And leave Dash behind, my conscience whispers.
But I don’t know that for sure. Dash might be back at home, completely fine. I have no way of knowing where he is, and now I’m about to risk imprisoning myself beneath the ground.
No. I won’t do it. I’m not a hero; I’m a survivor. That’s what I’ve always been, and Dash knows it.
I turn my back on the trapdoor as I sense my Griffin magic simmering beneath the surface of my control. I can’t waste this opportunity. I need to get back to Mom. She’s always been my priority, and I need to find another way to help her now that the Unseelie plan has fallen through. If it turns out that Dash never made it home, I’ll tell the Griffin rebels that he’s probably here, and they can come and rescue him.
And you’ll be putting even more lives in danger, which is exactly what you were trying to avoid when you came here.
I push my guilt aside and look at the ruby once more. The tiniest sliver—so thin I can barely see it—still needs to be filled. I watch it and wait. And wait. I imagine the faerie paths. I picture myself focusing intently on them as I give my one-word command.
Then I feel the tingling, the magic crawling up my spine, my voice preparing to change. I whip around and point at the trapdoor. “Open,” I gasp before the horrible, selfish person that I am at my core can make me change my mind.
With a subdued grinding sound, the trapdoor slowly swings opens.
Twenty-Four
I should have concentrated harder, but I was so caught up in the terrifying rush of doing the right thing that I completely forgot to rein in my Griffin magic. It escapes me all at once, leaving nothing behind. I shut my eyes for a moment and ball my hands into fists, but there’s no point in regretting what I’ve done. I chose to open the trapdoor. Now I need to find out what’s hidden beneath it.
I stare at the dark circle of space and the stairs that lead downward. An icy breeze drifts past the back of my neck, reminding me that I’ve lost my tenuous hold on the spell that was keeping me warm. I take a steadying breath and place my foot on the first step. There could be a hundred guards waiting at the bottom of these stairs. There could be all kinds of horrifying creatures or threatening magic. I try not to think of the many possibilities as I descend. The white glow of the moon and the snowy landscape filters down through the trapdoor’s opening, illuminating the steps ahead of me. But the further down I go, the dimmer the light becomes.
Finally, I reach the bottom. No guards step forward to seize me. No creatures leap out of the darkness to tear me to shreds. No unseen magical force knocks me to the ground. I venture further forward, looking all around. As my eyes become accustomed to the dull light, any lingering doubts I may have had about finding a prison down here vanish. But it’s unlike any prison I’ve ever seen on TV. Large spheres of dark glass fill the vast space ahead of me, each one containing a single prisoner. Some spheres rest on the ground, while others hang in the air at different levels from vine-like ropes. Those on the ground seem to be placed roughly in lines, presumably so guards can patrol the uneven corridors of space between them.
With a shaky breath, I walk forward, the first row of spheres on my right, and the wall—partially covered in creeping vines—on my left. As I near the first prisoner, I begin to make out more details, like the open section of space on the side of each sphere, and the vertical bars of dark glass lining each open space. A flat surface forms the floor inside each sphere. In the first one, a woman lies on the floor, curled up and sleeping. She doesn’t move as my footsteps pass her cell. Even when another howl echoes through the cavernous prison, she remains asleep.
I stride past each sphere as quickly and quietly as I can after checking to make sure I don’t see Dash inside any of them. When I notice a male figure with dirty blond hair, I slow down, but as I get closer, I realize the color tangled in with the blond is more turquoise than green. He rolls over as I pass his sphere, confirming for me that he isn’t Dash. His eyes meet mine, and he begins laughing. Crazed laughter that should send me scurrying away. But my attention is caught by the markings on his wrists: guardian markings.
“Emerson.” My eyes snap back to his, a jolt of adrenalin passing through me at the sound of my own name leaving this stranger’s cracked lips. “What a mess we’ve … got ourselves into,” he slurs. “And the irony. The irony!” he calls out before raspy laughter consumes him once more. “I thought I was … doing the right thing for … for once in my life, and look where it got me. Landed me … right back … at the mercy of an Unseelie prince.”
“How do you—”
“Em?” It’s a different voice this time, from the next sphere over. The voice I’ve been listening for since I descended the stairs.
“Dash!” I hurry to his cell and drop onto my knees. He’s lying on his side, his arm stretched out toward me. Bruises mar both cheeks and one side of his neck, and thick stubble covers his jaw. “Are you okay? I’m so, so sorry. You were right about Roarke. He was never going to help me. And then I realized he would never have let you leave, and that you must be imprisoned somewhere, or … or …” Or worse, I whisper silently to myself. I push my hand through the bars, but I can’t reach him. “Are you okay? Are you hurt? I mean, aside from the bruises.”
“I’m … okay.” He pulls himself weakly toward the bars, moving only a few inches before collapsing again. But his hand is close enough now. I can just reach his fingers.
“What did they do to you?”
“I feel … drunk. Sort of.”
“What?”
“A potion. A drug. It makes us … weak and disoriented. And my magic. I try to reach for it … and it’s almost there … and then it slides from my grasp.” His eyelids lower. “Like water … slipping through my fingers.”
“Dash. Hey. Wake up.” I wrap my fingers around his and shake his hand.
“I’m awake,” he mumbles. His eyes open, but he takes a moment to focus on me. “That’s the problem. This potion … keeps me drowsy and weak … but it never lets me sleep.”
“I’m sorry. That’s horrible.” He nods but doesn’t answer. His eyes close once more. “Dash, what have they done to you? There are bruises all over you. That’s … that’s not normal for a faerie, right?”
In the next sphere over, the man laughs again. “Not normal,” he says. “Definitely not normal. But normal for … for down here.”
Dash shifts until he’s lying on his back, staring upward. “Sometimes,” he says in a weak voice, “they roll the spheres. Or make them swing … back and forth … from a great height.” He rolls his head slowly from side to side. “We crash around inside our glass cells. But the glass never breaks. It batters us as our bodies are flung around … but we never die.”
“Dash.” I squeeze his hand tighter as unshed tears make my throat ache and guilt burns hot in my chest. Isn’t this precisely the kind of thing I hoped to avoid when I decided to leave the Griffin rebels’ home? “I’m very glad you’re not dead. I’m going to get you out of here.”
“That would be … a sweet kind of … karma indeed,” the man next door murmurs. “I save her, and she saves me.”
I frown at him before bending closer to Dash’s cell. “Who is that man?” I ask in low tones. “How does he know me?”
“We talk … the two of us … when no one’s around. I must have told him about you.” With a great effort, Dash pulls himself up and leans against the glass. “His name is Zed.”
“Zed,” I repeat. “And how long has Zed been down here? Long enough to begin losing his mind?”
“I can hear you, you know,” Zed says, rolling over and blinking until his eyes focus on me. “And no, I’m not the one who’s … lost my mind. That affliction belongs to … someone else you care about.”
I draw even further away from his sphere. Part of me wants to be angry with Dash for telling this stranger about me and my mother, but I can’t be. I doubt anyone down here has much control over what they say. And I can’t blame Dash for ta
lking to this man when he would otherwise be completely alone. The sphere on his other side, I notice, is empty.
“Dash, we need to plan how we’re going to get out of here. I can use my Griffin Ability to open this sphere, but it needs to replenish, and that will only happen tomorrow, late in the morning. And Roarke already knows something isn’t right. He came to my room earlier tonight, but I ran before he could see me. He’s probably wondering where I am, and if I don’t return in the next few hours, he’ll send guards out to search for me.”
“Everything is … such an effort,” Dash says. “Speaking. Moving. Living.”
“Hey,” I say, louder than I intended, his words disturbing me than I’d like to admit. “Don’t say things like that. That’s just the potion talking. You do want to live, which is why you need to help me with our escape plan.”
With his eyes closed, he nods. “Roarke doesn’t know … that you know about his prison. He won’t look here first. We’ll have … some time.”
“Okay. Yes. Hopefully. Then our next problem is that you’re drugged and can’t use your own magic.”
“I can barely even … move,” he reminds me.
“True. So how long does it take for this potion to wear off? Because we’re going to have to hide somewhere while that happens. And by the time you’re able to move easily and use your magic, Roarke will know you’re gone too. We’re going to have to find a very good hiding place to wait in while my Griffin Ability recharges and your drugs wear off.”
“There’s lots of … waiting … in this plan,” Zed says.
“Well, it isn’t your escape plan, so you needn’t worry about the details.”
“You will … help him too?” Dash says. “Can’t leave him here. He’s a guardian. He’s … my companion.”
My first instinct is to reject this idea. It will be harder to escape with three of us than with two. But this man has become Dash’s friend. I can’t leave him behind. But then … I look around at all the spheres. What about everyone else down here?
No. Stop. You can’t go there, I instruct myself severely. I can’t save everyone. And many of these people are probably criminals. They must have disobeyed the king in some way in order to have landed up here. If I try to rescue all of them, Dash and I will never get away. “Yes, okay, I’ll get Zed out too.”
“And what happens,” Zed asks, “after all the waiting … and hiding? You know the faerie paths can’t … be opened from here … right?”
“Yes, I know that. But my Griffin Ability is more powerful than ordinary magic. I can tell the paths to open a doorway for us, and it should work.”
“Don’t know … about that,” Dash says. “Powerful spells exist … over both royal courts … to prevent access to the paths.”
“And you don’t think my magic is powerful enough to overcome these spells?”
Dash shrugs. Apparently any more of an answer than that is too much effort in his current state.
“Well, we have to try it,” I tell him, “because that’s the only escape I can think of. Well, other than stealing a dragon or two and flying out of here, but we’re a lot more likely to get caught that way.”
Dash nods. “Okay. We’ll try … the paths.” His eyes slowly close once more. “And what about now?”
“Now …” I wrap my free hand around one of the bars. “I think the best thing for me to do is go back to my room.” It’s the last thing I want to do, but I made my decision when I chose to open the trapdoor instead of the faerie paths. I won’t be escaping tonight. “I need to make sure Roarke thinks everything is fine,” I continue. “Then I’ll sneak away early in the morning before he comes to my room to compel me.”
“Don’t come until … mid-morning,” Zed says. “You’ll miss the guards that way.”
I frown at him. “How do you have any idea what time of day or night it is down here?”
“I’ve been here … long enough. The guards talk. I listen. They come … straight after their breakfast.”
“Okay. All right.” I squeeze Dash’s hand, then let go and push myself to my feet. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” I watch him for another few moments before turning away.
“I’m sorry I … failed you,” he says.
I pause, then slowly swivel around to face him. “What do you mean? This is all my fault, remember? I chose to come here. I put myself in this mess, which means I put you in this mess too. I’m the one who failed, not you.”
“It’s been my … responsibility … for years. Checking in on you.”
“But that assignment—mission—whatever you call it—ended when you brought me to this world. You were done looking out for me.” I crouch down and take his hand once more. “Dash, you don’t owe me anything. I mean it. I’m the one who owes you. So I’m going to make sure you get out of here alive.”
“Does that mean,” he asks, “that once this is over … we can put the cliff thing behind us?”
It takes me a few seconds to remember what he’s talking about, and then a smile breaks out across my face. “Consider it far behind us already.”
He grips my hand with a little more strength than before. “Looks like you might get to be a hero after all.”
I shake my head, but my smile is still in place. “I’m not saving the world, Dash. Only you.” I stand and cast a glance at Zed. “Well, and your friend. But that’s it. I’m not going anywhere near your hero territory.”
I stride quietly past the spheres and back up the stairs, pausing near the top and listening before climbing the final few steps up to the frozen pool. I don’t take a straight line back to the palace. Instead, I run a little to the right before turning toward the glowing golden lights in the distance. If anyone stops me now, at least it won’t look like I’m coming from the direction of the prison. I start running again, faster and faster, partly because I want to get back inside to the warmth of my bedroom as quickly as I can, and partly because I may need to convince someone I was out here practicing my running, climbing and somersaulting.
But I make it back to the palace without anyone stopping me. I consider letting myself in through one of the ground level doors and walking upstairs, but it’s faster to climb. I step back and look up to make sure I’m aiming for the correct balcony, then begin my ascent. It’s late—past midnight, I’m sure—so most curtains are closed and no one looks outside as I climb past windows. As I step into my sitting room and silently shut the balcony door behind me, I breathe out a long sigh. I remove Bandit from my pocket and set him down on the table amongst the papers and books that appear to have remained untouched in my absence.
“Emerson.”
With a barely concealed gasp, I whip around, slapping my hand against my chest where my heart has already leaped into action.
In the doorway to my bedroom, his arms folded tightly over his chest, is Roarke.
Twenty-Five
“Jeez, Roarke, you nearly gave me a heart attack.” I lower my hand to my side, but my heart continues to race along at a panicky pace.
“Where were you?” His expression holds no hint of a smile, and his tone is deadly serious.
“Oh, just doing a little parkour practice.” I shrug out of my coat, leave it lying over the back of a chair, and sit down to pull my shoes off. It’s easier to appear relaxed and unconcerned if I keep my hands busy. “You know, the stuff I’ve been showing Aurora. Running and climbing walls and all that.”
“In the middle of the night? In winter?”
“Yes.” I look up. “My friend and I used to practice at night all the time. Okay, so we didn’t do it in winter. It was too cold. But my days here have become so busy. If I want to keep practicing, I need to do it at night.” I push my shoes aside and cross one leg over the other. “Besides, it gave me a reason to practice that spell that keeps my body warm. I’m getting better at it.”
Roarke walks slowly toward me, each step a silent threat. “Do you expect me to believe that? Do you expect me to believe you weren’t snoop
ing around, trying to find something locked to use your Griffin Ability on?”
I allow all the hurt and horror I felt when reading the witch spell to become evident in my expression. “Are you serious? I thought you trusted me.”
“I’m finding it a little difficult right now after you vanished from the room you’re supposed to be in every—”
“Oh, come on. You keep going on about how you’d never force me into anything, that this is my home now, and that I’m almost a member of your family—and then you tell me that I’m expected to remain in my bedroom every night like a prisoner? That makes no sense. And you’re the one who decided to compel me to say the word ‘open.’ I didn’t ask for that. And I’m far too afraid of your father to go looking for something that’s locked and shouldn’t be opened.”
“Then what did you use your Griffin Ability on tonight? And don’t try to tell me it hasn’t happened yet.” His gaze moves down to my wrist, where the bracelet is peeking out below the edge of my sleeve. “I can see from the ruby that you’ve used your power already. It has barely any color in it.”
“A flower,” I tell him, my voice raised in fake anger. “I used it on a flower, okay? I thought I was being clever, actually, since I was outside and there were no doors to open. I thought I’d just end up wasting the power, directing it nowhere, and then I saw a flower. A closed rosebud. So I looked at it and told it to open, and it did.”
Several moments of uncomfortable silence pass as Roarke’s eyes bore angrily into mine while I stare defiantly back. “A flower?” he says eventually.
“Yes. A flower.” I cross my arms over my chest and direct a frown at the floor between us, hoping Roarke can tell just how much he’s hurt his betrothed’s feelings by accusing her of lying. “I would happily have told you all about it if you’d just asked instead of accusing me of sneaking around.”
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