by J. S. Malcom
I speak softly, my breath catching in my throat. “Oh, Julia.”
I expect her to sense my presence, to look my way, but she doesn’t. She remains rigid, a vision of despair.
I go to her, reaching out but afraid to startle her. Would she even feel my touch? In the past, I would have guessed yes. Hers is a world of emotional impressions, of empathy and intuition, as much as anything else. Now, I can’t be sure.
I try again. “Julia, it’s me.”
This time, she speaks softly, barely above a whisper. “Cassie?”
She doesn’t turn or look around, as if she no longer trusts her inner senses, the very thing that makes her what she is. It could well be that, in this realm, those senses are lost to her.
“Yes, it’s me. I’m here with you.”
Slowly, she shakes her head. She whispers, “I’m imagining you, aren’t I? You can’t help me.”
I reach for her this time, touching her shoulder. “Julia, I’m right here. Please believe me.”
Again she shakes her head, a tear escaping her eye to trickle down her cheek. Then she lays down on her side, tucking her legs up and wrapping her arms around them.
I kneel beside her, grasping her shoulder. “I’m going to get you out of here. I swear it.”
Julia stares a moment longer, her gaze fixed on nothing, and then she closes her eyes.
CHAPTER 21
The first thing I become aware of are the voices upstairs, once again coming to me muffled and distant. Again, a murmuring mix of both male and female. I open my eyes and strain to listen, thinking I might hear Esras among them. My mind flashes back to that first morning here, when I woke up in this same room. For just a moment, I wonder if I could have dreamt last night’s experiences. Then seeing Julia comes back to me. Maybe I could imagine the queen’s inhuman beauty. Or even the words she exchanged with Vintain. But no dream could deliver the despair I felt emanating from Julia, nor the crushing sorrow I felt in her presence. That was real. I felt it in my core, even as I feel it now.
As I did last night, I wonder how Fashenan knew where to find her. How could she know which room held her? I can only assume that the knowledge was gained beforehand, when Fashenan went spying within the palace. Chances are, I’ll never find out, but I once again marvel at what the dead sometimes know. We left after that, the return a dizzying blur during which I could barely think. Perhaps it was a kindness that somehow, with its essence gone, my body had laid down and gone to sleep. Returning to that sleeping body was the only thing that allowed me to rest. Otherwise, sleep would have been impossible.
Now, I rise and walk down the hall. I climb the stairs to find Revlen seated at her table beside Esras and Cade. Ecubon, Tonorf and Verin have also returned. I have yet to pass a window, but I’d guess that at best the sun has just started to rise. It would seem that Queen Abarrane and Vintain weren’t the only ones up before dawn. I go unnoticed as I stand in the doorway.
“What we suspected is true.” Verin addresses the group, her focus mainly on Revlen. “Their men are demoralized and poorly trained. They've grown lazy in the time that’s passed.”
“They've relied entirely on magic,” Tonorf says. “Without it, they’ll be lost.”
I’m right there, but their voices sound a mile away as I continue to think of Julia. I keep seeing her sitting in that room, desperate, alone and hopeless. Queen Abarrane’s words echo inside my mind. There might be a psychic bond between the witch and her friend. Step up your efforts there too.
“At this point, their troops are fragmented,” Ecubon says. “Half of them keep trying to maintain order, while the rest remain holed up at the palace. They never thought this day would come.”
Is Vintain, at this very moment, preparing to torture Julia? And is he right about our connection working that way, in his hope to lure me in? Will I know if she’s in pain? In the past, it’s always been she who has known when something happens to me. I’ve always been too headstrong, too preoccupied with my own thoughts and actions, to know when something happens to her. In a word, selfish. Which is what brought this upon her to begin with.
“It’s as we thought, then,” Revlen says. “Clearly, something has destabilized the ley line. It's been in flux for a while, but nothing like this.”
“It's almost like it’s reaching out,” Verin says. “Seeking something to finally tip the balance.”
Esras's gaze drifts to me, where I remain in the doorway. “Or someone,” he says.
All eyes turn my way, as the others become aware of me too.
“Good morning,” Revlen says. “Did you manage to get some rest?”
I nod, but don't move toward the table.
Cade cocks his head. “Cassie, are you okay?”
“I'm fine,” I say.
I can't bring myself to tell them about what I experienced. Not yet. I'm still too raw, too unsure of what to do, even as every fiber of my being screams out for me to do something. “I think I'll step outside and get some air.”
The truth is, I don't really feel the need to get some air. God knows, it probably smells of smoldering fires out there. But I keep seeing Julia’s face before my eyes, her vacant expression and her hopeless gaze. I don't want to break down in front of those gathered.
The others remain watching me, and I can see in their eyes that they know something's wrong.
“Be careful,” Cade says.
“I’ll stay close,” I say.
I walk from the room and through the bar to stand on the empty sidewalk. It's still mostly dark out there, the sun not yet having risen above the buildings. I feel numb, tired and worried. I feel frustrated and helpless. Mostly, though, I feel my blood starting to boil, as anger rises inside me. Once again, I see that hallway lined with white doors. I imagine Vintain striding toward the one hiding Julia. Within my mind, I see her sitting on the bed, her blank expression turning to one of terror as that door opens.
My body starts to thrum, magic sparking in my veins. I feel its crackling charge, like sparks dancing along my skin. Heat spreads within my chest, and I look for a target—a window to break or a wall to smash down—anything upon which to vent my rage. Just as quickly, the energy withdraws, as it’s suddenly cut off again. I ball my fists and dig my nails into my palms, as I let out a cry of frustration and rage.
Suddenly, a woman shouts, “Cassie, look out!”
I spin at the sound of her voice, just as someone comes at me. I barely have time to register a figure, dressed in black. A man, I think. Tall. I see the quick glint of a blade. In the same instant, someone else barrels past me, slamming into the stranger and taking him down. Two shadows spin in the dirt, struggling for control of the knife. I hear grunts, blows striking flesh, and the labored breaths of their struggle. For just one instant, the stranger gets on top, and I realize it was Esras who ran past me. Then he regains control, flipping the other man onto his back. Suddenly, the stranger lets out a strangled groan. The struggle stops as his limbs go limp.
Esras leaps to his feet, backing away as he draws in breaths. I look past him to see the other man, where he lays upon the ground. The sky continues to brighten as he stares up, his bloodied hands wrapped around the dagger hilt protruding from his chest. In that same instant, a beam of sunlight clears the rooftops to shine on his face. My eyes widen in disbelief. The man who came at me was Isaac.
Everything happened so fast that I've all but forgotten the woman who called out to warn me. She runs past me now, dropping to her knees at Isaac's side. It's Sloane, tears streaming from her eyes as she reaches out to her friend with shaking hands.
“What were you thinking?” she says. “Isaac, why?”
His eyes bulge as he tries to raise himself up on his elbows. He labors to breathe as he tries to speak, his voice little more than a whisper. “We can't let them get the key,” he says. “Please listen to me. We can't let them—”
Isaac sucks in a breath as his eyes roll back in his head. What strength he had left leaves
him, and he slumps back to the ground, his hands losing their grasp on the knife. Beside him, Sloane sits on her knees, folding in on herself as she weeps. Her back shudders as she softly repeats her friend’s name over and over, her voice numb with incomprehension.
In my shock, I only now become aware of Esras, who has come to stand beside me. I feel his eyes upon my face, checking to see if I’m okay. But I keep my gaze on what only I can see. I watch as Isaac’s spirit rises from his body, a bluish white shimmering orb that quickly fades from the realm of the fae.
CHAPTER 22
“It’s time to make our move,” Revlen says. “We’ve never experienced anything like this, and we’d be fools to waste the chance.”
To make her point, she raises her hand and a blue electrical glow rises from her fingertips. She passes sparks between them like a magician performing a coin trick.
“It’s true,” Ecubon says, cradling within his own hand a burning flame. “We’re getting our magic back. This has never happened before, no matter how much the Seelie seemed to be losing control.”
My ears prick up at his words. Until this moment, I’ve wondered but I’ve never been sure. Now I know that my experience truly has been different from theirs. Even though my magic here has kept slipping in and out of my grasp, it’s kept fighting to get through. But what does it mean, and why am I different? And while right now, I can feel magic pulsing through me, I also know that doesn’t mean it won’t soon be cut off. Only one thing seems clear. Each shift gets stronger, and this feels like the strongest one yet.
“Which is not to say they won’t retain magic of their own,” Revlen reminds us. “It only means we may finally have something like a level playing field. And even that’s a stretch.”
As we sit gathered at the table, I remind myself to pay attention. I’m in this game and the stakes are high. Very high. At the same time, it’s a struggle not to remain numb from the shock of what happened earlier. The same thought keeps going through my brain: Isaac tried to kill me.
Whether it was Isaac who tried those other times, I’m not sure, although I suspect that was probably the case. Cade, I can tell, is struggling to focus too. He keeps slipping away, his expression haunted with the knowledge of what he’s learned about his friend.
After it happened, we brought Sloane back to the Gilded Gargoyle, while Revlen and her people went to retrieve Isaac’s body. We did what we could for Sloane. Eventually, she told us how she became suspicious of Isaac weeks ago, but had remained more so after their argument. In fact, he’d been acting strangely since Cade first told them about my ability to cross into Faerie, at the time voicing his speculations to his partners. Even then, he’d wondered if I might be the one described in that passage he’d also learned about through Kezia.
After that, Sloane observed that Isaac became uncharacteristically quiet whenever Cade mentioned me. Even as he listened intently, as if noting every detail of my comings and goings. In the time that passed, and as Isaac more frequently voiced his concern about the fae possibly finding their way back into the human realm, Sloane began to wonder.
Last night, when Cade came back to Silvermist, Isaac became especially agitated. According to Sloane, he didn't sleep after Cade went back to his apartment. Instead, she found him sitting in their darkened living room. The feeling she got was that he might be listening. And when she heard Cade set out this morning to make his way back, she checked to find that Isaac had left too. She concluded that he must have followed Cade, and she did the same.
As for Esras, he became concerned earlier when I came upstairs. Like Cade, he noticed that I seemed distracted and upset. He’d also wondered if I was safe being outside. He came to check on me just in the moment that Isaac and Sloane both appeared. If he hadn’t, I’d likely be dead.
But all of that is over now. Isaac is dead, Sloane has returned to Silvermist, and major shifts have been happening with the ley line in just the last few hours. Revlen is right. The time is now, which means I need to get my act together.
“Here’s what’s going to happen,” Revlen says. “Cells throughout the city will start creating disturbances in the next couple of hours—coordinated events to call out the Royal Guard and start spreading them thin. At this point, the Seelies have outed themselves. We know they’re nowhere near as many, nor as strong, as they’ve led us to believe. We’re estimating that at least half their forces will become bogged down in crowd control. Don’t get me wrong. We don’t expect to win in one round, but we do think our proud Queen Abarrane will send her men out hoping to set examples. In doing so, she’ll continue to demoralize her troops. They’re nowhere near ready for a fair fight anymore.”
Revlen brings her attention to bear on Ecubon, Tonorf and Verin. “Each of you will lead your factions toward the palace. Tonorf to the west wall and Verin to the east. Ecubon and I will lead the charge toward the main gate.”
“I’ll ride with you,” Esras says.
A moment of silence follows. “I’m not sure,” Revlen says. “It might work to our advantage if—”
“I’ll ride with you.” Esras repeats, keeping his eyes on hers. The message is clear. He’s done with hiding the fact that he has taken a side.
Revlen nods. “Very well. If you’re sure.”
“I am.”
Revlen turns to me and Cade. “Cade, you’ll take Cassie through the tunnels. I trust you remember their layout well enough.”
Tunnels? This is the first I’ve heard of it, but it isn’t like I’ve ever been sure how I could rescue Julia from her prison. My astral reconnaissance with Fashenan was definitely informative, but stepping out of my body again won’t allow me to help her.
A smile tugs at the corner of Cade’s mouth. “As long as Cassie can take the fragrance.”
Oh, those tunnels. I look at Cade to make sure I understand correctly.
He shrugs, indicating that I do.
Great, so that’s our game plan. Everyone heroically charges the walls, while rebel cells create diversions throughout the city. Meanwhile, Cade and I scuttle like rats through the sewers. Was that part mentioned in any prophecies? Something tells me probably not.
*
We spend the next few hours biting our nails and waiting, while Revlen dispatches messages to cells throughout the city. As she prepares, I see my first lingualawks, sleek silver birds with sky-blue eyes. Revlen whispers words into their ears, as the birds sit perched on a wall in the alley. They take to the air one by one, rising into the clouds where they become nearly invisible.
Soon, it’s just a matter of time until all hell breaks loose. The impression I get is that, while the Seelie know about the rebels, they've never taken them seriously. They've long regarded any opposition as having no teeth. Which has largely been true until now. As a result, they’ve failed to notice not only the extent of the rebel movement, but also the fact that they've been quietly training for years.
Finally the moment comes for those attacking the palace to ride out. Before long, the streets will flood with rebels approaching those walls, while in other parts of the city they’ll confront soldiers representing the crown. I have no doubt that Revlen is correct in her assessment. More than likely, they won't overthrow the Seelie regime in one fell swoop. Still, the pandemonium about to bloom will serve as a vivid wake up call. Unless the Seelie can regain their stranglehold on magical power—something that at this point seems unlikely—their days of oppression are numbered.
As Esras joins the others to set off, he holds his head high. His eyes are clear and determined, his jaw set with conviction. All the same, I can't help but wonder if within him rages an inner conflict. He's about to take up arms against his own people—in a sense, his very own family. I can't imagine how it wouldn't be tearing him apart.
Just before he leaves, his gaze meets mine, lingering just long enough. In that frozen moment, as he straps on his sword, I receive his unspoken message. He hasn’t forgotten the night we shared. He thinks of it still. Even if
, in the days that have passed, there’s been no way for us to be together. And, right now, it’s quite possible that we’ll never see each other again. Because, as strange and archaic as their methods seem, in this realm where battles are fought with magic and swords, war still means the same thing as it does in my own. People will die today, and there's no way of knowing who those people will be.
*
Soon, Cade and I make our way beneath the streets of the city—wearing, as it turns out, official palace servant uniforms. Not exactly what I had in mind, and definitely not the stuff of prophecies. At least to my way of thinking. Essentially, these are the same types of clothes worn by those serving the Ferndelm family—a plain, sturdy skirt and blouse for me, wool pants and collarless shirt for Cade. The only exception being our leather vests bearing the crest of the Winter Court. Yes, I’m feeling more heroic by the moment, especially now that I’m dressed as a medieval scullery maid.
The clothes were somehow procured by one of Revlen’s people, the idea being that we’d have a better chance of going unnoticed. I’m also wearing a glamour Cade cast, one fitting the part. A quick look at myself showed me to be a young woman with frizzy auburn hair, freckles and hazel eyes. Let’s hope it lasts this time.
As far as the sewers go, we're far from the only rats scuttling along. While I imagined it being just the two of us stumbling through the stench-filled darkness, the tunnels are ablaze with torches. Unseelie men and women move past us in both directions, on missions of their own. Before long, we cut away from the main flow as we enter another tunnel through which we alone move. My heart starts racing at knowing that ours is a singular objective. We alone will attempt to enter the palace grounds.
I can't help but give voice to my fears, only now asking what I should have before. “Cade, is this a suicide mission? Would we be better off waiting?”
Even as I speak the words, I regret them. Julia remains trapped and terrified. How can I even think about waiting?
