Chapter Thirty-Six #2
I offer the only truth that comes to mind, the shame and hatred I feel.
“To torture us,” I say. “But he’s the…kissing king. He wasn’t going to—”
The oath stops me.
“But there are worse things than death,” Kassandra finishes.
“Does not every creature need to be invited into House Reign?” Briar asks. “Is there another way to access Reign?”
“My ring—”
“You’ve lost half your blood trying to talk,” Kassandra snaps. “However your ring works, we don’t have time to learn. Is there any other Reign servant who could help us?”
“Carter,” Eli says. “The king’s valet could grant us access, but he may be with Maxian. We need someone else from the Pith, someone who may be powerful enough to lace Lila here.”
There is only one option left, and he is not a friend.
“Death,” I say. “Death could bring her.”
“Will that not—” Briar glances around. “Tempt him into taking her?”
“No, this Death is strangely moral,” Kassandra says.
“We’re wasting time.” Eli unties his cloak, letting it fall to his feet. He turns to Kassandra. “Shall we perform the Rattling?”
“Does it work with halflings?”
“It should. He is the closest one with Death blood around.”
“I’ll circle the water, you warm the coal. Briar, a coal from the hearth?”
Briar rushes out of the room into the parlor. I shift in bed.
“Stay as you are,” my mistress states. “You’ll need energy to speak to the executioner.”
“We’re not on the best of terms.”
“Of course you aren’t.”
“It’ll require strength and concentration,” Eli tells her as she grabs the water pitcher next to the bed and places it at her feet.
“I find those traits easy to summon with the right motivation.”
“And what’s your motivation for helping a Reign Crest you don’t know?” He watches her, his tawny gaze hardening.
But my mistress is watching me with glassy eyes. She blinks, glancing at him.
“Perhaps the sweetness of Versara has become sickly to me,” she says. “I do not have an apartment in Remiti to escape to when needed.”
“I haven’t been home in decades.”
“You still have one.”
They lapse into silence. Briar enters and places the coal into Eli’s hand, her fingers coming away covered in soot.
The two fae face each other at the foot of the bed. Kassandra pulls the water from the pitcher with ease. Maybe it’s the practice she’s been doing. Maybe Dominik has not bothered her in a while. Whatever the cause, my mistress grows confident, and so do I, in her.
Kassandra moves the water around her like a ribbon, coiling it up into the shape of a ring, a circular, ever-flowing river that feeds and devours itself.
The room warms as the coal in Eli’s hands rises.
It burns a deep red, sparks flickering around its edges.
It bursts into flames, then burns brighter, taller, more ferociously. Then the two fae begin to chant.
Follow the flow
up, around, below;
offer the final breath
to find a face of Death.
The ring of water and the burning coal shrink, rising in the space between the fae, until the water circles the flame entirely.
As the coal burns brighter, it becomes smaller, darker, more compact.
The water steams, the fire smokes, and together the elements bow into another, transforming into vapors that dance in the air.
It is beautiful and eerie and ancient. It is something I have never known, another layer to the winding labyrinth; a map given only to the fae, while faeries stumble in the dark.
Finally, there is the last sputtering breath of the coal, the last path of circling water, until both elements, and the chanting, end.
No one says a word.
Smoke pours into the room, a dark figure materializing out of the shadows.
“Death,” Eli says before he’s even fully formed. “Can you tell us if the Reign Crest Lila lives?”
If Death is surprised, he does not show it, does not react.
“She does.”
A sob escapes me. Eli pushes forward. “There’s been an incident. We need you to retrieve Lila from Reign, bring her to House of Healing, where I will tend to her injuries.”
The Death fae’s eyes scan the room, flickering across me, before falling back to the Head of Healing.
“This is not a command from the king,” he states.
“No, but it is from his oldest friends,” Eli replies. “He acted out of anger, and in torturing his favorite faerie, he may have killed her. We want to salvage the situation so that he may choose his desired path when of sound mind.”
The room quiets, the plane paralyzing. “You accuse the king of madness?”
“His magic is still maturing, which makes it unstable and vulnerable. As a Healer, I’ve seen this before. He’s not mad but rather struck with a passing illness.”
“If he truly wants Lila dead, he can kill her after he’s rested,” Kassandra says, and Eli stiffens.
“But if she dies as an unintended consequence of his moment of weakness, then it will be a tragedy come light of day. We are not asking you to disobey him. We’re asking you to give him another chance to decide her fate when he has calmed. ”
The executioner tightens and loosens his grip on the sword hilt at his hip.
“Okay,” he finally says. The room lets out a collective breath. “But I will inform the king after it’s done. Lord Eli?”
Death holds out a hand. Eli grips it, then glances at us. “I will order another Healer here.”
“Charge it to my account,” Kassandra says.
He nods. “We will send word.”
Then, with a plume of smoke, both males are gone.
We wait in paralyzing silence.
One minute.
Two.
After five agonizing minutes, a scroll drops into the room on a puff of smoke. Kassandra retrieves and unfurls it.
She reads: “Lila is safe and alive at House of Healing. She’s being treated in the royal center, where her care will be overseen by Eli.” Kassandra looks up. “I’ve never heard of a faerie receiving such treatment.”
The answer is not far off. It lies in all his lingering looks, the tenderness I have never seen from a fae male before. His soft questions and attentiveness to her dip in mood in wintertime.
“He loves her,” I say.
“And yet he questions me.” Kassandra closes the scroll. “Rest for now, Avery. Your friend is safe.”