25. Chapter Twenty-Five
A wave of relief washed over me as we traversed through the deadlands without incident. I wasn’t forced to face the sputtering, drooling Underfae and risk being found. Soldiers didn’t rush toward the divide and demand who we were or what we wanted. It was calm—eerily so.
It took us another hour to get to town, and though I looked different, I averted my stare from familiar eyes. Gene, the best baker I’d ever met, and his wife Tera, a seamstress who had repaired so many clothes I should’ve given up but didn’t have the means of, or interest in, replacing. It was when I saw Jon hollering at a bartering customer that my chest turned hollow.
We were on the outskirts of town. I could run off, find a place to hide, and wait until I figured out another way to Azalea, one that didn’t involve breaking into the Circle of Sorceresses’ sanctuary and risk being caught.
“The tavern should be up ahead,” Eero said beneath his breath. “Isaac and Talia said there may be somebody there willing to help us with the tunnel system. We can stop there for the night and continue into the sanctuary before making a decision on what to do.”
We grabbed a seat at the tavern, secured two rooms, and started drinking. The mead was mediocre, especially when compared to that of the fae realm, but Eero’s focus was distantly set on the bodies coming and going. He’d already asked the man at the bar if he was the owner, but he’d said no.
“What do you need the owner for?” I asked.
Eero flicked his gaze toward me—strange, despite the familiar twinkle behind it. The magic was making me high, in a way. My head felt lighter on my shoulders, eyelids heavier, tongue looser. I wondered if they felt the same way, or if my body just wasn’t used to this.
“This tavern, apparently, was a haven for both sides during the war before the cities were leveled by battle. They established a series of tunnels…or, so Isaac claims. If we find the owner, we can at least determine if that’s a possible way around the kingdom without being noticed.”
“And you think they’re just going to give that information up?”
Sapphire smirked. “You’re getting better with your questions.”
I rolled my eyes and picked at a piece of bread. Eero took a swig of his mead, lip curling in disgust. He set the glass down and slid it away. “They may, for the right cost or motivation.”
“If they’re a people’s people, freeing a wrongfully convicted woman may just be the right move,” Sapphire said, humming in agreement. Her voice grew quiet as her smirk turned sinister. “Whether that move reveals you as a fae bastard or their saving light…to be determined.”
Eero barked out a laugh and drew his hands into his face. Joy bubbled in my chest at the sight. This, despite the magic ebbing and flowing between us, felt normal. It was as if we were venturing toward our next home, somewhere that didn’t care of our blood or lineage. Our birthright wasn’t a crown tonight—it was drunken laughter and terrible jokes.
And, for a long while, that’s exactly what we did. Sapphire told me stories about the first time they met, how she nearly strung him by the balls because she still held a resentment toward his brother for what he’d done to her. Then, Eero would talk about growing up with a divided court—one side Winter, the other Summer—and the hatred that seethed from the Summer Court in response to Eero’s lineage.
All of it was spoken in code, replacing the courts and names so as to not be found, but the story had never been clearer to me. I, for the first time, felt like I was peering into their lives and what made them, them. When Sapphire had finished her third glass, she swiveled her head toward me.
“What about you? What was it like growing up around the most esteemed of sorceresses?”
My eyebrows rose, and I parted my lips in question. “I never knew any better,” I said quietly, followed by a small smile. “When they found me, I wasn’t older than…what, two or three? Abandoned around the side of a bar. I grew up knowing magic existed, and I met some of the most influential sorceresses known to man, but they were just faces to me. I never pried, and they didn’t question me for it.”
“Part of me wonders if that was on purpose,” Eero muttered and lowered his focus to the table. “There’s a certain smell to magic. Your…captor knew of your power, and he wasn’t the first. I’m certain.”
I was growing tired of avoiding names, especially when I wanted to defend them with every fiber of my being. It wasn’t because any of them deserved it—especially Julius or Yenira, considering the gravity of what they may be doing to me, against me—but Azalea was a light in my life.
“If they knew of it—if—and decided it wasn’t in my best interest to know, that was their choice. There’s nothing I can do to change that.”
Eero gave me a cold look. He shook his head and turned his head to look at the bar. “You have a merciful heart, witchling,” he said beneath his breath, only loudly enough for us to hear. “But do not be a fool. Their decisions have harmed you in the long run.”
I scoffed. “I need air,” I muttered and stood. He longed after me when I walked out of the tavern but made no move to follow. He knew I’d protest, and I knew he’d find me if I went too far or was gone too long. We weren’t safe here, and I wasn’t foolish enough to think I could walk around like this was still my home. So, I breathed in the air and took a seat on a bench just outside the tavern.
Ahead was the stone fountain with the same chip in the woman’s face, her naked body covered in dirt and moss. The water was green, too. In the summer, the local merchants and shopkeepers did everything they could to keep it clean, but it always turned out dirty and neglected when the rain turned to snow.
I frowned. The Elkyn Kingdom was by no means the prettiest of places—it was too cold, too close to the deadlands, and suffered from poverty at the lowest level. Even so, the people were happy enough.
Azalea was important to the queen—was. Even so, we struggled, but we made it work. We had a home. We had clothes for all occasions, though none of it was new, and none of it was lavish. It just was. And for that, I was grateful.
For that, I didn’t care that they hid my magic from me—if they knew. Deep in my chest, I hoped they didn’t, but it was unlikely. However, if Eero’s words made me realize something, it was that I never fathomed how heavy these changes were weighing me down. I felt like Azalea’s suffering was the thundercloud over my head, Yenira’s lies the weight sinking me deeper into water. Julius was the light of it all—he wasn’t a witch, halfling, fae. He was a man. An aggravating, terribly flawed man. There was nothing tying him to the fae, and that was the only reason I was holding onto hope that what he’d done was out of his control.
Magic. Blackmail. Insanity. Anything—just so long as he did not exit my life as an enemy. Whether he exited in the fashion of execution or on a horseback toward the Elkyn Kingdom for peaceful transfer, I did not want to loathe him for what he did to me.
But a dark part of me was preparing for the worst.
A very, very dark part.