by Violet Grace
‘Samuel,’ she whispers.
‘Cordelia,’ he says, stroking the hair away from her face.
I feel like I should back out of the room, as if I’m trespassing on something private. But my mother blinks and then looks around, disoriented.
‘Damius?’ she says with a start. ‘I saw …’
I go to her. ‘We’re in London. The apothecaries are here.’ I want to tell her she’s safe, reassure her that everything is going to be okay, but it would be a lie. After all she’s been through, she deserves the truth.
‘Francesca, I knew you would do it,’ she says, her eyes beaming with love and pride that almost breaks me.
‘I’ve done nothing,’ I say weakly. ‘I have lost your throne. House Raven has fallen, we are exiles and I have no clue how to fix any of this.’
She takes my hand in hers. She’s so cold. Pulling me closer, she stretches her arms up towards me and I collapse into her embrace.
‘My darling,’ she says. ‘All those years my life force was imprisoned, I watched, I listened. I have witnessed you accomplish a great many things that you, at first, did not know how to do.’
Hot tears leak from my eyes, falling freely onto her gown. She is pale and frail, but there is strength just below the surface, I can feel it.
I sit with my mother as Alvina pokes and prods her and, with Nadia’s help, mixes up a series of elixirs.
Alvina explains to Mum that her muscles have atrophied, and so has her capacity to conjure the Art.
‘Sleep and rest now. In the morning we will get you up and begin to rebuild your musculature.’
I suddenly feel so exhausted I can’t stop yawning.
‘When was the last time you slept?’ my mother asks.
‘I don’t know,’ I say.
‘Go now. Rest,’ Samuel says. ‘I will look after your mother.’
‘I’m not leaving —’
‘For goodness sake,’ Alvina says. ‘Get some rest, before I have another Raven patient to treat. I’ll take you up to the residence.’
‘Go,’ my mother says in a maternal tone that somehow makes me comply.
I kiss both my parents and Alvina leads Tom and me from the healing room. She tells him to get Abby and bring her up to the residence for some rest too. Tom raises an eyebrow at me, then peels off down one of the tunnels.
‘You have quite an effect on my son,’ Alvina says when he is out of earshot. ‘In fact, you bring out extreme reactions in both my children.’ I notice the familiar dimples in her cheeks.
‘Abby’s dislike for me was immediate and intense,’ I say, unsure where this is headed.
‘Because of the cataclysmic spell,’ Alvina says.
‘But Abby helped Tom make that spell,’ I protest. ‘Why did she help him if she was so against it?’
‘She didn’t know she would lose her twin because of it. When Tom had to go into hiding in Iridesca it was like Abby had lost part of herself. She was traumatised by the separation. In some ways I think she still is.’
‘You watched your daughter suffer and you lost your son. Because of me.’
‘Correct.’
‘Then why are you helping me?’
‘I may not approve of the choice my son has made. But I am a realist. He’s clearly not about to change his mind about you. And that, well… that makes you family.’
I watch her stiff back and square shoulders as I process what she just said. You wouldn’t call it a precious bonding moment, but my eyes prickle with emotion anyway.
The residence is as grand as the lower levels of Apothecaries Hall, with rooms branching off on either side of a long corridor with timber panelling and artwork in gilded frames. By the time Alvina shows me where the bathroom and kitchen are, Tom has caught up with us.
‘Abby’s still in the lab brewing explosives,’ Tom says to his mother. ‘She’s in no mood for listening. To me at least.’
Alvina nods, gives Tom a brief kiss on his forehead and leaves us.
I peek in through the lounge room door and see red velvet drapes framing stained glass windows, and chandeliers hanging from the ornate ceiling. Two leather couches face each other with a low-set coffee table in between.
Closing the door behind him, Tom follows me into the lounge and plonks down on one of the leather couches, a pile of bedding and pillows beside him. I take the couch opposite.
I look into his eyes and a wave of self-consciousness crashes down on me. I wonder if we’re both tense or if it’s just me.
‘Okay,’ he says, sitting forward on the couch. ‘Out with it.’
‘Out with what?’ I say thinly.
He moves over to sit with me and takes my hand, his fingers slowly linking with mine. His touch, his scent, his closeness, make me tingle all over. I can feel his warm, powerful energy weaving its way up my arm and into my core.
The way he looks at me, the intensity of his gaze – it makes me feel so desirable, so wanted. I tilt my head up towards him expectantly and he leans into me. I’m drawn towards those beautiful lips, but confusion takes over. I feel desire, I’m in no doubt about that, but there’s something else too, something I can’t name.
My skin is instantly clammy, my mouth dry. I want to get up from the couch and run but I can’t feel my feet. My whole body is stiff and cold, and just before Tom’s lips make contact with mine, he pulls back as if he’s been burned.
He slides to the far end of the couch, staring at me. I wrap my arms around my body, shivering and trying not to be sick. Tom exhales deeply as his eyes tilt upwards. I’ve seen him do this before; he’s searching for the right words, or trying to decide if he should say what he’s thinking.
‘You have stared down an army of pycts, faced off against Damius’s unicorns without access to your power,’ he says finally. ‘But I have never seen you look as scared as you did just then. With me.’ He slowly shakes his head. ‘What am I supposed to do with that?’
I just look at my hands. He’s right and I have no idea how to start explaining.
‘I’ll give you some space,’ he says finally, then stands and walks to the door.
Just as he’s about to leave, I blurt, ‘I don’t know how.’
He turns back, searching my face. ‘How what?’
I swallow hard. ‘I don’t know if I can do all the things I’m supposed to do, now that we’re … you know …’
‘Ah,’ he says.
‘I know what you must expect from me.’
Something flashes across his face. I think it’s anger. Maybe hurt. He takes a step back into the room, sighs.
‘Of course, Chess, of course I want you like that. How could I not? But of all the things I crave about you, that’s nowhere near the top of the list.’
‘Well, what do you want?’
‘I want the real Chess Raven.’ His eyes dart down to the cigarette burn scar on my arm and then instantly return to my face. ‘Even the parts you sometimes think you have to hide.’
And then he leaves, without waiting for a reply. I listen to his footsteps echo down the hall.
As I take a shower I can’t stop trembling. I try to process what Tom said, but my thoughts are too fragmented, my feelings too raw. I hastily change into a sundress that Alvina pulled from Abby’s closet, and return to the lounge.
There is no sign of Tom as I make my bed on the couch, lie down and pull the blanket over my head. I’m exhausted but my mind continues to race – Tom and me, Jules, the others I’ve left behind. Brina and Callie’s faces come to me. Did my court make it safely back to Trinovantum? And if they did, what’s become of them with Damius on the throne?
The next thing I know, Tom is shaking me awake.
‘Chess! Abby’s gone.’
‘Wha …’ I yawn. I pry open one eye to be greeted with his bare torso, six-pack rippling in front of me.
‘Abby! She’s gone to rescue Jules.’
My eyes spring wide open. Through the gap in the curtain I can see that it’s still dark outside.
&nbs
p; ‘How do you know?’
‘I felt it,’ he says. ‘That’s what woke me. And then I found this on her bed.’
He tosses me a handwritten note and I try to focus on it.
I’ve gone back for Jules. We’ll both have a better chance of getting out of there alive if you come to help.
Tom throws a t-shirt over his head.
I’ve seen Abby in a fight. She won’t last two minutes against Damius’s army. I don’t say it aloud, but I think it’s emotional blackmail. I wipe the sleep out of my eyes.
‘Chess, I have to go,’ he says. ‘You don’t have to …’
‘I’m not about to let you go alone.’
‘Your parents … You’re okay with leaving them here?’
‘I’m not okay about it at all. But she’s your sister,’ I say, thinking about what Alvina said to me about family. ‘I can’t abandon her.’
‘And Jules?’
‘Won’t want to come,’ I say, but there is an edge of uncertainty in my voice. Abby knows Jules better than anyone, and her conviction that Jules sacrificed herself for us has planted a tiny seed of doubt in my mind.
We transfer to a small village just outside Windsor Castle. It’s safest to sneak into the castle on foot rather than transferring and risk arriving in the middle of a security patrol. I wait as Tom recovers from the pain of conjuring the transfer spell. He sits with his head in his hands, a thin line of blood trickling from his ear.
The street lamps are broken, casting an eerie darkness about us. Goosebumps prickle along my arms as I look around the deathly quiet village. I can just make out the outlines of the houses. They seem to be in the same state of disrepair as so much of Trinvovantum. The only thing that looks new are the giant banners hanging from the dilapidated buildings. Once, they bore my face and messages of my impending arrival. ‘She is coming’, they said. That seems like another age. Now, the banners carry Damius’s standard.
I rub my hand along the back of Tom’s shoulders.
‘I’m working on it,’ I say.
He tilts his face up towards me. ‘On what?’
‘Us.’
An uncomfortably long pause fills the space between us. I try to read him but can’t.
He nods, then springs to his feet. ‘Let’s go.’
‘Wait,’ I say. I take a breath, searching for the right words. ‘If things go bad today … well, I just want to clear something up. In case, you know …’
Tom goes still, his body tense. ‘Chess,’ he says.
‘About last night,’ I begin uncertainly. ‘I was scared. Freaking terrified, actually.’
Tom waits, his expression giving nothing away.
‘This is all new to me.’
He gives a brief nod.
‘And I’ve got a lot to work out. And it’s hard. Sometimes it feels … well… too hard.’
The muscles in his jaw soften. ‘You don’t have to work it out on your own. I’d like to be the one you let help you. Whatever you need.’
‘It would only ever be you,’ I whisper.
He takes a step towards me. ‘I love everything about you, Chess Raven.’
I feel something change within me. An ending and a beginning. A choice to fight the demons of my past rather than surrender to them.
‘Yesterday you asked what I want. I didn’t have an answer. Now I do,’ I say. ‘I want a home. I don’t mean a house or a place, but a space to belong. I want to fit in, to feel loved and safe and welcome. Where I can just be me.’
I lean forward and sink into his arms, soaking up his warmth, his strength, his trust. ‘Us, right here, right now. It feels like home.’ I tilt my face up to his, our lips so close they are almost touching.
Tom’s lips curve against mine. ‘If this is home, I may never go out again.’
I kiss him, deep and slow. Desire spreads throughout my body and I find myself anticipating all that comes next with curious wonder rather than fear.
‘Don’t die on me,’ I mumble, through our kiss. ‘Because I really need to feel like this again.’
‘Oh, I won’t. I have plans for us. Big plans.’
My stomach flips so hard I have to consciously steady myself.
‘But first,’ he says, pulling away reluctantly, ‘we need to save my sister from herself.’
We creep through the deserted streets. I keep looking for signs of life – Damius’s guards patrolling the streets or glimpses of locals.
‘Where is everyone?’ I whisper as I quicken my pace towards the castle.
‘Not here,’ Tom says, his ears pricked up.
The main gate of Windsor Castle is in the distance, lit by huge klieg lights. We make our way instead to a forgotten gate at the far side of the royal burial ground. I discovered it one day last summer when I was visiting all the dead relatives I never knew I had. The gate is rusted and overgrown by vines. It’s possible that Damius’s guards haven’t discovered it yet.
The lock is as rusty as the gate so it takes a while for me to persuade it to open. We find our way through the grounds towards the castle by the light of the beacons illuminating the flags and banners bearing Damius’s standard.
I’ve only known about House Raven for a little over a year but, looking up at Damius’s flags, I feel like someone has died. And like I pulled the trigger.
‘Come on,’ Tom says as first light peeks over the horizon. ‘Let’s try Abby’s lodgings first.’
We move off, but I’ve only taken a few steps when Tom grabs my arm and pulls me down behind a giant hedge.
I look at him, my heart pounding, waiting for an explanation. His ears are pricked up, his finger pressed against his lips.
Then I hear it. The steady footfalls of marching.
Peering through leaves the size of dinner plates, I see a group of soldiers in beige uniforms patrolling the grounds. They’re moving in formation, directly towards us.
We press into the bushes, out of sight. I hold my breath as they pass.
The sound of marching recedes, and a new sound strikes up, this time the deep, resonant beat of drums echoing around the grounds.
I turn to Tom. His face turns white.
‘We need to move. Now,’ he says, jumping up and racing in the direction of the amphitheatre. ‘Drums at first light can only mean one thing.’
‘What?’ I say breathlessly, sprinting to keep up with him.
He looks at me, panic on his face. ‘An execution.’
‘Abby?’ I say, running after Tom.
‘Too soon for that.’
‘Jules?’
He doesn’t answer.
A dawn execution in the amphitheatre, with drums and drama, makes me fear that it’s someone really important. Someone politically significant. Someone like the former First Officer of House Raven.
I’m sickened by the possibility that I was wrong about Jules. I should have come back for her straight away.
‘It won’t start until the drums stop, and then the charges will be laid out,’ Tom says.
‘Do you really think Damius will bother with charges?’
‘He needs to at least appear legitimate.’
‘We need to blend in,’ I say, and summon a burgundy gown and a charcoal cloak from the wardrobe I left behind in Serenissima to replace the sundress. Tom’s watchband flickers with the Art and a leather kilt suit and cloak materialise on his body.
I pull the hood of my cloak to cover my face as we merge with the last of the crowd. We enter the amphitheatre undetected by the two guards standing at the entrance, both wearing Damius’s insignia on their uniforms.
Inside, the amphitheatre is packed. People young and old stand shoulder to shoulder on the ground level, pressed tightly together. They used to be my people. Looking up, I see more Fae crammed into the tiered seating. No wonder the village was empty.
The amphitheatre is lit by a ring of enormous flaming torches, separating the flat ground from the seats. At regular intervals, Damius’s standard is hoisted on flagpoles. Fa
iries entertain the crowd with acrobatics, flying around the flags at breakneck speed. Soldiers form a solid ring around the top of the amphitheatre.
I scan the crowd, sickened and bewildered. There must be tens of thousands of people here. I used to feel humbled by their presence and affection. But what sort of monsters would attend an execution for entertainment? The Fae act as though they are superior to humans, so much more evolved and civilised. Yet here they are, bringing their children along to witness a murder show.
Keeping his head down, Tom pushes purposefully through the crowd, checking to make sure I’m following him. And then I see the mass of blonde curls he’s heading for.
So he was right – it’s not Abby’s head on the chopping block. Tom reaches her and pulls her into a quick hug.
‘What’s she doing here?’ Abby spits.
‘Abbs,’ Tom whispers. ‘She’s here to help.’
‘You should have listened to me before it got to this,’ she says, baring her teeth. ‘You chose to leave Jules behind and now they’re going to kill her.’
I’m sick with regret and terror.
‘Even if I have to burn this place to the ground, Jules will not die today,’ I say.
The crowd erupts into cheering and applause as all heads turn and tilt towards the royal box, halfway up the stadium seating. The Luminaress emerges from the shadows to the front of the box. Her silver hair is wrenched up into a bun on the top her head, making her look as impeccably severe as always. I wonder how she has been rewarded for the key role she played in manipulating me. It takes all my self-control not to fly up and give her another reason to hate me.
Trumpets blare and the crowd falls into reverent silence. They are waiting for their king to appear, just as they used to wait for me.
The Art swirls within me, begging for release. I could kill Damius as soon as he shows his face. One targeted blast and he’ll be cinders and House Raven will be restored. I need to make sure Jules is safe, but I’m not going to miss another opportunity to kill her father.
But it’s not Damius who appears in the royal box.
It’s Jules. Wearing my mother’s crown.
She stands in the centre of the box, right where I have stood so many times before, beaming at the crowd. She wears a black flouncy gown with a silver sash and lots of bling. Her crown – my crown – fits her perfectly.
