Chapter 39 #2
Dad snorts. “I haven’t approved yet.”
“Me neither,” Noah adds.
I throw my head back, rolling my eyes. They both pulled the same stunt with Declan, grilling him like he’d committed a crime, when I first introduced him. Unbelievable.
“Please,” Mum says, wine glass in hand. “He’s a king. What more do you need?”
“I don’t know … a dowry?” Noah shrugs. “Surely a king can cough up a handsome sum.”
I hiss. “Are you seriously putting a price tag on me?”
“If he’s just going to snatch you away, we’ve got to make it worth something. Can’t have you live a royal life all by yourself, sis.”
And here we go, yapping at each other like we’re teenagers again. Mum and Dad let out the same long-suffering sigh in unison.
“First, I’ve got to hope the Court is still there for me to rule.” The sarcasm turns bitter at the end of the sentence. “I can’t believe it’s taking Gideon this long.”
“That’s because he isn’t coming,” a cool, almost-bored voice answers from the doorway.
Every drop of blood drains from my face.
Atticus.
I’m already on my feet, standing between him and my family.
“What have you done to him?”
“Nothing. I don’t even know where he is.” Atticus shrugs, his fingers tracing lazily along the cabinet by the door like he’s admiring a piece of art. “You have a lovely home. Not sure why you’d trade it for ours.”
“Who’s this?” Noah steps beside me.
“Ah—where are my manners?” The prick smiles, stalking closer and extending my brother a hand like this is some kind of dinner party. “Name’s Atticus.”
“What—the rat of the Court?” Noah spits, not an ounce of fear in his eyes.
Atticus doesn’t even bother to deny it anymore.
“I see my reputation precedes me.” He lowers his hand, gaze dropping to me. “Seeing as you’re dying to come back, I thought I’d save you the trouble and escort you myself.”
“I’m not going anywhere with you,” I say through clenched teeth. Mum is behind me now, Dad at my side.
“Did you think that was a question?” He tilts his head, smiling—then drags his eyes to my parents. “I wonder if your parents would like to see where you live.”
“Like my daughter said—we’re not going anywhere with you,” Dad says flatly.
I love him for standing up for me, but he doesn’t know what these Fae can do. I don’t even know what Atticus can do.
And now he’s threatening my parents.
What do I do?
I don’t have my daggers, and I’ve got nothing to use against magic.
I’ve got no choice.
Atticus is going to hurt them—or hurt me and make them watch.
No one can help me here.
Gods, I’ve never felt so helpless like this past week. And now I really wish I was Fae. That the stars had given me something to fight this piece of shit. Anything.
“Where are you taking me?” I ask, and immediately feel Mum’s hand tightening painfully around mine.
“You can’t go with him, Cass,” she whispers.
“Not back to the cell,” Atticus says casually. “Somewhere far more … exciting.”
“I want to see Kieran.”
“You’ll see him,” he drawls. “Eventually.”
Something in his tone tells me he doesn’t mean in this life.
I turn to my mum, taking both of her hands—and she already knows what I’m about to say.
“No … love, no.” Her voice cracks, head shaking in a desperate, silent plea.
“I have to.”
“No, you don’t,” Noah snaps. “Cass, don’t even think about this.”
“I don’t have a choice, Noah.” My eyes flick to Atticus behind me. Wherever he’s taking me, it won’t be anywhere good. But if he wanted me dead, he could have killed me any time in that frozen hell.
He needs something.
Why go through all this trouble to drag me back?
He wants some leverage, or to make a statement.
Either way, it will get me closer to Kieran.
“I will send word as soon as I can,” I promise them, even though it might not even be possible. “Don’t worry, you’ll hear before you even know it.”
It’s better this way, leaving on my own terms, so they don’t have to see him hurt me—or get hurt themselves.
“No.” Dad’s voice is steel, his shoulders squaring as he steps forward. “I won’t let you take her.”
Atticus shows no emotion, as if my dad is nothing but air to him. His eyes remain fixed on me as he says, “You sure about that?”
“Don’t do anything stupid,” I say under my breath.
“I think you should say that to your father.”
Gods. When did he become this unbearable?
“It’s okay, Dad.”
“No, sweet pea, it’s not.”
I nearly burst to tears at that nickname—the one he used to call me when I was a little girl. And now his little girl is about to walk straight into a trap.
I can’t bear to look at their faces. I can’t stand the desperation in their eyes. Part of me almost wishes Atticus would wipe their memories, because this moment will hurt them longer than forgetting ever could.
“I will be back before you know it,” I say with a steady voice. “Time moves faster over there, remember?”
“That’s not funny,” Noah mutters.
No, it’s not.
But I pull him into a hug anyway—tighter than any hug we’ve ever shared. Then Mum, whose sobs echo in my skull. Then Dad, who refuses to let me go.
“I love you,” I whisper, trying not to cry for their sake, even though my throat burns and my eyes sting. “I love all of you.”
I let go and leave quietly with Atticus at my back. The sobbing gets louder with every step, until it eventually fades into the night. I don’t look back.
I can’t.
At least this time, I got to say goodbye.
I should be thankful for that.
“Let’s go,” is all Atticus says once we’re outside.
I take his hand, and the world rips apart.
A few seconds later, light slams into me. Night turns into day. The moon and stars vanish, replaced by a bright, blue sky and sunlight. Cold air burns my lungs as I steady myself, blinking at the endless sprawl of trees around us.
Where are we?
This looks like—
The forest.
It feels like the same one from the first trial. Only this time, the branches are bare, and the air carries the sharp bite of late autumn.
“Welcome to the third trial,” Atticus says beside me.
My head snaps to him. “What?”
“The rules are a little different this time. Originally, we planned to dump all contestants in here and let you rip each other apart. Last man standing wins. But then …” He pauses, a smile blooming across his face.
“I figured it’s more entertaining to let a few angry Fae hunt you all instead. You know—for fun.”
“What the actual fuck—Atticus!”
“Ah, yes.” He holds up one finger, and with a flick of his wrist, both of my daggers materialise into his hands. “Just to make it fair. The others came in with weapons.”
I freeze, cold air trapped in my chest.
He tosses them on the ground, then bows with mock grace.
“Good luck, Your Majesty.”