50. Hayesland
Hayesland
Rye, Finn, and Grier disappeared into the gardens together with no discussion, no invitation. Just a look shared between them, and then they were gone, off to fix what I’d destroyed.
Rye didn’t glance back, not once. I can’t blame him.
The shame rises so fast and so completely that my vision whites out.
I caused this, not Father. I can dress it up any way I want, blame the alcohol, blame the circumstances, blame the look on Rosie’s face when she leaned into Finn.
But the truth is simpler and uglier than all of that.
It was entirely me. My jealousy, my spiral, and my magic snapping around her before I even thought to stop it.
I keep seeing it, Gem’s face behind the bars, quiet and broken. Finn lifted off the floor by his throat, his eyes rolling back, and Rye’s terror when Father said to kill her. All because I opened my mouth in a ballroom and handed Father exactly what he needed.
I set every stone rolling tonight. The gardens blur around me, and I keep moving because it’s either walk or drown in it.
The distant glow of the ballroom where nobles are still dancing and laughing, oblivious to the fact that I just destroyed the lives of the only people I care about.
My feet carry me east with no thought. Through the gardens, to the training yards, until I’m standing at the hidden entrance to the dungeons. My stomach rolls, and I press a hand to the stone wall and heave until there’s nothing left.
I put her in there, behind those bars, and walked away from her like she was nothing. Like she wasn’t one of the most honest things in my life, and yet I got her thrown into a death sentence because I couldn’t ask a single question before my magic reacted for me.
I keep walking, needing to outpace the thoughts clawing at the inside of my skull. The night air is cold against my face, but I barely feel it.
Then I see it, a light, warm and golden, spilling from a window in the small house at the edge of the grounds.
Rosie’s house.
I stop. I don’t even remember deciding to come this way. My feet just…brought me here. Brought me to her. Like they always do.
I should keep walking. Should go back to my rooms and sleep off the alcohol and the shame and face the consequences tomorrow. But my feet are already moving, pulled toward the light.
I still love her. Even after tonight. Even after watching her lean into Finn, laugh at his jokes, look at him the way I’ve always wanted her to look at me. I still love her.
The thought stops me cold.
Love.
I’ve never let myself call it that. Not even in my own head. It was always something else, infatuation, attraction, a foolish crush I’d eventually outgrow. Feelings I could bury if I had to. But standing here in the dark, my whole world crumbling around me, there’s no point pretending anymore.
I love her. I’m in love with Rosie.
I know she doesn’t feel the same way. But I don’t care. I’m not worthy of anyone’s love after tonight anyway.
I knock before I can talk myself out of it.
I hear shuffling inside and a pause. Then—
“Who’s there?”
“Rosie, it’s me. I need to talk to you. I’m coming in.”
I don’t wait for an answer, just push the door open.
Rosie stands in the middle of the room, still in her ball gown, eyes wide when she sees me. Surprise and panic move across her face before she quickly pulls herself back together.
“Hayes. It’s late. Maybe we should talk tomorrow—”
“I just need to talk. Please.” My voice cracks. I hate how desperate I sound, but I can’t help it.
She hesitates. Her eyes flick somewhere behind her before turning back to me. I can see her weighing something I don’t understand.
“Hayes, maybe now isn’t the best time—”
“Rosie, I’m—” I don’t even know how to finish that sentence.
“Okay. Okay, just…sit down. Let me get you some water.”
She moves toward the small kitchen, but her eyes keep darting nervously around the room.
I look around the house, really look.
Cold washes over me.
I’ve been here so many times. How have I never noticed it? There’s sea lavender everywhere. Sprigs of it tucked into a vase on the windowsill, some pressed between the pages of a book left open on the table, and small bundles tied with ribbon hanging. It’s everywhere.
And then it hits me. Finn twirling a sprig at the training yards.
Finn plucking them from the path and tucking them into his pocket with that casual ease he has for everything.
I’ve seen him do it a hundred times. I always thought it was a habit, something to play with in his hands.
I never once wondered where they ended up.
He was picking them for her. Every single one. And she kept them. All of them.
“Rosie.” My voice comes out hollow. “You and Finn.”
She freezes.
“It’s true, isn’t it? You’re with him.”
“Hayes, it’s complicated—”
A muffled thump from the closet pulls my attention, and I’m already moving toward it.
Rosie lunges for my arm. “Hayes, wait—”
“He’s here, isn’t he?” I already know before she answers. “Finn’s here right now. In your closet. While I’m—while I’m falling apart—and he’s here…”
I wrench the closet door open.
And freeze.
It’s not Finn. It’s Gem.
She’s crouched in the corner, eyes wide, still in the same dress from the ball.
“What.” I stumble back. “You’re supposed to be—Rye said he put you in the trials. He told Father—”
The color drains from her face.
“The trials?” Her voice is barely a whisper.
I freeze. The look on her face isn’t anger or hurt. It’s horror. Pure, unfiltered horror.
“Hayes.” Her voice is urgent with a firmness underneath. “Slow down. Tell me exactly what happened. From the beginning.”
“After I found you at Father’s chambers, I panicked.
I put you in the dungeon and went to find Rye.
But Father found out before I could fix it.
He wanted you dead…tonight. So Rye ran and got you out.
He told Father he’d sent you into the trials.
” I pause. “Father ordered him to make sure you don’t survive. ”
She doesn’t move. Neither do I.
“Clearly he didn’t actually put you in,” I say, looking at her standing here in Rosie’s house. “The only way out of the trials is through the coliseum. There’s no other exit.” I shake my head, a knot loosening in my chest. “Of course, Rye wouldn’t put you in the trials. He hid you here instead.”
Gem’s jaw locks, her shoulders squaring, and she shifts her weight forward like she’s already decided.
“I have to go to the Weeping Woods,” she says.
“What? Gem, didn’t you hear me? Father wants you dead—”
“Exactly.” She’s pulling off her ball shoes. “Rosie. I need clothes. Knives. Whatever you have.”
My heart is slamming in my chest.
“Gemma, you can’t go into the trials—” Rosie starts.
But Gem’s not listening. She’s already moving, pulling on boots, not looking up.
“No. Stop.” I step in front of her. “You can’t just walk into the trials. People die in there, Gem. Trained nobles with guards die in there.”
“Hayes.” Her hand closes on my arm. “If you are my friend. If you were ever my friend, you won’t stand in my way.”
The words land like a fist. If I was ever her friend. As if I didn’t just prove tonight exactly what kind of friend I am.
“Please,” she whispers.
I stare at her, and I can’t make sense of it. She should want to get as far from me and this castle as possible. Instead, she’s looking at me like I’m the only thing standing between her and survival.
“Then I’m taking you there.” The decision lands before I’ve finished making it. “I know the guard rotations. I know the best route to avoid the ball. If we’re doing this, we’re doing it smart.”
I watch surprise move across her face, then gratitude, warm and real.
“Hayes—”
I can tell she’s about to thank me, and it’s unbearable. I caused this. Every single piece of it. The guilt rises up in me, thick and suffocating, threatening to pull me under.
“Stop.” I shake my head. “Not after what I did.”
Rosie is already in motion, pulling a pack that’s already full, shoving clothes and knives in from places that make me wonder what else I missed. They move around each other like they’ve done this before, like they’ve planned for this.
“Ready?” Gem says, shouldering the pack.
I nod, open the door, and check the path.
“Stay close. Stay quiet. And for the love of everything, don’t get caught.”
We slip out of Rosie’s house and into the night.
I lead her south, skirting the gravel drive in front of the main entrance.
The ball is still going, music and laughter drifting through the open windows, warm light spilling onto the gardens ahead.
We cut behind the stables. A guard’s torch bobs near the barracks, and I pull Gem into the shadows, pressing us both against the stable wall until he passes.
“Come on,” I whisper.
We keep moving until the gardens open up before us.
We weave through hedgerows and past stone benches, deeper and deeper, until the manicured paths give way to the untamed ground.
We stop at the threshold of the Weeping Woods.
Fog spills through the arch, thick and unnatural, curling around our ankles, cold and damp.
“Gem.” Her name scrapes out of me. “I’m so sorry. For what I did tonight. I never meant to hurt you. I know our friendship wasn’t real to you, I know you were just trying—”
I stop. I don’t even know why she was at my father’s chambers. I never actually let her explain; I just reacted.
“It doesn’t matter.” I shake my head. “Whatever you were doing, whatever you needed, it doesn’t matter. Because it was real to me.” I swallow hard. “And I’ll carry this guilt for the rest of my life.”
“Hayes.” Her voice is almost gentle. “We are friends. Real friends.”
Something cracks in my chest.
“How can you say that?” I whisper. “After what I did to you tonight?”
“Because it’s true. And I’m sorry I can’t explain right now.” She squeezes my arm. “But Hayes, you’re a good person. Tonight doesn’t change that.”
She’s forgiving me. I put her in a cell and walked away, and she’s standing here forgiving me anyway. The guilt of it is so heavy I can feel my chest caving under the weight of it.
“Gem—wait, there’s something you need to know. There are safe houses in the trials. Rye and Finn will be at the first one at first light tomorrow morning. Just wait for them there.”
Her eyes go wide as I explain the rest to her, then she pulls me into a hug, brief and fierce. She pulls back, adjusts the pack on her shoulders, and steps through the archway without looking back. The fog swallows her whole.
I stand there until the silence settles.
My knees give out. I sink onto the cold stone path with my head in my hands, and the full weight of tonight comes down all at once. I found her at that door, and instead of asking a single question, instead of trusting her, I reacted. I’m the reason she’s walking into a death trap.
The thought breaks something in me. The tears fall heavy, hot with shame. And the same question loops in my head.
What if she doesn’t make it out?