Chapter 34
Castor
The starlight courtyard is a flurry of activity. In the sprawling grassy square surrounded by arches of white flowers and evergreen vines, decadence drips from every morsel of food, gilded goblet, and unnecessary topiary.
At the top of the square is a wooden dais with a pair of golden seats meant for the Redwood King and Myrtle Queen.
Neither of them sits there—a symbol of the true state of their alliance.
Our two kingdoms stopped warring due to a reluctant peace alliance and common enemies.
Not because we decided to get along. But I don’t really care about any of that right now.
I just care about finding Durian, forfeiting this wicked game, and locking myself in the Bloodwood Tree before Maddox can tell me she loves me.
My mind is far from the swarming guests and the fountain of hazelnut liqueur; it’s in the bed with the girl with silver eyes. It’s in the petals of the rose I left on the pillow beside her before I slipped away. It’s tangled in a whirlwind of images from the past two weeks.
Stepping into my dazed line of sight is a woman dressed all in steel, a narrow cage of metal branches encasing her torso and spilling to the ground in the form of leaves.
One side of her flaxen hair has been buzzed down, a braid dividing the two sections.
She stands on the outskirts of the crowd with her protectors on either side.
Across from her stands a man with stark white skin veined with silvery black tattoos that travel up his forearm and peek out again at the base of his neck.
A pair of rough onyx horns stands out starkly against his slicked-back platinum hair.
Trademark metallic ribbons run through the horns, telling everyone what he is—ironfae—but the crown of black quartz makes it abundantly clear who he is—Wolfram Tamerlaine, the Iron King.
Despite the Iron King’s rare appearance in the Redwood Court, I find him a fraction as intimidating as the woman beside him.
Rumors of what the Myrtle Queen did to our forests when Cyperus was king have been told to Redwood saplings like bedtime stories.
The battles she led—the unnecessary deaths. There’s a reason Redwood men fear her.
As if she can feel my gaze, the Myrtle Queen turns cold eyes on me—so golden I’m surprised Durian isn’t enchanted by them.
But, then again, he’s only ever been attracted to women much less powerful than he.
She raises the glass in her hands in a wordless toast. For once, I’m goblet-less.
I haven’t had a sip of wine since the oleander concoction Maddox accidentally gifted me.
Oleander was a rather strange choice for an Aronia wine, now that I think of it. They typically only put out cherry varietals. In fact, most dryad wineries don’t include oleander, knowing how somniferous it is.
Durian’s voice jolts me from my distracted thoughts. “Where is your mortal conquest? I figured she’d be here, but perhaps you were too busy riding her to remember to pass on the invitation.”
I turn my neck to the side until it cracks.
“You have one more day to woo the girl,” he continues. “Time to pull out your best tricks if you wish to win our pact.”
“I don’t.”
He stills. “What?”
Despite my earlier conviction, the familiar feeling of shame settles around my shoulders like a cloak of self-loathing in my brother’s presence. I don’t look at him. “I’m done with the pact. Done with all of it. You win. Congratulations, Your Majesty.”
Silence settles between us, as if Durian’s favorite toy has just been shattered before his eyes. How un-fun I’ve just made this sadistic game of his.
“Giving up that easily?” His lip curls in mild distaste. “What would Cyperus think about his precious Castor capitulating without a fight?”
“He’s dead. No use wondering what he would think.”
“What made you change your mind? Was it your guard’s declaration of love or the sweetness of the mortal girl’s lips?”
I fix him with a look of incredulity. “How did you know about—”
With a snap of his fingers, two golden guards show up on either side of Durian. “The prince has requested to be locked away in the Bloodwood Tree,” he says as if he’s merely informing them of what wine I prefer. “Be sure he gets there safely.”
Both guards exchange a brief bemused glance before moving to grab me by the arms, but I step out of their reach. “That’s quite all right. I can walk myself.”
“Don’t worry, brother,” Durian calls after me. “I’ll be sure to come visit.”
The Bloodwood Tree towers directly behind the citadel walls, accessed by a hollow branch lined with prison cells for lesser crimes.
The sound of drunken merrymaking echoes behind me as my head tilts back to take in the monstrosity that will soon be my new home.
A sea monster come to life, bursting from the ground and growing hundreds of feet, waiting to devour any who dare come near it.
My ears start ringing, dulling the music of the last Sylveris Solstice I’ll ever attend. The last time I must pretend I actually want to be there, ignoring the looks of disgust from Redwood courtiers and frightened intrigue of the Myrtlewood dryads. It’s almost a relief.
I approach the entrance with my chin held high, flanked by Durian’s guards decked in golden feathers like a pair of gilded birds that should have gone extinct a long time ago. If I’m going to step foot in this prison again, I’m going to do it with dignity. Unhinged dignity, but still.
“Castor!” a painfully familiar voice calls out. “Castor, wait!”
Pausing, I turn to see a frazzled Tam emerging from a shadowed pathway, thundering up to me.
His neck is covered in a blood-spotted bandage and his leather armor is scratched and torn on one side.
An hour ago, I wrapped Tam in a silent hug—the first in twelve years—under the assumption it was the last time I would see him alive.
I told him to stay with Maddox in my branch while she slept.
I didn’t tell him what I was planning to do because I was afraid he’d try to stop me. Like he’s doing right now.
The sight of his wide copper eyes and narrow, panicked face is almost enough to unravel me.
“Tam? What are you—?”
“No, Cas. What are you doing?” he asks breathlessly.
The guards hold their spears up, forcing him to stop short. He raises his hands, eyes only on me.
“I told Durian that he won the pact. This is what’s best for everyone. You of all people should know that.”
“No, no, I don’t know that. Your curse isn’t real, Cas,” he says with a desperation I’ve never heard from him before. “Durian made it all up. He’s the one who has been killing everyone who gets close to you.”
I snort a humorless laugh, shaking my head sadly. “I understand you think this is dramatic of me, and maybe it is, but don’t insult my admittedly lacking intelligence by—”
“I’m telling the truth.” Panic fills his words.
“Durian sent three woodlings after me. They tried to slice my throat when they thought I was sleeping. The king has been spying on you through wood sprites. They’ve been watching you and reporting back to him.
Remember the one that disappeared after I told you I loved—”
“Stop,” I grind out. “You aren’t making any sense. Cyperus died because of my curse, remember? Redwood brothers can’t kill one another. Your theory doesn’t hold up. I’m sorry, Tam. I know you don’t agree with me, but I have to do this.”
“Durian blamed you for Cyperus’s death because he knew you’d believe it.”
“Just stop. You aren’t making this any easier.”
“Cas.” His voice comes out like broken glass. “I need you to listen to me—”
The guards have clearly had enough, each taking hold of one of my arms. “Enough sappy goodbyes for you two. Let’s go.” The one to my right pushes me forward.
“No, wait!” Tamarind dashes to stand before the entrance of the citadel prison. “Maddox is the one who figured it out. She knew because her father was the mortal man who killed Cyperus. He made a pact with the Myrtle Queen to kill the king. It had nothing to do with your curse.”
I falter. “Maddox’s father killed—?”
Suddenly, black vines burst from the ground, slithering around both Tam and me, constricting like a pair of deadly snakes.
“This precious little farewell has gone on long enough, I think.”
The last thing I see before the vines tighten around my neck, blackening my vision, is Durian, wearing a caustic smile.
~
I come to in a wooden cell with rounded walls covered in blackened bark that moves ever so slightly in and out. Like it’s breathing.
A deep rumbling emanates from the coarse wood that stretches and groans on the inhales and contracts on the exhales, thin streams of air spilling from pores in the trunk.
For a moment I can’t remember how I got here. But then it all comes flooding back. Slowly, I sit up, anxiety settling over me.
“He was telling the truth, you know,” a poison-dipped voice says. “Your guard lover.”
“Tam isn’t my…” I begin, then realization and panic and a host of other feelings take over, sizzling through me like shards of ice crashing through my veins.
Slowly, I turn my head to take in my brother, standing just outside of the wooden bars of my cell.
His golden crown looks even bigger from this angle, his perfect face distorted.
“Where is he?” I ask, looking around, as if I’ll somehow find him in the same tiny cell as me.
Arms folded, Durian leans casually against the bars, watching me with a look of immense entertainment.
“He’s being held in a cell for now. I’m deciding what to do with him.
On the one hand, he is a rather skilled healer, and the citadel is in need of another.
But then I’d have to let him live.” He moves his hands up and down like unbalanced scales. “Tricky decision.”
“What did you mean he was telling the truth?”
But I already know. I can see it in his eyes: the twinkle of a game won.