Chapter 31
MAE
My head beats like a drum, its pounding incessant and fierce. I keep my eyes closed as I try to gather my bearings. I’m lying on my side. My cheek rubs against something gritty, and pain blooms at the movement. I crack my eyes open, but all I see is gray stone, the scattering of dirt and pebbles.
And a small puddle of dried blood.
I reach to push myself up, but my wrists are bound by something cold and unyielding. My hands are shoved against what feels like a stone wall. Maybe I can blast a hole through the wall behind me. I summon fire, but nothing comes. I dig deeper, but I know it’s gone. Something’s muting my magic.
I take a deep breath, forcing myself not to panic. Thankfully, my feet are unbound. A very, very small victory. I tilt my head to look down. Dirt underneath my cheek punishes the movement and I grit my teeth as another wave of pain radiates through my face.
Good news—my extremities seem to be intact. Another victory.
But my hope dissipates when I see more dried blood on my stomach, then the white-blonde hair that falls over my shoulder. The sigil was destroyed.
I’ve been captured. And they know who I really am.
Motherfuck.
Every atom in my body, every nerve that runs beneath my skin, flares.
Normally, this would be the part where I summon some element that would help get me out of this Motherforsaken place.
But it’s all muted, and my chest is rising and falling too fast and now it’s constricting and I feel like I can’t draw a breath and—
Stop it. You are not going to die here. This is not the end.
In. Out. In. Out.
I blink back tears and force myself into a sitting position. I gasp as pain shoots through my stomach, the skin pulling as I move. Fresh blood begins to seep through my already blood-soaked shirt.
Whatever is muting my magic must be preventing my blood from healing my wound. Or wounds—the gash on my cheek pulses, the cold air biting it now that my face is off the ground.
I grit my teeth and get my feet underneath me, then push into a standing position. My wound throbs and I force deep breaths as my stomach churns—in through my nose, out through my mouth.
The room is covered in stone. A small window, blocked by iron bars, looks out over the mountains disturbingly high in the air. Large, pointed rocks jut up from the blanket of snow in a threatening collection of jagged teeth.
Another, smaller window is affixed to the door. I shuffle to it, every movement jostling the wound in my stomach. Hot blood trickles along the flat plane of my belly. I lean against the window, finding several guards stationed in the hall outside, their backs turned to me.
Okay, so I’m not in just any room. I’m in a cell. High up in what I’m assuming is the Banfolk Mountains.
I leave the windowed door and slide down the stone wall. My vision blurs. I close my eyes and let salty tears fall. They mix with the gash on my cheek, each sting reminding me that I’m alive. That I’m here. That there is still so much to fight for.
Cally. Holly. Ivan. Etta.
My kingdom.
Asmo.
I repeat the names, my wounds throbbing and my cheek burning, until the light from the window disappears and the cell grows dark.
Cally. Holly. Ivan. Etta.
My kingdom.
I cry myself to sleep, Asmo’s name on my lips.
Apregnant woman leaned over a dusty wooden dining table, hands gripping the sides with such force that her knuckles flashed white.
“This is all I could find,” another woman said, entering the room with two dingy towels in her hands. “Careful, or you’ll break the table.”
“Shut up, Willa,” the pregnant woman hissed through gritted teeth.
The other woman—Willa—chuckled, brushing black, wavy hair behind pointed Fae ears. “Do you want to try laying down?”
The pregnant woman took a deep breath, knuckles still white as bone. “No, the bed is filthy.”
“We should have mailed ahead. ‘Dearest Unknowing Citizen of the Deer Court, please ensure you have fresh towels prepared for Her Royal Fae Princess,’” Willa said in a haughty tone, coaxing a ghost of a smile from the other woman.
“Orla, you really should lie down. The contractions are coming too close together. What if you pop and the baby goes flying?”
“Babies,” Orla corrected her. “The oracle said two girls.”
“Whatever she said. You’re going to kill them if they fly out of you and land straight on the floor.”
BANG!
Orla spun toward the sound. “What was that? Is it her?” she managed to ask before she bit down on a groan, a contraction working its way through her.
Willa peered out the window. “No, but we have to get these babies out,” she whispered.
Orla, eyes shut tight as the pain of the contraction ebbed, nodded tightly.
Willa led her into the abandoned home’s only bedroom. She snatched the dusty quilt from the bed and flipped it over, laying it on the ground. She helped Orla settle onto the blanket and then sat between her and the wall, supporting Orla’s back.
“I can’t believe we didn’t make it to Silas before my water broke,” Orla muttered.
Willa rubbed her sister’s arms. “I know. At least Levana gave us enough warning to get you out.”
“Could have given us a little more time,” Orla snorted with a glance toward her belly. “You have to keep them from her, okay?” Sweat was beginning to line her forehead, her white hair clinging to her clammy skin. “Promise me,” she begged.
“I will,” Willa whispered. “I promise.”
“I mean it. You heard what the oracle predicted,” Orla said. “You can’t let Cora—” She gasped in pain, belly rolling with the contraction.
Willa reached for her sister’s hand and grasped it. “I know. It’s my fault we’re in this mess. I’ll protect them with my life. I mean it.”
A streak of black darted past the window. Willa glanced at the window nervously. “Can you push?”
Orla whirled her hand and one of the pillows flew from the bed. She caught it mid-air, took a deep breath, gritted her teeth, and pushed. She shoved her face into the pillow, muting the sounds of her groans. Her face turned pink with strain, and, after a moment, she collapsed against her sister.
“Good, good,” Willa soothed. “I can sense it. They’re almost here. Hang in there.”
Orla sat back up and gritted her teeth once more. Spittle flew from her mouth, veins popping along her neck as she pushed.
And just like that, out came one rosy, pink baby girl, tiny hands balled into fists, ready to fight the world. A mass of fire-red hair covered her tiny head, two pedicles dotting the top. She opened her mouth and let loose a scream.
Willa extricated herself from behind Orla and rushed to the baby, scooping her up in her arms. She grabbed the blade from her satchel and cut the umbilical cord. The baby whined in her arms, her face red and angry.
“Orla!” Willa exclaimed. “Look at her!” She held the baby to her sister, who sagged against the wall.
Orla took her daughter in her arms, a warmth spreading through her like a summer’s day. “Ellysia,” she whispered.
A soft smile stole across Willa’s face. “That’s perfect, Orla. For the light. Just like the oracle said.”
Orla’s face fell, and she handed her daughter back to her sister. “Take her.”
“What? Don’t you want to hold her?” Willa asked, face wrinkled in something like pity, or sadness. Or both.
Another contraction began to roll through her. Orla shook her head. “No,” she moaned. “Get her out of here. Take her somewhere safe.”
Willa paused. “Wh—no. You still have one more. That wasn’t the plan.”
“Go, Willa,” Orla commanded. “Cora is close. If you can’t save both, at least save one.”
Willa’s face contorted in protest. “I can’t leave you here like this.”
Orla snarled, her teeth flashing. “You made me a promise. You put us in this position when you summoned Cora. Go. Now.”
Willa’s face fell, but she grabbed a discarded blanket and wrapped the baby in it, swaddling her tiny body tightly. She tucked her to her chest and fled the abandoned house.
After waves of contractions, nearly cracking a tooth from gnashing her teeth together, and straining every muscle in her body to push, the second baby finally came.
Orla leaned over and scooped her up, desperate to have her in her arms. This one, also born with two pedicles, had hair as white as snow, just like her mother.
“Maerellis,” she whispered. “Another source of light to shine upon the kingdom.”
Orla cradled her in her arms, eyes twinkling as she surveyed every inch of her daughter—her tiny nose, her delicate pointed ears, her scrunched fingers and toes. A tear spilled from her eye, landing on her daughter’s forehead with a tiny plunk.
The front door opened with a creak. Orla set the baby between her and the wall, shifting her body to defend her daughter’s life with her own. She snatched the knife from the floor and readied herself. The bedroom door opened, but it was only Willa.
She held her hands up. Empty.
Ellysia was gone.
“She’s safe,” Willa whispered. “I found a family for her.”
Orla had dozens of questions, but she swallowed them. None of them mattered.
The baby with hair white as snow cooed softly behind Orla, and Willa’s eyes lit up at the sound.
Orla reached behind her and picked her daughter back up. “Her name is Maerellis. You have to take her and go. Now,” she plead, eyes filling with tears.
A bang came from the front room. The sound of the front door being broken down, splintered into pieces.
The color drained from Orla’s face and she severed the umbilical cord in one motion.
She held her daughter out to Willa with trembling arms, and Willa tucked the baby against her chest. Orla tried to get up but stumbled and fell back to the floor.
She pointed to the window in the bedroom in silent plea and Willa sprinted toward it.
But it was too late.