing like it was inside of Siúcra.

  I take in a deep breath, almost choking on how thick the air is. The warm breeze is pushing around the oppressive humidity. I can already feel my hair puffing up in response to it.

  I’m outside. My eyes are closed—they have been since I walked into the blinding portal—but I don’t need to see my surroundings to know that I did it. By giving up my ring and my chance of seeing Jim again, I made it out of the Faerie prison.

  After blinking a couple of times, I get my sight back. All I see are trees, trees, and more trees. They’re the normal ones I remember, not the crystalline beauties with the tempting pink fruit, and I’d almost hope that maybe the magic protecting the prison took pity on me and sent me home if it wasn’t for the pixie that comes flying right at me as I look around.

  The little blonde devil has shimmering, translucent wings and a body that looks like its clothed in spiderwebs.

  “Hello, hello,” she calls, the voice so high-pitched that I almost wince.

  I don’t think it’s Verity, the pixie who tricked me last time, and… yeah. I don’t care. As soon as the pixie flies within my reach, I slap at her. Not to actually hit her, but to keep her from getting too close.

  I’m so not in the mood.

  “Buzz off.”

  The pixie hisses at me as she zips around my head, then zooms away.

  Well, that answered that. I’m still in Faerie—and, now that the pixie is gone, I’m all alone.

  It’s okay. Rys warned me that we might be separated. As a former guard, he knew way more about Siúcra’s secrets than any other inmate, but he wasn’t so sure that the gates would take us where they were supposed. We were prisoners making a sacrifice and not guards going out for a stroll. Who knows how Siúcra would react?

  He planned for that inevitability, too. I’m beginning to realize that he planned for everything. One of us needed to. I guess it’s a good thing that it’s him since I’m definitely the impulsive one in this relationship—

  Whoa.

  Relationship?

  Where did that thought come from?

  I shake it off. There’s no time for that right now.

  I’m a fugitive fresh from Siúcra. I’m also a human, and if the rebellion the guards gossiped about has spread even further and wider
than Rys suspected, I could be in even more trouble. Hanging out in the open is a bad idea. So is running off in any random direction.

  Okay, Hel.

  You can do this.

  There.

  As I quickly move toward the tail of the dirt path that’s winding around a particularly stubby tree, I can’t help but feel like I’ve been thrown back to the day where this all started.

  I’m shit when it comes to directions. Always have been. I grew up in an urban city where all I had to do was look at the street numbers and figure out where I was when the number went up or down. I knew the twenty blocks around my childhood apartment and the one that I lived in with Jim; a couple of those blocks even intersected. So long as I stayed near home, I didn’t get lost.

  I thought I knew the local parks, too. I’m still convinced that, if you put a blindfold on me, set me on the right path, and told me to sniff out my secret spot near the waterfall, I’d be able to find it. But I was the dingus who went off on her own, searching for a babbling creek and stumbling on a fairy circle instead.

  At least now I have some clue. Rys said to look out for the dirt path. I found that. So long as I follow its tracks and don’t get distracted, I should find my way toward the inn where we’re supposed to meet.

  Thank God it’s still light out. I don’t know what I would’ve done if it was pitch-black except maybe duck under a tree and cry for a bit. Would I have found the dirt path? Doubt it. And since I don’t know if the guards can follow me here, sticking around is just begging to be imprisoned again.

  I tried to warn Rys that I’m not so good when it comes to navigating my way around an unfamiliar place. He promised me that it was impossible to get lost. Stay on the path and, sooner or later, I’d find the inn.

  And I do.

  There’s no sign. No name. I don’t even know if the structure I stumble across is an inn. It’s about as wide as the front of my apartment complex, with at latest two floors, maybe three. It has a thatched roof and a mud-brick siding. Thick glass windows dot the front and the sides, with the flicker of candlelight reflecting against the panes.

  Even as I approach it, I hear so many different sounds. Loud voices, boisterous conversations, some shouts as if the patrons are arguing. Music seeps out into the quiet around me. Banging, too. As I hesitate, a cheer goes up, then a hush that has me second-guessing going inside.

  Rys told me to meet him here, right? He never said anything about going inside…

  The noise isn’t the only thing escaping the inn. Taking a deep breath, I smell something cooking. It reminds me that I’ve already missed one meal today if not more.

  My stomach wins out. Yanking on the front door, I take a deep breath and step inside.

  It’s darker than I expected considering the candles and the windows. It takes a second for my eyes to adjust. When they do, I realize that Rys might have called this an inn. He would’ve been better off telling me it was a tavern or something.

  The cramped room is full of tables. There are food and mugs and faerie folk everywhere.

  Another hush falls. It doesn’t take a genius to realize what causes this one.

  Stepping out of the doorway, I immediately sidle over to the nearest empty table. I try to pretend like I don’t notice that everybody in the place stopped what they were doing as soon as I entered. Maybe if I take a seat, act like I’m supposed to be here, they’ll all follow my cue.

  Hey. A girl can hope.

  I slide into the booth and nearly bang my knees into the tabletop when I jump at an unexpected voice.

  “Never seen one of your kind out and about on her own.”

  It’s a rough grumble with a hint of a sneer and it’s too, too close. Where—

  Oh. I guess this table wasn’t empty after all.

  There’s a lump tucked at the edge of the booth. Because of the shadows covering up this particular table, I didn’t even notice it. Even focusing on it, it looks more like a pile of dirty rags or old laundry… until it shifts and I see a tiny man perched against the corner, a pipe in one hand. He waves it at me as I quickly try to scoot back out.

  “It’s fine, girly. Keep the seat. I’m not waiting for any company.”

  “Oh.” I stop scooting. It feels like it would be rude to just get up and leave and, well, I don’t really want to draw any more attention over to me. “Um. Okay.”

  “You hungry?”

  I’m starving but something tells me that I’d be better off waiting for Rys. “Not really,” I lie. “I’m supposed to be meeting someone here.”

  “Yeah?” Beneath his hood, his dark eyes light up. “Another one like you?”

  “Not another human, no. He’s from here. Seelie.”

  “A lord?”

  Nope. A prisoner.

  Can you imagine if I actually admitted that?

  Yeah, right.

  “He’s a… a guard.”

  “You mean to say that he was a guard.”

  He says that with such assurance, I feel like there’s an unsaid gotcha hanging at the end of his comment.

  “What?”

  “I was wondering if the human would lie to ol’ Grimly. And after he was kind enough to offer to sup with her, too. He’s got the nose, you see.” With the knobby hand clutching his pipe, he taps the side of his long, crooked nose. “You stink of human, but you also stink of Seelie. I know that particular stench. It belongs to Rysdan.”

  “I don’t know any Rysdan—”

  “Rys, perhaps? It’s been a long time since he’s visited Hildy’s place. I never thought I’d see the day he’d return.”

  The wizened old man slips his pipe between his lips and pulls hard on it. After holding it in for a breath, he blows the smoke out through his long nose.

  I let out a small gasp when I see that the smoke is orange. And his eyes… either his irises are black or his pupils have dilated so far that they’ve eaten the rest of the colors right up.

  Whoa. What’s in that pipe?

  “I heard a rumor that he’d followed a mortal into the Iron, then another tale that he chose her over the queen and nearly lost his head for it. And all for the Shadow who chose to bond with one of the Cursed Ones.” He peers even closer at me. “That wouldn’t be you. You’ve got the trace, but it belongs to a Blessed One. Still, you’re as mortal as the Shadow was, I fear. More, since she was a blasted halfling and you… you don’t have a lick of Faerie in your blood at all.”

  As if I need the reminder? I feel like I’m walking around with a neon sign flashing over my head that says: HUMAN, I’M A HUMAN. Everyone knows—and no one likes it.

  Dusk told me once that he could smell my fear. That stuck with me. I know that the fae are the most powerful creatures in Faerie. They have the looks, the wealth, and the magic to keep them in control. Between their ability to glamour and compel others—plus the whole touch magic thing—I know I’m the low man on the totem pole when it comes to the Seelie and the Unseelie.

  I don’t know what this man is. Obviously not a fae, but that doesn’t mean his senses aren’t as keen. He can smell that I’m human, and he can smell Rys’s touch on me.

  What else can he tell about me?

  This was a mistake. Sitting with him, letting him know that I’m waiting for Rys… that was a mistake. Too bad I can’t take it back now.

  “That’s interesting and all, but not what I needed to know,” I say, though inwardly I’m filing everything he said about Rys away for later when I can reconcile it with what I already picked up on when it came to Rys’s old flame. Since there’s no point denying that he knows exactly who I’m waiting for, I decide to just go for it and ask, “Have you seen him or not?”

  The man regards me. My boots are on the floor, my ass lifting from my seat. I’m ready to bolt if he tries anything funny.

  With a snort, he gestures over to the far end of the inn. “Ask Hildy. She tends the bar and, like I said, she owns the place. She’s sweet on the guards. If anyone’ll know about your Seelie
, she will.”

  “Thanks.”

  His bushy eyebrows rise. His eyes go wide, too, making it even more noticeable that he’s got marbles in place of a normal-looking eyeball. “You thanking me, human?”

  I was trying to be polite. “Yes,” I say. As his tongue darts out, running along a chapped bottom lip, I realize that I must’ve made another goof. Come to think of it, Rys often pulled a frown whenever I tried to show him any kind of gratitude. “Why? Is that wrong?”

  “Go see Hildy. And remember that you offered me your thanks. One day ol’ Grimly might call in the favor.”

  Yup. Definitely a mistake.

  Oh, well. I can’t do anything about it now, though. Focus on the things you can control. Rys. I’ve got to find him.

  I push my way to the back of the inn. A wooden counter—the bar—stretches across the length of the far side. There aren’t any seats here, though, no stools, and I approach it cautiously because I’m all too aware that I’m still being watched by the other patrons.

  There’s only one woman behind the bar and, holy shit, she’s a looker. Think the best part of every Hollywood A-list actress, bombshell popstar, and big-boobed Playboy bunny. She has hair as dark and shiny as fresh ink, skin a few shades lighter, and honey-colored eyes. Her features? Breathtaking.

  Seriously.

  I actually stop breathing for a second.

  “Hello there. You need something?”

  I shake off my stupor, offering her the most sincere grin that I can muster.

  “Hi. Are you Hildy?”

  “That I am.” Her brow furrows as she looks past me. “Are you here on your own?”

  I wish I wasn’t.

  “For the moment, yes,” I admit. “But I’m supposed to be meeting someone here. They told me to wait for them. I’m just wondering if maybe they’ve been by and I missed ‘em?”

  “Depends, miss—”

  “Elle.”

  “Miss Elle.” She pauses behind the bar. “Your true name?”

  “No. Sorry.”

  “Don’t be sorry. Someone taught you well. That’ll keep you safe. Now, tell me. For the fae who branded you to send you to my door, he must be one I know well. Who is he? I can tell you if I’ve seen him.”