Chapter 9
CASTELIS
The crystal is still growing. It’s grown two more sagewidths today. In fact, it seems to be growing a little faster. I try to pass the days in my little cave. I boil some bark in my little pot, as I’ve found a few herbs I can forage, but not as many as I would have hoped for early spring.
Here, though, I am so close to the border with the Winter Court that it still feels very much like winter has not yet loosed its grip on this land.
I miss Rylian. I miss my study and the crystals and my warm bed and tea. Most of all, though, those amber eyes.
But in the Autumn Court, we do not mourn.
I huddle around my fire and try to think. To understand what has happened. To plan. Who can I trust? What do I do next? Who to believe?
My efforts to piece together what happened and figure out what to do next aren’t going as well as I hoped.
All I can figure out for sure is that Alred lied about the guide, who obviously was no guide.
And that meant Alred could lie. Except it doesn’t make sense, because fae can’t lie.
But he must have. Could this be one of his secret abilities?
The kind fae try to keep a hidden, definitely from humans, but sometimes even from fae as well.
If that was the case, what else could he have lied about?
I pore over my every conversation with him, rethinking the details, trying to find mistakes and loopholes. I sense he must’ve lied to me when I was leaving. But which things were the truth and which the lies?
And when he had said that what King Rylian needed most was for me to take the crystal and run, why? Why would Rylian warn that? Easy or clear answers do not come. A plan eludes me.
I mark the days and make notes on the cave wall with charcoal from the fire. So I know exactly what day it is when, two days before the equinox, the ward outside flickers.
I rush from my cave. My fire’s burned low, but I don’t stoke it yet.
The entire forest is deathly silent. And dark.
Darker than I’ve ever seen it. A sprinkling of snow covers the usual array of orange and brown leaves, the ones that are always there, no matter the season—part of the magic of the Autumn Court.
The ward has gone out.
I don’t know what that means. Could the Winter Court be nearby? Is a battle about to break out? Or did the ward just falter on its own? Does this mean Rylian is not okay? Too weak to continue?
Dead, even?
Swallowing hard, my feet run on their own, my brain too caught up with worry over Rylian.
I dash back inside and grab the bag hiding King Cresian’s crystal.
Damn it, I don’t care if it’s still growing.
If Rylian is dead, then what does it matter!
If the Winter Court enters anyway, then all the struggle will have been in vain.
The Court will be lost anyway, without Rylian. The Winter Court will slaughter us indiscriminately; wardens from the Winter Court have made a promise of it.
Because Winter wants, above all, to spread stillness, the stillness of death and decay and sleep.
Back out in the darkness, I pull the power King Cresian sacrificed his life for from its pathetic canvas bag.
The King’s Heart shines defiantly in the darkness, and I raise it with both hands above my head now, letting the bag fall to the leaf-strewn ground.
I swear the crystal is still growing. It feels a shade wider.
The surrounding trees, the tall grass, a surprised deer—all are bathed in its bluish diamond light.
Above us, the ward flickers slightly, and I feel a sudden warmth on my face, like standing in the sun. Then the next flicker brings it fully back to life.
The King’s Heart also feels warm in my hands, like a freshly baked cookie. What just happened?
I listen harder. I don’t hear any approaching armies, just the deer dashing away from me through the trees. But if someone is attacking the ward, will they see me here?
They surely would. I’ll have to hope this helped, and that it was enough. I tuck the crystal back inside its bag and glance warily back up.
The ward remains steady. Either the King’s Heart crystal is still helping, or Rylian was buoyed just enough in that moment to sustain it.
It doesn’t matter, because there’s no way of knowing.
Two days until the spring equinox. I have a sinking feeling in my chest. How many seasons will come and go while I’m hiding here? I’m not really equipped to live like this, nor am I of the right sort of stock.
Duke Alred hasn’t found me yet. He might look, or his “guide” might be trying. Or they may have hoped I froze or starved to death by now or got eaten by a wolf.
But do I stay here forever? I can’t, really. I’m not good enough at hunting and foraging to truly sustain myself. But what do I do?
If Alred wants me dead, then I’ll make killing me much easier and more convenient for him by going back.
But he’s also the one who sent me away, lying while he did it.
I hate that the best thing I can do if Rylian is in trouble is hide in this cave.
I suppose at least it’s something, some small way I am helping.
Unless that was also a lie, and Alred sent me here to hurt Rylian.
The flickering, faltering ward flashes back through my mind, and I know. I have to go back. Whatever Alred might do to me. I can’t really make sense of what was truth and what was lies, but I have to get the King’s Heart back to Rylian.