Chapter 35 A Way Out
A Way Out
Ember sat on the edge of her bed the next morning, tapping her fingers on her mattress as she watched the sun climb higher over the mountain outside her window.
She chewed on the edge of her lip, mulling over what she had to do next.
She had lost her mind the night before, and she wasn’t sure what was in store for her when she finally decided to leave her room.
She took a shaky breath as she pushed herself off her bed and headed downstairs to confront her mum.
She had to fake it, had to pretend like she was sorry for the way she acted and that she was ready to fall in line with whatever her duties were to be.
The thought turned her stomach, but she kept reminding herself that she was not doing this for herself.
She was doing this for them—for Maeve and Theo, for Killian and Fen, even for Rowan.
She was doing this for her family—her true family.
She steadied herself in front of her mother’s office door, going over the apology she had practiced in front of her mirror all night. Just as she was about to open the door, it swung open on its own, her mother standing by the fireplace holding a cup of tea.
“Good morning, love.” Aoife smiled as she motioned for Ember to enter the room.
It looked like nothing had happened, like she had never even been there.
Everything was back in its place—every picture hanging on the wall, every book back on the shelf, even the lamp she had shattered was fixed, sitting peacefully back on the desk.
Ember felt heat creep up her neck, scolding herself for feeling embarrassed.
“You know,” Aoife continued, as she poured Ember a cup of tea, “I thought maybe someone broke in last night. You wouldn’t happen to know what happened, would you?” Her eyes were serious, but a smile played at the corner of her mouth.
It almost made Ember feel bad.
Almost.
Ember sucked on her teeth, putting on her most apologetic face. “I’m sorry, Mum,” she said. “I’ve had a hard time adjusting, and I just sort of… lost it.”
Aoife nodded as she sat on the couch, patting the cushion next to her. “Would it have anything to do with what we talked about the other night?”
Ember nodded, not needing to lie about that.
“You don’t have to hide your feelings from me,” Aoife cooed. “You can talk to me about anything.” She held Ember’s hand softly, and the way her fingers felt on her skin made her stomach turn.
“I know, Mum.” Ember forced a smile. “I’m sorry about how I acted. And for your… office.”
Aoife laughed as Ember grimaced. “So, tell me, love,” her mum said, “have you had a chance to think about what we talked about yet?”
Ember chewed on the inside of her cheek. “Not much yet.”
“Well, I have a proposition for you,” Aoife replied, turning her body toward Ember. “If you make the decision to do this willingly, on your own accord with no coercion, your granda’ has agreed to train you after his treatments are over.”
“Train me?” Ember furrowed her brow.
“Aye.” Aoife nodded. “If you agree to be your granda’s donor for as long as he needs, after you are back to full power, he will train you to take over the throne.”
Ember swallowed as she nodded. Rowan had told her to fake it, go along with whatever they said, but Ember was finding that to be increasingly more difficult with each breath.
“Is it something I can think about?” Ember asked, trying not to squirm. She needed to buy more time.
“Of course, love,” Aoife cooed. “I will give you till the end of the week to decide.”
“Is it something I can think about?” She didn’t know why she needed to think about it. She should be ecstatic. She should be jumping up and down with excitement at the thought of having a real family again, a permanent family. It was all she had wanted since she was six years old.
“Of course, Mo Chroí.” Otto smiled as he squeezed his wife’s hand. “Take all the time you need.”
The memory of her conversation with Eira and Otto weighed her down.
All the time in the world—that’s what they were willing to give her when she asked for it.
They didn’t hesitate or second guess, they didn’t give her any ultimatums. They loved her, truly loved her enough to leave the decision up to her.
Ember gritted her teeth as she nodded. “That’ll be fine, Mum.”
“Perfect,” Aoife cooed, taking another sip from her mug. “In the meantime, I’ve invited Rowan over to go over some etiquette with you before the ball.”
“Etiquette?” Ember wrinkled her nose, making Aoife laugh.
“Yes,” she nodded, “there are certain things you need to learn, certain customs that you aren’t familiar with, and Rowan will be the perfect young Vala to teach you. You are a princess now, and it’s high time you learned how to act like one.”
Ember groaned. The very last thing she wanted to think about was proper etiquette. She suddenly felt very self-conscious in her jeans and jumper, fidgeting with her sleeve as she bit her lip. “That sounds lovely, Mum.” Ember forced another smile. Fake it, she had to fake it.
“Very good.” Aoife smiled. “Now run and find your brother, and the two of you wash up, Gaelen should have breakfast ready any moment.”
Ember gave a nod and laid down her mug. Aoife kissed her on the cheek, and it took all of her willpower not to physically recoil.
The door to the study clicked closed behind her, and Ember let out a long sigh, wiping her cheek with the back of her hand.
Faking it was exhausting, on a cellular level.
It felt like she was using all her magic to douse the fire inside of her, keeping it to a dull roar.
She walked through the hall, her footsteps echoing off the arching ceilings, and made herself think about Maeve, her tiny face, her bruised neck, the way her lip trembled as she stood to protect the other children.
She thought about Theo and the fact that the only family he had ever known never truly had the capacity to love him—not fully, not the way he deserved.
She steadied herself against the weight bearing down on her chest. She would figure out how to fake it. She had no other choice.
She had to do this for them.
“Your first lesson,” Rowan announced, as she waltzed into the library where Ember was buried in a pile of books, “is to stop slouching.” She snapped the book closed under Ember’s nose, and then shot a spell at her that made her sit completely straight.
“Cut it out!” Ember snapped, yanking the book back toward her. “Just pretend you taught me something so I can keep reading.”
“Are those books telling you how to break the kids out of the dungeon?” Rowan asked, as she pulled out a chair and sat at the table. “Or perhaps how to manipulate your way out of a lifetime sentence with the Jarl if you don’t succeed?”
Ember gritted her teeth. “Do you have something useful to say?” She rolled her eyes as she flipped open her father’s journal—for the hundredth time. “Or did you just come to annoy me?”
“Oh, I’m so glad you asked.” Rowan smiled, flipping her hair over her shoulder.
Ember almost laughed. She was suddenly transported to the library at Heksheim, the two girls giggling behind a pile of books while they studied.
What she wouldn’t give to go back to last year before everything got complicated, before she knew what betrayal tasted like.
She shook her head—wishful thinking never did her any good.
“The ball is in two weeks,” Rowan continued, “and everyone will be too busy dancing and drinking and celebrating to notice a couple of teenagers wandering about the castle.”
Ember tapped the pages of the journal. “Okay…” She nodded.
“Say we sneak down to the dungeons undetected and free the children… what then?” She leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms over her chest. “We can’t just walk them out the front door, and we still haven’t found a way out of the wards. We’re trapped until we do.”
Rowan chewed on her lip. “They would have built a way out,” she said, as she traced the grains of wood on the table. “When the First Families built the castle, they would’ve had a secondary escape route—a means to protect the royal family. We’re just not looking in the right place.”
Ember’s brow furrowed as she focused on the page in front of her, on a name she recognized. “I might have an idea.” She grinned.
Ember had passed Frigg’s Spindle dozens of times in the last month, but the walk suddenly felt more harrowing—dangerous. She didn’t know where this sudden burst of heroism came from, but they were running out of ideas—and time—and it was one last shot to find information.
The town was bustling with people preparing for the ball, shopping and chatting and encouraging flowers to spring out of the thawing soil.
The sun warmed her skin, kissing the freckles on the bridge of her nose, and she breathed in the honeysuckle and thyme.
The bridge that straddled the churning river felt unsteady beneath her boots as she hurried across, but Rowan acted like it was any other March afternoon.
“Now,” she said, as she plucked a wildflower from the grass and stuck it in her hair, “remind me what we’re doing again?”
Ember rolled her eyes as she pulled her father’s journal from her bag.
“My dad made this list,” she said, as she flipped the book open, dodging the children that ran across the cobblestone, “and there’s this little symbol right here, almost like a crow.
I keep seeing it on a bunch of shops that are on the list, so maybe one of them knows something. ”
“About…” Rowan furrowed her brow in question.
“The map next to the list,” Ember replied, a little annoyed that she was having to vocalize this for the fourth time. “Someone drew it—either my dad or someone he knew—and I am willing to bet someone on this list knows more about it.”