53. Five Is A Lucky Number, Right?
53
Five Is A Lucky Number, Right?
Aliza
D usk had crept across the room by the time I stirred to fingers trailing through my hair. For one, sleepy second, everything was fine and good in the world, but then an insistent gnawing sensation started up in my stomach, and a few seconds later, the morning’s memories came back in a tidal wave of panic.
Mum. Dad.
I bolted upright, snapping my eyes open as nausea surged to my throat.
Idris was sitting on the edge of the bed, staring back at me with mournful eyes. The dying light dimmed them to an almost human-like shade of amber.
“What time is it?” I asked, my empty stomach churning.
How long had it been since Maelgwyn had taken my parents? How much had they suffered while I…
Shame heated my ears, not at what we’d done, as such, but at the fact that we’d done it while my mum and dad were probably being tortured. At the very least, they had to be utterly terrified. What would they think of me if they knew I hadn’t spent the day doing everything I could to get to them ?
“A little after seven. Bryn is waiting to speak with us.”
Panic and hope lanced through me in an electrifying zap, jolting me into action. I scrambled from the bed, noting dimly that I was no longer wrapped in a damp towel, but in a cosy duvet. I wrestled it free of my naked body. The scent of the bubbles still clung to me.
“What? Why didn’t you wake me?”
He gave me a wry smile. “I just did. Your clothes are hung over the chair by the fire.”
Sure enough, the matching sage green leggings and oversized t-shirt I’d packed for today were draped neatly over an old-fashioned chair covered in muted floral upholstery.
“This room isn’t very you,” I observed as I stuffed my feet into my underwear. Why was I talking about such menial rubbish now? Was it my brain’s way of coping with the crushing dread of the unknown, by focusing on small, irrelevant details?
Idris stared around the room, taking in the fussy wallpaper and, dare I say it, old lady-esque decor. “No. I suppose it was redecorated by whoever lived here under my uncle’s occupation.”
“It doesn’t scream ‘villain’s lair’ either. Will you change it back?” I adjusted my breasts in my bra before wrestling the t-shirt over my head. Haste made me clumsy, and it took a lot longer than it should have.
He shrugged. “Let’s see how it all plays out.”
What did that mean? That he wasn’t expecting to live long enough to add a lick of paint? Goosebumps chased the thought over my skin, and I fell still, staring at him and trying not to imagine a future in which one or both of us were dead.
He nodded pointedly at my bare legs .
Oh, right. Clothes.
Hopping on one foot, then the other, I managed to pull on my leggings and a pair of socks before stuffing my feet into my trainers. I’d intended it to be an outfit for a lazy, hungover sort of day, not for playing superheroes.
Idris rose to his feet and extended his hand. My mouth went dry. This was it. This meeting meant the difference between life and death. Could I be considered an orphan at twenty-four years old? Right now, I felt like a frightened little girl, not at all the level-headed, capable woman I was supposed to be. That Mum and Dad needed me to be.
But against all odds, Idris had managed to find me when I’d been taken, when I’d given up all hope. He hadn’t had the help of a spy to tell him where I was, or an elite team of magical warriors to assist him, but he’d saved me.
There was no reason why we couldn’t save my parents.
Grasping his hand, I followed him to the door. The mirror we passed revealed a white face surrounded by a mass of frizzy, rainbow waves. I looked horribly human. Small. Weak. Scared.
Though most of the vampires had returned to their mountain home, Ceirios Manor was still full of fae and witches, last night’s guests, perhaps heading down to the dinner that would be served in the hall. They all curtsied and bowed as we passed, smiling, but Idris ushered me along without delay. Thankfully, we didn’t have far to go. A flight of stairs led us into a hallway, and from there we emerged into a large but cosy library.
Anwir and Sage were already there, as was a grim-faced Bryn.
My legs went numb at the sight of him, but Idris steered me into the nearest chair, which I sank into with an ungainly thump. Bryn, still eyeing me warily, swallowed, his throat bobbing. He probably thought I was about to incinerate him. I gave him a weak smile as Idris perched on the arm of my chair.
“What news?”
“He’s keeping them in the Celestial Tower,” he said at once, his gaze sliding from me to his friend. “In the dome. Men are stationed at the foot of the tower, guarding the entrance. He has strengthened the wards around the palace; nobody can teleport in or out.”
“It’s a lost cause then,” Anwir said with something horribly like relief. “I’m sorry, Aliza, but they’re beyond our reach.”
I opened my mouth to protest, but Idris answered for me. “We can reach the tower.”
“How?”
Idris raised an eyebrow at his brother as though it was obvious. “We fly.”
Saeth. Something was fighting to escape my stomach. Excitement or fear? Both?
Anwir’s lip curled into a sneer. “And then what? Smash through the glass? I think that might alert the guards, don’t you?”
Idris ignored him, instead asking Bryn, “Are the guards only stationed at ground level?”
“That, I do not know,” Bryn admitted. “It would be wise to assume there are more within the tower itself.”
Sage observed the exchange in silence, her gaze flickering between speakers, her expression yielding nothing.
“What’s the Celestial Tower?” I asked. “Where is it?”
My mind conjured up a replica of the crumbling stone structure Maelgwyn had hidden the princes in. I was in no rush to repeat the trials that had led me to the top of that monstrosity, but for Mum and Dad, I would. I’d done it before, I could do it again.
“It’s a stargazing tower in Serensedd Palace,” Idris explained. Upon seeing my nonplussed expression, he elaborated. “In Berl, capital city of Tir o Haf. It’s the official royal residence.”
“And currently home to Uncle Maelgwyn, no less.” Anwir folded his arms across his chest. His wide-legged stance hinted at his determination. “I will not allow an incursion of Serensedd. The risk is too great, and for little benefit.”
“Those are my parents!” I was on my feet, my hands balled into fists, magic crackling in the pit of my stomach. How could he imagine that leaving Mum and Dad to rot was an option?
Idris laid a hand on my shoulder, but he didn’t force me back into my seat as he easily could have done. Instead, he chose to stand beside me in support. “You do not have the authority to make that decision, little brother.”
The blood drained from Anwir’s face, his arms unfolding. Bryn glanced between the twins, unease wrinkling his brow. Sage, however, stared at me with a faint smirk. She didn’t want Anwir on the throne. She wanted me. She wanted me to fight for what was mine.
What did I want?
“Is that a challenge, Idris?” Anwir sputtered. If he’d meant to sound intimidating, he paled in comparison to his brother’s low laugh.
“It’s a fact. The throne belongs to Aliza. We all answer to her. Aliza?”
“I want to go,” I said at once. As if I could say anything else.
I didn’t know how to sneak into the palace undetected. I didn’t know how to fight off Maelgwyn’s overpowered guards. I didn’t even know how to find my way around the palace, but I couldn’t live with myself if I rolled over and accepted defeat, if I left my parents to rot because I was too uncertain, too cowardly.
“It will be dangerous,” Sage said. It wasn’t a warning, just a cold, hard fact.
I nodded, my throat tightening. “I know.”
“You are unlikely to succeed.”
I didn’t respond. Couldn’t even comprehend such an outcome.
Anwir huffed a derisive laugh. “It’s a trap, don’t you see?”
“Of course it is,” Idris agreed. “That’s why we need to do something he doesn’t expect.”
“Like what? Charge in and blast them all with your lightning? That particular fairy is out of the jar. Got any other tricks up your sleeve?”
“Keeping our powers concealed no longer matters. Aliza is the rightful heir,” Idris insisted. “Not me. Not you. The throne is hers.”
Bryn barely spared me a shrewd glance before looking to Idris. “Who else knows about this swap?”
“I never told anyone.”
“Not even Jane?”
“No,” Idris said softly. “And I would ask that you keep it that way, at least for now. She will only blame me more than she already does for Taryn’s death.”
Bryn sagged, his posture softening. “She doesn’t blame you at all, Idris. Nobody does.”
I slipped my hand into Idris’, shifting closer so the length of my arm pressed against his. I couldn’t change the past, but I could stand beside him while he braved the present .
“Nobody could have predicted what happened to Taryn,” Anwir insisted, and I might have mistaken his words for comfort if not for the bite of impatience behind them. “Nobody could have prevented it.”
“He was next in line,” Bryn breathed, as though the thought had only just occurred to him. “Did Maelgwyn know?”
“Of course he didn’t! Nobody did. Idris and I had agreed long before that nobody but us should know. An agreement which he seems not to remember.”
Bryn shot Anwir a scathing look before returning his attention to Idris. “But… you’re the king.”
Idris shook his head, setting that lock of hair swaying. “Right now, Maelgwyn calls himself king, and he has the mother and father of our rightful heir held within his palace. Let’s stay focused.”
“Okay, well, we can’t teleport, so we fly to the top of this tower,” I mused, trying to feel out the next steps. I may as well have been blind for all I could see ahead. “Then what?”
Anwir barked a humourless laugh. “Aliza, this is madness!”
My patience snapped. “Will you just shut up? Unless you have anything useful to say, shut your fucking mouth!”
Amusement wafted from Idris and settled in my chest, warm and bright. It comforted me. Bolstered my nerve.
“What about the vampires?” Sage suggested, and Anwir shook his head, turning away from her as though disgusted that she was entertaining my crazed whim. “If they wish to prove their worth as allies, what better opportunity?”
Idris looked to me, a question in his eyes .
“No.” It pained me to say it. “Most of them are still unfed. They’re weak, and I don’t want to risk losing them. We’re going to need them, but not tonight.”
If Maelgwyn woke the gods, we’d need all the help we could get.
“What about your friend? He certainly drank his fill.” Idris’ expression darkened as he no doubt cast his mind back to finding Jacques bleeding the life from me. “It wouldn’t hurt to have a vampire on our side. One we can… trust.”
I smiled. Idris trusted Jacques so little that he would probably count his fingers after shaking his hand, but the fact that he was trying, for me…
“That makes four of us, then,” Sage said. “Do you have enough horses?”
Every set of eyes snapped to her.
“What?” Anwir demanded, and for once, I echoed his sentiment.
Sage was coming with us? She was going to help?
“I assume Prince Idris will be accompanying Aliza, and if the vampire agrees, that will make four.”
“Five,” Bryn offered, but Idris shook his head.
“No. You’re too valuable to us as a spy. If things go wrong, you can’t be seen with us.”
“Besides,” I added, “Jane needs you.”
She’d been through enough already; she didn’t need to lose her mate on top of everything else. Besides, they had a baby on the way. I wouldn’t risk someone else losing a parent just so I could have mine back .
“You cannot be serious.” Anwir’s quietly dismayed words drew my attention back to him, but he was staring at Sage with pained fear. With love.
How hadn’t I seen it before? It had been right under my nose this entire time.
“I am,” she replied blandly, as though her plans for the evening were neither here nor there.
Anwir gulped, mastering his expression into neutrality. “Very well, then. I’ll be your fifth.”