Chapter 20
“Be careful where you set your foot. Even sturdy ground can fail you.”
— Surviving the Unseelie Lands, Author Unknown
Iconsidered going home after the pub, but there was someplace else that I wanted to go more. By the time I reach the top of castle hill, I’ve completely burned through my buzz from the shots I inhaled.
Avoiding the wide main doors, I head instead for the gardens, strolling straight up to Maddox’s wagon and knocking on the door before I can talk myself out of it.
I wait.
And wait.
And wait.
He doesn’t answer, though. Did he see me coming through one of the windows and decide he doesn’t wish to speak to me? Who can blame him after the way I reacted? Yes, his lie hurt, but that was not the wound that broke me the other night.
“Maddox? I’m very sorry for the way I treated you. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me.”
Silence answers, and in my impatience, I think it’s a good idea to try the knob on his door. The wood gives, the hinges whine, and suddenly, I’m staring into the wagon Maddox calls home.
A wagon that is as empty as it is quiet.
“Hello?” I call, even though he clearly isn’t here.
I’ve never been inside Everett’s wagon, but I have caught glimpses through the open door a handful of times. That one was downright barren compared to Maddox’s.
Half of the small counter is made of wood, the other half slate tiles that look as if they belong on a rooftop.
None of the cabinet pulls match, and the ivory chair he brought out for me is stuffed next to an iron fireplace with a cracked glass door.
The quilt on the bed at the rear looks as if it’s been stitched together from at least four others.
There’s a hammer with only half a handle next to a rusty saw, an old metal washing tub without any handles at all, and a half-chewed boot next to a skinny table propped up with a stump.
He has tied tiny pieces of glass to leather ropes that dangle in front of the window, the evening sun casting colorful shapes through them onto the bowed wooden floor. And on the sill sit two mangled wine corks. Are these from the day we swam in the fountain?
“Maddox?” I jump at the sound of Kerris’s voice outside the wagon. “Thank heavens you’re back. We were worried sick.”
My face burns as I step out into the sunlight to find my cousin cradling Biscuits in her arms.
“Oh, Nia. Sorry. I thought you were Maddox.” Narrowing her eyes, she looks past me, deeper into the wagon, as if expecting me to be something besides alone. “He isn’t with you, is he?”
“I’m afraid not.”
Her face falls in a frown as she rubs absentmindedly at Biscuits’s scruffy head. “We haven’t seen him since Monday. Ever heard he was hunting with Gryffin, but when he went to check, Maddox wasn’t at the camp.”
My stomach sinks even lower. “Do you think he’s all right?” Monday was three days ago. What if something happened to him? The Unseelie side of The Divide is lethal.
“I’m sure he’s fine,” Kerris says, but she doesn’t sound sure. She sounds as worried as I am, and the grimace on her face isn’t helping the situation. “Gryffin filled Maddox’s flask with water, so if he’s hurt again, he should be able to heal himself.”
“Well that’s—” Her words slam into me like a brick. “What do you mean again?”
She blinks up at me, her head tilting. “Hmm?”
“You said ‘hurt again.’ Is Maddox hurt?”
“Just a few scratches, I think. He’s probably fine.”
What if he’s not? What if he’s too hurt to drink the water? What if he’s dead?
Why did I let my mouth run away from me that day? Why didn’t I hold my bloody tongue?
“Nia? It’ll be all right.”
“You don’t know that.” She doesn’t know what I did. “This is all my fault.” With a deep breath, I confess every awful thing I said, watching Kerris’s face grow grimmer with each damning word.
She adjusts her hold on the goat with a heavy sigh.
His googly eyes fall closed, like he doesn’t even care that his master is missing.
If only someone would hold me like that.
“I told you he wasn’t interested in anyone across The Divide.
The man has spoken of no one else since the day he saw you at the Beltane festival. ”
I knew that, didn’t I? That Maddox was infatuated with me.
If he had told the truth the I asked, I might’ve continued avoiding him. Instead, his lie brought us closer than ever. The day we shared wine and hid in the fountain was one of the most ridiculous, most random, and most wonderful days I’ve ever had.
Without his Gia Gill, it never would’ve happened.
“I need to find Maddox.” To tell him I’m not angry. Not anymore. I want to ask why he bothered to tell that lie in the first place. If he can forgive me for treating him so awfully. If he’s still interested in me.
“Here. Take Biscuits, and I’ll see if there’s any news from across the bridge.” Kerris shoves the goat at me, and I’ve no choice but to hold him or drop him.
The tiny beast glowers like it’s my fault his snooze has been disturbed.
Kerris can’t go. She’s needed here at the castle. “Wait! I need to be the one to go.” I hand Biscuits back, and she cradles him against her chest.
“You can’t cross the bridge. You’re afraid of heights.”
I’ll just have to set my fears aside, won’t I? “It needs to be me.”
She stares at me for the longest time, her gaze penetrating, before she slowly nods.
“All right. But I want you to take one of the guards with you in case you meet trouble on your way.” Biscuits bobbles in her arms as she jogs toward the men in black leathers at the gate.
“John? Will you accompany my cousin to the Unseelie lands?”
I don’t want John to come with me but know better than to argue.
The young fae bobs his head with a rushed, “Yes, Your Highness.”
She thanks him and then turns back to me. “If you don’t have any luck, we can discuss our next steps with Ever. He can speak with the Chieftain about organizing a search party.”
Hopefully, it doesn’t come to that.
I’ve ventured to The Divide a handful of times before, but never right to the edge and never, ever across the bridge. The new one they’re building will be wider and sturdier—if they ever finish the damn thing. Perhaps I’ll be more likely to cross once it’s done.
The current bridge, however, is a hodgepodge of planks connecting two mammoth tree trunks.
Legends say The Divide has no bottom, that if you were to fall in, you’d keep falling forever. They also say the tear in the land was created because of a woman’s rage at her unfaithful Unseelie mate.
With the anger over Nolan’s betrayal still lodged in my chest, I believe it.
My slippers meet dirt, and I carefully make my way closer to the start of the bridge. The trees look as if they are being held up by nothing but the thick fog enveloping the Unseelie half of the bridge.
I can do this. It’s just a simple bridge. The Unseelie cross all the time. Maddox brought his unicorn and carriage across.
And nearly fell in.
He didn’t, though. That’s what matters. He made it to our side, and if I ever see him again, I’m going to tell him how glad I am that he chose to live in Rosehill.
Not if.
When.
I am going to see him again. I am.
“Are you all right, Miss Nia?” John asks. “You look like you’re about to pass out.”
It wouldn’t be the most mortifying thing that has happened to me this week—or even today.
This bridge isn’t going to cross itself.
I take a deep breath, stretch my foot toward the first plank, and . . .
I’m fine. I’m standing on the bridge, and everything is just fine besides the fact that I’m this close to vomiting. Thankfully, there’s a rope to hang onto, but why is it so flimsy?
I manage another step forward before my legs lock once more. “Why is it moving so much?” Surely something meant to be sturdy isn’t supposed to sway like this.
“That’s just what the bridge does,” John says.
Well, it shouldn’t. “Have you crossed before?”
“Twice.”
And he’s just fine, isn’t he? I take another step. And another. If I don’t look down, I can almost convince myself I’m strolling down the street on a foggy day. Not that it’s foggy very often in Rosehill, but I remember it happening once or twice.
Keep moving forward. That’s all I need to do.
When I find Maddox, I’ll beg him to throw something over my head and carry me back across to where it’s safe and sunny and—
A large shape materializes in the fog.
Someone is sitting on the edge of the bloody bridge.
I know it’s Maddox before I even see his face. There’s something in his shape that feels so familiar, like I could draw him from memory.
Thank heavens I didn’t have to go all the way across to find him. This is fate, indeed.
“John? Can you give us a moment, please?”
The Seelie guard stills at my back. “But the queen—”
“I’m safe.” Maddox is here. He won’t let anything happen to me.
There’s no need to turn and check if the guard listened; the creaking of his retreating footsteps tells me we’re alone.
A leather rucksack rests on the plank next to Maddox, along with a small pile of stones. Maddox turns one over in his hand, looks out into the endless gray, and then launches the stone into the nothing.
“Hello.”
I wait for his response, but he gives me nothing. No smile. No teasing greeting. He simply picks up another rock and tosses it over the edge.
“I’m sorry, Maddox.”
His arm stills.
“I said such awful things. You didn’t deserve to be treated so abominably.”
Still, he doesn’t say anything. I miss hearing his voice. His laugh. Seeing him smile. Having him look at me as if I’m not a complete and utter disappointment.
I take another step forward and—
The board beneath my foot lets out a deafening crack.