Chapter 14 #2
Benedict clasped his hands behind his back. Now that the moment was finally here, he struggled to know where to start. A strangling fear filled his chest as he opened his mouth. What if his vow still stopped him from talking? What if his loophole wasn’t enough?
Yet when he spoke, the words flowed from his mouth without being cut off.
“When Claudius released me, he forced me to take a geas that prevented me from speaking of the things I’d seen and heard in his dungeon.
I did as I was told, but I added that I would tell no one except for the person I apparently blamed for my capture and imprisonment. ”
“Ah. Another demonstration of your cleverness.” The smile on the fae hero’s face grew a fraction.
“That gave you a measure of control over whom you told. All you had to do was be very apparent about your blame. Yet why choose me? Why not the king?” The fae lord paused and gave a low chuckle.
“Of course. If you went around blaming the king, you would have been arrested for treason long before now.”
“Indeed.” Benedict echoed the hero, even as he tried not to dwell on the memories crowding at the edges of his mind.
The Primrose’s gaze rested on him, far too piercing. “Besides, there is a measure of truth underlying your blame of me, isn’t there?”
Benedict swallowed. He hadn’t expected the Primrose to see to the heart of him quite so quickly.
“I was imprisoned for months. I heard the stories of your rescues. Yet you never came for me or for the others imprisoned with me. You are a hero to so many, and yet when I needed a hero—when I spent every day hoping for a wild fae primrose to be slipped to me to give me a shred of hope in that place of nightmare and terror—you never came.”
His voice broke. When he blinked free of the ghosts of darkness and torturous illusions, he found that he was rubbing at his arms, as if to brush away creeping spiders or biting rats.
Giving himself a shake, he clasped his now-shaking hands behind his back once again. “You save humans, but you leave your own people to rot. I understand your love for humans. I have come to applaud that stance, despite the way I was raised. But I cannot understand abandoning your own people.”
The fae lord dropped his steepled fingers, a long sigh gusting out.
His gaze filled with compassion rather than the piercing searching of moments ago.
“I see. I am sorry for what you suffered, and for the fact that I was unable to rescue you from it. We knew King Oberon had a secret dungeon, but we were unable to find it. It was my greatest regret of the war that I could not reach those held there.”
Benedict drew in a deep breath, letting those words soothe the ache of both anger and pain inside him. “It isn’t your fault. The dungeon is well hidden.” It wasn’t even King Oberon’s, but Claudius’s. “I just…”
“You believed in the myth of the Wild Fae Primrose so completely that you were convinced I could do the impossible.” The fae lord’s voice remained that same, compassionate tone. “For that, I am to blame.”
“And yet I’m glad I had that belief. I wouldn’t have survived that dungeon without it.
” He’d needed hope, and he certainly wouldn’t have had it in his family.
Although in the end, his father had been the one to save him from the dungeon, even if his purpose hadn’t been familial love but instead familial pride.
“Then I’m glad I was able to provide that, even if I couldn’t provide a rescue. The Primrose exists to give hope to those who would have no hope otherwise.” The Primrose gave a slight nod and held Benedict’s gaze. “Since you have been truthful with me, I will be truthful with you.”
The fae lord reached into the collar of his shirt and pulled out a necklace with an amber pendant. As soon as he did so, his image blurred.
Then, instead of a fae lord, a blonde-haired human woman wearing a red dress appeared sprawled in the chair, one of her hands dropping to rest on her very rounded stomach. She gave him that slight smile, the one that she had been wearing a moment ago along with the glamour. “Surprise.”
“I…you’re…” Benedict gaped at Beatrice’s older sister Brigid sitting there so calmly. She was the Primrose? He’d never considered the Primrose could be her sister. Everyone assumed the Primrose was a man. And a fae lord at that.
But Lord Chauvlyn had told him to set aside his misconceptions about who a hero must be.
The fae hero wasn’t a fae at all. Or a man.
Not to mention, the hero was pregnant.
“A little pregnant, yes.” Brigid patted her stomach, that loving fondness of an expectant mother in her smile and her eyes. “It has made being the Wild Fae Primrose more challenging for the past nine months.”
He shook his head, finally getting the words out. “You’re human.”
No wonder the Wild Fae Primrose had such a heart for humans. The Primrose was a human.
Yet that sent a lance of something bitter, almost like disappointment, through him.
There had been something wondrous about a hero who risked himself for those who weren’t his people.
Anyone could be kind to those who looked and sounded and acted like them.
But to extend that kindness and compassion to those who weren’t and didn’t?
That was a hope worth clinging to and a hero worth following.
Perhaps she heard that bitter disappointment in his tone for her smile curved with something knowing.
“Yes, I’m human. And, yes, I became the Wild Fae Primrose because I wanted to rescue my fellow humans from the fae.
Yet I stayed the Wild Fae Primrose as much for the fae as for the captive humans.
There is such beauty in this realm, and there are so many fae who don’t support the practice of taking humans captive.
I do what I do for them. Because this realm needs to be rescued from those who would harm it. ”
I hate to see the place I love so much tainted by such evil. Beatrice had said that to him while they’d been in the Faerie Market, and he understood what she meant far better now.
The hope he’d clung to so desperately in the dungeon surged within him again.
He collapsed to his knees before her. “Please. I’d like to join your League.
I know that sounds strange, considering I’ve spent the past three weeks telling everyone how much I blame you for my imprisonment.
But that was an act. I want to rescue humans and my fellow fae.
I know where Claudius has his secret dungeon, and I know his latest plans. Please. Let me prove myself.”
Brigid waved her hand almost airily. “There is no need for that. You have quite proved yourself as it is. I accept your pledge to join my League. Now get up. You’re making my knees ache just looking at you.”
Benedict climbed back to his feet and drew in a deep breath, gathering himself.
He’d found the Primrose, and he could finally speak of what he knew.
He couldn’t waste this moment. “I’m the only one of those who were returned in that prisoner swap who is actually the real person.
The others are Claudius’s men under glamours.
My assumption is that they’ve been sent to disrupt the second Midsummer Night somehow, especially the choosing of a new head librarian. ”
“That would explain why Demetrius doesn’t seem like himself.” Brigid gave a satisfied nod, both hands resting on her baby bump. “Helena will be quite pleased to learn that. She has said from the beginning that the man who returned to her didn’t seem like her husband.”
“Her husband is still suffering in Claudius’s secret dungeon.” Benedict’s insides twisted at the thought. While he’d been free, enjoying his time with Beatrice and sleeping in his own bed, Demetrius and the others had remained locked in that place of darkness and illusion.
“Does King Oberon know that Claudius violated the terms of the truce by not actually returning the real members of our Court?” Brigid rubbed circles on one side of her stomach, frowning.
“I don’t know. I assume not. Claudius seems to be keeping King Oberon more and more in the dark.” Benedict gave a slight shrug.
This was the other reason he’d chosen to go directly to the Primrose instead of the king. Thanks to the truce, King Theseus’s options were limited, especially if King Oberon wasn’t actually the one breaking the truce.
At this point, only the Primrose could reach into another Court to pluck out those imprisoned members of the Court of Knowledge.
“Then it’s all the more important to keep the truce.” Brigid drummed her fingers on her stomach. “This will, indeed, take a measure of cleverness. We don’t want to risk sparking the war once again.”
He certainly didn’t. He’d suffered the consequences of that war, and he knew how precious the tranquility of the Court of Knowledge was to all who lived there. He would not jeopardize it.
But they couldn’t leave their librarians still held in the clutches of the enemy either.
“All right. Well, this will take some pondering, and that is best done after a good night’s sleep.” Brigid shifted to the end of the chair, seeming to struggle to get up.
Benedict hesitated. Was he supposed to go over there and help her?
He must have waited a beat too long for she held out a hand. “Munch, dear, I could use some help.”
With not even a whisper of a footstep to betray his movements, Brigid’s husband Munch appeared out of the shadows, dressed in a green cloak and wearing nondescript brown clothing.
He took her hand and hauled her to her feet.
“Whatever you’re plotting, you’re not going on this rescue mission yourself. ”
“If a jaunt through the Tanglewood to the Court of Revels is what it takes to inspire this baby to make an appearance, then I’m more than happy to do it.” Brigid grimaced and rested one hand on her lower back, the other on her belly.