by Gwen Knight
“That so? What can I do for you?”
Leith cast a scrupulous glance my way, his mouth flattening. Did he know? Or did he simply wish to keep this conversation private. “I see you’re engaged at the moment. Perhaps we could speak later?”
Oren gave a friendly chuckle, then leaned in close. “I fear I’ll be…preoccupied for the rest of the evening. We can speak now, if you’d like?”
Heat blazed through my cheeks.
Leith glanced my way once more, his tapered gaze climbing my length as though he didn’t like what he saw. Not that I could blame him. I didn’t like it, either.
“I’m afraid it’s a matter to be discussed privately,” Leith commented.
“Of course.” Oren patted my hand, then leaned down and murmured in my ear. “I won’t be long, my dear.”
Fear seized my throat. Was he kidding? He meant to leave me alone here, surrounded by members of the fae court? Surely someone would eventually see through the glamour?
Leith studied me for some reaction. Somehow I managed to smile and nod. “Don’t be long, darling.”
Oren made a show of brushing his lips against my cheek before trailing after the captain. My skin crawled, and I beat back the urge to wipe my face clean. Instead, I strode toward the nearest wall and leaned against it, my focus on the rest of the corridor.
Thankfully, the other fae were far too wrapped up in their own lives to notice me. Many hardly cast me a second glance. After a few moments, my heart rate returned to normal, and I started to study their interactions out of mild curiosity.
I cast a glance toward Oren and Leith, my breath catching at the sight of Oren’s terse face. He shook his head, then started back to me, his body taut.
“Come on,” he stated, taking my arm with a bit more forceful of a grip.
I scrambled to keep up with him. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Just keep walking.”
Something was certainly off. His friendly demeanor had all but vanished, and his grip was tight to the point of bruising. I glanced behind us to find Leith watching from a dark corner, his mouth pursed.
“Oren, what happened?”
“Keep quiet,” he hissed. “And keep moving. Don’t stop.”
Fear quickened my pace until our sides were flush against one another. If Leith knew the truth, we needed to leave the city now.
“The guards will be watching for us,” he muttered under his breath. “This isn’t good.”
“He knows?” I questioned.
Oren glanced down at me, a fury unlike anything I’d ever seen alight in his eyes. “He doesn’t know about you, but he suspects me. And Leith is Dask’s lap dog.”
“Oh, God,” I whispered. “How will we get out of the city if the guards are watching?”
“They aren’t watching us yet. Leith just wants to feel my position out. See if I’m going to cause any trouble. There’s somewhere I want to take you. It’s risky, but at this point…”
I nodded. “Risky is good. Anything’s better than fighting our way out of Osvea.”
Contemplation narrowed his eyes. “Leith doesn’t know you’re missing. And I’d like to keep it that way. Fighting our way out of Osvea will alert them to your presence. We don’t want that. Right now, he’s only speculating about my stance. He knows, as well as I, that my brother murdered my father. Only difference being that he supports Dask. Any upstart on my behalf would be…unfortunate.”
I sputtered for breath. “Dask murdered your father?”
“Who’d you think would be arrogant enough to assassinate the Lord of Osvea?”
Holy hell. Dask had murdered his own father. And Oren…he’d lost his family, both to political schemes. No wonder Dask had burned down the Foundry. Without Arik, the city was his. He could do whatever he wanted, and no one could stop him.
Except Oren.
“Here,” Oren murmured.
I came to a stop behind him and glanced down at where he was pointing. My stomach clenched at the sight of a sewer entrance. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“Trust me.”
Again with the trust. In all fairness, his previous plan had worked. Other than Leith, not a single soul had stopped us as we left the estate. All that remained was escaping Osvea. And apparently that meant taking a stroll through the gutters.
“What’s down there?” I asked.
He cocked his head and regarded the entrance with a scrunched nose. “As much as I’d love to say a field of roses, that’d be a lie.”
Great. Just great. It was exactly what it looked like then. “You want us to go crawling through the city’s waste?”
“Right now, it’s the only way I know of where we won’t be seen. And we need to move fast before someone does see us.”
“This is going to lead us out of Osvea?”
“It’s the first step.”
I ran a hand down my face and sucked in a deep breath of fresh air. Apparently, it was going to be my last for a while. “Let’s just get this over with.”
He flashed me a grin, then crouched down next to the entrance. My skin prickled the moment his magic sparked. A spell to unlock the door? Interesting. Then he grabbed the handle and wrenched it open.
A puff of fetor rose to my nose. I couldn’t help but gag and turn away.
“You can do this,” Oren assured me. “It’s the only way. If we walk out the front gates, the guards will take note, and they’ll report to Leith.”
“Couldn’t we just use more glamour?”
“Our gates are spelled to diffuse all magic.”
Well, didn’t that put a kink in my plan. I stared down into the offensive hole and sighed. “Guess that only leaves this.”
“Down the hole and into the deep,” he muttered. “Believe me, I’m no more excited about this than you are.”
Voices rose in the distance. We were running out of time.
“Let’s go,” I grumbled.
I gathered my glamoured skirts in one hand and reached for the ladder with the other. Without another thought, I descended into the darkness, my breath catching. With every step, I had to remind myself that this wasn’t the prison. I was not about to be interred for the rest of my life. This was simply a means to an end. A way to escape Osvea. I could do this.
After what felt like an endless climb, my foot touched something solid. I stepped off the final rung and moved out of the way for Oren.
“That wasn’t so bad,” he commented.
I nodded and wrapped my arms around my middle. I could barely see a foot in front of my face—a blessing in this case. I didn’t want to see what my nose could smell.
“Try not to think about it,” he said.
Then he reached out and took my hand. I startled at the contact, but after a moment, my fingers closed around his.
“I can remove the glamour now, if you’d like?”
I nodded before realizing he wouldn’t be able to see. “Please.”
A tingle swept down my arm and focused on our joined hands. I felt the magic slip away from me, felt the dress shift back into my plain garb and cloak.
“Come on,” he said once the change was done. “It isn’t too far. There’s another exit farther up. They should be waiting for us.”
“Who’s they?”
“A group of people who want to help.”
My brows furrowed. He hadn’t mentioned any others. “How do you know you can trust them?”
His hand tightened around mine. “I just do.”
A helpful answer. Course, thinking back, Oren hadn’t been too forthcoming with his information. Like why did he need me free? Where was he taking me? And why had Dask killed his father? To take the throne?
Now wasn’t the time to demand answers, though. Right now, I just wanted out of here. Back up into the light.
I followed Oren in silence, the feel of his hand in mine foreign. He helped me over the more difficult spots and through the muck, all the while assuring me it wouldn’t be much fart
her. Every time he said that, hope surged within me. I needed out of this cesspool.
Finally, he came to a stop and glanced up. I followed his line of sight, and my eyes narrowed on what looked like another doorway above us. Except, no ladder.
“How are we supposed to get up there?” I whispered.
Oren’s fingers slipped from mine as he walked over to the nearest wall and tugged a short cord. Above ground, I caught the gentle ting of a bell seconds before the door popped open.
Moonlight flooded the inside of the gutters, but I refused to look down. I knew what I stood in, I didn’t need to see it.
“Ho down there!” a jovial voice called out to us.
“It’s us,” Oren responded.
I caught the unmistakable sound of laughter before a thick rope snaked down to us.
“You want me to climb that?” I asked.
“It’s knotted,” Oren said. “Easier to climb. I’ll go first so you can watch, and then I’ll help you up at the top.”
Without another word, he latched onto the rope and heaved himself up. From this angle, his movements seemed effortless. He’d grab a knot with his hands, then lift his feet. If a pampered prince could manage this, surely I could too.
Once at the top, he hopped over the edge, then stared down at me. “Your turn.”
My turn.
I approached the rope and grabbed onto it, feeling the threads against my palms. Mimicking Oren’s movements, I grabbed the highest knot I could reach and pulled myself up, my feet resting on a lower knot. So far so good. But as I started to climb, the muscles in my arms began to burn. Halfway up, I wasn’t sure I could go any farther.
I glanced down into the pit and gritted my teeth. I refused to be trapped down there. So, with a deep breath to remind myself what waited beneath, I kept climbing.
It wasn’t until I felt a bunch of hands grab me that I realized I’d made it to the top.
I let them help me over the edge, then I plopped down into the snow and sucked in a breath of clean air while staring up at the moon.
“Didn’t think she’d make it,” a deep voice said with a mocking laugh.
My eyes narrowed, and I found myself staring up at a beast of a fae. Someone I’d never seen before and wasn’t sure I ever wanted to again. Every inch of him screamed dangerous, from the aged scars lining his cheeks to the empty eye socket staring back at me.
“Keira, meet Markos. My uncle,” Oren commented.
Uncle? As in brother to Arik?
“Get her up,” Markos barked. “We haven’t time to sit in the snow making introductions. We need to get inside, and blessed winter, get you two a bath.”
6
Very few know much of Markos Brooke, brother of Lord Arik, and for good reason. A few years after The Crossing, he led an uprising, a march in support of the witches. There were some who rose up with him, lifting their voices as one in opposition of Lord Arik and his methods. They wanted the witches freed to live among them and share their magic. Lord Arik brought the uprising to a swift end, and Markos was never heard from again. There are some who believe him dead, while others believe he lives out in the wilds amongst a group of insurgents, waiting for the day they might take over the city.
—Osvea, a History
I wasn’t sure what to expect, but a quaint home in the middle of nowhere wasn’t it.
After climbing out of the sewers, Markos and a few others led us into the deepest section of the forest, so thick with brush I couldn’t even see Osvea. Gone were my days of living in the estate as Arik’s pet. This had been Logan’s dream—living out here, with no one to answer to but ourselves.
A sharp pang hit my chest as I thought of him. He would have loved it here.
In a way, it also reminded me of my father’s house, only well-built. The thought brought tears to my eyes, ones I dashed away before anyone spotted them. Now wasn’t the time to think of the Foundry, or of those I’d lost. I was knee-deep in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by a group of strangers, all while possibly on the run from Dask—and with his rebel brother, no less.
A great end to the past couple of days.
“Well?” Markos’s gruff voice snapped me back to the present. “You coming inside, girl? Or you planning on standing out in the snow all night?”
Good question. And one I didn’t quite have an answer for.
Oren turned, his head cocked as he regarded me. “It’s all right. We’re safe here.”
Sure, he was. But a witch wasn’t safe anywhere in Faction Fourteen. A fact I’d acquainted myself with many years ago.
When I didn’t move, Oren trudged back through the snow and came to a stop in front of me. “What’s the matter?”
So many things. “Who are these people? And where are we?”
“You’ve met my uncle—”
“That doesn’t mean anything,” I stated. “He’s Arik’s brother. Arik, as in your father? As in the man who kept me under lock and key my whole life? I wasn’t exactly a huge fan of him.”
“But you’ll like Markos, I promise. And the others are just a few of his followers.”
“His followers?” My eyes widened. “Like a cult or something?”
A teasing smile crossed his lips, one that made me blink. “Or something. Come on inside. We’ll clean up, get some food in us, and then you can ask me all the questions I know are rolling around in that head of yours.”
My stomach awoke at the mention of food, the rumbling loud enough to draw Markos’ attention.
He turned back toward the door with a slight chuckle. “Come on in then, girl.” Without waiting for a response, he strode inside and left the door wide open.
“I swear, I’ll answer all your questions once we’re clean and settled,” Oren repeated.
“You better,” I grumbled before following him up the stairs.
I stepped inside and paused in the entryway. Perhaps the exterior reminded me of my father’s place, but the inside was the stark opposite. Lavish furnishings and extravagant wall hangings decorated the interior. My gaze leapt from painting to painting, taking in the grand portraits of Markos and Arik as children, surrounded by the grandeur of the Osvea estate. Perhaps Markos had been exiled, but he sure lived in style.
“Oh,” someone whispered.
My attention shifted back to the entranceway to find myself staring at another fae. She was shorter than most I’d seen, her hair long and scraggly. She stood in the middle of the hallway with a large stack of towels balanced in her hands, her wary topaz eyes watching me from over the fluffy pile.
“My apologies. I didn’t mean to…” Her voice drifted off and her gaze dropped to the floor. “Um, sorry.” Without another word, she darted up the stairs, her pace hurried as though the big bad monster awaited her down here.
I sighed and shook my head. Guess some things didn’t change no matter where I went. Some fae would always fear me. Though, no fae had ever dared apologize to me before. They thought themselves above such behavior, superior to me and my kind.
“Keira?” another voice called out.
I whirled toward the sound of my name, startled to hear it spoken aloud.
Another fae stood in the middle of the nearby stairwell, watching me with a gentle smile. “That’s your name, isn’t it?”
Part of me was too stunned to respond. In Osvea, it’d always been Reaper. Even Arik had addressed me as such. Oren had been the first to use my real name.
“I’m Taly,” she continued. “Why don’t you come with me? We have a bath waiting for you upstairs. And then we’ll find you something to wear for dinner.”
Right. Because my clothes were ruined, thanks to our little trek through the sewers.
When I didn’t immediately respond, she lifted an eyebrow, and the corner of her mouth tugged upward. “Did you hear me?”
I finally nodded, then trailed up the stairs after her. Truth be told, I couldn’t wait to get into something clean.
She led me into a massive room a
dorned with golden hooks and ornate mirrors. At the sight of my own reflection, I staggered to a stop. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen myself. My room had always been bare, furnished with the bare necessities. Nothing more than a cot and a place to hang the clothes Arik had provided me.
I stared at the stranger in the glass, studying her lines and edges for someone familiar. But there was nothing.
“Over here, please,” Taly commented.
I tore my gaze away from my reflection and glanced over at the tub Taly pointed at. Steam rose from the water, yet another luxury I’d never been permitted. My heart leapt at the sight, and I scrambled out of my clothes, eager to test it out. I’d never had a hot bath before. Another one of Arik’s twisted punishments, I was sure.
I left my clothes in the middle of the floor, then started for the tub. Gripping the edge, I dipped in a big toe, then slid my whole leg into the water. Bliss. The moment I touched the water, I felt all the stress roll off my shoulders. I climbed into the tub and sank down low, until the water rose above my chest.
Heaven. This was certainly something I could get used to.
A quiet smattering of chuckles had me opening my eyes.
I was surrounded by fae, all waiting with towels and clothes to help me bathe. And each laughed into her hand as they watched my reaction.
“Ladies,” Taly scolded. “We don’t laugh at the less fortunate.”
Less fortunate. My jaw tightened. I sat up in the bath and reached for the nearest cloth. Less fortunate didn’t describe my life. Prisoner, captive—everything Arik had turned me into.
“Sorry,” Taly continued. “I didn’t mean to imply—”
“I can bathe myself,” I commented, cutting her off. “I’ve been doing it my whole life.”
“But Markos told us to help.”
My eyes narrowed. “Did he tell you to hover and wash me like I’m an invalid?”
“Of course not.”
“Then you can go. I’ll let you know when I’m done.”
Her mouth twisted. She didn’t like being told what to do, especially by me. But I wasn’t going to sit around and listen as they chuckled over my misfortunes. Not when I held them equally to blame.
