THIRTY-SEVEN
brYNDIS ASHGLO
Datura Stramonium uses: eases breathing, aids sleep, curse breaking, and divination. Cultivate in warm wet climate or alternatively in a greenhouse.
The Herbal Healer’s Handbook, by Agnes O’Connell
Odhran’s fingers flex against the bare skin of my lower back, guiding me into the extravagant ballroom.
Sentries stand at the gigantic golden doors, decorated in an ostentatious display of pearls, tanzanite, and emeralds.
Violins and cellos gracefully guide us into the heart of the celebration.
My fingers flutter against my skirt, as though I were playing their tune on my mother’s pianoforte.
Guests glide across the floor, each faerie pair more beautiful than the last.
Odhran’s hand leaves my back, and its absence draws my attention from the crowd back to him, possibly the tallest man in attendance.
The strongest too. Courtiers don’t have the build of warriors.
Though tall and athletic, they lack the muscles built in training and the scars earned in battle.
They’re soft and polished, and he’s their opposite.
“Are one of those mine?” I raise a brow at Odhran who downs the contents of a fluted glass he snatched off a silver tray, holding a second one for a spare. This is not the time.
“It isn’t safe for humans.” He doesn’t look at me; instead, he searches the crowd in front of us. A wave of annoyance washes over me like a hot flush.
“And treating me like just another human isn’t a safe option for you either,” I snap at him.
He finishes the second flute, placing it on the silver tray of a servant as he passes. It takes me a moment, and I have to look twice, but the servant doesn’t have the characteristics of a faerie. He’s human, his eyes dull and unfocussed.
“He is one of the reaped,” Aed growls. “This is what they do. What your beloved Odhran did. Compel them into servitude, a meal with a job.” I remember how I assumed àine to be someone oppressed, and how wrong I was.
She serves him out of gratitude instead of debt, and only because servitude gives her purpose. Aed is wrong about Odhran too.
“I beg your pardon. How could I forget that my lady has teeth,” Odhran whispers, banding a protective arm around my waist as he pulls me to his side.
“Careful, I might use them.” I narrow my eyes at Odhran, making a mental note to ask him about the reaped humans later, even if it’s only through our shared connection.
“I’m counting on it.” Something in his tone makes me blush as he leads me onto the dance floor.
One song flows into two until I lose count as sweat threatens to bead on my brow, and my feet ache inside my shoes.
Although he’s undoubtedly distracted, he doesn’t miss a step, and in his arms, I don’t either.
For a moment, I forget why we’re here and to look for the servant in the crowd, the one with dull eyes.
His footsteps pause, missing his first beat. I reach into our bond for the first time since we stepped through the front doors, searching for him, but he isn’t there.
“What happened?” I ask aloud as he leads me off the dance floor toward Eadan, standing in the far corner of the hall.
“I’ve been called to assist.”
“Where?” I need to know if he is going to the location marked on his map. If the information I have been feeding Declan and King Brogan is still correct.
“To the furthest of the two crossings on our border with Geimhreadh,” he confirms, and I don’t miss the furrow between his brows. There one second and gone the next.
Safe. “Go,” I tell him, knowing I told Brogan they will be at the other crossing.
Feeling the edge of my concealed blade against my thigh with the tips of my fingers, I promise him, “I’ll be fine.
” My words don’t bring him comfort. He glances back at the throne on the far side of the massive hall, to where the three kings, each representing a season, sit alongside his brother.
“Don’t stay for the pledges.” He looks at Eadan the way a general looks at someone in his command. Eyes cold, jaw set. There is no compromise in his expression or his tone. We’ve been ordered to leave, and that’s it.
“We’ll leave shortly,” she answers. Our plan is soon to be in effect.
Eadan has collected the vial from my room and handed it to a member of the kitchen staff, one who’s been fond of her for many years.
She made him a promise, her attention in exchange for spiking four cups of wine.
The dosage provided is strong enough to bring them to their knees after consuming merely half a cup.
A full cup would ensure they never rise again.
All we need to do is wait until they’re ready to toast to their new king at which time it’s customary to down the contents of their cups as a sign of full commitment.
Odhran presses his lips to my forehead. “Be careful.” I know I should tell him about my plan to leave with my sister, or if our plan fails, with Brogan, but I can’t; the bargain won’t allow it.
Instead, I vow to find him in the Great Room once it’s all over.
Once I’m outside this palace or the next.
“Where’s the fun in that?” Odhran answers, trying to lighten the situation when our eyes meet, but the sickening knot in my stomach tightens.
“I mean it, or I will kill you myself.” I try to lighten the mood, but my tone conveys a different message, speaking of insecurity despite my best effort, and I hate it.
He leaves with no further exchange, and I stand frozen, watching his retreat.
He can’t tesser directly out of the castle.
No one can. The wards are too strong, designed to keep unwanted visitors out.
To keep the use of magic out. That’s why I couldn’t speak to him through our connection; it isn’t strong enough to withstand the magic used to ban all others.
Only Odhran’s ravens could serve as communication with his friends, being an extension of him and not something newly forged and fragile.
“I brought these along for a situation like this.” Eadan holds out a small copper tin in her hand. I recognise the patterns, know how they feel beneath my fingers without touching them. I’ve traced those lines more times than I can count.
I gasp, taking it from her. Pulling the lid open, I struggle to believe my eyes. Inside are four rolled cigarettes of my making. Jimsonweed and nettle. The ones safely hidden in my armoire back home.
“I retrieved it from your room, along with a few other things you’ll find on your bed.” Her smile is one of pride, clearly satisfied with herself.
For a moment, I don’t know what to say. “Thank you.” The words don’t seem enough at all.
“Come, we can share one of those vile concoctions outside before our plan sets into motion. If there is justice in this world, this place will go up in smoke too.” She gestures toward a side door opposite the one Odhran used.
Without hesitation, I follow her lead. One cigarette, then I’ll find Declan, who in turn will hand me the mirror and take me to my sister.
By that time, the oaths should commence, and a new server will fill the cups of the realm’s leaders upon the dais.
Thanks to Eadan, the new server will give them wine spiked with nightshade, the last of my stash.
Faerie poison. If it doesn’t kill them, it will buy enough time for her to strike.
She’s taken liberty to reach out to others eager to see Darragh’s line fall, and they’ll help her where needed while I free Aed, upholding my side of the bargain so he can uphold his and burn this place to the ground.
Outside the air is crisp, and the night sky is clear.
Here in the realm of the immortal, even the stars seem closer.
I see King Brogan’s getaway carriage waiting at the end of the drive as a small flame forms at the tip of Eadan’s finger.
She leans against the wall, lighting a cigarette before handing it to me.
“Has Odhran ever told you about the time he and Sloan almost burned down the armoury?” She laughs to herself, rolling her head back to look at the sky.
“No?” I frown, standing closer, joining her with my back against the wall. The surface is cold and rough against my skin, but it’s a relief to shift my weight onto my heels.
“They hid from their guardians, abandoning their training, so they took to the armoury to smoke some concoctions of their own. Only theirs weren’t as weak as yours.
” She gives me a sideways look, raising her brow before pulling in a drag of jimsonweed.
“Sloan couldn’t manage this little trick.
” She exhales, flicking a flame from one finger to the other, playing with it.
“He’s always been a little too much, in every essence of the word.
His flame was a full-on fire, setting the drapes ablaze. ”
Taking the cigarette from her, I bring it to my lips. “What happened to them?” White plumes against the dark sky.
“Let’s just say they became very good at sewing after that.
” She laughs. Her amusement is infectious, and I smile back at her.
“I can still remember them sitting with the servant girls, embroidering floral patterns onto new drapes. They were just a few months shy of their thirteenth birthdays. Such a long time ago.”
Her humour fades, exhaling a cloud of white, before continuing.
“The other day, Odhran asked me what I wanted most. I told him I wanted power, but it’s only because I already have everything else.
They’re assholes most of the time, but they’re my family.
The only family I have, and the only family I want. ”
I look at Eadan in silence, seeing her for the first time. “I wish I had a family like yours.” I’m unable to meet her stare.
“You have a family.” She hands me the cigarette. “With us, for as long as you want one. And long after that.”
It feels like my chest grows two sizes too small for my lungs to expand. I don’t know how to respond, so I say nothing.