51. Cassiel
Istand at the window, staring after Wren as she flies away from me again. I’m as powerless to stop her as I was the day we met. Every time she leaves, it’s like plunging back into the dark. The world is senseless without her.
“Find her!” my mother’s voice cuts through the chamber, sharp as shattered glass. “Search the grounds, the roads, track her to the forest! I want her found.”
The guards outside redouble their efforts, fists slamming uselessly against the sealed door. The wood doesn’t so much as tremble under the force.
I drag a hand down my face, forcing myself to stay steady. “Mother—please. You’re not well enough—”
“I am perfectly—” She breaks off, swaying where she stands.
I’m at her side before she can fall again, catching her elbow, steadying her weight. She tries to pull away, but there’s no strength behind it.
“—capable,” she finishes anyway, breath thin with effort.
“Of course you are,” I say, softer now. “But perhaps not of standing.”
She glares at me, which is at least an improvement over collapsing. She consents to sit down. A normal person would be incapable of even moving after being asleep for so long.
But Mother isn’t normal. None of us are.
She must know that. She must.
Across the room, Aunt Imogen steps forward, voice gentle but firm in a way I’ve learned not to underestimate. “Ru, dear, I think we should probably let the guards in before they hurt themselves, don’t you?”
Runara hesitates. Her small hands curl into the fabric of her dress, her eyes flicking between the door… and the window Wren vanished through.
For a moment, I think she might refuse, but the guards aren’t capable of flying and Wren is probably clear of the castle by now.
With a reluctant huff, she nods and slips from the bed. “Fine.”
She pads over to the door and rubs away the chalk markings. The magic unravels the moment the pattern breaks.
The door flies open with a jolt as the guards stumble inward, clearly mid-strike. They catch themselves awkwardly, confusion flashing across their faces. Their eyes widen on my mother.
They drop to their knees almost instantly. “Your Majesty—”
“Up,” my mother snaps. “Find the girl. She cannot have gone far.”
The guards hesitate, glancing at me. I’ve been the one giving them orders for months, and I’ve rescinded the price on Wren’s head, told the realm she’s innocent.
My mother notices their hesitation. “I am your queen,” she says coldly. “Whatever orders my son has given, it is mine you obey. Now go! Find her!”
The guards bow their heads. “Yes, Your Majesty.”
They turn and rush from the room, the sound of their retreat echoing down the corridor.
Mother turns to Dain. He’s standing by the door with a faintly horrified expression.
“You too, Ser Hollowbrook,” she says. “Go after her.”
Dain wavers, his eyes circling to me. His jaw tightens. “No,” is all he manages.
My mother stares at him. “You are a knight of the realm,” she reminds him. “It is your duty to—”
“I know,” he says, “but I will not hunt Wren. I refuse.”
A brow raises. “You are aware—”
“I am,” he says. Dain draws his sword, holding it out in front of him. He lowers himself into a bow, offering it up to her, and lying it on the floor when she does not take it. “Forgive me,” he murmurs.
“I do not know what to say, Ser Hollowbrook.”
“I wasn’t talking to you.”
Dain’s eyes meet mine. He straightens, bowing once more to us both, and, with one final glance in my direction, disappears down the corridor.
I stare after him.
Dain is gone. Dain is no longer a knight. In a few short minutes, I’ve gained my mother, been separated from Wren… and lost my best friend.
I exhale slowly, tension coiling tight in my chest. “You’re making a mistake,” I tell her. “Dain is right. Wren is not the enemy.”
“She is a threat,” my mother replies without hesitation.
“She saved you.”
“She endangered us! She’s the reason you no longer have a brother—”
“I’ll always have a brother,” I tell her, my voice solid. My mind leaps to Evander is his younger body, staring at us as the dream disappeared into darkness.
I didn’t get to say goodbye.
For a moment, my mother says nothing.
“Wren pulled you out of a nightmare that would have killed you,” I continue, voice sharper now.
Her jaw tightens. “She took me away from Evander.”
“She brought you back to us.”
My mother opens her mouth to respond, but she sways again, her strength finally giving way in a way pride can’t mask.
“Lie down,” I say, more firmly this time.
“I will not—”
“You will,” I cut in, guiding—insisting—until she’s forced back. She doesn’t have the strength to fight me now, and we both know it.
“You’ve been asleep for months,” I remind her, quieter now. “Your body hasn’t caught up with your anger.”
“I don’t need a lecture, Cassiel.”
“No,” I say. “You need a healer.”
“I need that girl brought back in chains.”
Aunt Imogen steps in before I can answer. “And you shall have time to decide what to do with her,” she says soothingly. “After you’ve regained the ability to stand without collapsing.”
My mother doesn’t respond, which is as close to agreement as we’re likely to get.
“I’ll fetch someone,” Imogen adds, already moving toward the door. “Come along, Ru. Let your mother rest.”
Runara lingers. She looks at me, then at our mother, then back toward the window again, her lower lip trembling with something far more fierce than fear.
“If you hurt Wren,” she says, “I’ll never forgive you.”
My mother’s expression flickers, just for a moment, before it hardens again. “Go with your aunt.”
Runara doesn’t move.
“Ru,” I say gently.
She looks at me, and whatever she sees must convince her, because she huffs again and then marches after Imogen.
The door closes behind them. I take a breath and turn back to my mother.
For a moment, neither of us speaks. There is so much I want to say, so much I need to explain, to convince her of. I hardly know where to begin, and exhaustion is overtaking me—the bone-deep kind that fogs my brain.
“You know we’re part fey too, right?” I whisper.
My mother flinches, like the word’s a blow. She, like Evander, must have suspected something over the years, but never known until now.
“We’re not like them,” is all she says.
“Is that so?” I ask. “My father killed Wren’s, you know.”
Her gaze sharpens, fixing on me. “What?”
“I saw it happen,” I continue, the memory of the Star Gate rising. “I saw Father kill an unarmed man for the crime of merely existing. Wren knew that when she came here. She knew exactly who we were. What we’d done to her father.”
My grip tightens slightly on the edge of the bed.
“And yet,” I add, quieter now, “she’s never had a fraction of the hatred in her that you displayed today.”
My mother says nothing.
“She is a good person, Mother.”
The words settle between us. Her expression shifts, studying me instead now, with a different kind of sharpness.
“You’re still in love with her,” she says.
I let out a breath, something almost like a laugh but without any humor in it.
“That’s too small a word for it.”
It’s utterly inadequate, like declaring the ocean to be no more than a cup of water.
My mother shakes her head. “She said she gave you back your sight—and I am glad of that, truly—but you are blind to what she really is.”
“No, Mother,” I tell her. “You are.”
She flinches as if I’ve struck her.
“I saw Wren when the entire world was dark,” I continue. “I see her every time I close my eyes. I knew the colour of her soul before I saw the colour of hair—”
“She’s bewitched you,” Mother insists. “She could have restored your sight at any time—”
“No, she couldn’t. Did you not see how thin she was? She’s been killing herself trying to make up for what she’s done—”
“As she should!” Mother spits. “Let her die for what she’s done!”
“We are just as guilty as they are!”
My mother’s anger teeters at the brink, but before she can explode, a knock sounds at the door.
“Your Majesty?” comes a familiar voice.
I step back as the door opens just enough to admit Niora and a healer in muted robes, both bowing low as they enter. Relief flickers across Niora’s face at the sight of her queen—quickly masked into composure.
“Your Majesty,” she says. “How relieved I am to see you back with us.”
The healer moves forward at once, already assessing, already reaching for her wrist. My mother doesn’t look at me again when she speaks.
“Leave us, Cassiel.”
I want to fight for Wren some more, but I sense that nothing will get through to my mother today. It’s like hammering against a runed door. I either need to wait until the runes are removed or… find another entrance.
The guards I pass bow, their movements sharper than usual, their expressions alight with something close to disbelief. Servants murmur amongst themselves.
“Your Highness—”
“Prince Cassiel—”
“She’s truly—?”
“Yes,” I answer, more times than I can count. “She’s awake.”
Each time, the same reaction—relief, awe, the kind of fragile hope that makes people stand a little straighter. I should feel it too.
I don’t.
By the time I reach my study, the weight in my chest has settled into something cold and almost painful.
I close the door behind me and lean against it for a moment, eyes shut.
Then I push away and get to work.
I craft an announcement to the public for Niora to look over later. Her Majesty, Queen Alessandra, has awakened from her long affliction. She is under the care of the royal physicians and is expected to make a full recovery…
The words come easily, and I’m glad of the task. This is exactly what the court will expect, the news they’ve longed for for months. It’s exactly what Erelis needs.
Part of it, I remember. Because the Duskfen is part of Erelis too, and many of them will not be celebrating the news.
Some might, perhaps. Marnie and Tob are sure to be happy for me, but so many others will be terrified of what this means.
The brief peace they’ve known is over, and I don’t know how to protect it.
I sand the ink, seal the parchment, and set it aside for distribution.
There’s more to do after that—there’s always more to do.
I lose myself in it.
Or try to. An hour passes, maybe two.
At some point, someone brings food. I eat it without tasting it, barely pausing in the steady rhythm of reading, signing, deciding.
There’s no room to think about the look on Wren’s face when she left, no room to imagine how far she could have gotten in her condition, or to consider what my mother’s guards might do if they find her first.
No time to think about Dain’s departure, or my mother’s blind fury.
Or Evander, fading into the dream.
“Tell me what to do,” I whisper more than once. “Don’t leave me just yet.”
Don’t leave me ever.
The castle hums around me, alive in a way it hasn’t been for months. Servants rushing, voices carrying through corridors, the unmistakable lift of a place waking from grief.
I ought to be overjoyed. My mother lives. Everything we fought for—everything Wren risked—has come to pass.
And yet all I feel is dread.
By the time I return to my chambers, the sky has shifted toward evening, the light softer, fading at the edges. It coats the table by the window and the edges of the curtains, bathing the chairs in golden light.
It lingers on Wren’s chair.
Robin barrels into me the second the door opens. His tail wags furiously as he circles, paws scrabbling against the floor. He’s not usually so animated.
“Easy,” I murmur, a hand coming down to steady him as I crouch. “I’m glad to see you too.”
He huffs happily, pressing his head into my palm.
The window is open.
I frown slightly. I’m certain I closed it this morning. Perhaps Anne opened it when she was cleaning—
Crossing the room, I reach for the latch, fingers brushing the cool metal as I begin to pull it shut—
A sharp whistle cuts through the air behind me.
I freeze. It can’t be.
If I turn, and she’s not there, I’m not sure I’ll be able to cope, but if there’s even the chance that she is…
Slowly, I swivel towards the sound. Wren stands in the doorway to the adjoining room like she’s been there all along. She leans casually against the frame, arms loosely folded, looking far too composed for someone who flew out of a window half-dead mere hours ago.
“You have terrible security,” she says lightly. “Honestly, you’d think a prince could afford better.”
For a heartbeat, I can’t move. I can’t even breathe.
I cross the room in three strides and pull her into me.