Chapter 5
Isla
I’m finally dozing off when I’m yanked upright. My eyes fly open as my body leaves the floor.
“Wake up,” a guard barks. “You’re wanted for questioning.”
Now?
“It’s the middle of the night,” I mutter.
“Come along,” he growls.
I didn’t sleep well last night. My ordeal has left me exhausted. I’m not in any shape to be questioned, but I nod anyway. It’s not like I have much say in the matter.
I grab for the thin blanket at my feet, wrapping it around my shoulders, wishing I were wearing something a little more substantial than my costume.
The cell floor is cold and damp beneath my bare feet. My silk shoes are still somewhere in the performance tent where they fell off when the guards grabbed me.
“Where are you taking me?”
The guard doesn’t answer. He just takes my arm and drags me out of the cell. Another guard falls into step behind us.
The dungeon corridors are narrow and dark, lit only by torches that cast dancing shadows on the stone walls. The air smells of mildew and excrement. I try not to think about it. I’m suddenly grateful that I haven’t eaten in a while.
We climb a set of stairs, then another. The air turns less oppressive. We’re moving up into the castle proper.
Finally, we stop outside a door. One of the guards knocks twice.
“Enter,” comes a voice from within.
The door swings open, and I’m pushed inside.
The room is small, with a desk in the center and two chairs – one on either side of the table. Candles burn on all the walls. After the darkness of my cell, it’s almost blinding.
A fae man stands behind the desk. He’s wearing the formal uniform of the Shadow Court, complete with black and silver trim. His dark hair is slicked back, and his face is clean-shaven. Some might call him handsome.
“Please, have a seat.” He gestures to the chair in front of the desk. His voice is smooth.
I hesitate. The guards behind me give me a small shove forward, so I sit.
The fae sits across from me, folding his hands on the desk. He studies me for a while, his dark eyes moving over my face.
I’m about to be interrogated, and I can’t wait.
“My name is Lord Corvius,” he says finally. “I’m Head Captain of the Shadow Guard. What is your name?”
“Isla.” My throat is dry.
“Isla,” he repeats. “No family name?”
“No,” I lie. He will recognize my family name instantly, so I keep it to myself.
“Interesting.” He leans back in his chair. “Tell me about yourself, Isla. Where are you from?”
“A small village near the Grass Plains of Babel,” I tell him, sticking to the truth as much as possible. “Or what used to be the Grass Plains.”
“And your family?”
“My father raised me. It was just the two of us.”
His eyebrows lift slightly. “And your mother?”
“She died when I was young.”
“I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you.” Though I can tell he doesn’t care. He’s just going through the motions.
“How long have you been with the troupe?” he asks, lifting his brows and leaning on his hands, elbows on the table.
“Just over two sun-cycles.”
“And before that?”
“I traveled alone. Did odd jobs.” I shrug. “Sang in taverns for coin. By then, I had started practicing aerial silks at every chance I could get,” I tell him. “Master Roland found me performing in a market square and offered me a position.”
“How generous of him.” Corvius’s lips curve into a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Tell me about your performance. What exactly do you do?”
“I’m an aerial silk performer. I climb silks suspended from the ceiling and perform acrobatic routines while singing.”
“It sounds extremely dangerous.”
“It can be.”
“You must be very talented to execute such feats without injury.”
There’s something in the way he says it. A slight emphasis on the word “talented.”
“I've trained for many years. That is especially true since joining the troupe. Master Roland expects nothing but the best.”
He steeples his fingers, tapping them together thoughtfully. “The performance tonight was quite spectacular, or so I’m told. I wasn’t there myself, unfortunately, but I’ve spoken with many who were.” He pauses. “They were…in awe of you.”
I say nothing.
“Some called it impossible,” he continues. “The way you moved. The heights you reached. It was like the air itself was holding you aloft.” His eyes lock on mine. “And your voice was like nothing anyone has ever heard before.”
My stomach clenches. “I’m very skilled at what I do. I got some of my talent from my mother.”
“How interesting. Talented, you say?” His smile widens. “Or is there something more? Something you’re not telling me?”
I frown. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Don’t you?” He leans forward now, his elbows still on the desk. “Let me ask you plainly, Isla. Can you perform magic?”
My heart goes wild inside me. “No. That’s absurd. Of course not.”
“Are you certain?”
“Yes.”
“Are you a witch?”
“No.” I laugh, shaking my head, forcing myself to meet his gaze. “If I were a witch, I would be living in a coven. Witches don’t mingle with humans or fae, for that matter. They certainly don’t travel with performance troupes.”
He considers this. “That’s true. Generally speaking.” He tilts his head. “But there are always exceptions.”
“I’m not an exception. I’m just a simple performer.”
“Hardly simple. Explain to me what happened today.”
I take a breath, trying to keep my voice steady.
“I have no idea. I was doing my routine like always. Everything was fine, and then I suddenly started to feel hot. Unnaturally so. Then came the pain.” I press a hand to my chest, remembering the burning.
“I almost fell, but thankfully I got caught up in the silks. I was lucky I didn’t get injured. ”
“Go on.”
“When the pain stopped, and I came to my senses, everyone was looking at someone in the audience. A fae man. People were saying he was one of the Lost Kings.” I shake my head.
“I thought it had to be a mistake. Then guards grabbed me, brought me here, and threw me in a cell.” I spread my hands.
“That’s all I know. I don’t even understand why I’m here. I didn’t do anything wrong.”
Corvius watches me carefully. His pleasant expression hasn’t changed, but something shifts in his eyes. Something calculating.
“I believe you have magic,” he says. “I believe you’re lying to me about being innocent in all this.”
“I’m not—”
“Are you working with the fae who is pretending to be King Sebastian?”
“What?” I stare at him. “No! Absolutely not. Today was the first time I ever set eyes on him. I’ve never spoken with him. I don’t even know who he is.”
He doesn’t look convinced.
“I’m going to ask you one more time.” His voice is still pleasant, but there’s steel beneath it now.
“And I want you to think very carefully before you answer. If you’re truthful with me, we’ll go easy on you.
There will be a place for you here at the Shadow Court. You’ll be valued and protected, Isla.”
Valued and protected? Not hardly. I’ll be no more than a slave.
“Last chance: can you perform magic?” he presses.
I roll my eyes and sigh. “This conversation is growing tiresome. I have no magic. I’m a performer. That’s all. Can I go back to my tent now? To my troupe? Master Roland will be worried.”
“No, you may not go back.” His eyes narrow on me. “People from the audience were interviewed. Many of them felt your ability was beyond simple talent. Beyond what any human should be capable of.” He leans forward. “Are you lying to me, Isla?”
“No.” Frustration builds in my chest. “I’m not lying.
If I had magical abilities, do you think I would have fallen recently?
Do you think I would have hurt myself so badly that I almost lost my place in the troupe?
It took a full moon-cycle for my arm to heal enough to be able to practice, let alone perform again. ”
That makes him pause. “You fell?”
“Yes.”
“At which court?”
“The Ice Court.” I hold his gaze. “My hands must have been too cold to grip. I can’t remember much.
I also hit my head. I lost my grip and fell.
I missed the next court performance entirely.
I’ve been extremely nervous since. Master Roland nearly dismissed me.
” The memory is real, at least. The fall did actually happen.
I just leave out the part about how the cold made it difficult for me to use my firefae magic.
That’s why I fell. I didn’t have the helping hand I rely on.
Corvius leans back in his chair, studying me. Then he smiles. It’s not a pleasant smile.
“You know what, Isla? I have a nose for sniffing out liars.” He stands slowly, walking around the desk. “Although there is truth to what you say, I believe that you’re lying.”
“I’m not—”
“Let me help you remember the truth.”
The shadows in the room shift.
They peel away from the walls and corners, flowing toward me like serpents. They rush out of him, too. I feel them touch my skin – cool and insubstantial at first. Like a breath of air.
I yelp, because I don’t like it.
“Stop!” I beg.
“I will if you are honest with me,” Corvius says.
“I am being honest.”
The shadows change. They become more solid, slithering across my arms and legs like eels. The sensation is unpleasant but not unbearable.
“Are you lying?” he asks.
“No. I swear.” I try to pull away, but it’s no use. The shadows tighten.
They wrap around my wrists, my ankles, my throat. Not choking, not yet, but constricting, the pressure building.
It starts to hurt.
“Please,” I gasp. “Please stop.”
“I will when you’re honest with me.”
“I’m telling the truth!” I yell.
The shadows twist tighter. They coil around my chest, squeezing until my ribs ache to the point where I can’t take a full breath.
I feel my magic start to surge. It rises in my veins, hot and desperate, wanting to burst out and protect me.
I clench my jaw, forcing it down.
If I lash out, if I use my magic to break free, he’ll know I’ve been lying this whole time.
But gods’ bones, I can’t hold on much longer.
The shadows squeeze tighter still. My vision starts to blur. Sweat drips down my face, stinging my eyes.
Kakara help me…please.
“Last chance,” Corvius murmurs.
My magic pushes against my control. One more second and it’s going to break through—
The door to the room bursts open.
“Captain Corvius!”
The shadows release me. I sag in the chair, gasping for air. My chest heaves. My hands tremble.
Corvius turns, his expression thunderous. “What is it? Can’t you see that I’m busy?” he snarls.
A young guard stands in the doorway, looking nervous. “Apologies, sir, but…” He glances at me. “You’re ordered to let the girl go. She’s been cleared.”
“Cleared?” Corvius’s voice is sharp. “By whom? Was it Belen?”
“No, sir. By the Ruler General.”
“The Ruler General. Are you sure? That can’t be right.”
“Quite sure, sir.”
Corvius stares at the guard for several seconds with a look of disbelief. “That’s strange, to say the least.” He sighs. “I almost had a confession out of her, too.”
The young guard shrugs. “I’m sorry, sir.” He looks petrified, taking a shuffling step or two back.
Corvius’s gaze shifts to me.
I’m still trying to catch my breath, my body shaking from the aftereffects of his torture.
“Most would have broken,” he says. There’s something almost like respect in his voice.
“Perhaps you are telling the truth, after all.”
I hold my tongue.
He steps closer, leaning down so his face is level with mine.
“But let me be clear, girl. If I find out you’ve been lying to me – if I discover even a whisper of magic from you – I will come for you.
And next time, there will be no interruption…
no one to save you.” His eyes bore into mine.
“I’ll have you jailed, or taken to one of the mines, or worse… So much worse. Do you understand?”
I swallow hard. “I am who I say I am.”
“Then you have nothing to worry about.” He straightens, waving a hand. “Go.”
The young guard moves to my side, offering me his arm. I take it gratefully. My legs are still weak.
As we step into the corridor, I heave a sigh.
It’s over.
I’m free.
We walk in silence. The guard leads me back down through the dungeons, retracing the path from earlier.
“You are lucky, Lord Corvius can be…cruel,” the guard tells me.
“I’ve never felt anything like it.” I shiver just thinking about those shadows all over me…squeezing me until I couldn’t breathe.
We pass through the narrow corridors. I can’t wait to be free of this place, but if I know Master Roland, he will want the show to go on. He even tried to get me to perform with an injured arm.
Surely not. Not after all this.
A moan echoes through the darkness, bringing me from my thoughts.
I freeze and turn toward the sound, to where a figure lies crumpled on the floor in one of the cells.
I peer into the darkness and realize that it’s the Shadowfae King. I gasp because he’s covered in blood and bruises. His torn tunic reveals the mark on his chest. His dark hair falls across his face.
As I watch, he stirs. His head lifts just a little, and the hair falls away from his face. His eyes open and lock onto mine.
In that moment, I feel something pass between us. My magic pulses, recognizing something in him.
“He needs help,” I tell the guard.
“Come on,” the guard urges. “We need to go.”
He pulls me down the corridor.
Was it him who got me out? Did he advocate for me? Is that why I’m being released?
His words from earlier come back to me: “The girl had nothing to do with this.”
He tried to help me straight after it happened. I somehow doubt that he would have much sway. Then again, he might still have allies within the court. Why set me free now? Why not wait for Corvius to finish with me?
I’m not sure I believe in luck. If I did, mine is now well and truly used up.
“I have a message for you,” the guard says.
“What message?” I frown. “Who sent it?”
“All I am permitted to tell you is that you need to leave. You are not safe here. As soon as you are freed, you are to collect your things and leave this court.”
“Why?”
He shrugs. “I don’t know, miss.”
I try to ask more, but he just shakes his head. He isn’t going to give me anything.
He leads me to the castle gates and lets me go.
I’m free.
While poor King Sebastian is rotting in that cell. I give the tiniest of head shakes. As much as I feel for him, there is nothing I can do for him.
Not a darned thing.
I need to keep my head down. I pray that the troupe is planning to leave in the morning. If not, I will have a big decision to make.