Chapter 20
Maeve bites her nails as she follows us down the hall. “My tonics will help you heal, but the iron. . .”
I remember how Desmond put on gloves before he touched the iron doorknob at Hawthorn Inn. Glancing at his shoulder injury, my jaw locks. Red, angry welts surround his weeping wound.
“I know,” Desmond says. He spares his shoulder a single glance. “It will scar.”
“Badly.” She winces. “I’m brewing some explosives in my alchemy room, so we can get you cleaned up in yours. Meet you there!”
She opens a door wide enough for her to slip through and nervously waves in parting. A strange hissing and popping echoes from inside, and blue smoke trails out.
Desmond strides further down the hall and stops in front of the bedroom door with the chain lock fastened to the outside—a lock meant to keep him in. He opens the door, but stops me from entering with an outstretched arm.
I try to peek around him, but he eases the door nearly shut, his face crinkling with tired amusement. “You should rest, Cynthia. Training starts at dawn.”
I gape at him. “Dawn? What about your injury?” And after everything that happened, it’ll be a miracle if I sleep for even an hour tonight.
He shrugs. “I said I wouldn’t go easy on you.”
“I underestimated how merciless my instructor would be,” I mutter, rolling my eyes.
His cheek dimples with a hint of a smile. “I suppose I would call Auri ‘merciless.’”
It takes me a second too long to respond. “So, you and I aren’t training tomorrow?” Of course we aren’t, I admonish myself. He’s injured.
Then Auri stalks toward us in high dudgeon, bandages and bottles cradled in her arms. That’s likely the only reason she doesn’t shove me as she seethes.
“The orc girl told me what happened,” she hisses to me.
“You were careless to wander outside alone. You have no idea what the consequences of your death are!”
I flinch, and the glint of smugness in her eyes makes my stomach squeeze with anger. “We made it out alive!” I snap. “But I’m flattered that you suddenly think I’m not expendable. The tomb raid matters that much to you?”
Her sneer falters as if my reply confused her. Then she scowls again. “You’re lucky that Desmond was with you.”
“I’m lucky that she was with me,” Desmond cuts in. “It was me they were after, and having her there made it an equal fight.”
It surprises me that he defended me, and that he used the word equal.
The proud smile that plays on his lips makes me think he actually meant it.
Warmth unfurls low in my core before I can stop it.
I should be annoyed by how much his approval affects me.
Instead, I find myself wanting to hear him say it again.
He motions for Auri to enter his room. She does so with one last derisive huff.
Desmond sighs, running a hand through his tangled curls. “Goodnight, Cyn. I promise your family is safe.” His smile softens, making my toes curl. Then he closes the door behind them.
“Goodnight,” I breathe to the empty hall. The warm fuzziness in me from his smile fades as a realization crushes me: Once again, he’s chosen her company over mine.
Two days have passed since Gashil attacked us. I’ve searched the forest twice for my throwing knives and didn’t find them, so I’ve written them off as lost. The guild has other sets.
Auri takes me outside every morning for archery, ordering me around and critiquing my aim. Once, I startled a rabbit out of the bushes. I shot it, and she told me with a hint of satisfaction that my aim has improved. So now I’m supposed to learn how to harness my magic to make impossible shots.
In the afternoons, Desmond stands atop the wooden board with sandbags around his feet. He watches, unsympathetic, as I struggle to lift it.
About a half hour ago, Rune arrived and said he needed to speak with Desmond about the map heist. So I’ve been training on my own, using magic to throw my new knives at the target.
Thunk. Hit to the middle ring.
Evie’s face flashes in my mind, her eyes lifeless and dull.
Thunk. An inch closer to the center.
Blood pours from her throat.
Thunk. Miss.
I exhale a ragged breath. It doesn’t matter that it was an illusion. I watched her die because I was too weak to save her.
So I throw with my Gift again. And again, until the strain on my mind is so unbearable that I can’t even levitate my bootlace.
I trudge out of the training room, and a sweet aroma lures me to the kitchen.
I expect to find Nog preparing supper, but Auri tuts as she pulls a steaming loaf of bread out of the clay oven.
Ingredients are strewn about the counter: a sack of flour, trails of salt, and a jar of yeast. It looks like someone left in a hurry.
“The orc girl is busy tinkering with potions and asked me to pull it out. Want a bite?” Auri asks.
“Definitely.” My fate is sealed when she drizzles a sugar glaze atop it, leaving it clumpy in some areas and barren in others. “That smells worth dying for.”
Auri raises a perfectly curved brow. “If only you could make good on that. At least you have one of those puny mortal lifespans.”
I clench my hands as I battle with myself, torn between replying it’s a pity the world is stuck with her for her long lifespan, and asking why she has to be an abrasive ass all the time.
I settle on neither and sit at the butcher block counter.
Nothing good would come from provoking her, and I’m already exhausted from training. So I force my shoulders into a shrug.
“Hmm.” Auri grabs a knife, and I lean back, just in case. The bread sinks as she slices the end off. Then a strange look flickers across her face. Indecision. I don’t think I’ve seen her hesitate before. “Care for some jam, human?”
I roll my eyes. “My name is Cyn, fae. Don’t use mine and I won’t use yours.”
Her lips press into a thin line before she speaks. “So you have no fear of the folk. Is the reason stupidity or ignorance?”
The conceit in her voice grates on me even more than the insult itself. Her bread knife wobbles until I force my wayward magic back inside me.
“Fae are not as terrifying as you think,” I reply, but it’s forced. A lie. How could I not be afraid of the fae after Gashil’s attack? The bone-chilling nightmare of Evie’s blood-soaked body has haunted me more than I want to admit.
Auri looks between me and the knife, then frowns with scorn. “Do you think you can fool me?”
“Let me rephrase. You don’t terrify me. But Gashil—”
She stabs the knife into the counter and shouts, “How dare you call him fae!”
I flinch. My knuckles whiten as I grip the seat of my chair. “I saw his ears. They were undeniably—”
“Fomorian.” She pulls the knife free and glares down at it. “They’ve been enemies of the fae far longer than your rapacious people have been.”
I track every movement of the knife as she wipes the crumbs off it. “Then that proves my point. I grew up with the stories of the fae, the deceitful bargains, maidens vanishing. But where I’m from, there hasn’t been a disappearance in over a decade.”
“You can thank the High Court’s prince for that. ‘Kidnapping and glamouring mortals is immoral,’ he said.” She scoffs in disgust.
“It is immoral,” I argue. Yet I’m surprised that Desmond would enforce that, when Avedor has enslaved his own people.
“The unseelie don’t abide by it, and I agree with them for once,” Auri says.
“What’s a few kidnappings when you invade our lands, steal our resources, and show mercy only in exchange for vows of bondage?
” She squeezes the knife’s hilt, and her tone grows cold.
“When the tides turn, you will be afraid.”
A shiver crawls down my spine. The malice in her voice alone is enough to make me believe it, but I don’t want her to know. I’m tired of being weak. So I laugh like none of it unsettled me, then ask, “Is that a threat?”
Auri kicks the leg of my chair. I fall. My skull thunks against the floor, and pain sucks the air from my lungs.
She presses the knife underneath my chin, jerking my head up. I fling my fists, but she takes the hits like she’s made of stone. She clenches my forehead, forcing my gaze to hers. Terror rips through me as I realize how much danger I’m in. She’s ruthless. She despises me. And we’re utterly alone.
“Maybe it is,” she says with a sneer. “Now stop breathing.”
The command reverberates through my mind, igniting an inexplicable desire to obey. I stare at her, mesmerized by the amber of her eyes and the dark kohl rimming her lashes. My chest ceases to rise, and my last breath lies stale against my tongue.
“Is there anyone around to hear you scream? Oh, right. I suppose that doesn’t matter when you can’t use your voice.” She menacingly smiles. “It’s torturous, isn’t it? To know I’m prying apart your weak mortal mind, and you can’t do a thing to stop it.”
The lack of air makes my ears ring. Her voice sounds like it’s echoing across a valley. My eyes widen, pleading as I stare into hers, sharp and uncaring.
“The difference between us, human, is I’ve earned my confidence,” she continues.
“Not only did I survive two weeks alone in the Forgotten Forest, evading its twisted magic and flesh-hungry flora, but I entered with only my clothing. I trained in the art of battle underneath commanders who broke me, only to build myself up again. And do you know what?” Her glare holds a storm of wrath, and her grip tightens.
“That training is outlawed by your people. You want us weak and obedient and hopeless, but I will never give in.”
Please, I beg her with my gaze, the edges of my vision darkening and the ringing drowning out her laughter.
She tsks and rises over me, but her glamour doesn’t let me go. “Breathe. Stand.”
My body jerks to obey, even as the sudden movement makes my head pound and my vision splotchy. Air floods my chest, so quickly that I almost choke on it.
“Would you care for some jam? It’s made from a rare berry.” I’m forced to watch as she fetches a jar from the cupboard. She slides the pink translucent jam toward me, along with the knife. A plate with a slice of bread follows.
“Serve yourself,” she commands.
I don’t want to. My gut screams that there’s something wrong with it. But I can’t disobey.
The world sways as I unscrew the lid. I dip the knife into the jam. Each facet shines in the light like a polished gem, yet it wobbles as I spread it on the bread. Its scent is cloying.
“More.”
I clench the hilt. Sweat rolls down my neck, mingling with humiliation. Every part of me yearns to lash out. Slap her, shake her. Anything.
I thicken the layer until it’s heaping and then wait for her approval.
“Now eat.” She smiles as I take my first bite.
Oh gods, it’s delicious. The bread is as fluffy as unspun wool, and the jam is sweeter than strawberries, but with the tangy aftertaste of blackberries. Why is she forcing me to eat something that tastes so good?
“You’re moaning,” Auri comments. “No need to debase yourself to compliment the baker. She’s not here.” She leans against the counter, so keenly watching me that I don’t think she’s blinked. “How does the jam taste?”
I take another bite, then another. “Good,” I grunt, and at this point, I can’t tell if it’s the glamour compelling me or the truth.
“Really good.” In fact, the explosion of flavors makes the whole kitchen seem brighter and more vibrant.
The crackling of the flames in the oven sounds like music.
I could dance to it. I could melodize along with it.
Blackberries. A memory flickers in my mind. Blackberries with a rainbow sheen in sunlight, full of such a heady enchantment that even the birds won’t eat them.
Before I know it, I’m standing. I’m reaching for Auri to have her join me. She slaps my hand away and smirks. “No, no, I’m more than happy to watch you have your fun.”
“Alright,” I agree, but it sounds a little slurred. No matter. I’m too happy to care about the room spinning a little, about my endless stream of giggles as I waltz around the table.
Finnian enters, his brows shooting up when he sees me. “Hello!” I skip to him and grab his gloved hands. “Isn’t the music so lovely? I’m glad it’s you who’s here and not Desmond. You’re a lot more fun than him.” I giggle. Yes, that was really funny. He should be laughing too!
Finnian casts a suspicious glare at Auri. “Tell me you didn’t.”
“Oh, I did.” She gestures at the empty plate. “And she loved it, too.”
“Why do you wear these?” I start to pull off Finnian’s gloves. He curls his fingers to stop me. I give up and prance across the kitchen instead.
“What were you thinking?” Finnian demands. I don’t know who he’s talking to.
“I want to help you,” I say. “You don’t need to hide your hands. What’s wrong with them, anyway? Are they blue?”
Auri laughs. “I was thinking how boring it is, being cooped up in this cave. I wanted a bit of fun. Desmond said to watch over her, not coddle her. She will be fine once she pukes it up.”
Finnian’s being boring. I totter toward Auri and stroke one of her braids. “Your hair is so pretty. So are your eyes. People must tell you that a lot.”
“Am I so pretty that if I asked you to do something, you’d do it for me?” She bats her lashes.
“Sure.” I nod. She has to know that I mean it. “I’ll do anything for you.”
“Come on, let’s go have some real fun.” She grabs my arm and leads me through the foyer, then outside.
I hiccup. The sun is bright. The trees are so green that they’re glowing.
It’s beautiful. How did I never notice that the forest is so beautiful?
Finnian tails us as Auri takes me to the cave where the horses are eating their hay.
It must be tasty. Maybe I want some hay, too.
“You see that horse?” Auri asks, pointing at a stallion. “He’s really a prince. A cursed prince. If you kiss him, it’ll free him from a spell. Or something.”
I nod so vigorously that my neck feels funny. “Is he a handsome prince?”
“Auri. . .” Finnian warns.
“What? This won’t hurt her. Yes, he’s a very handsome prince. Dare I say, much fairer than I.” She pushes me toward the horse.
“Hello.” I wave shyly. The horse prince snorts. “I’m going to kiss you. So close your eyes!” My nose brushes against the horse’s. Its hot, damp exhale puffs against my skin. There might have been some snot in it. Princely snot.
I tilt my head and stand on my toes. My lips brush against the horse’s chin as it raises its head.
“Oops! Look at me! I can’t kiss you if you’re staring at the ceiling!
” The prince grunts as I plant my hands on its muzzle, wrestling its head down.
There’s a warning flare of its nostrils, an agitated stomp of hooves.
“Aether, stop it!” Finnian scolds.
Then the horse licks me.
Finnian laughs. Auri does too. Laughter is bubbling everywhere and filling the cave. I think I’m laughing. I don’t know why. My breath hitches as I clutch my ribs. A sob bubbles up, but it warps into another laugh. I can’t stop.
I want to stop.
Make the laughter stop.