5 LONNIE
THE CUTTHROAT DISTRICT, INBETWIXT
In my dreams, I was eleven once more.
The sun hung low in the sky over the meadow, nearly obscured by the smokey clouds around the mountains of the Source on the horizon, and the sound of humming insects was almost louder than the wind rustling the nearby trees of the Waywoods. My eyelids drooped with exhaustion, as I shifted onto all fours, and inched forward, imagining I was a sleek mountain lion on the hunt.
Everyone knew to fear the monstrous mountain lions in the valley of Aftermath almost as much as we feared the Fae soldiers. It was rumored in our village that they stalked the same target for days on end, sometimes weeks before they finally made their strike. I didn’t think I would have to wait that long — not as long as the real lions would — but I had my doubts. After all, my sister, Rosey, was terrible at this game.
My sister was awful at nearly every game I invented. She didn’t enjoy playing pretend, or anything that might involve running, and she always forgot to creep through the grass, trying to muffle her footsteps so I wouldn’t hear her.
Sure enough, my heart leapt at the sound of footsteps on the nearby path. They grew closer, grass crunching. With a rush of excitement, I leapt from my grassy hiding place to tag my twin. “Got you, I—oomph.”
I slammed into something hard and unexpected, and bounced off. Light danced behind my eyes and my breath left me in a whoosh as my spine slammed into the cold ground, still hard this early in the spring. I gasped as my lungs spasmed, struggling for air.
An unfamiliar, too-pleasant voice pierced through the quiet air. “Who is this?”
My eyes snapped open, and I gazed up at the overcast sky, only to see the silhouette of two, tall strangers towering over me. My blood ran cold.
Fairies.
My eyes snapped open and my heartbeat raced as I jolted upright. Disoriented, I rubbed my bleary eyes and dragged my tongue over my lips, clearing the fuzz of sleep from my mouth.
A sharp sting of pain pulsed through my hip, reminding me that I had dozed off on the unforgiving wooden floor of the bedroom. My half-packed satchel lay strewn haphazardly beside me, its contents spilling out onto the floor in a chaotic mess of clothing, food, and weapons. It didn’t look much different from when I had started.
After the disastrous conversation with Scion, I’d intended to spend the rest of the afternoon packing to leave. I had no idea what possessed me to seek out the prince, or more embarrassing still, to ask him to come with us—as if he’d care what I wanted. He hadn’t even replied to my question, and finally I’d fled from the room, humiliating rejection hanging over me.
I couldn’t face the shame of explaining to Bael what was bothering me, and vowed not to leave our room again until we left the city tomorrow evening. Therefore, I’d never been happier than when I was told we’d be leaving tonight, rather than tomorrow evening.
When evening came, Siobhan met Bael and I in the hallway outside the bedroom to escort us down to the tunnels that would take us out of the city.
“Ready?”
she asked, when I opened the door.
I held up my small satchel. “There wasn’t much to pack.”
Tall and thin, but with corded muscles like a dancer, Siobhan didn’t look deadly, but I’d long since learned that looks could be deceiving. Her long, midnight-black hair was braided tight against her head, and she wore a hood with her dark thieves armor, that made it difficult to discern her expression as we set off down the hall.
“Will you be traveling with us?” I asked.
“Yes.”
Her tone made it sound as if she were smiling beneath her hood. “Me, Arson and Cross will be coming along, at least as far as the wall.”
“Do we really need such a large group?”
Bael asked.
“Don’t worry, my lord,”
she said with humor in her tone. “We won’t draw too much attention to your girl.”
Though Cross had said the network of tunnels extended all over the city, I had no real notion of how accurate that statement was without seeing it for myself. Siobhan brought us through the house to the same entrance tunnel we usually used to enter the dens. However, once we entered, she turned left, and pulled on a small chain hanging from the ceiling. After a long pause, a passage slid open along the wall.
I stared in amazement “I never would have noticed that.”
“Precisely.”
Siobhan said, clicking her tongue. “Come on, we’ve got a tight schedule tonight.”
“Where does this lead?”
I asked, as we hurried along a stone passage nearly identical to the one we’d just left.
“This passage connects to the wine cellar below the bar next door,”
she explained. “But that’s only where we’re meeting the others. We have a ways to go yet before you’re clear of the gates. Keep up.”
I snapped my mouth shut, resolving to try to hold in my questions—however difficult that might be.
As it turned out, we need not have hurried. An hour later, we still stood in a huddle in the crowded wine cellar, waiting for the rest of our party to arrive. The chill of the wine cellar seeped into my cloak, freezing me from the inside out. Had I been thinking about it, I might have worried that I’d be colder the moment we stepped outside, but there was no room in my mind for such thoughts. Not tonight.
My hands were clammy with anxiety, my pulse erratic as I glanced around. Bael’s shadow loomed over the rows of dusty bottles, his yellow eyes glinting in the darkness, like a cat peering out of some winding alley. Cross stood with arms folded, a scowl etched into his usually smiling face, and beside him Siobhan and Arson perched on barrels, like sentinels waiting to strike.
I sucked in a breath, managing to keep my voice even despite my trembling hands. “Let’s go.”
Bael cleared his throat, and glanced toward the door. “We could wait another moment.”
He was the one who’d insisted on waiting for Scion, and though I felt sure that after our conversation earlier that he was not coming, I had to admit Bael’s certainty lit a tiny spark of hope in my chest.
Now, after an hour, that spark had been well and truly doused.
“Is waiting any longer going to matter?”
I asked, bitterness lacing my tone.
He opened his mouth to reply, but stopped as the sound of distant footsteps down the hall made everyone tense. My heartbeat sped up in excitement, and I turned toward the door.
Aine stepped into the room, dressed as if she intended to travel in a long, woolen coat and heavy leather boots. Tan, with a slim figure and honey-brown curls tied back in a long braid, her expression was set in a tight, determined, line.
My momentary excitement fled, leaving me emptier than I’d been before. My eyes flicked to Bael, hoping for some understanding or reassurance, but he stood just as stunned and wide-eyed as I did.
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
“Are you not leaving tonight?”
Aine replied primly.
“Yes,”
I said slowly, “and you are leaving tomorrow.”
She took another step forward, letting the light from the hall flood into the small room. “My mistake. I was under the impression that there was an open invitation to travel to Aftermath.”
“Why would you want to travel with us?”
Bael demanded.
“I wouldn’t,”
Aine said bitterly, “but the alternative is worse. Anyway, you know I’d be useful.”
Bael cocked his head to the side, assessing. “I know you could be useful. Whether you will is an entirely different matter.”
Her face flushed with anger, and her voice grew sharp as she retorted, “I will be. I have no desire to be hidden away any longer.”
Bael paused, assessing his sister before shrugging. “Fine.”
“Wait.”
I reached out and grabbed his arm, trying to convey my misgivings with my eyes alone.
As far as I’d seen, Aine had never once done anything one might consider useful. She’d been at the palace when it was attacked, and as far as I’d heard, had done nothing to stop it. More concerning still, Aine had not acclimated well to losing her comfortable palace lifestyle. She had suddenly taken on many traits I might have associated with her mother, Raewyn: sulking, ordering everyone around, and making snide remarks at every possible opportunity. Even pompous Gwydion was handling the upheaval better than his sister.
I longed to unleash a diatribe of complaints, but instead, I only said: “I thought you were unwilling to use magic?”
“And we thought you didn’t have any magic,”
she snapped. “Things change.”
Bael looked like he might already be regretting his decision. “She’ll use her abilities…correct?”
“Correct,”
Aine ground out.
“Then there’s no problem,”
Bael said.
I was not so sure about that. “But?—”
“Leave it, little monster. If Aine is willing to come, we’d be foolish not to let her.”
I snapped my lips shut. Neither of them seemed inclined to share precisely how Aine might be useful, which might have swayed me. Still, I supposed I would have to trust that Bael knew what he was doing—at least for the time being.
“Right,”
Siobhan said briskly. “Shall we go, then? Or are we waiting on any other royal relatives?”
Bael and I looked at each other, and foolishly, the last tiny shred of hope lit once more within me “Is it worth waiting any longer?”
He sighed, giving me an almost pleading look, before rolling his eyes into the back of his head. After a moment, his face twisted into a grimace. “No, you’re right. We should go.”
I nodded, saying nothing, and stepped forward to take his hand. He squeezed my fingers, and even though I appreciated his comfort, I felt somehow lopsided, and my chest ached in a way it had no right to for someone who clearly never thought twice about me.