Long Isle Iced Tea

by Gina LaManna

  “During the distraction at the gala. Make sure everyone takes a tiny sip.”

  “Is there enough in here for everyone?”

  “It will have to be enough. One sip of this, and it’ll change its user into a costume they most desire,” I said. “Have everyone picture the image of a castle guard.”

  “We’ll be costumed as a guard, and that will get everyone out faster,” Peter said. “I knew you’d have the solution, Lily Locke.”

  “It’ll have to work for now. It’s not ideal, and with this small amount of potion, it will wear off quickly.”

  “Understood. Will you please take this?” Peter thrust a dirty scrap of paper into my hands and accompanied it with a pleading expression. “Make sure it’s printed. Do it for me.”

  “We’re going to get you out of here,” I said, folding the paper and tucking it into my pocket. “You can print it yourself. We’re coming right back for you.”

  Peter, in response, gave me a push that had me stumbling toward the end of the tunnel into a cavernous room. Thankfully, this one was tall enough for me to stand up straight, allowing me a full breath of air.

  I let my hands glide over the rocky wall, finally landing on a place where the very thinnest glow appeared in the shape of a large half-moon door. This was a different way out than the entrance I’d come through. My sweater would be left behind, a clue that I’d been to see the prisoners. Hopefully, nobody would notice until it was too late. With any luck, we wouldn’t be here much longer.

  I rested my hands on the stone, but before I could murmur the password, a commotion began in the tunnel behind me. One of the guards had tripped, judging by his curses.

  “Sorry,” Peter said. “You caught on my leg there.”

  “What are you doing out here?”

  “Getting some exercise,” he said, glibly. “It’s not working so well, is it? You guys managed to catch me, and you’re not especially fast.”

  “Who’s with you?” the guard growled. “I heard talking.”

  “Nobody.”

  “We heard voices.”

  “You heard my voice.” Peter launched into a humming melody, somewhere between a song and a chant. “It’s my exercise music.”

  “Where is he?”

  “Who?” Peter’s voice grew in volume and in urgency. “There is nowhere to go. You’re welcome to look around.”

  There was a slap, a roar, and I heard a body crumple to the floor. Peter.

  I hesitated, torn between going back for him and pressing onward. My fingers brushed the crumpled paper in my pocket, however, and it gave me the burst I needed to push all feelings, thoughts, worries away. Everyone’s safety depended on me not getting caught.

  The footsteps began pounding toward my direction, and I made my move. Resting my hands on the door, I whispered, “Open Sesame.”

  It swung open, exposing a dark cavern beyond. I moved through, following a pinprick of light from within. As the stone rolled open, however, it crunched—rock against rock—with enough force that the guards had to have heard it.

  I pushed the door closed and sealed the entrance with a quick locking charm. It wouldn’t hold for more than a few minutes, but it would hopefully be enough time for me to find my way out of here.

  Glancing around, I got my bearings and realized I was in a quiet wing of the castle. It would be impossible for me to find Bartholomew and Belinda; I’d been unconscious when they’d brought me to the entrance, and this was an entirely different exit.

  The only thing left to do was find my way back to my room as inconspicuously as possible and wait there. They’d return, sooner or later.

  No sooner had I taken two steps than a voice called out from the opposite end of the hallway, a voice that made me freeze in my tracks.

  “Lily, there you are.” Lucian stepped from a doorway. “Good evening.”

  “I…I got lost.” I hated how he had an uncanny way of appearing in the right places at all the wrong times. “Just looking for a way back to my room.”

  He closed the distance between us. “I’d be happy to walk you back.”

  “No, it’s fine. Just a point in the right direction and—”

  My response was interrupted by a door opening behind me. I turned, rigid with surprise, to find two men in guard uniforms standing behind me. Peter was hunched over between them, one of the men holding him by the collar of his shirt.

  My mouth fell open at the first sight of Peter in full light. It’d been just a few days since he’d been taken, but already his skin had a yellowish, grimy tinge from living in utter darkness, and his clothes—a standard-issue baggy white shirt and pants—had browned with grime.

  “Sir, we found him escaped from his cell,” one of the guards said, spotting me out of the corner of his eye as he spoke. “Who is she? We have a reason to believe he had a partner with him. His partner is missing.”

  Peter and I made eye contact. I forced myself to look away before the pain on my face made our connection obvious.

  “I don’t see anyone around here who qualifies,” Lucian said, his voice thin as he chastised the guard. “Do you?”

  “Who is she?” the second guard asked, pointing at me. His eyes turned darkly suspicious, but before he could continue, Lucian silenced him.

  Physically.

  He extended a hand and pinched the air. The guard’s body slumped limp to the ground.

  “Stop!” I yelled, rushing toward the guard. “You can’t throw around blood magic like that!”

  Kneeling over him, I checked for breathing. The guard wasn’t hurt, wasn’t even unconscious. He sat up almost at once, pushing me away. He opened his mouth to talk, but nothing came out. His eyes widened, he spoke again, and still…nothing.

  “What did you do?” I turned to my father. “Give him his voice back.”

  “As you wish,” Lucian said with another flick of his wrist. He sounded almost annoyed. “He’s unharmed.”

  “That’s not the point.” I brushed myself off and backed away. “That’s no way to lead.”

  “You will not talk about my daughter like that again,” Lucian said to the guard, ignoring me. “Understood?”

  The guard nodded, then bowed. “Apologies, Sir. Ma’am.”

  “I’m not—” I started, but Lucian waved the guards away.

  I watched as the guards dragged Peter off, my soul cringing as I was forced to stand by and watch. But it was as Peter wanted. I gripped the paper in my pocket for strength.

  “Let us talk,” Lucian said, stepping to my side. “Walk with me. I’ll return you to your room.”

  We began moving in silence. Once the guards had disappeared, his eyes flicked over at me, curious. I didn’t meet his gaze.

  His voice turned icy as he spoke. “This gala is in honor of you, Lily. I expect proper behavior at it. And let me be clear, I’m not asking politely.”

  “You’ve no right to demand anything of me.”

  “Did you find your cousin?” he asked, changing the subject. He studied my face and found his answer there. “Good. Then you’ve seen she’s still alive. But if you want that vampire to live, you’ll behave this evening.”

  My blood ran cold. “Are you threatening me?”

  “Never you, darling.” He reached out and tucked a hair behind my ear. “Never you.”

  My body went into shock at the touch of his hand. I couldn’t move, couldn’t push him away. The thoughts of poor Poppy, locked alone in her cell with no memory of how she’d gotten there—no memories at all—stilled my desire to recoil away from him.

  Stick to the plan, I told myself. However, a voice in the back of my head niggled there, haunting me. The plan may be broken now that Peter had been discovered—I couldn’t imagine the guards would let him attend the gala after his stunt. Without Peter, our distraction was gone, and without a distraction, we’d be at a major disadvantage.

  “Get away from me,” I said, finally finding my voice and stepping back. “I will never respect y
ou.”

  We’d reached a now-familiar corridor, and I fled toward my room.

  “Maybe not yet,” he said, following me to my door as I forced it open. “But until you do, you can fear me.”

  Chapter 31

  I SPENT THE FIRST MINUTES of my father’s absence fuming. I paced around my room in circles until the anger had burned to a simmer, and finally, I was able to redirect my frustrations to a proactive task.

  I first secured the travel belt against my waist, then slipped the gala dress over my head. I made sure to arrange it so that the tiny pockets I’d sewed earlier into the skirt allowed access to my supplies. As a knock sounded on the door, I added the note from Peter into a pocket, too.

  “Did you find them?” Belinda asked after she and Bartholomew slipped inside. “What happened? We waited for you for ages.”

  “He was here.” Bartholomew glanced around, sniffed, and shook his head. “His magic is all over this room. That, and you look incredibly upset.”

  “He…spared me,” I said. “I mean, I guess. He knows I found Poppy.”

  “Here, darling, let me help.” Bartholomew moved to his makeup displays on the table and grabbed some lipstick and a few brushes. He set to work on my face without waiting for permission. “Belinda, the hair.”

  Belinda came around, sympathy in her eyes, and plucked through my hair until it twisted into a stunning up-do. Bartholomew performed a near-miracle in transforming my face into something soft and gentle, reflecting emotions that could never exist in my current state of unrest.

  When they finished, I studied myself in the mirror. Quite possibly, this was the most beautiful I had ever looked. Quite possibly, I’d never felt worse.

  “Thank you,” I said. “I’m sorry, I need a minute.” Throwing the balcony doors open, I stepped into the darkness outside. Although it should’ve been sunset, nothing but the dead of night—pitch black, not even the glimmer of stars or the glow of the moon—encompassed the land.

  My knuckles tightened around the railing as I looked over the destruction below. My mind swam with every item that could go wrong during the gala, everything that could implode and make all of this worse.

  “You are doing your best,” Belinda said, easing through the French doors to stand next to me. “You can’t put all of this pressure on yourself; you’re just one person. We’re here to help you. Use us, trust us.”

  I bit my lip, tears pricking at my eyes. The weight felt crushing, cutting off my breath, but I had to take action. With a nod, I reached into my skirt to withdraw a tiny vial of Long Isle Iced Tea.

  Handing it to Belinda, I nodded for Bartholomew to listen, too. “Stick together and drink this when you see…things happening.”

  “What will it do?”

  I explained the qualities of the potion, leaving most of the plan in shadows. It would be best if fewer details were public knowledge.

  “Will there be a distraction?” Belinda asked. “How will we know when to drink it?”

  “I’m working on it,” I said. “My first plan fell apart. I’m coming up with a backup plan.”

  “I can help,” Belinda said. “If you need me, I will help. I can stay behind if you promise to come back for me.”

  “No, Belinda,” I looked into her eyes and saw only strength there. “I made a promise to you, and I will keep it. We’re getting you both out of here.”

  “What went wrong in there?” she asked, curious. “Something with your plan is off—what is it?”

  “They captured the man who volunteered to create a distraction,” I said, a surge of guilt washing over me. “His name is Peter, and he sacrificed himself so that I could get away from the guards.”

  “Let me take care of it,” Belinda said, squeezing my hand. “Just promise you’ll come back for me.”

  “Belinda—”

  “It’s time to go,” she said briskly. “And, Lily…” She scanned me over, blinking too quickly. “You really do look beautiful.”

  Bartholomew nodded in agreement, and it was on a somber note that we left the room. A guard greeted me outside. It wasn’t the same one, thankfully, who’d been in the tunnel and would’ve recognized me. This one arrived dressed in an impeccable suit, a stern expression, and a posture more rigid than a concrete wall.

  “Thank you,” I said to Bartholomew and Belinda as he led me away. “For everything.”

  We marched in silence, my gown making gentle swishing noises over the ground. The guard’s shoes squeaked against the polished floors, and together we made our way toward a soft symphony of sounds.

  “Where is the gala?” I asked. “Is he meeting us there?”

  The guard didn’t answer, instead opening a door before me to a new wing. We stepped through into a small chamber, subtly glamorous with its rich red curtains, decorative rugs, and golden-lined accessories.

  Statues stood in corners of the room and artwork hung from the walls. A small drink cart sat in the corner, holding crystal goblets and a selection of beverages.

  “Something to drink?” Another man in a suit, a butler of some sort, waited expectantly for my answer to his question.

  I shook my head. “No, thank you.”

  The guard who’d accompanied me stood at the door we’d entered, and I hovered somewhere near an oversized chair in the corner. Another door sat along the far side of these chambers, and from behind it, I could hear the rustles of a large crowd.

  “Where are we?” I asked again. “Is the stage behind that door?”

  The butler, thankfully, was chattier than the guard. “We’re in the small chambers behind the gathering space. Through that door is the stage where your father will be presenting you to the masses. I’d be happy to fix you a beverage to calm your nerves, Miss Locke.”

  “No, thank you,” I said again. “Where is Lucian?”

  The butler flinched at my use of his first name. “He is in a meeting, Miss Locke. He shall arrive shortly.”

  As if on cue, two male voices rang out from down the hallway. The butler let out a smile and set to preparing two beverages.

  “That’ll be him,” he chirped, once the two goblets had been filled with liquid, one full of wine, the other of an amber-colored cocktail. “You’ll likely meet Mr. Liam, as well.”

  “Mr.—” I couldn’t process, couldn’t register anything before the two men stepped into the room.

  If I thought my blood had gone cold before, I’d been wrong.

  “No,” I breathed, my blood turning to ice at the sight of him standing too close to my father. “Liam?”

  The men had been speaking to one another in almost pleasant tones, and judging by the way my father leaned toward Liam and mumbled into his ear, they appeared to be close. Close enough to share confidences.

  Liam looked up, shock registering on his face, and he, too, stilled. The rest of the room faded away, save for the sight of the two men conspiring with one another.

  After all of this, after all my frustrations, fears, and doubts… then this. One of the men I trusted the most had been a traitor the whole time I’d known him.

  “I trusted you,” I said, my voice a hoarse whisper. “I confided in you.”

  “She wasn’t supposed to be here.” Liam turned to my father, his voice rough. “Why is she here?”

  “What’s the problem?” Lucian turned a bright smile between us, and I had the sneaking suspicion he’d orchestrated this whole event. “It looks like we’re all friends already. We can skip the introductions.”

  “No, we can’t,” I said. “Who is he?”

  “Lily, I can explain—” Liam began, but my father cut him off.

  “My oldest friend and confidant,” Lucian said. “The first, and only one, to figure out that I was still alive. Save for your mother, I suppose.”

  “No.” I shook my head, backing into the wall. Instead of the wall, however, my legs hit the oversized chair, and I collapsed into it. “No, no, no. Out of everyone on The Isle, Liam, I trusted you. Gus trusted y
ou, and Ranger X.”

  “That is the beauty of it all,” Lucian said. “That’s what sacrifice is about.”

  “Shut up,” Liam snarled at Lucian, and even the butler stilled. “Why is she here?”

  “It doesn’t matter,” I snapped. “You’re willing to sacrifice everything?! What is this about? Ilinia?” My eyes smarted as I looked at him, searching, praying for understanding.

  “Lily, please.” Liam crossed the room and took a knee before the chair. “You have got to listen.”

  I sat up, disappointment ringing through every bone in my body. “I need to listen to nothing. Let’s get this over with.” I spoke over him, facing my father. “Is everything ready? Let’s do what needs to be done. Now. Start the gala.”

  “You have to understand,” Liam said. “I wasn’t doing this to hurt anyone.”

  “Well, you did.” I looked into his eyes, saw too much there, and had to direct my glance elsewhere. “Get away from me.”

  “Please—” He reached for my hand, but I shoved it away and jumped to my feet.

  “Stay away from me,” I snarled. “Do not touch me.”

  Silence encompassed the room until the butler cleared his throat. “The stage is prepared, sir.”

  “Lily,” Lucian said. “Let us begin our journey together.”

  I followed my father through the door, hardly able to comprehend everything that was happening. I couldn’t meet Liam’s gaze, couldn’t look back at him. He made no move to explain, no further apology.

  As I moved behind my father, the world around me faded to a dull buzz. We stepped on stage, and a sea of people filled the banquet hall. Standing room only, hands thrust in the air, deafening shrieks of excitement surrounded us. There were hundreds, maybe even thousands of them. People hanging onto Lucian’s every word.

  All of it was a haze. I could feel nothing, see nothing.

  When my father clasped my hand, raised it, and forced me to wave to the crowd, I couldn’t stop him. I couldn’t process any of it.

  The only thing I could see was Liam, watching from the wings, a heavy sorrow in his eyes.

  Then my father launched into his speech, and I was guided to sit down by one of the many guards on stage. I sat, tucking the dress around me, struggling to remember the plan. The escape. I’d formulated a backup plan for a distraction. It would be risky, but it was better than staying here another night.