Chapter 14
Seeing her face in the crowd of Sunborne was like seeing the brightest, most beautiful jewel in the world and realising it had been stolen. Caged. Contained.
It took every ounce of strength I had not to stride over and take her in my arms and whisk her up into the air, high above those aristocratic fuckers.
But I couldn’t. Because I cannot do anything without Eldrion’s permission.
The one rebellion I have is the binding display at the start of my act. When I first performed it, I almost hoped he would punish me for it. I hoped it would cause him so much humiliation – to be faced with his family’s worst crimes – that he would beat me for days.
He did not beat me. Instead, he laughed.
He laughed, and then everyone else laughed, and – just like that – it became part of the act. Titillation for the noble women of the citadel who feel pretty and powerful when they wrap the bindings around my torso.
The fact I break free means nothing to them.
But it meant something to her. She saw it. And I see in her what I saw in the forest; the spark of someone who knows what it is to be different but who doesn’t know she has the power to make things better.
I might be trapped beneath Eldrion’s wing. But she has something I don’t; she has magic. And if she plays this the right way, she might just be able to help us all.
“Finn?” Briony steps out of the door to the servants’ dorm and presses her back against the wall. Silently, I move into the shadows beside her.
While she shares with ten other women, I at least have the privilege of my own chambers and I am desperate to return to them now.
As always, performing has left me exhausted. But being so close to Alana has left me with other feelings, too. Ones I need to be alone to deal with.
“How is she?” Briony bites her lower lip. She is one of the younger Shadowkind servants, just fifty-two years old but with already sallow skin and dark hair that no longer shines.
Her bindings were removed last year. Since then, they have yet to move. At least mine have remembered that over the years.
“She’ll be fine,” I tell her, adjusting my bag of supplies on my shoulder. “I must go now.”
“Wait.” She takes my elbow, blushes, then lets go of it. I have never fucked her, but she has always wanted me to and tonight is no different.
“I have to go, Briony.” I move to walk away, because I have absolutely no interest in lying with her tonight or any other night, but she shakes her head.
“Please, wait. The Leafborne in the dungeon. Some of them need help.”
Under any other circumstances, I’d refuse Briony’s request. Getting from my chambers to the dungeons is a risk I’d rarely take, let alone at this time of night – too close to sunrise for my liking. But my treacherous conscience asks me what Alana would say if she knew I’d refused to help her kin, and I find myself saying, “Very well.”
We leave the castle through the servants’ entrance and cross the courtyard to the trapdoor that leads to the dungeon. It creaks when we pull it open, but instead of hesitating I jump swiftly down inside and bring Briony with me.
“Are they not guarded?” I hiss as we approach the door that will lead to the cells.
“Yes, but it is Henrik on duty tonight. He will let us in.”
I press my lips together. Henrik and I have never been on good terms. Something about me unnerves him, and the way he looks at me makes me want to curl my fist and punch him in his broad, ugly nose.
I make a hrmph sound, but Briony doesn’t respond.
True to her word, however, Henrik opens the door when we tap on it and ushers us inside. At the back of the low-ceilinged stone dungeon is a large cell. Bars reach from the floor to the ceiling and stretch across the width of the room. Inside, I count twenty-one Leafborne fae. All in chains.
Some are sleeping, their heads lolling uncomfortably. Others are whispering in the darkness.
When I approach, they start to stir and nudge each other and stare at me with wide, frightened eyes. I hold out my palms to them. “I’m a friend,” I say gently. “Here to help. I heard some of you are injured?”
For a long moment, no one replies. But then a fae with blond curly hair and surprisingly skinny wings drags himself to his feet and says, “Are you able to get into the cell?”
I glance over my shoulder at Henrik, who swallows hard, then shakes his head. “I can’t. It’s one thing letting you down here. If they escaped...”
I turn back to the blond fae. “I’m afraid not. Tell me what ails you, and I’ll pass what remedies I have through the bars.”
“I am not hurt,” he replies. “But my friend Talia has glass in her foot, and Ben thinks he has broken his wrist.”
I start with Talia. She lifts her foot, and I squint into the dark to examine it. Somehow, I manage to instruct her to pull the glass free, then pass antiseptic and bandages through the bars. They are handed along the line of chained-up fae, and the woman next to her helps her wrap her foot.
“You’ll have to remove the bandage by morning,” I tell her. “If it’s seen...”
She nods at me, sighing with relief now the pain is subsiding. “Thank you,” she says. “I promise I’ll hide it.”
Next, the man with the broken wrist. Altogether more difficult to treat without being able to touch it. I instruct the blond fae, who tells me his name is Kayan, to examine it for me and pinch the bridge of my nose as I try to figure out how exactly I’m going to splint this man’s wrist without it being seen.
Deciding there is no way to do this, I gesture to the pants he’s wearing. “You’ll need to tear a strip from your pants and make a sling. I can give you something for the pain, but it should look as though you made the sling yourself.”
Kayan, the blond, looks like he’s about to protest but when I give him a withering stare, he stops.
I wait until Ben has finished with the sling, then pat the iron bars and say, “I must go now, good night and good luck.”
“Sir...” Kayan speaks loudly – too loudly – and prompts a ‘hush’ from Henrik.
I cock an eyebrow at him; no one has ever called me sir before.
“Please, tell us, is there any chance we will escape here?”
Laughing a little, I allow the bells on my wing tips to chime; one thing Eldrion doesn’t know about me is that I’ve perfected the art of keeping them completely still, and silent, when I don’t want to be heard. I am about to tell him there is no chance when something makes me say, “Ordinarily, to others in your position, I’d say no.” I bite the inside of my cheek. “But your Alana is an impressive woman, and Eldrion seems to have taken a liking to her. If anyone is in a position to help you, it’s her.”
“Alana?” Kayan’s eyes brighten, and an unexpected twinge of jealousy tugs my gut. “You’ve seen Alana?”
“I have,” I reply firmly. “Eldrion has given her chambers in the castle.”
“Is she all right?”
From somewhere at the back of the cell, someone sneers, “Don’t waste your energy being concerned for her, Kayan. As usual, she is looking after herself.”
Whoever spoke, I cannot see them. But I am gripped by the overwhelming urge to throw open the cell door, seek them out, and choke an apology from their miserable lips.
“She is concerned for you all, and frightened, but she is safe for now.” I narrow my eyes at Kayan, trying to discern what he and Alana are to one another. It is only when he shifts, trying to lean closer to me, that I notice his wings.
They are surprisingly thin – not unlike mine. Very unlike any other Leafborne I’ve encountered.
“I will tell her you asked after her when I see her next.” I nod at him.
“Bring her to see us.” Kayan looks from me to Briony, who is standing silently beside Henrik. “Please. Bring her here, so we can see she is all right.”
“It seems not all of you care whether she is all right.” My jaw twitches with irritation as the rest of the cell quiets.
“I care.” Kayan pushes back his shoulders, puffing out his chest as much as he can from the confines of his restraints.
I tilt my head to one side and sigh. “I won’t be visiting you again. I wish you luck.” Then I turn to Henrik and say, “Goodnight, friend,” patting him hard on the shoulder.
Glaring at me, he pulls open the dungeon door. On her way out, he grabs Briony by the waist and whispers something into her ear. She gives him a sultry smile, nods, and follows me back up into the courtyard.
I am back in my chamber when it occurs to me that perhaps I should let Alana decide whether she wants to see her people or not.
Who am I to make that decision for her?
Who am I to take yet another choice away from her?
As I drift into a fitful sleep, I vow that next time I see her, I will give her that choice. I will let her take control of what little she can because I understand what it is like to live in Eldrion’s gilded prison.
While she is here, I will do what I can to comfort her.
I will be what she needs when she needs it.
Because, in two hundred and fifty years, no one has ever granted me that grace. And I would risk Eldrion’s wrath to give her what she needs.