Then tonight, we infiltrate the prison.
28
Night covers the city streets in a blanket of shadows as we reach the Spire. The bustle of Grenneith has been laid to rest for the evening, save for the occasional shouts of merriment floating on the air from the nearby taverns.
Aspen stalks close to my side while Prince Franco flies overhead in raven form. When we reach the side of the building, Foxglove steps out of the shadows and greets us.
“Everything has been settled,” he says, although the wringing of his hands doesn’t make me feel too confident in his words.
I raise a brow. “Is there anything I should be worried about?”
He sighs. “What’s not to worry about? The iron in this building is making me feel like I’ll melt into a puddle at any moment.”
I’m reminded of how difficult it must be for my companions to be here. Although, Franco seems to have recovered at least partially from his initial response to our arrival. You’d never guess by the smooth motions of his wings that he or his magic was suffering from the city’s ill effects. Aspen too seems to be managing well. It makes me wonder about the power of the two royals compared to fae like Foxglove or Lorelei. Perhaps the stronger fae are less impacted by being so far from the faewall.
“What are the details?” Aspen asks.
“Maven Fairfield’s trial is set for noon tomorrow, the first trial of the day. I was given the location of the courtroom as well. We’ll be able to arrive promptly before it begins.”
“And my mother?” I ask. “Where is she now?”
The black raven begins his descent in slow circles until Prince Franco materializes next to me. He rocks unsteadily on his feet before he catches his bearings. “This place is the worst. I never get dizzy from flying.”
“Where’s Evie’s mother?” Aspen asks, a hint of irritation in his tone.
“Cell block four, room seven,” the prince says. “She’s the only prisoner on that floor and the guards make their rounds on the hour. Once the clock strikes eleven, we’ll wait ten minutes before I fly Evelyn up to the cell block. We’ll be out again before midnight.”
Aspen tenses next to me, while I remain struck by something he said. “What do you mean by fly me up?” I ask.
“I’ll shift into my winged form, but only partially so I maintain my size. Then I’ll carry you up and fly you through the window in the hall outside the cell block. The windows are old and glassless in the tower hall.”
“You’re going to fly. With me. In your...arms.”
“That’s reckless,” Aspen says, taking a forbidding step toward Franco.
Franco meets his glare with a nonchalant grin. “I’ve never dropped anyone yet.”
“There must be another way inside.”
Franco points to the top of the Spire. “You mean, up through the central tower of the building, past several cell blocks, and nothing but a hope that we bypass the guards without notice?”
“What about an invisibility glamour?” I ask.
His eyes widen. “Invisibility glamours are hard enough in Faerwyvae. I can’t maintain one over the both of us in a building filled with iron.”
Aspen throws his hands in the air. “Oh, but you can maintain your winged form no problem.”
Franco takes a challenging step toward Aspen. “Shifting is in my blood. I don’t have to use much magic to do it. Even you know that, Stag King.”
Aspen looks like he’s on the verge of showing the prince exactly what he knows about shifting, but instead, he clenches his jaw and faces me. “It’s your choice, Evie. I know you want to see your mother, but I’d rather you didn’t risk your life with him,” he tosses the prince a scowl, “as your only lifeline.”
When his eyes return to mine, I see the concern in them, rendering me speechless. Just then, chimes sound from the city center, and I don’t need to count to know there are eleven. Once the echo recedes, I square my shoulders with resolve. “I’m willing to take the risk.”
At that, Franco shudders and spouts a pair of enormous black wings from his back. A few stray feathers protrude from his neck and shoulders, but the rest of him remains unchanged. He winks and extends his arm. “Let’s do this.”
“You said you’d wait ten minutes,” Aspen growls.
“Yes, but I’m not going to wait here. We need to get deeper into the shadows before someone spots us.”
Aspen’s jaw shifts side to side. “Fine. I’ll keep watch here and make sure no one heads your way.”
Foxglove wrings his hands. “I suppose I should stand guard around the front of the building.”
Aspen nods, then leans against the building’s wall, arms crossed over his chest, but his gaze remains on me. My eyes are glued to his for several breaths until I force myself to take Franco’s arm.
We round the back of the building and wait beneath the boughs of a well-manicured tree, my pulse racing with every minute that passes. Finally, Franco leans in and whispers, “It’s time.”
I let out a shaking breath and Franco pulls me close, wrapping his arms around my waist. I don’t look at him as I put my arms around his neck.
“Ready?”
I nod.
We launch into the sky, Franco’s enormous wings beating at the cool night air. I suppress a shout as we rise higher and higher, shutting my eyes against the ground falling farther beneath me. My stomach dips in a way that makes me fear I might be sick.
It only takes a few seconds for us to gain enough height before I feel our weight tip to the side. Franco tucks his wings around us, and I open my eyes to see us dart through a window and into a long, narrow hall. With a lurch, he brings us to a skidding halt, just in time to avoid smashing us into the wall at the other side.
“I’m glad that worked,” he whispers while I put a hand to my spinning forehead.
Franco nods toward an unmarked door. We enter it into a dim room lined with cells. Musty aromas of dirt and unwashed bodies flood my nostrils, but like Franco said, there’s only one prisoner on this cell block.
Franco gives my hand a squeeze. “I’ll stand guard outside the door.”
Once alone, I make my way to the occupied cell to find my mother sleeping on a cot. Like Mr. Duveau promised, she seems to have been given decent amenities. Trays of half-eaten food and a cup of tea rest on a simple table, while Mother’s sleeping form is draped in thick wool blankets.
A sudden presence at my side makes me jump. Aspen stands next to me, and it takes me a moment to understand how that could be. He’s only here through the Bond, his violet aura rippling around him. “I’m not going to leave you alone,” he says, his voice a casual drawl. However, his expression betrays the true concern that his tone tries to mask.
“I thought you wanted to stand guard?” I whisper.
“I’m getting better at doing...whatever this is. I can sort of see both places at once now. This way, I can actually warn you if I notice anything concerning from my vantage on the ground.”
I nod, his nearness a steadying comfort. It’s almost enough to help me forget the strain of the last few days.
His eyes flash from me to Mother. “I’ll give you your privacy.” He hesitates as if he wants to say more but makes his way to stand by the door.
I return my attention to my mother and press myself close to the bars. “Ma.”
She stirs, blinking at me with a furrowed brow before she springs to her feet. “Evelyn! You’re all right.”
I can’t stop the tears that flow as she approaches the bars. It breaks my heart to have bars between us, twice now, but knowing she’ll soon be free serves as a minor comfort. In a matter of hours, she’ll be out of here.
Then one of three options will prevail: we’ll either be allowed to return to Faerwyvae, exiled, or...dead.
“You really came back,” she says. There’s a note of disappointment in her tone. “Part of me hoped you wouldn’t. That you’d return to Faerwyvae and never look back.”
“You know I
couldn’t abandon you to be executed.”
She sighs. “I know.” Her eyes leave my face to look around me. “Where is your sister?”
My lower lip trembles at the hope in her eyes. A hope I’ll have to crush either with truth or a lie. I think it’s time she knows the truth. She’ll find out tomorrow regardless.
“Amelie isn’t coming.”
Her eyes widen for a moment. “Why? Did she choose freedom...or is it something else?”
I grip the bars of the cell to stop my hands from shaking. “Shortly after we arrived in Autumn, Amelie bargained her name to a fae male in exchange for his love. I don’t know if she refused to attend because he forced her to do so, or if...”
“Or if it was her choice.” Tears glaze Mother’s eyes. “Either way, it doesn’t matter, I suppose.”
“No, I suppose not. The fact remains that she’s not coming, and Mr. Duveau will use that as means to execute us both.”
She puts a hand to her heart, but I reach through the bars to grab the other.
“I’m not going to let that happen.”
Her eyes widen with surprise. “What are you going to do?”
I glance at Aspen from the corner of my eye, wondering if he can hear us from where he stands. “Whatever it takes.”
She lifts her chin. “That’s the fire I wanted to see in you.”
Her look of pride fills me with a greater sense of accomplishment than I’ve ever felt—greater than Mr. Meeks’ praise or any compliment I’ve ever received regarding my intellect. In this moment, my mother sees me for who I am, and I finally understand that she’s seen it all along. I was the one who never saw it. I was the one who refused to acknowledge the truth.
In what may be one of the final hours of our lives, we understand each other. It makes my heart ache, wishing she’d been honest with me and Amelie from the start. Would that have changed anything?
It’s too late to wonder.
“Do you think she’s happy?” Mother asks. “Was the love she bargained for worth it?”
Again, I debate truth or lie. “I’m not sure, Ma. I wouldn’t say the cost was worth the kind of love she got in return, but only she knows for sure. And she won’t speak to me. I don’t think...I don’t think she’s the same Amelie she used to be. I think the bargain and the Bond changed her.”
Mother nods, face drooping with sorrow as her gaze falls to the floor. Then her eyes snap back to mine. “What about you? Were you happy in Faerwyvae? Or did you despise it as much as you thought you would?”
I’m taken aback by her question. This, at least, I can be truly honest about. “I hated it at first, but after a while, I came to find...something very unexpected.”
Her expression brightens, lips pulling into the ghost of a smile. “And the fae you were forced to be with? Did he treat you well?”
I can feel Aspen’s eyes burning into me from across the room, perhaps more so due to his presence through our Bond. Part of me wants to keep my lips pressed tight on this matter just to spite him, but there’s a truth I can’t keep hidden. Mother deserves to know. Maybe Aspen does too. “He was that unexpected thing.”
Tears glaze her eyes, and her voice comes out with a croak. “Did you find happiness with him?”
A lump rises in my throat, and for several moments I’m paralyzed, still wondering if Aspen is paying as close attention as I imagine he is. My words don’t seem to come, so all I give her is a subtle nod.
“Love?”
The word destroys me, crumbling my walls, dousing the anger that I’ve kept burning between me and my mate, the only thing that has prevented me from falling apart over the strain between us. My expression plummets, which seems to be answer enough for Mother. She reaches her arms around me and pulls me close. Even with the bars between us, we find a way to embrace, and I let myself cry. I cry for the words I never got to tell Aspen, words I still might not get to say. I cry for my uncertain future, for my mother’s precarious fate.
Mother’s hands smooth my hair, her soft voice hushing my tears. After a while, I manage to regain my composure, although I can’t bring myself to let go of my mother.
“What’s it like?” she asks in a whisper.
I pull away enough to see her face. “What do you mean?”
Her tone takes on an air of wistful wonder. “Faerwyvae.”
It suddenly dawns on me that after all this time she’s been alive, coming and going from the isle to the mainland and back again, she’s never been beyond the wall. She has no idea what the different courts are like, what it feels like to travel through different seasons and climates. She’s never seen the vibrant orange leaves of Autumn or the moon and stars the way they look in Lunar.
So I tell her.
29
Mother’s lips curl into a smile of contentment as I express the delights and terrors of Faerwyvae. I tell her about the puca, the kelpie, and the Twelfth Court. I relay my experiences with honey pyrus and fae wine, describe the fae food and dresses. I’m so immersed in my stories that I lose track of time.
It isn’t until I hear a noise in the hall that I begin to wonder how near we are to the next hour, the next round the guards will make. I look toward the door, surprised when I find no sign of Aspen. When did he leave? I could have sworn I felt his presence during most of my conversation with my mother. Perhaps some of what I said made him uncomfortable. Maybe he didn’t like the feelings I implied I still have for him.
I frown at the door before I turn back toward my mother. With a jump, I find Aspen materializing next to her, my name on his lips.
“What—”
“Someone’s coming,” he says. “Foxglove saw several figures enter the front of the building. He says one is a man named Henry Duveau.”
Aspen disappears as suddenly as he came, leaving me reeling over what the councilman’s presence means. He’s here? This late? It’s almost midnight!
The door swings open to reveal Franco charging forward. “We have to go. Now.”
Mother’s eyes widen as they take in the fae prince. I cling to Mother’s hands, words pouring from my lips. I don’t know why I feel compelled to say them now, but I do. “I hope you know how much I love you. I'm sorry for every grief I caused. I'm sorry I never listened to you. I'm sorry I didn’t respect you and your craft. I’m sorry I rebelled.”
“Evelyn, we must hurry.” Franco circles his arms around my waist, but I cling tighter to Mother’s hands.
“I’m not sorry,” she says, smiling through a sheen of tears. “Your rebellion taught you independence. It taught you about fire before you even realized it.”
She swims inside my vision as tears flood my eyes. Franco gives me another tug, and this time, I let him pull me away. “I love you,” I shout. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
I hardly hear her echo the sentiment before we speed out of the room and into the hall. We race to the far side, and Franco grips me tighter. He takes off, sprinting us toward the window. I see guards racing up a set of stairs before he jumps out the window with me pressed close. We fall for endless seconds and I’m sure it will be to our doom. Then I hear Franco’s wings beating the air, and our momentum shifts.
My heart hammers in my chest as I cling to Franco, the Spire shrinking as he flies us away from it. The city clock strikes midnight, and we stop in the shadows of an alley several blocks from the Spire. If it’s the same place we agreed to meet earlier in the case that anything went wrong, then we’re between a milliner and a baker. I can almost smell the remnants of stale bread in the dumpster nearby.
Franco sets me on my feet, and I lean against the alley wall, head spinning as I gather my bearings. I’m not even worried about rats or the overflowing canisters of garbage further down. All I can think about is filling my lungs with air. Slowing my pulse.
When I can finally form a coherent word, I ask, “What happened? Why did the guards make their rounds so early?”
He shakes his head. “I don’t know. I watched them for most
of the afternoon today. Not a single round was made before the hour, and no guards came outside these scheduled rounds aside from delivering meals or to escort prisoners to their trials. Neither of those occurrences should be happening this late.”
I can’t help wondering if it had anything to do with the presence of Henry Duveau. “Did anything else happen?”
“Nothing that I saw.”
A dark silhouette enters the mouth of the alley, but I know at once that it’s Aspen. He rushes to me, hands framing my face. I’m surprised by his touch, and he seems to think twice about it as well. He straightens, pinning his arms to his sides, but remains close. “You’re all right.”
“Do you know what happened?”
“No, but Foxglove had me worried. He seemed to think the presence of the man he saw was something to be concerned about.”
“It might be worth some distress,” I say. “The guards made their rounds too early. They may have seen us escaping before we fled.”
“At least you’re safe.”
My eyes lock on Aspen’s, the words I said to my mother about him ringing in my mind. Did he understand what I hinted at? What my tears meant to convey to her? Who knows what he actually heard. How long he was there.
Franco clears his throat. “I’m going to fly back and see if I can figure out what triggered the guards. Wait here. I’ll let you know if there’s anything we should be concerned with.”
“Good idea,” Aspen says.
The prince shifts into his full raven form and flies off, leaving me alone with Aspen. I avert my gaze away from his face. “Is Foxglove all right?” I ask.
He nods. “He took a different way back to the hotel. I told him I wanted to find you first.”
“I’m worried,” I say. “Mr. Duveau is the councilman who holds the Legacy Bond with my family’s names. He’s not a good man.”
“Do you think he’ll hurt her?”
I shrug. “He made me a bargain that I could do whatever I wished before her trial, so long as I vowed to attend. He promised he wouldn’t hurt her in the meantime.”
To Wear a Fae Crown (The Fair Isle Trilogy Book 2) Page 20
