Chapter Twenty-Five Trey
Twelve Years Ago
A Manor House Being Passed Off as An Evil Lair
During an Interrupted Lesson
“You may leave us,” Father said, stretching to his full height, which was still a few inches shorter than Tilly, my nanny.
Tilly bowed her head and curtsied, her clawed hands trembling as they held her skirts. “Yes, Master.”
Father waited until she’d closed the door to approach the small desk where I’d been working on sums. Using his presence as an excuse, I slipped the sums surreptitiously off my desk.
They fluttered to the floor, where I could conveniently claim they’d been lost, so maybe I wouldn’t have to finish them.
“Treasure,” he said, in the same way he always did, like I was an object rather than a person.
“What do you want?”
He glowered at me. “Don’t talk back to me.”
I copied his pinched mouth and furrowed brow, glowering back.
Suddenly he smiled and patted my head. “A good imitation.” He quickly became serious again and warned, “But I am your father and your master, and you will show me respect.”
I relaxed my mouth and waited for him to explain why he’d interrupted my lessons.
“I’m sending you on a mission. Do you know what that means?”
“I’m not a baby, I know what mission means. It’s a cinnamon for task.”
“Synonym,” he corrected off-handedly, “and it’s more important than a task. I’m sending you away to live with a different family for a while.” He leaned in and whispered conspiratorially, “And you’re going to be my spy.”
“For how long?”
“As long as it takes.”
“Why?”
“Because I need to learn everything about the Desolated Lands.”
“Why?”
His eye twitched but he dutifully answered, “So I can conquer them.”
Father visited the Desolated Lands often, but he’d only taken me there for the first time a few weeks ago, after Margie had left and before he’d hired Tilly.
A baker had given me a sweet, berry-filled hand pie and told me to let her know if I needed any help.
Father had run around the whole town, muttering about rundown buildings and stinking garbage and the unwashed people.
I’d tried to share a bite of the pie with him, but he’d recoiled in horror and told me it was rotten.
To me, the Desolated Lands were a happy place, filled with cheerful, kind people and sweet desserts. To him, they were ruins. On the carriage ride home, he’d ranted for hours about finding the happy place underneath.
“Why do you want to conquer them?”
“Because they tried to keep me out. They keep so many people out. That’s not very nice of them, is it?” Then a sly look entered his eyes, and he asked, “Do you remember the child we met a few months ago? The filthy, hungry little thing?”
I nodded. They’d had such a white face, where it wasn’t covered in dirt.
“They’ve been kept out of the Desolated Lands. I don’t know about you, but I don’t think that’s fair. The kings and queens have locked all their happiness inside for themselves, refusing to share with anyone else. If I ruled those lands, I could have—I mean, we could have everything they have now.”
“And share it with everyone?”
“Yes,” he said, drawing out the word. “But I can only achieve this goal if I conquer them first. That’s why I need your help. You’re a special boy, Treasure. The spell protecting—I mean, locking everyone out of the lands doesn’t affect you. Do you know what else makes you special?”
I hesitated, not sure if he wanted a real answer. Sometimes he only wanted a dramatic pause. When the silence dragged on too long, I shook my head no.
“You look like a prince.”
“I do?”
He nodded and pulled out a small portrait. “Prince Brendon Banes, thirty-two years old.”
I reached for the portrait, but he snatched it away, holding it high above my head. “Careful, that was not easy to steal from an exile of the Desolated Lands.” After giving the warning, he finally set it in my hands.
I scanned the picture, surprised at the similarities.
Kind, blue eyes, crinkled at the corner as if on the verge of a smile.
Wavy red hair that might be a few shades darker than mine, or that might have been the painter’s choice.
His nose was a little straighter, his jawline thicker, but he looked more like me than my father did.
“You will pretend to be his son, at least until you learn something useful.”
I looked up at my father, the man who had passed me from nanny to nanny and didn’t spend much time with me. Having a different father probably just meant having different nannies, something I was already used to. “Alright.”
“So you agree?” he asked, his eyes lighting up.
I nodded.
Father crowed in triumph and swooped me into his arms, swinging me around and around in joy. The dizziness and the comfort of his tight hold made me laugh until I was breathless.
He dropped me before I’d had my fill. “I’ll prepare everything immediately.
You’ll have to travel on your own, of course.
Can’t have a nanny ruining your cover story.
And I’ll need to craft a geas, in case of any slip ups.
Lots to do, lots to do!” He rushed out of the room, barely paying attention to me now that he had an evil plot to perfect.
By the end of the month, I’d become Treasure Banes.
Present Day
Wandering Through the Streets
Coming Out of Memories Best Left Forgotten
My identity was nothing more than an evil scheme.
The rest of the memories were distant, facts floating beneath the foggy surface.
The first few years, I’d poured everything into my mission.
Ingratiating myself to Brendon and Rick, following all their rules, studying with the tutors they assigned and never hiding my sums sheets.
Sometimes, I’d forget I was only pretending to be their son.
Allow myself to get angry without worrying that they would kick me out.
Cry when I was upset so they could comfort me.
Then something would happen, I’d discover some relevant information, and I’d remember who I was and the real reason I was in Bane.
During those reports, I’d watch my father bumble about, grumbling about a failed evil plan that definitely was not his fault.
The minions were incompetent. The imps got in his way.
He’d fire them all, just like the nannies, and start over from scratch.
He could never keep anyone around for long, and he lost interest in anything that involved real work.
Ruling a kingdom involved real work. Ruling five kingdoms would overwhelm anyone. Slowly, I formed my own plan. One that would satisfy my father until he grew bored. Then it would be so simple to suggest ‘Enjoy your infamy, you’ve earned it. But let someone else do the hard work.’
Of course, when the others heard the plan, Fitz had declared, “That’s the stupidest fucking plan I’ve ever heard.”
Maybe he was right, since I was pretty sure that plan had killed me.
I slipped my hand up under my shirt and touched my stomach. There was no healing wound, no scar, no sign of any injury. Just a phantom sensation of blood on my hands and something large and rough plunging through my body.
I didn’t know exactly how the Lord of Grimnight—the worst father I had—was behind that bloody memory. And we were on a quest to defeat him.
How do you defeat an evil mage?
Kill them. Wilde showed no hesitation, no remorse. He’d be happy to see the Lord of Grimnight dead. Maybe that was why he was here, to make sure we finished the job this time.
While stuck in my own head, I’d ended up back at the inn.
I needed to apologize to Delilah and Wilde for chaining them together while I sorted things out.
Halfway up the stairs to my room, I heard a persistent scrape-thump as something clawed at one of the doors.
The noise stopped for a second, replaced by a tiny, pathetic mewl.
I unlocked the door and pushed it open.
A fluffy brown cat shot past me down the stairs.
What the fuck?
At the bottom, the cat turned around and raced back up. It stopped at my feet and rubbed against my legs, meowing at me.
I bent down to scratch the cat behind the ear and discovered a bright pink leather collar, like Delilah’s, only smaller. I felt around the circle until I found the clasp and unhooked it.
As the collar fell to the floor, the cat disappeared, and Delilah appeared in its place. She was still on all fours and one hand pressed hard into my foot.
“Meow—and then I couldn’t turn back!” Delilah blinked. “Oh!” She hopped to her feet, her elbow colliding with my stomach and her head with my chin.
I swore and stumbled away from her, grabbing the doorframe to hold myself up. “What the fuck, Delilah?”
“Oh, Trey! I’m so sorry, I forgot how large I usually am.”
Since she was barely five feet, ‘large’ didn’t really describe her. I rubbed my chin and put a healthy distance between us. “Why were you a cat?”
“I’m always a cat,” she replied flippantly. “Just not quite so literally.”
I still held her collar, so I offered it back to her.
She shuddered and clasped her hands protectively over her neck. “No! Not until he fixes it.”
‘He’ must have meant Wilde, who was conspicuously not handcuffed to my cousin. “Where did he go?”
“Probably back to the—” she caught herself and lied, “I don’t know.”
“You were supposed to look after him. What if he overexerted himself again and passed out somewhere? What if we can’t find him?”
“What did you expect me to do? My paws were too small to fit in the cuffs!”
“I expected you not to pressure him into improving your collar—”
“I didn’t! He volunteered!” Then she grumbled, “Which I now realize was only a means to get away from me.”
A door opened and Angelica peeked around it, hiding everything but her face. A pale lavender sleep mask was pushed up against her forehead and thick curlers tied up her hair. “Do you mind? I’m trying to enjoy my last night in a bed.”
Another door opened and Fitz stumbled out. “What’s going on? Are we being attacked?” Without his glasses, he fumbled around the hallway, one hand out to guard off the non-existent attack, the other pressed against the nearest wall.
“It’s nothing,” I said, trying to wave him back to sleep.
Maximus lingered in the doorway to the room he shared with Fitz. He hadn’t bothered to put a shirt on, leaving his toned muscles on display. Both Angelica and Delilah gave them an appreciative once over before turning their attention back to me.
“Where’s Wilde?” Maximus asked in a quiet challenge.
“Here.” Wilde stepped out from the room behind us.
“Where were you?” Maximus corrected.
Wilde arched an eyebrow and said calmly, “I went home.” Then he lifted his arm, showing a stuffed pack. “The clothes Angelica picked for me didn’t quite fit.”
Angelica scoffed. “That’s not my fault. I bought clothes based off the measurements I was given.”
“Since everyone knows where everyone is and we’re not under attack, we should all go to bed,” I said, shoving Delilah and Wilde back into the room. It’d be awkward to share with three people, but we could suffer through it for one night.
I shut and locked the door and turned back to Wilde, ready to berate him for his recklessness.
He held up his cuffed wrist and said, “Will you unlock this now?”
I grabbed the empty cuff. Because Delilah had slipped out of it, the seam was still closed.
I barely breathed as I said the command word to make sure Wilde couldn’t overhear it.
When the cuff popped open, I closed it back over my own wrist and held it up for Wilde to see.
“You pull that shit again, and I’ll lock you to the bed next time. ”
His eyelashes lowered and he murmured, “I’d prefer to lock you to the bed.”
The bold statement was so unlike him that I just stared for a moment. “What?”
He stared back at me, expression blank, and then also said, “What?”
“You said—”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Wilde,” Delilah whined. “I am too tired for you to reset time again. Can you please both pretend you did and deal with your feelings in the morning?”
Wilde abruptly turned away and walked toward the other side of the bed. “I’ll sleep on the floor.”
I followed him over—I didn’t really have a choice, unless I wanted to yank him backwards. “No, it’s fine, you take the bed—”
“So you can lock me to it?” He grabbed a pillow and tossed it on the floor, then lay down without taking a blanket or any other bedding.
The room had two beds, and Delilah curled up on the second one. Even after the distress of being trapped as a cat, she still acted like one. She was softly snoring before I’d recovered my equilibrium.
I lay down on the bed, one arm hanging off it, and stared up at the ceiling. Today had brought a lot of unexpected revelations. The Lord of Grimnight was my father. I had to kill him to save the Desolated Lands.
And I kind of wanted Wilde to lock me to the bed, as long as he stayed with me.