Chapter 29
CHAPTER 29
L ila launched herself forward, dropping to her knees in front of her father. Grief welled up as she took him in her arms. Grief and molten outrage.
Lord Gareth of House Fernblade had never had the stern elegance of some fae nobles, but he had shared the light fae’s natural good looks. Now his cheekbones stood out, shadowing a wan complexion. His dark-blond hair lay in thickly matted hanks.
“Father?” Lila murmured, cupping his face.
Her hands trembled, both from the fatigue and fierce emotion. He’d always been her protector, the one who took her side in any family dispute. He’d encouraged her to follow her curiosity and move to the city. No one else had believed she could survive on her own. But now? Now he was barely recognizable.
She’d never seen him with a beard. They were not the custom among the fae, and his was a tangled mess. He wore a loose, casual tunic with a richly embroidered robe thrown over it. Clothing he wore reading a book by the evening fire, and most likely what he was dressed in the night he’d been dragged away by Teegar’s troops. The fine fabrics were now threadbare rags.
He squinted down at her, showing red-rimmed, watering eyes. She dimmed the light she’d left floating above them until he could hold her gaze without blinking.
“Lila?” His voice cracked, as if he hadn’t used it in a long time. “How did you get here?”
“Never mind that. We’re taking you to safety.”
“We?” He looked around, seeming bewildered.
Rafe had pulled the door closed without engaging the lock. He stood beside it, hands clasped behind his back.
“Who is he?” her father asked.
“A better friend than we deserve. Come on.”
Lila tried to help him stand, but he was too unsteady to keep his feet. Though he had not been spelled into sleep, it was plain that he’d been left in the dark with little food or drink. She sat him down again.
He slumped forward with a deep sigh, shaking his head. “Leave me. I thank you to the depths of the Abyss and beyond for finding me, but I would not risk your lives for mine.”
The last words were so faint, Lila could barely make them out. She took her father’s hands and held them lightly, all too aware of the bones of his long, almost fleshless fingers. A memory rose of those hands holding a brush. Her father had been known for his fine, flowing calligraphy. He’d always loved beauty more than the sword.
Tears filled her eyes. She blinked them away, refusing to let him see. “Be at peace. As they say in the city, I’ve got this.”
Or she hoped she did. She was shaky herself after healing six wolves already and digging deep into her reserves. But this was her father, who had always done his quiet best to ensure she was happy and—above all—free. Lila could not hold back now.
This time, no finesse was required. There was no spell to break. All she needed to give was her strength. A soft glow gloved their hands as she sent her healing to him. As always, it was like flowing into a maze more than it was filling a cup. There was no central reservoir to supply, but dozens of small places where damage was done.
“Lila,” her father said, a note of protest in his voice. “You need your strength.”
She squeezed his hands. “I said I’ve got this.”
The injuries she found were weeks old, maybe months. She realized she was not entirely sure when he’d been kidnapped from his own home. One more thing her mother had not shared.
Lila felt the ground list under her feet and realized she was swaying where she stood. Rafe’s hand settled on her shoulder, steadying her. She sensed his worry and was thankful he trusted her to work anyway. When she finally released her father’s hands, Rafe stood behind her, letting her lean against his solid form.
Her father rose, unsteady at first. Lila reached out, but he caught his balance.
Taking a deep breath, he raised his hands, palms out. “No, daughter, you’ve done your work well. I will walk out of this place with dignity.”
He smiled then, the wry, crooked humor she remembered dimmed but present. Lila’s heart squeezed with relief and love, and the tears she’d been holding back spilled down her cheeks. She flung her arms around her father’s neck and squeezed him tight.
“How long have you been here?” she asked on a sob. “I thought you were in the king’s custody.”
“If so, I’ve heard no charges or accusations, and King Elroth is scrupulous about observing protocol.”
“Then what happened?”
“I don’t know,” he said. “I’ve been here since I was taken, though I am not certain where we are. The vehicle that brought me here had no windows, and no way to see which roads we took. ”
She bit her lip, pulling back. “We are beneath a way station Lord Farras built for the king.”
Her father’s look of confusion said it all. He’d been no more aware of this place than she had been when Sala had convinced her to come find Ademar.
“Douse the light,” Rafe whispered, urgency in his tone.
Lila didn’t ask questions. She let the light go, a little relieved to spare even that small drain on her energy. They stood in the dark, still and silent. It was then she heard what had alerted Rafe—footsteps roaming near the door where the wolves had escaped. Ademar would have deactivated any magic keeping that exit secure when he’d helped Teegar escape. That wouldn’t go unnoticed.
Sure enough, a moment later, she caught the charcoal stink of a fresh spell being cast. Judging by the intensity of the smell, it was strong and nasty magic. Defensive magic, no doubt. A trap or a tripwire.
“It’s not safe to leave that way any longer,” she whispered, glad her father and Rafe were close enough to feel their presence. The dark was absolute. “They’ll be watching to see who blunders through that.”
Lila had been lucky so far. No doubt Farras had sent minions to find her, but they wouldn’t think to look in the hidden part of the dungeon. She wasn’t supposed to know about it, and that assumption had given her time to free the prisoners.
Unfortunately, her good luck had run out. Lila took a shaky breath, feeling the confined space close in around her. The soft tread of the fae guards grew fainter as they moved down a different corridor, their voices low and urgent. They would be back, and they’d bring reinforcements for a thorough search. She couldn’t hope to hide in the cells any longer.
She willed the merest spark of light to rise from her palm. “We’ll have to leave the way station from the main floor and hide in the woods until help arrives. ”
Rafe gave her father a careful look. “It will be risky with so many guests around, but we can do it.”
But her father frowned. “Guests?”
“Lord Farras is here.” Lila kept her tone neutral. “Mother is hostess of a banquet in his honor.”
“Galeeta is here?” Her father straightened. “Under this roof?”
“Yes, and Ademar, too,” she replied. “They’ve been staying here.”
He pressed his hand to his forehead, as if a sudden headache had struck. “So close. Why don’t we just go to them?”
Lila grabbed his wrist, feeling prominent bones. “No, you shouldn’t. Lord Farras has everyone under his sway, including Mother.”
“Stop.” He put a finger on her lips, as he’d done when she was a child. “I know Galeeta too well to believe that. She is a slave to the whims of court, but she finds her way to goodness in the end.”
“Sir,” Rafe said before Lila could argue. “At the very least, Lord Farras is no friend to us. And he brought approximately two hundred retainers with him, many of them soldiers. I would advise leaving now and contacting your family later.”
Gareth wavered, then seemed to make up his mind. “I agree that Farras can’t be trusted. Lead on.”
The moment Rafe pushed the door open, they all breathed deeply, as if their lungs had starved for free air. Wasting no time, Lila took the lead, using her magic to sense any traps the guards might have set. Her father came next, leaning on Rafe’s arm and shielding his light-sensitive eyes.
They made slow progress, stopping often to let her father rest. There was one near miss with a patrol, but Rafe heard him in time to duck down a side corridor. The main challenge was maintaining a reasonable pace. When they finally made it to the stairs that led up to the entry hall, her father was spent. He leaned against the wall at the foot of the stairs, face ashen. Lila reached out, ready to help, but he pushed her hand away.
“Don’t you dare,” he said. “You’ve already given me too much of your strength.”
Lila frowned at the stairs. There were spells galore to keep anyone from leaving, but she had dealt with them all before. She folded the magic aside and led the way up. Rafe helped Gareth follow. Lila waited for them at the top, then cracked the door open to peer out. Her plan was to go directly to the secret passages and wait until the coast was clear.
When she saw no one, she beckoned the others into the black and white tiled hall and led them around the base of the stairway, reversing the path she had taken with Rafe earlier that night. He’d appeared ragged in the dim dungeon, but under the shimmering chandeliers, he looked like a hermit fresh from his wasteland hovel. When she noticed a man’s cloak tossed over the banister, she flung it around Gareth’s shoulders to hide his clothes. As an added bonus, the hood shaded his eyes from the light.
They’d almost made it to the secret door when she heard Farras giving orders in a whip-crack tone. He was somewhere close by and coming nearer, and now she heard the word escape . Her stomach dropped.
There was no time to fumble with the door and usher everyone through. Instead, they hurried around the corner, where the entry connected with the main part of the house. She glimpsed Farras walking past with two of his guards. The lord’s hair was streaked with blood from where she’d hit him. He was gazing down at something a guard held. It looked like an amulet on a chain. Thankfully, it was interesting enough that he didn’t look up until he was well past where Lila cowered. She released a gust of pent-up breath.
The place was buzzing with voices, and the mood no longer felt like a celebration. Something was happening. While it was possible her absence had been noted, she doubted the anxious murmurs had to do with her. Farras wasn’t the type to admit he’d been bashed over the head by his supposed date. So, what was going on?
Groups of servers were coming through with trays of glasses, no doubt heading toward the kitchen. Not sure where to go next, she pulled Rafe and her father as far out of sight as she could behind a decorative pillar. Hopefully, they’d look to any passer-by like a cloaked noble with a pair of servants in tow.
Gareth pointed toward the banquet hall, just visible from where they stood. “Did you decorate that?”
“Yes,” she replied softly, not wanting to be overheard. “Mother insisted.”
Prison had done nothing to dim her father’s wits. She saw the implications sink in—that after so many years, the issue of her marriage to Farras had been revived. He nodded slowly, as if putting additional pieces into place. “Did he ask for your hand?”
“Asked isn’t the right word.”
“How did you respond?”
“I knocked him unconscious with a wine bottle.”
Rafe choked down a laugh.
“Good girl,” her father said. “Lord or not, he is not for you. The longer I knew Farras, the more I saw there is a streak of evil in his soul.”
“I know.” She turned to Rafe. “It was Farras who took the wolves and put them under a sleeping spell. He confessed as much to me.”
“And the dead? The graves we saw?” Rafe demanded.
“The spell is fatal unless someone breaks it.”
Rafe’s eyes flashed yellow with fury. He looked about to speak, but then his jaws clamped shut, the muscles working as if he ground Farras between his teeth.
Her father took a wary step back from the wolf. “The list of his crimes covers more than you know. Trust me on that. It’s rare that he admits to one.”
“He was in a chatty mood,” Lila said, remembering what else the fae lord had said. “I’ll tell you later. Now is not the time.”
“But maybe it is,” her father said. “Maybe the only way to stop him is to tell the truth in front of two hundred high-born witnesses. Violence does not concern him, but shame will.”
Lila’s stomach flipped over with anxiety. Her father was an idealist. If they tried to denounce Lord Farras, it was more likely that none of them would get a chance to speak before the lord cut them down. “How about?—”
She never got a chance to finish the sentence. Commotion erupted outside the window, punctuated by a mighty howling of wolves. Rafe spun, eyes wide. “The pack. They’re here.”
For an instant, Lila was confused. The wolves she’d freed were fit enough to hide, but not to fight. But these—by the spine-shaking sound, these beasts were fresh.
The crowd of fae startled as if the wolves were already inside. A few ran, although Lila wasn’t sure where they thought they could go. Others began shouting for weapons. Still others crowded the windows for a better look.
Lila and Gareth joined the crush at the window, pushing through the silk-and-velvet throng. No one was going to look closely at them now—not with chaos erupting outside. Lila cupped her hands against the glass to see out into the dark.
It looked like a painter’s vision of Hell. Wolves, half-wolves, Undead, and fae were locked in bloody battle. Help had arrived, but it had come with fang and claw. When she glimpsed Rafe’s vampire friend—the one he’d fought so hard to free—Lila knew who the messenger had been. Izetta had survived.
When she turned to tell Rafe, he was gone.