Chapter Seven
“Are you moonstruck?” Kassandra snaps later that afternoon. “There’s no way I’m doing that.”
I wipe sweaty palms on my skirts. The coronation is tomorrow, and this is my only chance to get her to agree. Kassandra is propped up in bed, arms resting on the plethora of pillows. Her arms are almost healed, and her complexion has started to return.
She gestures at Briar, who stands at her bedside. “Well, what do you think?” she asks.
“Truly, mistress?”
“Truly, Briar.”
My brows shoot up. Briar practically raised Kassandra, but it is startling all the same to see such intimacy between High Fae and faerie.
Briar gives a slow nod. “It would be quite the entrance.”
“So you’re both moonstruck.”
“My lady, if I may speak plainly,” I say.
“Ugh! I can’t think straight with your thoughts pressing against the plane. Your anxiety tastes like iron.”
“I—” I stop. What did she just say? My emotions…leave a residue on the plane?
“Mistress, what do you know of the crown prince currently?” Briar asks. “You grew up together, but surely, he must be the same male.”
“He thinks himself an intellectual, but I suppose there are worse males. And worse-looking.”
“What else?” I ask.
Kassandra picks at a piece of lint on the blanket. “They always thought me annoying. Always tripping after Maxian and Dominik and Eli when we were children. I’m sure he still views me as a sister.”
“Force him not to.”
“And how would this plot help with that?”
“The seamstresses have been working on something special for a few months now,” Briar answers.
“For planes’ sake, I’ll think about it,” Kassandra mutters. “First, I need something modest for tonight, unless you fools think it wise to visit my father in lingerie.”
“I pressed your conservative navy dress,” Briar says, lips twitching with a smile.
“Good. I’d rather not shock his weak heart and hasten my brother to head of House.”
Once we finish readying Kassandra, Briar and I follow her into the palace halls to her father’s room.
Upper members of House Illusion swirl around the four-poster bed in the center of the musty chamber: A blue male scribbles on parchment while a blond male paces.
In bed lies the Head of Illusion, his breaths scraping in and out of his open mouth.
I try not to stare from my spot in the corner, but the sight of a High Fae decaying from time is one I have only ever seen in this room.
Until adolescence, I didn’t know that High Fae could even pass away, with some in the Nest claiming their masters to be well over a thousand years old.
Although faeries birth more children and in a shorter time, most of us die in our six hundreds, from a weak heart, a drooping left side, or diseases like the one that took my mother.
But time, like death, seems to track down everyone in the end.
Kassandra kneels by the side of the Head of Illusion, reaching out to clasp the papery hand from the blankets. “Papa,” she starts.
“Dom,” the male rasps.
“No, Papa, it’s me.”
“My Heart?”
“Yes.” Her shoulders sag in relief. “Tomorrow, I will be the one to present the Illusion gift to Maxian. Lord Tomas, your advisor, has already approved.”
The sky-blue male looks up from his parchment. “That’s right, my lord. It is a grand gesture that could solidify a union between Illusion and Reign.”
“We are not yet partnered?”
“The contracts take time, my lord.”
“Where is my child?”
“I’m here,” she says, stroking his arm.
He glowers at her hand.
“My son,” he blurts. “I want my son.”
Something shifts, a pang in my ribs.
“I’ll send a guard to gather him.” Kassandra sighs. Leaning forward, she presses a kiss to her father’s forehead.
When we exit his chambers, striding down the hall, she does not look back at me, following with my head down. “Tell me again of this idea. It’s a mare, you said?”
Briar and I exchange a look. “Yes, my lady. And that’s not all.”
And together, we begin to shape the plan.
—
The night air is cool on my skin the following evening, the ground damp beneath my feet.
A bullfrog bellows. If I close my eyes, I could pretend we are playing in the woods around the Peri, and not skirting the neglected, unused lawns of the state gardens, on our way to the coronation.
Halfling guards march the procession of faeries toward the inner wall.
The servants had been given orders to enter through the back entrances of the coronation room, like moving, expensive décor: The more of us, the wealthier the fae look. For the hundreds of High Fae gathering at Versara this evening, there will be a thousand attendants to serve them.
I add these grounds to my incomplete mental map of the palace, drawn for me by my mother.
Over chopping onions and stirring stews, she described what she knew of the labyrinth—buildings inside buildings, separated by mazes, each inner layer a different House.
First, the state rooms, then Illusion, Healing, and finally, the Reign residence.
Still, details of the ruling House, the center of this sprawling chateau, remain unsketched, unknown to most, even other nobles.
Above the crowd, I spot the familiar crop of auburn hair. “Jae!” I call. He turns, his face lighting up. “Briar, this is my friend Jeremee,” I say when I reach him.
“Nice to meet you.” She nods. He nods back, then bends forward so that only I can hear.
“I should apologize,” he says.
I make a face. “For what?”
“For not inviting you down to the Nest last night.”
For leaving you in that dark hallway, alone.
“We’re not conjoined. We can have separate dinners.”
“Do you want that? To stop eating dinner together?”
“You think because I’m a Night Crest now, you can be rid of me?” I laugh.
He gives me a small smile. “I don’t want to be rid of you.”
Our knuckles brush against each other’s and I think of our moment in the hall, the question he voiced, the one in his eyes, as if we always need to find each other in a crowd to excuse the press of our bodies.
“We’ll talk tomorrow?” I wonder. “About…”
To my horror, I blush. He laughs this time, nodding, moss-green eyes sparkling. “Never thought you’d react like that because of me, but I’m not complaining. I might even like it.”
I give him a shove as he laughs again. “You were talking big earlier.”
“Just trying to keep up with you. Always just trying to keep up with you.”
Hiding my grinning face, I think about what tomorrow might bring, and it’s like the painful flutter of an adolescent crush, for maybe he truly does want us to have each other.
But I do not simply want to have Jeremee; I want to keep him, and for him to keep me, no matter the shape or stamp of it.
To bring each other a cup of tea at the end of a shift and sit side by side, divulging the most innocuous details of our days.
I fantasize not only about love but also about freedom.
I don’t know if I’ll ever truly be satisfied until I have both.
Then again, when have I ever been satisfied with being or doing or wanting less?
You must try to hide yourself, my mother would beg. Or else they’ll sense your power.
Why shouldn’t they? I’d snap as an angry adolescent. Only when she fell ill did I understand that it was too late to repair our frayed relationship. All I could do was hold her frail frame and beg an unraveled mind to forgive me.
“Jeremee!” a blond faerie calls, weaving through the crowd of servants from behind.
“Hi.” Jeremee grins at the sight of his roommate.
The blond faerie, shorter and wider than Jeremee, reaches us, cheeks flushed. He slings an arm around Jae’s torso, hand grazing his ribs.
“Glenn,” I say.
“Haven’t seen much of you lately, Avery.”
“Night Crest now.”
His face twitches in sympathy. “What’s that like?”
I open my mouth, but Jeremee cuts me off. “She swore an oath.”
“Still a Scarp?” I tease instead.
“Still bad at it, too.” Glenn snorts. “Spilled shoe polish all over a lord’s linen tunic yesterday. Added about twenty more years of service.”
I wince, attention cutting to Jeremee. His face gives nothing away, his eyes straight ahead while mine fall to his trouser leg. Does he resent what I have done? Could I blame him if he did?
“I’m sorry to hear that,” I tell Glenn.
He shrugs, then nudges Jae. “More time with this one.”
My friend groans. “Your socks stink.”
“Not as much as your morning breath.”
I choke out a laugh, and Glenn beams.
“You two are the worst,” Jeremee mumbles.
We share a giggle, and while I should envy any faerie who’s been with Jae, I know Glenn gives him things that I cannot.
Glenn has a good heart even if he can’t hold his cider, and he includes and indulges Benji even more than we do.
When we’re all together, it doesn’t feel like competing. It feels like love compounding.
“Avery, we must go,” Briar shouts from a few yards away, the inner wall looming ahead. She stands at the mouth of a wide servants’ entrance cut into the stone, a stream of faeries flowing in, directed by guards.
“But you love us,” Glenn says to Jeremee.
Jeremee slings an arm around Glenn’s shoulders, a grin on his face, and suddenly I fear I might not like what Jae has to say tomorrow. But I need his honesty, even if it hurts, and he needs mine. If I can stand up to a High Fae even after getting smacked down, then I can do this.
“Avery!” Briar calls again.
“I should join her,” I say, stepping away. A hand reaches out, tugging me close. Jae embraces us both, Glenn laughing, and I feel crushed with care.
“Good luck out there,” Jeremee whispers into my hair, kissing the top of my head. He squeezes me tighter to stop his trembling.
“Don’t get yourself killed,” Glenn quips, and I elbow him in the stomach. “Hey!”
“Don’t spill the sparkling wine,” I say. “Apparently, that stuff’s good.”
I untangle myself from them. It’s going to be a long event, and tonight, Kassandra and I will need to impress the most privileged in the land.
I steel my nerves as I reach Briar.
“Your family?” she asks.