29. A Favor
S he’d had enough. She’d heard enough. Aisling hardly made it back to her chamber, rushing straight past Rodney and Briar to drop to her knees before the washbasin and heave up what little was in her stomach. The force of it made her head spin.
“I can’t do this, Rodney,” she rasped, head still dipped over the basin. She spat bitterly into the water. “I don’t want to do this.”
Rodney knelt beside her, carefully twisting her hair back out of her face and tucking it into the collar of her shirt. “I know. It’ll be okay.”
“No, it won’t.” She sat up and faced him. Her body was shaken and unsteady, but her mind was clear, and her resolve was strong. “I don’t want to be a part of this war. It isn’t mine. I can’t…” her voice broke and she sucked in a breath. “I won’t help them kill him. ”
“Kael?”
She nodded. She still hadn’t told him everything that she felt for the Unseelie King, everything that they’d shared, but she knew he could see it now written on her face.
“We have to leave, Rodney. I won’t let them use me like this. I don’t care about the prophecy, and I don’t care about the consequences of ignoring it. I want out.” Aisling’s stomach turned again and she gagged, but nothing more came up. Trembling from the effort, she leaned against Briar to stay upright.
Rodney left her side momentarily to fill her a glass of water, then crouched down again. “I’m sorry, Ash. You know I would take this off your shoulders if I could.”
“I just want to go home. I want this to be over. I can’t do it.” Hot tears stung in the corners of her eyes, building and building before they spilled down her cheeks. Exhaustion had settled into her bones and the weight of the prophecy was a mantle she desperately wished she could shed.
He squeezed Aisling’s shoulder. “I know. We’ll go, okay?”
“They’re not going to let me.” Her voice was rough, her throat sore.
“We’ll figure out a way, I promise. But listen, I need to tell you something.” Rodney lowered his voice. “Ivran is here.”
“What?” Aisling straightened up and wiped her face with her sleeve.
“He’s in the other room; he showed up while you were with the queen.”
Aisling frowned. She hadn’t even noticed the small faerie as she’d blown past into the bathroom. “Why is he here?”
“He came to warn us.” Rodney’s voice dropped even further, so that Aisling had to lean in to hear what he said next. “He said someone from the Unseelie Court has been by the trailer a few times since we left.”
“Lyre?” When Rodney shook his head, Aisling’s heart leapt to her throat. For a moment she thought she might vomit again.
“A soldier,” Rodney said.
“Then we’ll go to my apartment in the city.” It was nearly empty since she’d all but moved back to Brook Isle, but Aisling had continued to pay the rent every month as though she’d still someday return to that part of her life. “We can lay low there and let this blow over.”
Rodney didn’t have the heart to tell her it wouldn’t work; she knew he didn’t. So he just nodded.
“I can help,” Ivran offered from the doorway. His expression was kind, if a touch pitying. “I have a friend here that owes me a favor.”
Guilt joined the swirl of emotions sweeping Aisling away in their undertow and she chewed the inside of her cheek. Favors were currency; they’d all spent too much on her already. “I can figure something out.”
“Don’t you think on it,” Ivran assured her. “I’ll be back before you know it.”
It would be dusk before Ivran returned, hair damp and cheeks flushed. The storm clouds that had hung overhead resumed their steady crawl onward, dragging away the last of the rain and wind in their wake. The sun came back out just in time to set .
Ivran’s friend was a young satyr whom Ivran had once led, stumbling and blind drunk, back into the Wild after he’d crossed through the Veil with such enthusiasm that he nearly charged straight over the cliff at the overlook. And so it was the satyr’s idea to use his widely-known love of drink and human women to aid in the trio’s escape.
From her chamber window, Aisling and Rodney watched the satyr totter on thick, fur covered legs towards the trees. He carried slung over his shoulder a sack with several tightly wrapped bottles of berry wine—one of the very few things disallowed from being passed between realms. Fae wine was to remain in the Fae realm, and human alcohol was expressly forbidden from being carried back in.
“Once he gets a bit closer to the Thin Place, we’ll follow. The guards will be distracted thinking he’s smuggling out the wine.” Ivran was perched on a chair beside the window so that he could see out, too. His back legs rubbed together, the motion creating a soft chirping melody. A nervous habit, Aisling guessed.
“And if they don’t?” Rodney asked.
Ivran flashed a mischievous grin. “He’s not afraid to cause a scene.”
Once the satyr had crested the hill and disappeared down the other side, Ivran sprung out of the window and disappeared into the tall grass, cutting a wide path towards the trees. Aisling pulled her keys and wallet from her backpack and hid them in an inner pocket of her jacket. It would seem too suspicious to carry it with her; there was little left inside, anyway, save for the pendant Laure had given her. She’d torn it from around her throat violently, breaking the delicate chain, and dropped it into the bottom of the bag.
Keeping a steady, almost painfully slow pace, Rodney and Aisling walked with Briar between them through the palace. Rodney chattered on about an upcoming Fae celebration hosted there in the Seelie territory that he was looking forward to attending with Aisling. There would be music, he said. And dancing, and costumes, and plenty of wine. Though she wanted to seem just as casual, the best she could manage was to nod and hum when he paused for her response.
Outside, the scent of wet earth permeated everything, overpowering even the wildflowers’ perfume. Aisling drew in lungful after lungful of it gratefully. The smell of rain would always remind her of home, and she was so, so close to making it back. She hoped it would have rained on Brook Isle, too.
Lost in thought, nearly hypnotized, Aisling fell back when Rodney grabbed her arm. At her feet, the once-glassy surface of the lake churned violently as whatever lived in its depths swam back and forth just beneath.
“I told you there was something in there,” Rodney muttered, dragging Aisling away by her elbow. She hadn’t even realized that she’d been making her way towards the water’s edge.
“I don’t like it here,” she said finally, and it was a relief to say those words out loud. From the moment she’d witnessed the woman magicked into singing, something about the landscape had unsettled her. It lingered beneath her skin like a cold chill, leaving her constantly waiting in fear of something that she couldn’t identify, but felt inevitable.
“I’ve long preferred the Unseelie Court,” Rodney said. He kept his voice low and his gaze ahead, swinging his arms nonchalantly. Anyone watching—and Aisling was sure there were several sets of eyes on them now—would think they were merely out for Briar’s last evening walk. “They don’t hide their intentions there. You know who your enemies are. There’s something strangely comforting, I think, in knowing exactly how someone wants to hurt you.”
Rodney led Aisling to cut diagonally across the meadow. Ivran was hidden there in the thickening shadows, his chirping song louder and deeper than the rest of the crickets there. It was a slight difference, only obvious to those listening carefully for it, but Rodney had no problem picking it out and orienting them towards the sound.
“Here!” A bush rustled when Ivran raised a thin arm to wave over its branches. Rodney and Aisling crouched behind it alongside the small faerie. Aisling kept both arms looped around Briar’s neck for her own comfort more than his.
“How will we know when it’s clear?” she whispered. She had to squint now to see more than a few yards ahead. She tightened her grip on Briar.
“The Thin Place is just in that direction.” Ivran pointed to their right. “It isn’t far. We’ll go once we hear one of the bottles break; that’s the signal we agreed on.”
Rodney snorted. “Classy.”
The group waited in silence and painful anticipation. Aisling’s knees ached from holding the crouched position and her feet were beginning to tingle, but she was afraid to shift and disrupt the quiet that had settled around them. Ivran and Rodney were both still as statues in the way only Fae could manage. Even beneath his heavy glamour, Rodney could remain motionless for hours, with only the shallow rise and fall of his chest to betray that he was a living thing.
All of them startled when the calm was abruptly shattered by the sound of glass splintering against stone. The raised voices that followed were closer to their hiding spot than Aisling would have liked.
“Let’s go,” Ivran hissed. Gripping Briar’s leash in one hand and a fistful of Rodney’s shirt in her other, Aisling let the faeries lead her swiftly through the darkness. The Veil glimmered before them, a swirling sheen of silver-blue magic that eddied and undulated despite the stillness of the night. They were flying now, closing the distance faster and faster and faster until Aisling felt the magic’s caress against her cheeks, and then the chill of frost-heavy grass. Only Briar had managed to stay on his feet; Ivran and Rodney, too, were lying on the ground beside her.
Aisling looked up in time to see the dryads drop their arms, closing the Veil and taking with it the soft glow that had illuminated their landing. But she smelled the salt, and she heard the waves. They sounded like a favorite song. She was home.
She stayed like that, on her back in the grass, for a minute longer. It was cold and the melting frost beneath her was soaking through her jacket, but she allowed herself that moment of peace while her pulse slowed and her breathing calmed.
When Ivran let out a triumphant whoop, she raised up onto one elbow. He was vibrating with excitement, eyes wide and limbs jittery.
“That was great fun!” he exclaimed.
Rodney rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t hide the smirk that tugged at his lips. He’d enjoyed it too: the rush. “I wouldn’t say great fun.”
“Well next time, you two can go without me. I’m perfectly happy to stay right here.” Aisling fell back down into the grass again and stared up at the stars. Familiar stars; her stars. Her sky. It was clear tonight, a deep bruise-dark purple smattered with those tiny, glittering flecks. She could never see enough of them in the city. In the Wild, with no light pollution at all, it seemed like there were almost too many. But here over Brook Isle, the sky held just the right amount.
The trudge back down to Rodney’s car, still parked just beyond the trailhead, was wet and slippery and took them far longer than the hike up had. Both still ached from two days of climbing the Solanthis steps. Once they’d settled into their seats and turned on the noisy heater, Rodney dug in his pocket then wordlessly tucked something into Aisling’s palm. She had to switch on the overhead light to see that it was a tiny square of folded paper, yellowed and soft with age. Carefully, she unfolded it to find the illustration of the three Fae courts from the book in the archives.
“When did you take this?” she gasped. She laid it out on the dash and pressed it flat, smoothing the creases.
Rodney shrugged and grinned sheepishly. “Before we left. I didn’t want you to come away empty-handed. ”
Throwing off her seatbelt, Aisling launched herself across the center console to throw her arms around Rodney’s shoulders. “Thank you,” she whispered.
“It’s your choice what we do next, Ash. If you want to leave, we’ll leave.” Rodney held her tightly. Fiercely. He was a life raft cast out into the storm, and she thought that there wasn’t nearly enough space inside of her to fit the gratitude she felt for him then.
“For right now, I really just want to go home and take a shower.” Aisling shifted back into her seat and reached into the back to dig her fingers into Briar’s fur.
“We should probably avoid the trailer,” Rodney said, a bit sullen as he put the car in gear and drove in the direction of town. “I have clothes at your apartment, don’t I?”
“I think so. And you can take the bed, the sheets are clean.” She didn’t mind when he didn’t argue. Though her couch was comfortable enough, Aisling was sure she was tired enough to fall asleep almost anywhere.
But as they pulled up to the front of her building, a chill slid down her spine, winding around each vertebra like those creeping vines that strangled the columns in Solanthis. She was back on edge, on her guard. The disquietude had followed her from the Seelie Court and now trailed behind her all the way up the stairs and into her apartment. It lessened some once she’d turned on all the lights and ensured that nothing seemed out of place, but the promise of sleep now seemed a bit further off than it had before.
Showered, changed, and fed, Aisling and Rodney battled their exhaustion side by side on the couch. He felt that same lingering unease; she could tell by the way he jerked himself awake each time his head lolled to one side. The first morning ferry wouldn’t leave for hours yet, but Aisling already had a bag for herself and a bag for Briar packed and waiting by the front door. At dawn, they’d all three walk down to the dock and make their way to the city. They’d be safe there, Aisling thought. They had to be. And Brook Isle would be fine.
It was Briar who reacted to the sound first, followed close after by Rodney. It took Aisling several seconds to register what they’d heard: soft, furtive footsteps ascending the wooden stairs. Then, a knock on the door.