Chapter 46
I DON’T KNOW how long I sit there. Sob there. No Collector to remind me to get up. Get going.
Eventually, when the sounds of the Devourer’s eating and then pacing have faded, I pull myself to my feet.
One foot in front of the other. Somehow. Empty.
I stumble on until I drop. No Collector to remind me to rest. To bring me out of myself. To chatter among their own voices.
Their absence is a broad space at my side. Sore in my chest. A splinter of glass in my finger.
The sun lowers, and I’m glad for a moment of oblivion as I flutter away on dark wings.
It gives me a moment to find calm numbness, so once I’m back in my room, I can wash, braid my hair and throw on something unseelie-suitable before setting off to find Drystan.
I’ve let the Collector down. I can’t let my brother down too.
One of the Twylth shadows me, letting me know Drystan was just in the Great Hall.
That’s where I find him, on the gallery overlooking the eternal revelry. Standing up there, not realizing I’m observing him, he is arresting. Pale skin. Dark hair. Stillness made flesh.
Despite the day, despite my fears, the moment he sees me and a small, private smile lights his lips is a comfort.
Gripping the yew banister, I climb the sweeping staircase to reach him and pass Asti, standing guard.
Drystan takes in my pale face, probably notes my lack of jewelry. His expression tightens, hand finding the small of my back. “What’s wrong?”
“I need to see my brother. Contact him. Something. Anything.” The numbness cracks and tears threaten in my throat. I can’t afford them here. Not in front of the entire court.
I push them back, but I fear they’re as relentless as the tide.
“It’s not possible.”
I go rigid. “A message. Something. You came to get me, didn’t you?”
“Annon.” He speaks my name softly, like a prayer for the dying.
“Why do you think we don’t send out raiding parties every night?
We’re subject to the moon’s phases—we may only travel with them.
And you…” He exhales through his nose, lips pressing together.
“Even if you followed the rules I do, it’s harder for a human to cross. ”
The hollow thing in me cracks. “When can you go through then? You can take a message to him.”
“Not for over a week. And even then, it’s… complicated.”
“Complicated?” I laugh, the sound hazed with barely checked anger.
“I don’t care if it’s complicated.” I don’t care if it requires a pile of severed tongues.
I bite my lip to keep from blurting that.
I suck in a sharp breath, use it to try to smother the embers leaping to life inside me.
“My brother is in danger. He’s trying to reach the Underworld—to reach me.
If he makes it here…” I stare up at Drystan, trying to show my desperation without falling to my knees and begging him in front of the entire court.
“I can’t help tonight. But as soon as I can get to the surface, I’ll take him any message you wish.”
I’ll be gone by then. I have two days left in the labyrinth. I only hope I get to Lowen before he finds a ritual that works.
“Is that what these are about?” Drystan touches my cheek, thumb grazing the dried tears.
I grit my teeth. I can’t cry any more. I can’t. Shaking my head, it takes a moment to master myself. “The Collector.” In stilted sentences, I manage to explain how they’ve been helping me through the labyrinth.
His eyes widen. “The Collector has always been unremarkable. Keeping to its territory. A loyal guardian. But it… followed you?”
“They—they joined me.” My chest grows tighter as I tell him about today. The Devourer. The end.
“The Devourer was on the fourth tier?” His nostrils flare as he almost imperceptibly recoils. “It’s much more dangerous than the Collector, so I bound it to that level. It shouldn’t be able to move between them.”
Knuckles white, I grip the gallery’s balustrade. “Well it escaped your binding, Drystan. And it killed the Collector.”
My snapped reply whips up the fae below, turning their dance into an undulating frenzy.
The shadows merge with them, twisting in the spaces between, lapping closer to us, a seeking tide.
Then the balustrade moves. Rolls under my hand. So subtle I question if I felt anything at all. It’s only when Drystan and Asti’s heads snap up as one, I’m sure.
I stare as it twitches and slithers. “What’s—?”
The fae at the bottom of the stairs go still. From their center rises a sharp cry.
Someone’s tripped, which is enough to make me gasp—fae never trip or bump into things.
As they right themselves, a familiar face looks up, cheeks uncharacteristically flushed, and sapphire eyes meet mine.
They narrow as Phaedra glowers at me.
Perfect lips pursed, she yanks at her foot, and when I follow the motion downwards…
I see it.
The balustrade flows down the staircase, the same piece of wood forming the banister, but instead of ending with the stairs, it has formed a tendril snaking across the floor.
Wrapping around Phaedra’s ankle.
From the other shouts, she’s not alone. And the coiling branch shows no sign of stopping as it disappears into the crowd.
My magic. Leaking, when I’m trying to hold everything in.
“Your Majesty,” she calls, “your human appears to have grabbed me.” She doesn’t so much as look at me, but there are razor blades in her gaze and that just might be worse.
There’s a beat where Asti stares, pale, and Drystan gathers himself, chin rising. They exchange a look and he gives the barest nod.
“Now, now, Avellan,” he says, pitched for others to hear as he squeezes my shoulder with an indulgent look. “Play nice.”
Like this is something in my control. A strength, not a weakness. I give what I hope is a mischievous grin and let him escort me down the stairs.
“I see you have energy you need to work off.” He slides his hand to the small of my back and guides me toward the exit as Asti hurries in our wake, signaling to nearby guards, who come forward with axes.
More gazes than usual follow us, and the air thickens, heavy like the night I got Lord Mastelle’s name wrong.
Once we’re free of the Great Hall, I swallow. “I’m in trouble, aren’t I?”
“Not with me.” He gives me a half smile. No dimples. Like he’s trying to reassure me but it’s a gesture he’s unfamiliar with.
“But?”
“But… I daresay Phaedra will be even more pissed off with you.”
“I didn’t mean to—”
“You didn’t. But it’s better they think you did.
” At my questioning look he goes on, “Your magic isn’t the kind we see here.
That alone is enough to draw attention. Add in who you are—a future queen, a human, and that you’ve only just started to manifest it…
” He exhales through his nose like he’s holding back a sigh and there’s a flash of something in his gaze.
Pain, perhaps. “Your actions are under constant scrutiny. As such, you can’t get away with mistakes that might go unnoticed elsewhere. ”
Mistakes… missteps… imperfections. All things that are dangerous in his kingdom.
“Mistakes like being unable to control my magic.”
The flattening of his lips is all the answer I need.