Chapter Thirty-Five
The King’s Guard bursts into the room, blades drawn, and escorts all five of us out of the Tower and back to Kensington Palace.
“His Majesty’s orders,”
one of them barks. “You’re not to leave Kensington again. Any of you.”
“Emmett!”
I scream as they drag me out of the Tower. But there is no answer except the sloshing of the river and the cry of a raven lifted on the breeze. Wherever Emmett is, it’s not here.
There are more guards at the gates, fending off the mob that has multiplied. The violent sea of people shakes our carriage as we pass through the crowd, their hands leaving desperate, sweaty prints on the glass.
“Please, Your Majesty!”
they shout once they spot me inside. “Please!”
Someone throws a rock, and one of the windows shatters, raining glass down on Faith and Olive.
I fear the carriage is going to tip when the gates creak open, just wide enough for us to pass through, and the mob is pushed back.
The guards help us down, and I expect them to lock us away in Caledonia Cottage, but they just disperse, leaving us.
From across the lawn, an explosion sounds. We turn to each other, panicked, and race across the grass to find not a battlefield, but a party raging. Fireworks burst in a rainbow of colors over the palace, leaving a shower of sparks in their wake.
“If you want to run, I suggest you do so tonight,”
I say to the four girls.
“Are you staying?”
Marion asks.
Whatever look crosses my face must be answer enough. If Lydia and Emmett truly are imprisoned in the Otherworld, as I fear, then Bram’s good graces are my only tool to get them back.
“Then we are staying,”
Marion says resolutely.
I push through the crowd to find my parents. I’m passed glasses of champagne and stopped every few feet to be given hearty congratulations. It’s an odd sight, the ton without the disguise of their bargains. The men are shorter, the women’s faces wider and less refined. Some, it seems, left the ceremony in a panic after the bargains were undone, but most stayed to party, unconcerned.
I find my own parents, completely sloshed, around a bonfire with a group of friends. “Ivy, my finger!”
My mother wiggles her pinkie at me with pride. “Have you seen your sister?” she asks.
“Why aren’t you gone? I told you to get back to the house.”
My mother just laughs. “But we’re having such fun!”
There’s a strangeness to the party, something just off-key. I dump the champagne I’ve been handed in the grass and it sizzles slightly as it hits the ground.
As dawn rises and the celebration dies down, we have no choice but to retreat to our rooms and wait to see what the day will bring.
The other girls find their parents but return to Caledonia Cottage to sleep, not wanting to risk their safety by disobeying orders.
I allow a footman to bring me to my new chambers, in the same apartments as Bram. They’re eerily silent, Bram still missing. It’s wishful thinking, but maybe he’s decided to return to the Otherworld and leave us all be.
I sneak through the empty halls of the palace to Emmett’s empty room, my heart breaking at the sight of it. Pig is buried under his blankets, scared of the noise from the fireworks. He’s shaking as I scoop him up in my arms. “Come here, you. We’ll wait for your dad together, all right?”
I whisper.
I bring Pig back to my room, and he settles into bed beside me, his tiny warm body the only comfort I have.
In the end, my exhaustion wins out and I am soon unconscious. I wake to bright sun streaming through the windows. It’s late afternoon.
There’s an awful moment of realization when I remember last night’s events. I look down to the gold wedding band encircling my third finger and resist the urge to toss it into the fire. Now is the time to be brave.
I peer out the window to find a perfectly calm summer day. The grounds are still and silent. The mob at the gates is gone.
I wrap myself in a dressing gown and pad down the stairs on bare feet.
There is odd music coming from the reception hall, the same fiddle tune from the queen’s tea party.
From the top of the stairs, I take in the gilded room. It’s filled with dozens and dozens of Others, clad in a pastel rainbow of colors. The women’s gowns have bell sleeves so long they graze the floor, and the men are in vibrantly embroidered coats, just the same as Bram’s. Some wear scarves of odd objects, forks and fishing nets and flour sacks embroidered with golden thread.
They’re laughing and dancing to the reel like this is all one big celebration. I’m astonished by how inhuman they look. Seeing them all together as a group, it is easier to register the overlong limbs, the eerily perfect faces, the pointed ears. I can’t believe I ever thought Bram could pass as one of us.
And then I realize. It is done. He’s opened the door between our worlds.
There’s blood on the floor, like someone has spilled a bucketful, but I can’t identify the source.
Bram is standing near the front of the room, a golden goblet in his hand, surrounded by fawning courtiers. He’s got a crown of emerald vines on his head and a matching earring dangling from one ear.
He spots me, and a wide smile spreads across his face. He raises his cup to me. “My bride!”
The fae courtiers raise their glasses with sharp, hungry smiles.
Bram bounds up the stairs and takes my arm. “Come, wife. I have so many new friends for you to meet. Let us begin.”