Chapter 57 #2
Ronan’s onyx eyes narrow for several long seconds. “No,” he finally says. “Crowns do not define a kingdom, and those jewels were wrongfully sourced. That will be all.” He walks away, Evie following him.
“Evie, wait!” I call out, but the guards cross their halberds to block me from following.
My sister glances over her shoulder at me, her brows knit and lips pursed.
I want to call out to her again, but I don’t know what to say. How could I possibly apologize for leaving her again—and this time, for good?
Her frown hardens with determination, but to what end, I don’t know.
I can’t read my own sister. All I can think about is that meeting her gaze is like looking into a mirror.
I see myself in the firm set of her jaw as I remember telling her that nothing could make me stay in Nettlerock, not even her.
I never should have said that. Not to my sister.
Evie turns away, tucks her arm around Ronan’s, and leaves.
Mythos guards escort us to the nearest Hollowlands faery door. It’s in the woods that frame the Bay of Teeth and has been controlled by Avedor since the war. On this side, a fort has been built around it. The high walls are interspersed with guard towers, where readied archers watch our every move.
We asked for clothes for Min at Drottheim Keep, and she stands with us now in a plain housekeeper’s uniform. Finnian sneaks more than one glance at her, and I wonder if she’s noticed.
“The decree will be put out tomorrow for all fae to withdraw from Avedor, and all Avedor-loyal humans to withdraw from the Hollowlands,” a guard says as he leads us through the fort’s gate.
He’s young, with dark hair like Rune’s, but a narrower face.
“Avedor is stationing guards on our side of the doors to prevent crossover.”
Desmond nods. “We will do the same on our side.”
“That’s the door?” I ask. It’s so quaint and picturesque, just a ringfort of toadstools in the center of the fort’s courtyard.
Brandur looks uneasy, eyeing the toadstools with suspicion. “I had planned to return to the guild,” he mutters to us. “My purpose is here in Avedor, and I would have the opportunity to search that traitor’s room for correspondence or clues.”
Finnian nods with a sly smile. “May Danu be with you, brother. I hope to see you again.” He raises his hand and cackles. “I release you from my glamour, orc servant!” He tries to snap his fingers and swears. “Glove’s in the way,” he mutters.
I stifle my laugh. It’s a brilliant idea to pretend Brandur was glamoured into helping us. The guards have no reason to suspect it’s all an act.
Except that Brandur only blinks.
Auri sighs, snaps her own fingers, and elbows Brandur. “We have no more use for you!” she shouts, and if she were human, she’d definitely be rolling her eyes. “Begone!”
“Oh!” Brandur’s eyes light up, finally understanding the plan. He sinks to his knees and lets out a gruff cry. “My head! It is pounding! What day is it? Where am I? Who are these people?” He thrashes like he’s fighting a nightmare, his red hair whipping around him.
“Whoa, settle down!” the guard shouts. “He’s been glamoured?”
“Of course I have, you todsaq!” Brandur snaps. “A true orc would never assist a fae willingly!”
The guard sighs. “Get him out of here,” he calls out to another.
As the guards lead Brandur through the gate, he glances back at us, grinning in farewell.
“Has anyone else here been glamoured?” the guard escorting us demands.
Auri makes eye contact with Min, who slowly shakes her head. She’s going with them. I can’t believe it.
And then Auri looks at me.
“I. . .”
My heart pounds. A way out. This is a way out, to go back home and explain to my family why I left again, to travel Avedor like I’ve always dreamed.
Something like magic pulls my gaze to Desmond, and I don’t miss how he’s holding his breath, waiting, hope in his eyes. I swear I can feel our bond again, thrumming between us no matter how impossible that seems. It beckons me, whispering that as long as he’s near, I’ll never be alone.
Fuck it.
“I helped them of my own free will,” I say, the words heavy because they’re changing everything. “I’ll go with them to the Hollowlands.”
Desmond says nothing, but a smile dances in his eyes. He steps into the ringfort, vanishing instantly. Finnian follows, then Auri.
Min’s wide, black eyes look up at me. “I will see you on the other side, Cyn.” She squeezes my hand, then steps past the toadstools, gone in less than a blink.
I take one last, longing look at Avedor. My home. The guard indulges it, standing silently as I breathe in the forest air. “Take care of her for me,” I tell him.
He grins at me in a cocky way that’s almost familiar. “Take care of whom?”
“My sister.”
The guard stills. “You aren’t in a position to be asking for favors when I haven’t forgotten the one you owe me.” He blinks, his eyes flashing teal.
My pulse jolts in shock. I glare at him, tempted to stomp on his foot. “I haven’t forgotten it either, Rune Erickson. So, tell me. How many of the Meirdens’ crowns did you make off with?”
He smiles ear-to-ear. “All of them. You have my sincere thanks for the distractions you caused. I fear I couldn’t have done it without you.”
“You’re despicable,” I hiss.
“And you best be on your way before you blow my cover.” He gestures, speaking louder for the other guards, “Go on, then. The other traitors await.”
Would it be so awful to sock him in the jaw before I step through? I debate it, but decide that I don’t want to push my luck. The last thing the fae need is more tension with Avedor.
Taking one last breath of home, I step into the ring.
My foot meets rock instead of grass. Dark, cavernous walls rise around me, but the room is furnished.
Two rows of fae guards fan out before me, and between them stands a female fae with Desmond’s dark hair and his expressionless mask of stone.
She’s dressed in armor that gleams green and violet like a beetle’s carapace, but unlike the other guards, medals decorate her collar.
Atop her head is a circlet, not unlike Desmond’s crown. There’s no denying that she’s Desmond’s older sister—Deitra Vale.
Deitra looks me over, her mouth pressed into a solemn line. “Cynthia Markos.”
I straighten, awaiting her judgment.
She nods, steps back, and waves at me to pass. “Welcome to the Hollowlands.”