Chapter Fifty-One
I hand the vial to Briar. She dumps the pain tonic into her juice as I collect a plate of plain chicken from the Illusion kitchens.
“Want more tonic?” I ask when I return.
“How about a back rub?”
Sighing dramatically, I stand behind her. My hands massage at the tense muscles in her shoulders, careful to not move too deeply in fear of jostling her broken forearm.
Her otherwise unmarked arm. She is now free of debt, as with Kassandra’s signature she deposited the rest of the silver coins.
I run through the catalog of faeries I call family: Lila and Briar are completely free, Benji’s Healing debts were paid off this morning, his Illusion debts erased yesterday.
“How long is your sick leave?” I wonder.
“Kassandra said until I feel better.”
“Be sure to milk it.”
Briar grins up at me. “It’s fully paid.”
I snort. “Spoiled faerie.”
“Say that to my arm, again.”
I keep massaging her shoulders, the older faerie leaning into the comfort that I feel honored to provide. It all began with the spry, unassuming faerie in front of me, the wisdom of her years and extension of her heart.
“Why were you kind to me when we first met?” I ask.
“It’s scary, becoming a Night Crest.”
“But you’ve seen so many of us, know we’ll get replaced. Wouldn’t it be easier to just not try, I guess?”
“That’s when someone needs kindness the most.”
“How?” I rest my hands on her shoulders. “How have you not let it all leave you bitter?”
She turns in her seat to look at me square on. “I am bitter, and that is exactly why I must try. Every time.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Ask yourself, who benefits from your sadness? It’s normal not to want to go on, to wake up and do it all over again.
But we don’t do it for them, never for them.
We do it for ourselves. We do it because our despair is their success.
It slows us, stops us. We can feel sad, but we cannot stop going on. ”
“To act like we don’t hurt—is that not a betrayal to ourselves?”
Briar leans into me. “We do not need to be happy. We need to be joyful.” She cups my face in her hand, her dry palm scraping against my cheek. “Joy in the face of such misery is its own rebellion.” She lets me go, then calls, “Silas!”
Briar waves at the befuddled halfling, who strides across the Illusion dining hall to us, adjusting the stack of papers in his hands.
“How are the meetings going?” I ask him.
“The other Illusion families have approved me for the role of accountant.”
Briar grins. “Do they know you’re a halfling?”
“How can they, when they do not live at court?”
I laugh. “Congratulations.”
He nods, then his attention falls to Briar. His cheeks flare with color.
“Briar.” He bows. “I wanted to confirm…”
“Of course we’re still on for lamb chops tomorrow,” she says.
I glance between them. “What’s this now?”
“I like to cook—”
“A date,” Briar declares, laughing. “It’s a date!”
Silas blushes harder, and he wipes the fog from his glasses. When he puts them on again, he looks to me. “Have you seen Benji yet today? He was just looking for you.”
Perhaps to show off only his one arm of debt.
“I’ll find him, thanks.”
I leave the halfling and faerie together, Silas making small, quiet comments, and Briar cackling with an ease that fills my heart.
If joy is like a rebellion, then perhaps a rebellion is like joy: contagious.
—
I find Benji playing jacks with a friend in a hallway off the common room. For a moment, I just watch, my heart brimming with an unspeakable emotion, as the children bounce a rubber ball on the ground between the jacks.
Benji’s gangly limbs have grown, and it is the most beautiful sight in the world. His debt only goes up to one elbow. I kick off the wall.
“Hey, Bee,” I say.
Benji looks up. “Hi, Avery!”
“So who’s winning?”
“Me!” the friend shouts.
“No, he’s not, he’s lying.”
I throw Benji a skeptical look.
He crosses his arms.
“Okay, so maybe he’s winning, but just a little.”
The other child beams up at me. “Benji says that you can light your arms on fire.”
“Only sometimes.” I laugh, then brush Benji’s shoulder. “Is everything okay? Silas said you were looking for me.”
“Yes!” He bounces on his heels, sticking out his arm. “The creditor said there was something in my account. All of my debt went away except for Reign. But there is an offer on my account that even that could be forgiven!”
Kassandra? My heart cracks in relief, and I scream, scooping Benji up in my arms.
“Put me down!” he giggles. “Put me down!”
I do, gasping, “This is incredible. How?”
“The creditor said the offer was conditional.”
“Conditional?” I frown. “What do you mean?”
“The creditor said the condition is that you need to do something and then my Reign debt would be forgiven. I’ll be protected by Reign under some special rule and I’ll be unmarked!”
My brows furrow. “I have to do something?”
“I found this on my pillow earlier.” Benji pulls paper from his back pocket. “It’s addressed to you.”
I take the paper from him and unfold it. Scrawled in elegant, familiar handwriting, is one word.
Soumeter.
My stomach plummets. “I…”
“We’re not really sure what it means,” the other boy says.
I stare down at the word.
Soumeter.
The babe is mine. So, in a way, mother and child are both mine, the king had said.
Benji’s stable.
Benji’s pillow.
The message is clear; he will not wait any longer.
I have run out of time.
“Let me see your arm,” I say.
“What is it?” Benji asks, revealing the four remaining rings. “They’re almost gone!”
So, this is all that remains—four debt tattoos on his right arm that all belong to House Reign.
Submit, and the king will forgive Benji’s remaining debt and protect that freedom.
The boy would be legally protected by all three of the crediting Houses.
A privilege so few have, not even most High Fae.
Refuse, and tattoos could strangle all of his limbs once more. One stroke of the quill, and the wealthiest House will decimate a boy, as it has decimated countless children before. Would Healing and Illusion fight for Benji? Would they want to, potentially risking war? Not over a faerie, surely.
Soumeter.
“Avery?” Benji tugs on my sleeve. “Did I do something wrong?”
“No.” I bend down to hug the child, my brother, the faerie who has already lost so much, too much. “Everything’s okay. I love you.”
“I love you, too.” He hugs me back, planting a wet kiss on my cheek.
Reign begins with the body, and Maxian will not own Benji’s anymore—not his labor, not his life. Even if I must pay for it with mine. I don’t know what the king has in mind, but months ago I said I would do anything to free my family. And I will.
Pride, after all, is such a small sacrifice in the face of hope.