30. Chapter 30
Chapter 30
D espite my hands being bound, I had no issues rifling through his possessions. Rule #8: Opportunity seen, opportunity taken. If he wanted privacy, he shouldn’t have brought me to his private room and left me here with my hands shackled in front of me. The smarter option would have been to keep them behind my back. At least then I’d need to work to get them in front of me before I went ransacking his room for something to pick the lock.
I was hip-deep in one of his chests when the door opened again.
“I see you’ve made yourself at home, Cricket,” the jovial voice of Green Man called from the doorway.
Popping up with a start, I blinked at him before a grin split my face wide, and I rushed to him.
He danced around, protecting his tray. “Down, girl! Down, puppy! You’ll spill your meal!”
I laughed, and it felt good to feel my belly shake with it instead of trembling in either fear or lust.
Backing away, I watched with a grin plastered across my face as he took in the surroundings and whistled low. “When they told me to go to the Maw and then keep going, I thought they were daft. No one goes to the Maw willingly let alone dares to venture farther. Had I known they hid a palace down here, I’d be skipping down at every chance. Hallway in’s a little dodgy, but this makes it worth it.”
His rich umber eyes made their way back to me, the vines that crossed his face snapping and creaking into a smile. “Well, take your tray and invite me in, Princess Shithead.”
“Can’t.” I lifted my arms beneath the cloak tenting it around them. “Some asshole left me cuffed.”
“Almost like you’re a prisoner! How very unchivalrous of him. Well. We will have to see to that. Can’t have our dear Princess Shithead locked up, now can we? How will she wreak havoc and mayhem upon the land without her mischief makers?” Four leaves of ivy that made up his brows drew down as he winked. “Lucky for you, I was long ago granted with a magical key that unlocks any and every lock these tricky Fae can create.”
I narrowed my eyes in suspicion. “Really?”
“Yep. I call it a ha-mur.” He set the tray down next to the discarded, singed gloves The Raven had left unattended and fished a small ball peen hammer from his pocket. “And a chee-zel.” A butter knife that had been pounded into the shape of a rough ice pick like chisel was produced.
I snorted a laugh as he pretended to marvel at the wondrous magic he had produced.
“Eh, this is going to be a little awkward. I’m naked under this thing.” I was trying to hitch the cloak up to uncover my hands for him.
A low, creaking crack of wood moving that had no interest in moving heralded the simple shrug of his shoulder. “I saw your gross, wrinkly brain. I doubt one can get more intimate than that.”
“Green Man! Did everyone get an eyeful of my brain?”
Another creaking shrug was given. “You had the poor luck to leave it to air out, and we the poor luck to be blessed with eyes when you did.”
“Ah yes, poor luck, story of my life.”
He snorted as I finally fished my hands free. The shackles were a simple design, not nearly as intricate as I would have guessed. Just a pair of bars bent into a D-shape and joined with another bar in the center to hold them together .
The chisel was set to them, and he began pounding away at the joint where it would naturally be weakest. The ruffling sound of the leaves and vines that made up the man known as Green Man filled the otherwise silent chamber as we both held our breath that no one would come in while he worked on them. When the first finally gave, we breathed a sigh of relief and exhaled it when the second followed suit.
Rubbing my sore wrists to work them free of aches and pains, Green Man eyed me and gave a sniff to the air. “Gross. Stop that.”
“Well, if I were not just a bunch of lawn trimmings with an especially debonaire air about me, I’d say that you stink like Fae cum and sin, Cricket.”
“Well, then, it’s a good thing that you’re far too debonaire to say that,” I quipped while I struggled to find armholes in the massive cloak.
The ivy brows drew down, chasing away the jovialness I had come to know him for. “Did he rape you?”
“What! Green Man!”
“Did. He. Rape you. It is not a complicated question, Cricket.”
“No! No one raped me, Green Man. Fuck, man. You don’t just barge into a room and ask someone something like that.”
The leaves of his face rearranged themselves into a bright, sunny smile. “Good! Because I’d hate to have to figure out exactly how much force it would take to push him out a window.”
The story I had heard in passing of a árus Adaig courtier who had fallen from a balcony a few months before I arrived trickled back into my mind.
“That was you?”
“What was me? No one here but the squirrels and a fork!” And a fork was produced and stabbed viciously into a lump of stew meat floating in the bowl he had brought me. “Now, you sit and eat, and I will catch you up.”
Hands finally free to wriggle back into the trunk I had been diving into. I fished out a pair of canvas breeches that had leather stitched into the seat and crotch and a dark-green linen shirt .
The Raven was twice my size easily, but it was nothing the loop leather belt I snatched couldn’t fix. I ducked my head into the mouth of the cloak and shimmied into the borrowed clothing cinching the belt as tight as I could get it in a knot like a Windsor knot I had once learned to tie from a foster dad. Satisfied I was no longer bare-assed, I shucked off the cloak.
“Better.” I ignored the way The Raven’s scent floated around me in a lingering cloud of comfort and the way it tightened my core around a nettle of need.
Green Man pursed wooden lips and did his best impression of a wolf whistle. “Fit to slay any monster, now sit. Eat. I can’t imagine that brute has been feeding you.”
“He has,” I assured him but did as I was bid and began tucking into the bowl of rich stew, breaking off a piece of crusty bread to dip in the dark vegetable broth.
It wasn’t the delicious bread from the temple, but it was food.
“Well, word’s gone round the warren that you killed the King.” I choked on a carrot, and he held up his hands. “Now, now, no deep-throating the innocent vegetables—that’s what got you in this mess to begin with. Had you let me finish I’d have said that Emerald has convinced most of them that there was no way you could have possibly gotten that venom. Unfortunately, some of the nosier old timers saw you having a picnic with that brat, The Lady Oaken Rose near the orchards. Some of the old timers are nursing broken knees and legs. No idea what happened there. We came back from duties, and suddenly, like magic even, there they were tucked into their bed moaning about their wounds., No idea how that happened at all.”
I snorted and waved my fork at him. “You really need to work on your innocent act, Green Man. I didn’t even believe you for a single moment. So, was it you or Emerald?”
“Well, I was in the gardens with the rest of my hunt, and there’s baskets and bushels of vegetables some of which are in your stew to prove it.”
“And Emerald? ”
“Why she’s employed by the Master of the Royal Wardrobe! She was probably somewhere in the racks and racks of his royal shit-stained robes. Most likely scrubbing some filth from his garments. Probably.”
A sly grin formed in the leaves of his face, and I snorted again. “So, Emerald was part of the mob back in human, I take it. Go on.”
“What her life was like in Human, I haven’t the slightest idea. She’s pretty tight lipped on it.” I snorted again at his joke.
Emerald’s inability to speak, having had a tongue lock too severe that shredded the larynx in her throat, had been mourned and turned into dark humor long before I showed up.
It made me a little uneasy, but she seemed all too pleased to show images beneath her glittering green stone-like skin of all manner of valorous ways in which she had lost her voice. My favorite was her deep-throating a dragon’s dick too vigorously and him coming molten flame down her throat. Made me giggle and snort every single time but also made me wonder what Brittle Spear would have tasted like if he had been more dragon than Fae.
“It seems, above the floors, the palace is a tittering that you must have had help. After all, no one believes a simple daoire could kill a King. Or at least that’s what they like to say in public.” He plucked a caterpillar from one of his leaves and set it on the desk.
It wriggled in confusion for a while before setting out to find a better home.
I could have, probably should have. My one regret was that I had been too shocked and empathetic to take my moment to stab him a few times for all the trouble he had caused me. I kept eating as Green Man went on.
“Violet sends her love, by the by. Said specifically to tell you that you better not be having too much fun because she intends on strapping your ass when you get back for giving her all this grief. Said she spent all that time in the temple tending after your hide, and you had the gall to immediately get back into trouble. ”
I finished up the stew, leaving every piece of the meat in the bowl, and shoved the last pieces of bread into my mouth. “That’s totally fair and absolutely a love sonnet from our dear little doll.”
“I knew you’d agree.” He leaned against the door frame and watched me. “He’s forbidden you from leaving this room, you know.”
“Ha! And you plan on keeping me here? I’ve got a match somewhere.”
The crackling of branches mixed with his laughter. “Oh, I fully intend on closing this door behind me. Unfortunately, our dear Captain of the Guard was too busy storming around and giving the weak little humans orders to remember to give me any sort of means to lock said iron door. It is not my fault that I assumed the lock would be magical like the Maw is. How was I supposed to know that The Raven has a secret bunker down in the depths of the dungeons that isn’t a prison cell and doesn’t have a magical lock? Not like he has told anyone.”
“He’s forgetful like that, very irresponsible. How did he even get that job? You’d think the Captain of the Royal Guard would be responsible at least,” I huffed, dusting bread off my newly purloined pants.
They were baggy on me, but they would do.
“Nepotism. Same way as everything else.” Vines wrapped around me in a tight hug. “I cannot stay for long, Cricket. He’s posted guards up on the Maw level. They are expecting me back. I was only supposed to bring down the food, ensure you do not leave, then go back up above floor.” His face turned very stern, mockingly so. “So. Young lady. Don’t you dare leave this room. You’re grounded. By order of The Raven of the Dawn, Captain of the Royal Guard.”
“Oh no! Not that! I will absolutely stay right here and await his return. I absolutely will not be sneaking out of this room and down one of those tunnels the very moment you leave,” I parroted in mock innocence.
“That’s right. You had better not. And you absolutely shouldn’t take the torch I accidentally left outside of the door. And you most certainly should not whistle up to the ghost lights, ask them to help you and pay them with a lullaby. That would absolutely not be acceptable.”
“Then, I absolutely will not do that!”
The pair of us grinned like silly children to each other, letting it comfortably turn down into a melancholy, soft smile that spoke so much of our troubles and the weight that we carried. Our burdens were both shared and individual. The ribbon that tied us together could hold Fenris, but it had a different patina for each of us.
“Oh!” Green Man exclaimed and stepped aside with a waist-deep bow to usher something or someone into the room. “I found this lurking outside the Maw in the deep shadows. I suspect he had been there the entire time, waiting for The Raven to return with you. He sort of followed me down when I came this way. So, I am assuming he was looking for you.”
Smoke, thin and gossamer at first, gathered strength and body as it flowed, seeking finger like tendrils into the room filling the doorway. Then a deep bearded snout appeared sniffing, drawing up a black lip that swallowed the light around it, around dark-purple teeth.
The massive head of what looked like an Irish wolfhound made of nothing but light-swallowing black mist and smoke stepped into the room. The lights in the gutter around the ceiling spit, hissed, and threatened the beast as it entered its domain. Two eyes that reflected neon-blue and yellow, like a phone camera flash sparking in its eyes, turned to me and took me in.
“Please tell me that’s not what I think it is.” I gulped as the mini-horse of a smoke dog crept toward me.
“It seems Goose has decided not to be a cat anymore,” Green Man whispered apologetically as the mastiff shaped dog calmly glided toward me.
“Look, Goose, I appreciate that your folk were once war dogs, and this is all very impressive, this whole shape shifting thing, but that’s unsettling, my friend. Very unsettling. Could you pick a shape and stick with it?” Goose tilted his head, perking up his bushy ears as his butt hit the carpet in front of me. Smoke billowed away on the small gust of wind. “Thank you, Green Man. At least I’ll have someone around should The Raven decide that velvet coverlets and hot stew are too good for me.”
“To be honest, Cricket, I’m less to thank than Goose here. I had no choice about it. Rather certain that had I tried to shoo him, he’d have bitten off my hand.”
“What, don’t want to play fetch with Goosey? So mean, Green Man.”
“You know, Cricket, one of these days, you’re going to take something seriously.”
“Maybe. But today is not that day, and I am eyeing your shin for a good chew toy for my baby here. Now, get going before the guards come looking for you.”
Green Man didn’t need to be told twice, and when I looked back up, he was gone and the door closed behind him.
I slumped into the chair and watched Goose patrol the room, sniffing everything his nose could push into.
“Okay, Goose. Look, I know you can understand me. Sensed it all this time. And that’s a bit unsettling. So, let’s have a little chat. First things first, can you talk?”
A small voice in my head whispered that I didn’t want to know the answer to that question. I really didn’t. A shapeshifting smoke dog that could understand everything I said was bad enough but a shapeshifting smoke dog that could understand everything I said and respond back to me? That was too much.
Goose raised his head from where he was pawing open a drawer and watched me with those flashing eyes. Eventually, he stuck his nose back into the drawer and said nothing.
“Phew. Great. Perfect. Even if you can, appreciate the discretion buddy. Second, pretty sure you were supposed to be protecting me. As I have just come from a torture session and then being used as a tool to proxy murder someone, I think we need to have a conversation about what protecting is all about. I hate to say it, big guy, but you’re sort of sucking at this job.”
Offended, Goose raised his head, a small bag in his mouth. A slow, whining snarl was given as he padded over to me and spat the bag into my lap. A disgruntled huff was given, and he sat down before me, waiting.
“Gifts won’t fix this, Goosey. I need you to sort of step it up. I’m getting my ass kicked by these Fae bastards, and I’m not above bribing you. No more disappearing into the shadows. Okay, bud? I need you by me. I thought I could trust The Raven, but I don’t think I can even trust myself around him anymore. So, I need you to help me out, okay?”
Goose tilted his head once, then again. Without warning, he leapt up, his paws resting on my shoulders easily. The great shaggy shadow head pressed into mine in what I could only translate as some sort of acceptance and apology.
I dug my hand into his fur and scratched him. His fur glided past my fingers like the morning mist in an arctic forest, thick yet ephemeral. Tiny water droplets made of black ink remained on my fingers when I pulled them back.
“Thanks, big guy.”
I turned my attention back to the pouch and wriggled my finger into the throat to dislodge the cinch. Within was a small horde of beads, each casting the faintest of glows, like a glow stick that had returned home at the bottom of a purse after a long rave. I pushed them around with the tip of my finger, tiny static shocks snapping at my tips as I did so. “Pretty sure these are boon beads, Goosey. And it looks like a lot of folks owe The Raven. A ton of them from the Bandrui too. Though we’ve seen how well those little stars worked, didn’t we?”
Goose snorted and pushed away from me, snatching the bag by its drawstrings and tucking it back in the drawer before dashing to the door and pawing at it.
“Yep, I think it’s time to, Goose. Been a few minutes since he left. If they were curious and coming down to check that the door was closed, it’s been done, and they’re gone, I think. Whatcha think, big guy?” I asked, making my way toward him.
Goose evaporated. His smoky body leaking under the door until all but the very least bit of it remained, pooling in a swirl that seemed to be holding onto a crack in the rock. By the time I made it to the door, Goose was reforming on my side, his long whip of a tail wagging happily.
“Okay. Goose. Unsettling, my friend. Un. Settling. But I’ll keep that in mind. Real useful. I take it there’s no one out there?”
Goose chuffed and pawed at the door eagerly.
I hesitated.
I didn’t know where I was going, when I’d be back, or if I ever would be. My gaze turned to the room and pored over every little detail, memorizing it. I returned to the desk, tidying the gloves, and set them on the shelf with the others. I was tempted to nick something, to slip some memory of him in my pocket and take it with me. I was so tempted to keep something of his that my eyes seemed desperate to find some small meaningful thing, but it all seemed meaningful. All of it was precious, but none of it was him.
As much as he made me bristle. As much as I wanted to lash out at him every time I saw him, I wanted even more for him to stay. Every time his back turned and he walked away from me felt like a knife wriggling deeper into my soft belly. I hated that he had put that dagger there. I hated that he twisted and pressed on it with such ease, without even seeming to realize it. It made me want to push him away even more. Maybe if he finally stayed gone, I could forget the way my skin sizzled the few times he touched me or the way I fell into his eyes.
Goose’s jaws wrapped around the edge of my shirt and pulled, knocking me against the wall. “Fuck! Fine. Jeez, can’t a girl get a little moody without her dog reprimanding her?”
His only response was to huff and look pointedly at the closed door.
I slipped into the dark corridor and found the torch with ease, letting the door close softly behind me. My eye traced over the craftsmanship of the ironwork that covered the door. Even in the brutality of what these bars would do, the Fae had sought to make it beautiful. It was a perfect representation of everything they were, twisted, grotesque—covering over their wickedness with a beautiful veneer. I kicked at it. There was no true reason why. I just let all the hatred I had built up over the weeks and untold months flow out until a small chunk of the layered leaf litter that adorned the edges of the wicked prison gate fell with a clatter. I huffed, catching my breath before snatching the piece up and shoving it in my pocket. It wasn’t a great weapon, but it would do.
The metal stole the heat from my body, and I could feel it sucking and pulling at my thigh through my barely padded pants. It was an unsettling feeling to have the warmth of your body fleeing.
The ghost lights were easy to coax down. A simple little hum of the bits of a lullaby that I didn’t remember learning about a willow tree by a river and the little lights detached themselves from the ceiling and hugged the stick I was pretty sure had come from Green Man’s own body. Most torches had pitch and linen wrapped around them, usually with burnt bits. This was a freshly cut, plain-as-anything-else stick.
Goose bound up and down the corridor, sticking his head into the blackness of each tunnel, until he finally settled on one closest to us, a few feet deeper into the narrowing of the hallway.
I followed him, not exactly wanting to be alone in the dark, even with the ghost lights hovering and following along.