by Wendi Wilson
But I didn’t begrudge Dad for his caution. I was his only child. He just got Mom back after nearly two decades of searching, and he didn’t want anything to happen to either of us. He cared about Shaela and Charles, too, and knew what it would do to me if anything happened to either of them.
“We fly into the city, keeping low and keeping an eye out for anyone who might see us,” I said.
“If anyone does see us, we send a signal, stop, and Cris or December will Glamour them into forgetting about it,” Shaela added.
It had to be me or Dad, as we had the strongest Glamouring abilities in the group. We’d most likely only run into humans, but we didn’t want to chance fate that it was a Zephyr in disguise. Anyone could go back to Sebille and warn her of our approach, but a Zephyr would definitely fly straight to her.
“When we near the center of the city, we hide our wings and Glamour ourselves to look human, while December Glamours her eyes black and goes full-Zephyr-warrior,” Charles said.
The best way to get around any guards? Pretend to be a dutiful citizen bringing in rebellious humans.
Cris couldn’t do it. He was too recognizable in his true form, and any Zephyr in the city would jump on the chance to take him hostage and turn him in to the queen. It was a well-known fact he’d turned traitor and she wanted him back in her grasp.
So it was up to me. No one but Sebille and her closest guards knew who I was, and by the time we made it inside the building, the ruse would be over, anyway.
“Once inside, we head to the maintenance staircase in the back left corner of the building,” Dad said. “No one ever uses it, since the elevators are in perfect, working order and the grand staircase in the main lobby is used by the servants.”
“We make our way to the top main floor,” Mom added. “From there, Cris, December and I will head up the last flight of stairs to the penthouse, where Sebille lives.”
“It’s the only place she’d keep Easton,” Dad said. “She won’t trust anyone but herself to make sure he doesn’t escape.”
“I still don’t understand why we have to stay behind,” Shaela grouched.
“You have to guard the stairs and the elevator,” I reminded her. “If anyone tries to get to the penthouse to help Sebille, you have to stop them. It will be difficult enough for us to beat her without her having backup.”
“Right,” Charles said. “If we see the elevator dial moving up, we just tap the button to make it stop at our floor and take out any Zephyrs we see.” He smiled at Shaela. “Sounds like fun.”
She shook her head at him, but couldn’t suppress the slight upward tug of her lips. I was glad she wasn’t too disappointed about being left out of the fight. I’d be fighting tooth and nail if my parents tried to make me stay below and out of the line of fire.
But I was glad they’d assigned Shaela and Charles to guard duty. Not only would it be safer for them, it would also keep me more focused on the task at hand. I couldn’t fight the Zephyr queen and rescue Easton if I was keeping a constant eye on Shaela. Plus, if Sebille captured her, she’d be nothing but a pawn to gain my surrender.
And knowing the dark faery, she’d kill her just to spite me.
My eyes strayed back to my father, the possible consequences of this rescue mission settling like a stone in my gut. However despicable she was, Sebille was still his mother. She gave birth to him, raised him, and tried to mold him in her image. And while that last bit didn’t really take, he had to have some residual feelings from his childhood.
“If she fights back, if I’m given no other choice but to kill her, are you going to be okay with that?” I asked him.
“Yes. Of course,” he said, his voice a little broken.
“Are you sure, Dad?” I asked, placing a hand on his shoulder. “I can try to incapacitate her. I—”
“December,” he interjected, “we have to kill her.”
I recoiled a little, surprised by the vehemence in his voice. He wasn’t just saying the words—he meant them.
“She stopped being my mother the moment I left her,” he continued. “Any warm feelings or positive memories I may have held were obliterated the moment she first decided to take you from me. And if she does not die, she will try to kill you again. And again. And again until she finally succeeds.”
A moment of silence fell around us as we all absorbed his words. I felt his sincerity, felt it deep down in my bones. He wanted his mother dead.
“Let’s not forget to mention her war on the Sylphs, the subjugation of the humans, and her bid for total world domination,” Shaela quipped, breaking the dark, contemplative mood we’d all fallen into.
“Yes,” Dad said, a slight grin tugging at his lips, “we mustn’t forget all that.”
With nods all around, we turned as one to head for the front entrance. My magic spiked in perfect rhythm with my excitement as I reveled in the fact that we were finally doing something. No more sitting back on our heels, waiting for a resolution to fall into our laps. No more nights, lying awake in my bed worrying over Easton and his probable fate at Sebille’s hands. No more—
“No!”
The shout was long and drawn out, more like a wail filled with pain and sorrow. It came from somewhere behind us, and we all spared a moment to glance at each other before turning and rushing toward the sound.
Desperate moans and shouts of utter disbelief and torment led us toward Finn’s office, where light spilled out into the hallway from the open door. We crowded into the space, all of us wide-eyed and confused by the sight before us.
Freya lay on the floor just outside Finn’s bedroom. She was curled on her side with her knees pulled up to her chest, her arms locked around them. Her body rocked back and forth as she sobbed hysterically.
I was the first to break out of the shock, and I sprinted forward before dropping to my knees beside her. With gentle hands, I smoothed her blonde hair back from her face. Her eyes rolled wildly in their sockets for a couple of seconds before stopping on my face. The sight of me seemed to calm her a bit.
“December?” she croaked out, her voice hoarse from the screaming.
“It’s me Freya,” I said, keeping my voice gentle and soothing. “What’s wrong? Why are you so upset?”
As I asked the questions, something inside me already knew the answer. I pushed it away, deciding to remain in denial until the bitter end. Until she uttered the words, I wouldn’t let my mind go there. Even though I recognized the grief in every twist of her body, in every tremble of her lips, and in every nuance of her face.
“He’s gone,” she whispered, fresh tears spilling from her silvery eyes.
“No,” I breathed, my head shaking of its own volition.
“My father is dead,” she reiterated, then looked from me to the others. “The king is dead.”
CHAPTER 24
An impenetrable darkness shrouded the academy as word of Finn’s death spread like wildfire across the campus. Students and staff alike openly mourned his passing, standing around in clusters with hunched shoulders and tear-streaked faces. I kept my eyes averted as much as possible, not wanting their grief to compound my own.
Shaela had gone to check on Freya, and I’d escaped our room and its deafening silence. I wandered the halls aimlessly, my feet shuffling across the floor on tired legs. It was as if all the energy had been sapped from me. I was nothing but a ghost, a shell of my former self.
I avoided the dining hall and the crowds gathered there. Everyone knew I’d been close to Finn and, obviously, Easton, so they naturally assumed I had more details on his death than they did. And I just couldn’t handle all their questions and theories.
I felt an urge to escape to Easton’s room, but I quickly squashed the idea. The magnitude of his absence would only be amplified there. I veered in the opposite direction instead, heading for my parents’ room.
I tapped my knuckles against the door, softly enough that the sound wouldn’t wake them if they were sleeping. It was lunchtime
, but after waking early for our aborted mission and the emotional upheaval of Finn’s passing, I wouldn’t be surprised if they had decided to take a nap.
I would have given anything to shut off my brain and sleep.
The door swung inward, revealing my mother, who threw her arms wide as soon as she saw me. I rushed into her warm embrace, the tears I’d been holding back gushing out without my permission. She held me for an eternity, whispering words of comfort into my ear as her hands smoothed up and down my back.
When my tears ran dry and my vision cleared, I found myself sitting on the edge of their bed with Mom on one side and Dad on the other. I had no idea how I got there, but being sandwiched between them felt good. I wanted to grab ahold of them and never let go.
“Easton is going to be devastated,” I whispered after clearing my throat. “When he finds out…”
“We will get him back,” Dad said when my words trailed off. “Once we’ve all had a few days to mourn, we will regroup and go after Easton, just like we planned.”
“A few days?” I asked. “What if he doesn’t have a few days, Dad? No. We can’t wait. I can’t lose him. I can’t lose another person I care about. We go tomorrow.”
“December,” Mom started, but I slashed a hand through the air to cut her off.
“No!” I shouted, jumping to my feet and whirling on them.
One look at their mourning faces cooled my ire in an instant. Everything was off-kilter, out of balance, and I had to remember I wasn’t the only one hurting. My rigid shoulders slumped, the anger draining out of me.
“Please,” I said, gently this time. “We need to get Easton back. Not just for me, but for the school and the entire Sylph community. With Finn gone, Easton is king.”
There was a moment of silence as they absorbed my words and had some sort of silent conversation that ended with Mom shrugging and Dad heaving a sigh.
“Okay,” Dad said. “If Shaela and Charles are up to it, we’ll go tomorrow.”
“Thank you,” I breathed, relief gushing through me.
I leapt toward him, throwing my arms around his shoulders and burying my face in his neck. His arms tightened around my waist and tugged, pulling me into his lap where he cradled me like a toddler.
It was a new experience for me, being comforted in that way, and it just felt…right. Fresh tears pricked my eyes, this time for the childhood I could have had with this man as my father. He would have been there, ready to comfort every hurt, every heartbreak and every disappointment. He would have cherished me, always celebrating the good moments and encouraging me to be my best me.
I sniffed and struggled to stem the flow of tears. I needed to get my emotions under control and prepare for the battle to come. I would be no good to anyone, especially Easton, if I couldn’t rein in my grief.
Mom’s phone pinged, and she pulled it from her pocket. Her expression darkened as she stared at the screen, prompting Dad to ask her what was going on.
“It’s from Alwyn,” she answered, her frown deepening. “He’s organizing a memorial service for Finn this afternoon and has ordered all staff members to spread the word to the students.”
“What makes him think he has the right to demand anything here?” I spat, my hatred for the man shining through.
“I don’t know,” she said, her tone thoughtful. “Maybe he’s doing it for Freya.”
“She’s certainly in no condition to do anything,” Dad added. “With Easton gone, Alwyn is the only family she has to help her with the details.”
“That man never does anything that doesn’t benefit himself,” I gritted out. “And even if his actions are selfless, which I know they’re not, he shouldn’t be ordering anyone to do anything. He should be inviting people to the memorial, not demanding their presence.”
“Well, regardless of his tactics or his ulterior motives, we should go,” Mom said, her voice soft with sadness. “For Finn.”
She was right. We couldn’t just boycott Finn’s memorial because the man organizing it was an asshole. Obviously, Freya was too distraught to seek help elsewhere and Alwyn was just taking over. We, as people who really cared about her—and Finn—needed to be there. For her, and for ourselves.
We needed to say goodbye, no matter how hard it might be.
“What time?” I asked with a slouch of the spine as the righteous indignation flowed out of me.
“Two o’clock,” Mom answered with a soft smile that told me she was happy I’d lost my belligerence. “You’ll help spread the word?”
“Of course,” I said, giving them each one last hug. “I’ll go find Shaela and Charles and get them to help me.”
I left the room, determined to let my hatred of Alwyn go for one afternoon so we could all give Finn a proper goodbye. He deserved nothing less.
“I HEARD,” Shaela said when I found her and Charles in our room a little while later. “I was visiting with Freya—who’s a total wreck, by the way—when her jerkwad of a husband came in, informed her of the memorial and told us he’d see us there.”
“There was something in his eyes,” Charles chimed in before I could respond. “I could be wrong, but it looked a lot like…eagerness.”
“You weren’t wrong,” Shaela said, her tone insistent. She looked at me and said, “We were talking about this right before you got here. The man looked downright giddy, like a kid on Christmas morning. He’s up to something.”
“Oh, I don’t doubt it,” I said, dread filling my bones.
The service was supposed to be about honoring the king and saying goodbye, but Alwyn obviously had other plans. He was up to something, and a cold feeling in my gut told me I wasn’t going to like it. That none of us were.
“We’ll deal with whatever Alwyn has up his sleeve. He’s a bully, preying on the weak and delighting in the misery of those he perceives as lesser than him. He’ll get what’s coming to him, eventually.”
“And I’m sure you’ll happily give him what he deserves,” Shaela said, her lips tugging up at the corners before falling back into a frown as her joke fell flat.
“I will,” I assured her. “But right now, my focus is on saying goodbye to Finn and getting Easton back. I talked to my parents. If you guys are up for it, we leave for the city tomorrow morning.”
“So soon?” Charles asked, then flinched. “Sorry. I know you want to rescue Easton as soon as possible. We all do. But Finn…”
“Finn would want us to get his grandson back. Besides, can you think of a more urgent situation than this? The school has no headmaster and the Sylphs have no leadership. Nothing is more important than getting Easton back on the throne.”
“You’re right,” he agreed. “I’m in, of course.”
“Me, too,” Shaela added. “We’re going to kick some Zephyr ass…no offense, D.”
I chuckled, a feat which I would have thought was impossible in that moment. My humor quickly turned to gratitude as I wrapped an arm around each of their necks and pulled their heads close to mine.
“Thanks, guys. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
Hope soared through me as I imagined our mission. The five of us, storming the Zephyr stronghold and taking back what was ours—our classmate, our friend, our new king. Nothing was going to stop us.
But first, we had to say goodbye to the old one.
CHAPTER 25
“Finn Oberon was good and kind, a fair headmaster and an excellent king.”
Celeste Greenly was the first to speak at the memorial. I hadn’t seen her since the day we found Finn in a coma, and I blushed a little, remembering her scanty attire and obvious relationship with the king. Freya had told me Celeste had been showing up daily, though, sitting with Finn and holding his hand for a few hours. They’d bonded over their vigil, which was a good thing.
Freya could really use a friend.
“He treated each person with respect, compassion, and understanding. He was firm when he needed to be, but never demeaning or cruel, as some
monarchs tend to be. He honored truth and justice. He also had a wicked sense of humor that not many saw.”
Tears poured down her face as she spoke, her voice cracking and her shoulders sagging under the weight of her grief. Her love for Finn laced every word she spoke, bringing a fresh wave of tears to my eyes.
So many Fae felt the loss of the king in so many different ways. But we all had one thing in common—our lives would be a little less with him gone.
Chairs had been conjured for the entire student body and staff, and we sat in rows facing the temporary stage set up near the back wall of the gym. A giant portrait of Finn sat on an easel in the corner, his trademark serene smile forever captured by whatever talented artist had painted it. The gray eyes seemed to sparkle, a mirror of who he was in life. The likeness was remarkable. I wondered if the artist had used magic while rendering it.
A group of people crowded behind the podium, patiently waiting their turn to speak. One after another, they came to the podium and shared their thoughts, recounted fond memories, and extolled the virtues of the late king. He’d lived hundreds of years, and he’d be affectionately remembered for hundreds more.
As the crowd on the stage dwindled and the last person spoke, my eyes drifted to Alwyn, who waited in a straight-backed chair on the edge of the stage. I bit back a growl as I looked from him to his wife, who sat surrounded by people, yet all alone in the front row. No family to console her. He should have been there with her. Holding her hand. Whispering kind words. Offering comfort.
Instead, he sat up on the stage, his knee bobbing rapidly with obvious impatience. I shouldn’t have expected anything less than the complete and total loathsome behavior he was exhibiting. He was disgusting.
As if he felt my stare, his eyes flashed to mine and what I saw in their ice-blue depths sent chills racing down my spine. Anticipation. A giddiness that had no place at a funeral. Unadulterated glee.
My hands, which held my mom’s on my left and Shaela’s on my right, tightened around their fingers. They squeezed back, as if my gesture was meant to comfort instead of being a warning. I grunted in frustration.
