Chapter 31
A Lamb for Slaughter
“Maeve?” Ember whispered hoarsely again, tears streaming down her face. The light from the wisp lit Maeve's blue eyes, rimmed red and puffy, and Ember felt her heart leap into her throat.
“You found me,” Maeve whispered, bottom lip trembling. “I didn’t think anyone would ever find me.”
“Of course I did,” Ember whispered back, still gripping the little girl’s hand. “Are you ok?”
That was a stupid question, the answer evident by the purple and green on her wrists and neck and her almost translucent skin, like she hadn’t seen the sun in months.
Ember swallowed dryly. “I will get you out of here and get you home,” she said—no, promised.
Maeve gave her a small nod and pointed behind her, then over Ember’s shoulder to the cell across the hall. “I can’t leave without them,” Maeve said, standing taller than Ember remembered she could.
“Maevie, I’ll come back for them,” Ember replied, “but my only concern right now is you.” Ember didn’t even know how she would get Maeve home if she could break her out of the dungeon, let alone dozens of other children—Vala and Fae alike.
“I know,” Maeve smiled, “but they’re counting on me, and I won’t leave them. I can’t.”
Ember took a shaky breath—her sense of duty was admirable, something Ember respected and envied.
This wasn’t the little seven-year-old that was snatched from her bedroom in the dead of night.
This was a girl who had chosen to wield her fear like a knife, defending those who couldn’t defend themselves.
“Okay, well,” she thought out loud, “I’ll just get you all out and then we can…”
But she didn’t get the chance to finish her thought. Laughter—men’s laughter—echoed down the opposite end of the hall. Guards.
Ember’s eyes widened as she looked back at Maeve. “I’ll be back for you,” she whispered, “all of you.”
Maeve gave her a silent nod, and Ember tore off down the hall, past Aesira’s cell, and up the stone steps.
She slipped out the wooden door, hearing it close behind her with a soft click, and snuck through the rest of the palace, out the kitchen door, and into the cold night.
She didn’t even remember making her way back to the chateau.
She just ran as fast as her tired legs would carry her.
She burst through the front gate, not bothering to scale the wall back up to her room, and rushed through the front door, probably waking everyone in the large home.
She ran through the halls, throwing doors open and slipping across the marble floor, until she came to the small den in one of the back hallways. She flung the door open, damn near ripping it off its hinges, and barreled into the room where her mother was sitting in front of the fire reading.
Aoife furrowed her brow, closing her book slowly and setting it on the couch beside her. “Ember, what on earth,” was all she said.
Despite the chill in the February air, Ember was drenched in sweat. She felt the dirt on her neck, the way it scratched against her skin as she tried to rub it off her face. She probably looked crazy.
She felt crazy.
“Mum, you can’t trust him,” she pleaded, desperately sucking air into her lungs as she closed the door quickly behind her. She rounded the couch to sit beside Aoife. “All of the children that have gone missing this year around the island, they’re all here.”
“How do you know?” her mother asked, brow still knitted.
“I saw them,” she replied. “I snuck back into the castle, and I know I shouldn’t have, Mum, but I saw the children all locked up in cells, so many of them chained to the walls with bruises and cuts all over them.
” Her breath caught as she thought about Maeve and how the life looked like it had drained from those beautiful blue eyes.
“Mum, he’s been kidnapping them, and he’s keeping them locked in the dungeons.
We have to help them.” She was breathing so hard she thought she might pass out.
Aoife stood up from the couch, walking to the door and quietly locking it. “You weren’t supposed to find out like this,” she said, as she shook her head, rubbing the bridge of her nose. “I was going to talk to you before the ball, try and explain—"
“Explain?” Ember cut her off. “Mum, what are you talking about?”
Aoife sat back down beside Ember, taking her hand in her own. “Your granda’ is sick,” she began.
Ember huffed. What did that have to do with anything?
“His magical core is weakened. It’s draining slowly, and it has been for years—longer than you’ve been alive. There are no known standard cures. The healers have tried everything. We’ve tried everything.”
Ember stared at her mother, and a scared little girl stared back—a scared daughter.
“He found a cure,” she continued, “several years back, but it’s tricky. There are so many moving parts, so many steps that it’s taken a while to acquire what we need.”
We.
“That’s why he wanted the book,” Ember filled in the blanks, “and why he needed me to open it. There was something in it he needed.”
“He opened the book,” she replied.
Ember blinked. “But Rowan said he needed me.” The more her mother told her, the more confused she was by the events of the last year.
“He did need you, Mo Stór.” Aoife smiled. “Not to open it, but for what was inside.”
Ember bit her lip, suddenly feeling very hot, like the fire across the room was licking at the tips of her fingers, singing her hair and nose.
“There is a spell potion in the book,” she continued. “It is very complicated with many ingredients that are almost impossible to find, but it would heal his magical core completely.”
“What does that have to do with me,” Ember asked.
“The key ingredient, the one he has been searching for for years, is Wildling blood.”
Ember froze—she couldn’t have heard that correctly. “And the children in the dungeon? They’re all Wildlings?”
“Oh, no,” Aoife almost laughed, “not the ones who have been tested thus far anyway. He’s been testing their blood for the last year to see if there were any in hiding.
Underaged Vala have notoriously strong magic, it would be easier to detect in a young one.
We started with the Fae children, to see if we could get by with it, but it was unsuccessful.
That’s when we started testing on Vala.”
“And then you found me,” Ember said. It wasn’t a question. Something told her the timing wasn’t coincidental.
“You were meant to be his savior the day I found out what you were.”
What…
Something about the way Aoife looked at her made her sick to her stomach—like she was an animal she had been hunting all season and finally had in her crosshairs.
“That’s why we left,” Ember whispered, puzzled pieces shifting together. “That’s why we left the island, to keep me away from him.”
Aoife all but rolled her eyes, nostrils flaring. “Your father didn’t agree with my decision to give you to your granda’, but I knew you were his only chance. I made a plan when you were six to bring you home, but he found out.”
Arguments in the dead of night flitted through her mind—a screaming match against the night sky while waves churned underneath her.
“This will keep you safe.”
Her father’s words rattled around in her head as she twirled the ring on her right hand. Had he put some sort of protection spell on it? Could that have been what Cormac was talking about? A spell to hide her in plain sight, away from her mother?
“You took me on the boat,” she whispered. “We were on that boat because of you.” Ember felt like the breath had been knocked out her lungs, and she was suddenly filled with a fire in her chest that threatened to consume her entirely.
“The sky was clear that night,” Aoife replied, shaking her head. “There were no storms on any radars. It shouldn’t have happened like that.”
Ember’s bottom lip trembled. “You killed him.” She felt something in her break, shattering into a million pieces.
Aoife looked like she had been smacked. “I might be a villain,” she hissed, “but I am not a monster.”
“My entire childhood was ripped away from me because of you.” Ember suddenly couldn’t breathe, her lungs felt like they were slowly filling with water.
“What happened to you made you stronger.” Aoife gave her a small, comforting smile that turned Ember’s stomach.
“I was a child,” Ember whispered, as she took a step back. “I didn’t need to be strong, I needed to be safe.”
Aoife tried to say something, to argue her point, but Ember cut her off.
Ember shook her head. “So, your plan was to just hand me over? To leave me locked up in a castle and have my core drained? To what end?”
Aoife sighed as she looked at the ceiling. “Our family was promised this island thousands of years ago. It is our birthright. We all must make sacrifices for the greater good.”
“And I was the lamb you chose to sacrifice?”
“I wish it could be different,” Aoife replied.
“We tried so hard to find another Wildling with enough power for what we needed, but you are his last hope. When your brother came along,” she continued, “I thought he would solve our problems,” she replied, “but he didn’t have the same…
mutation that you did. He couldn’t help your granda’ the way he needed. ”
Mutation.
Ember suddenly felt sick. This was what her mother thought of her—this is who she was to her, just a means to an end. She furrowed her brow. “Is that why you never bothered to learn sign language?”
“I had other things to worry about,” Aoife replied with a wave of her hand. “He was able to communicate with Gaelen, and she could tell me anything important. That’s all that mattered.”
“And if I say no?” she asked, crossing her arm defiantly over her chest, hoping she looked stronger than she felt.
“The spell requires cooperation—the blood must be given willingly,” Aoife replied looking uneasy. “But I will say, they have ways of making you become willing. It would be easier if you just said yes. Don’t make this harder than it has to be.”
Ember suddenly felt like an animal caught in a snare—the harder she fought, the more stuck she seemed to become.
“What happens to me after?” she whispered.
“Your magical core will be weakened for a while. It’s not a one-time thing. It will take a while to have the amount we need, at the potency we need it.” Aoife didn’t look that least bit sorry, just matter of fact.
Ember knew what that meant, she didn’t have to say it. Her magical core was her life blood—without it she would…
No.
“Will I die?” Ember asked quietly, suddenly feeling very afraid.
“Of course not, love,” Aoife chided. “If you die, we can’t keep him alive now, can we?”
“And the children in the dungeon?” she asked. “If I say yes, what happens to them?” Maeve's face lit up every corner of her mind.
“They will become servants,” Aoife said softly, like she didn’t have her own young child asleep in the room above her.
“Either, in the castle or to noble men and women in town. The ones who are too old to be bent will be disposed of in whatever measure your granda’ sees fit.
They can’t be sent home, as no one can know this place exists—it is our only upper hand. ”
“Upper hand?” Ember scoffed. “You act like we’re on the brink of war.”
“In some ways, we are,” Aoife replied.
Ember swallowed dryly. “And after he’s healed?” she asked, fear gripping her lungs, making it harder and harder for her to breathe. “What happens when he’s back to normal?”
“Those are plans we can discuss later,” Aoife coddled her, like a child she was trying to console, “but after his time on the throne is over, you are the heir. This island will be yours.”
I am destined for darkness.
“Not you?” Ember narrowed her eyes.
“I was never meant to rule. I abdicated,” Aoife replied, shaking her head. Something like regret shadowed her face, like maybe that wasn’t a decision she made willingly. “I much prefer to work behind the scenes.”
Ember’s chest shook. She had to get out of there, out of that room and away from the woman in front of her—the woman who felt more like a stranger now than she ever did before.
She stalked toward the door of the study, gripping the handle as she struggled to breath.
She turned back around, tears streaking down her face.
“Is that the reason you finally came for me?” she whispered, chest shaking.
Aoife’s face was a mask—unreadable. “I love you so much, Mo Stór,” she replied, “but he is the future of the island. This is our only hope.”
It wasn’t an answer, but suddenly, Ember wasn’t sure if she really wanted to know.
She stormed out the door, running as fast as she could up the steps to her room. She slammed the door behind her and cried—truly cried, unable to fully grasp what was going on. And then something flickered through her mind, a small piece of their conversation.
We tried so hard to find another Wildling with enough power for what we needed, but you are his last hope.
Another Wildling.
That meant she wasn’t the only one.
Ember didn’t leave her room the next day—didn’t have any desire to be in the same room as her mother—and by the time the sun was beginning to set outside her bedroom window, she was starving.
She read through her father’s journal, anything to feel close to him again, and waited for the hours to creep slowly by.
A few hours later, Theo tiptoed into the bedroom and laid a sandwich on the desk by one of her windows.
She devoured it so quickly, she almost thought she had imagined it.
Theo laughed as she ate and laid on the floor with a book and a notebook where he was meticulously practicing his writing.
He looked up at her and wrinkled his nose in a grin as she licked the crumbs off the plate.
“Thank you so much.” Ember grinned, forgetting to sign. “I was famished.”
Theo shrugged his shoulders and smiled, and Ember furrowed her brow.
“Do you know what I said?”
Theo’s eyes widened, panicking. He sat straight up, like he was ready to bolt, and then Ember laughed.
“You can read lips, can’t you?” She grinned.
Theo nodded sheepishly, crimson staining his cheeks.
What a cheeky little boy.
“Why didn’t you say anything?” Ember asked.
Theo shrugged as he bit his lip. “No one ever bothered to learn for me,” he signed, and Ember frowned.
No one had ever bothered to learn sign language.
Gaelen is the one who taught him, and their mother had certainly never put in much effort.
He had never been important enough for anyone—never felt important enough for anyone.
Ember’s heart sank as she climbed off her bed and onto the floor, wrapping him in a hug. She lifted his chin and sat back.
“I will always bother,” she promised.
She didn’t know what the future had in store for her—didn’t know how they were going to escape this nightmare, but she would never regret any of it if she could save him too.