Chapter 14
MAE
Three days later, Asmo and I return to Bouldercrest with Holly, all of us dressed appropriately this time. Snow falls heavily, wrapping the forest in its cold embrace.
“Bit chilly,” Asmo mutters as he stuffs his hands into his pocket.
“No shit,” Holly quips back. Mother, I love this version of her.
I survey the winter woods. “At least there are no witches here this time,” I say. The blanket of white is all-encompassing, not a blur of black leather or Cursed creature to be seen. Holly re-adjusts the daggers hidden in a belt that loops around her hips.
Asmo and I wear the same disguises as before, the sigil etched into the space below our ribs.
Holly, much to Luca’s disapproval, is herself.
She wears a scarf to hide her face, but that’s the extent of her disguise.
Her honey blonde hair is longer now, and she struggles to keep it tame against the wind.
We make the journey into town quietly. I can’t stop picturing the Cursed, cambions, and osseri hiding behind every tree, and my nerves are shot by the time we make it into town.
We cut through the crowded streets as a silent unit, me sandwiched between Asmo and Holly.
Outdoor vendors stand nearly empty and blanketed in snow, while cafés are packed with hybrids desperate to escape the freezing weather.
The Fox Den comes into view as we round the corner, its interior looking barren through foggy windows. The entrance is blocked by two guards wearing suits of light blue and gray armor.
“This tavern is closed,” the one on the right says firmly.
“May I ask why?” Asmo responds, using the most respectful tone I’ve ever heard come out of his mouth.
“Matters of the High Family.”
I fight to contain my smile. Flint really did it. He got August here.
“Oh! Perfect. I believe those matters involve us.” Asmo flashes the guards a charming smile. “We’re here to meet Prince August and his cousin, Flint. Please inform them that we’ve arrived.”
The guards don’t move. I wonder how much it’s killing Asmo to act so cordial. If the guards knew who hid behind the disguise, a simple command and sharpening of his gaze would have them rushing to open the doors.
Holly stirs beside me. “Is it possible that this meeting isn’t for us and we got the location wrong?”
“No, this is it,” Asmo says confidently, then cups his hands over his mouth. “Flint! We’re here!”
My mouth falls open. “What are you doing?” I shout-whisper at him, which is pointless because the guards are standing four feet in front of us.
“If they’re not going to tell him, then I’ll tell him. We didn’t come all this way for nothing. We had a plan. It’s not my fault that Flint didn’t tell us the secret password to get in.”
The tavern door opens. Flint stands there, a smile on his face. “Hello!”
“See? I told you,” Asmo says to the guards before pushing past them and pulling Flint into a friendly embrace.
Prince of Darkness, my ass.
“You made it!” Flint exclaims before turning his attention to me. “Hello again! I don’t think I ever caught your name, now that I think about it.”
I say the first name that comes to mind. “Amelia.”
“And this must be…” he says, turning his gaze to Holly. His smile flickers when he sees her, his gaze lingering on her scars. He catches himself and pastes the smile back on.
My blood boils and I tamp down a string of curses. I shouldn’t have asked her to do this.
“Holly,” she says warmly, extending her hand. She either didn’t notice his smile falter or, like me, she shoved it into a box to think about later. He takes her hand in his and places a brief kiss on the scarred skin.
“Holly, welcome! Let’s get you out of the cold.
” He ushers her inside, and we follow, the tavern a ghostly version of the one we visited the other day.
The only sounds are our feet shuffling on the floorboards below and a fire crackling.
No billiards being shot, no glasses clinking together, no raucous hybrids shouting as they call for more beer.
The room is empty save for one figure seated on a green leather sofa next to the blazing fire, long legs crossed at the knee. His golden blond hair is neatly styled, pointed ears peeking through the glossy strands.
My breathing quickens. He’s here.
“Cousin!” Flint exclaims. “Our guests have arrived!” I wish I could bottle his enthusiasm and drink it every morning instead of coffee.
August rises from the sofa and I’m taken back to the first time I met him. He is gorgeous. Tall and golden skin and blond hair and those piercing eyes the color of a glacier. They captivated me then and they captivate me now. But unlike before, they gloss over me and move right to Holly.
He freezes.
“Welcome,” he says quietly, his eyes locked on Holly.
Flint doesn’t notice. He heads to the bar to pour us all a round of drinks.
“And what did you say your names were?” August asks, gaze flitting between Asmo and me.
“We didn’t,” Asmo answers.
August stands still, staring at Asmo. It feels like a challenge—like he’s about to demand Asmo give him his name.
“I’m Amelia,” I say, walking to him and extending my hand. He hesitantly pulls his gaze from Asmo and shifts it to me. My hand hangs in the air between us before I remember. I form a curtsy.
“Lovely to meet you, Amelia,” August says, but his usual charm is missing. He seems tired, deflated. Just like us. It gives me some hope, that maybe things in the High Houses aren’t as status-quo as I thought. Maybe August has been fighting back against Marik behind closed doors.
He walks up to Holly and clasps his hands behind his back. “And you must be…”
“Holly,” she says. She stares up at him, meeting the challenge he’s laid out for her.
August’s gaze snaps to me, then back to Asmo, before settling on Holly once more.
“Flint,” he calls, his eyes still on Holly. “Out.”
“What? Why?” Flint asks from behind us, disappointment in his tone.
“Go.” His demand is harsh. Final.
Behind us, something is set on the bar before footsteps head to the exit, a draft of wind entering as Flint opens and closes the door behind him. Leaving us alone with August. Will he be with us or against us?
My power sits just below the surface, ready to strike.
“Sit,” August commands.
Thankfully, Asmo doesn’t quip back with a smart-ass response. We all take a seat on the green sofa while August settles into the matching armchair on the opposite side.
“What’s going on here?” August asks, glancing between the three of us.
“Prince August,” Holly says, her tone respectful. “It’s so good to see you again.”
“Who are these two?” he asks her, gaze flitting between Asmo and me.
“We’ll get to that,” Holly says. Again, I’m reminded of the timid Holly from before.
This Holly has been through literal fire.
Instead of it destroying her, it morphed her and hardened her into a weapon.
She’s been through too much and has too much to lose.
Her home—the kingdom—hangs in the balance.
“No, Holly,” he responds. “I don’t think you understand how this is going to work. Let me remind you of some facts.”
It appears August has changed, too. Gone is his carefree demeanor, replaced by a version of him who has also been hardened.
King Conall and Prince August have been seen walking the streets, keeping an eye on things.
Just how much has August seen? How much has his court suffered because of Marik? Because of me?
He settles back in the chair, arms draped along the armrests.
He lifts his chin as he assesses us. “Witches and dark magic have spread throughout the kingdom. The last time I saw you, you were dead. The last time I saw Mae, she was dead. Now, miraculously, you and Mae are alive, seemingly resurrected. Do you see how this might be looking to me right now?”
Holly’s jaw drops. “You think that Mae and I were brought back from the dead? By dark magic?”
He cocks his head. “Are you denying it?”
“Of course I’m denying that,” she hisses. “It was close. Too close. But I never died. And neither did Mae.”
“So, you’re in touch with her, then?” he asks.
Holly nods curtly.
“And what does the Crown want with us?” His tone is careful, controlled.
Holly looks at me, unsure of how to play this. We decided that we wouldn’t reveal ourselves to August until we were absolutely certain that he wasn’t in support of Marik. But I never anticipated that he’d think we were with the High Court.
He grips the armrests and leans forward. “What’s going on here? We’ve done everything you’ve asked.” His tone is no longer controlled. Fury laces every word.
“August,” I say softly. He turns to me in confusion, at the informality, the lack of title. “We’re not with Marik.”
“Who are you?” he asks, then looks back to Holly. “I don’t understand.”
Holly’s mouth opens and shuts, and she looks at me again, mouth twisted into a grimace.
Here goes nothing. “August,” I say softly. “It’s me. It’s Mae.”
His gaze sharpens as he truly looks at me, head to toe. “You’re not wearing a glamour.”
I stand and undo my coat. I pull my shirt up and reveal the sigil on my ribs. “This mark allows me to change my appearance.”
He shakes his head. “That’s not possible.”
“It’s dark magic,” Asmo explains, now standing beside me. In solidarity or protection if this goes wrong, I’m not sure.
August flinches. “What do you want?” he repeats, tone somehow even harsher than it was before. “Did Astrid report something that wasn’t to her liking?”
“What? What are you talking about?” I ask.
“I have listened to and abided by every request. So, if there’s nothing else, I’d like to return to my family,” he says coldly. He stands and points to the door. “My guards will see you out.”
“No, August, listen. We’re not with Marik. Please, hear me out,” I plead.