46. Cassiel
Istare incredulously at Dain. “I told you to stop anyone who came in—”
“I naively assumed that your middle-aged aunt would not put up much resistance,” Dain says in his defence. “My fault entirely.”
“Cassiel,” Aunt Imogen says darkly, “explain yourself.”
I am the Prince Regent, I remind myself. I do not have to explain myself to her. I can order her away from this scene. I can swear her to silence, even lock her in the dungeon—
“Cassiel and I have fey ancestry and Mother does too and Wren believes she’s locked inside a dream because of it and she and Cassiel are going to dive in and try to get her back,” Runara says in one long rush.
Every eye in the room turns to her. I fix her with a dark glare.
“I’m sorry!” she says. “I had to! She was glaring at me!”
“I’m glaring at you!”
“She’s scarier than you are.”
That point is entirely reasonable and entirely unhelpful.
“You have fey ancestry?” Dain says, looking more shocked than Aunt Imogen. “Since when?”
“Since Queen Vivien,” I respond. “And keep your voice down!”
Aunt Imogen’s gaze remains fixed on me, and I might as well be blind again, for all I can read it. Is she angry? Shocked? Horrified?
“You—and your mother, and Ru—are part fey?” she says eventually, voice stony.
“Yes. Distantly.”
“I can make a shield, Aunt Imogen!” says Ru. “Look!”
She claps her hands together, whispers the activation word, and whoosh. A small shield appears around her.
Aunt Imogen barely blinks. “Fascinating,” she says finally, like a tired schoolmistress.
Her gaze falls to my mother on the bed, and this time, it does not move. “You think she’s locked inside a dream? That you can… bring her back?”
“Yes.”
“Is it dangerous?”
I swallow. “Yes. Ru’s here to act as my anchor. It will mitigate some of the risks.”
“And you?” Imogen’s eyes flit briefly to Wren. “What do you have?”
Wren blinks as if she’s surprised to be spoken to. “My dagger,” she admits. “And him, hopefully, although that means Ru is responsible for pulling both of us out.”
Aunt Imogen takes a long, careful breath. “I dislike this,” she says. “So would your mother, if she was here, and if it were my choice, I would not risk my nephew to save my friend.”
“Imo—”
“But it is not my choice,” she says, “and you forget, I think, that I lost my brother before his time. If I had a chance to bring him back…” She balls her fingers into fists, and glances at Ru. “Do you have a connection to… Serawen, wasn’t it?”
“Wren,” Wren corrects.
Ru slides her hand into Wren’s. “Yes,” she says.
Wren’s fingers clutch hers.
Imogen’s gaze circles back to Wren. “It’s safer, I assume, not to share an anchor?”
“It’s safer to have as many as possible.”
Imogen chews her lip. “Let Runara be Wren’s anchor,” she suggests. “I can be yours, Cass.”
A strange heat punches against my chest, not entirely wanted nor unwelcome. “Aunt—”
“Or we can ask Ser Hollowbrook, if you prefer. We could even call another guard to watch the door, or perhaps Ru could try casting a shield over the door—”
“That’s… not a bad idea,” admits Wren. “It wouldn’t stop anyone from trying to get in, but it would probably stop them gaining entry. I could even glamour the door to appear—”
“Is it wise to waste your magic?”
Wren stalls, knowing I’m right.
“We’ll just rune the door, then,” Imogen suggests. “No one will disturb us, not if I’m here, barking at them.”
Ru giggles.
“Your aunt appears quite formidable, Cass,” says Wren, grinning.
“All the women in my family are,” I tell her. “You fit right in.”
“Am I for-mid-able?” asks Ru, sounding out the word with some difficulty.
“Definitely,” says everyone at once.
We share a brittle laugh. Runara beams.
It’s the last moment of lightness.
Collectively, we all seem to move at once.
Runara and Wren rune the door, placing a barrier over it.
Aunt Imogen, Dain and I pull over a series of chairs.
Dain looks at me nervously, as if he’s unsure of what he’s doing here, and I can’t do anything but nod and hope he understands how grateful I am that he’s here.
“I definitely owe you a raise,” I manage.
“And a house in the country?”
I smile. “And a house in the country.”
Wren finishes correcting some of the runes of Ru’s arms, and activates several of them. The patterns on the floor and headboard glow. We all take our places, Wren weaving the rope around our hands, placing them together. I take Dain’s, Aunt Imogen takes his. Wren takes Ru’s, and finally mine.
“What happens now?” I ask her.
Wren sets the candles with her gaze alone. “Now?” she says. “We sleep.”
My head lurches forward, and I’m asleep before I hit the mattress.