60. Cassiel
Idon’t know how I coped when I was first blinded, but I believe I deserve a lot more credit than I got for not going completely and utterly insane being trapped in my room in the dark.
I guess, even though it felt like I was trapped, I wasn’t technically a prisoner—only in my mind.
I was free to go anywhere even though I could see nothing.
I can see now, and I’d gladly trade my sight for freedom, for the chance to stop my mother, to—
To be with Wren again.
I’ve been sitting here too long, thinking in circles, turning over the same facts, the same fears, the same what-ifs until they’ve lost all meaning. My mother is preparing for war. I have no idea what the fey are doing. Wren is—
Wren.
The room feels too large without her in it. Too large, too quiet, too Wren-less. I almost miss the days when her presence used to irritate me. Life was easier when I didn’t love her.
And infinitely more miserable.
I sit at the edge of the table, elbows braced, the parchment spread in front of me like it might offer answers if I stare at it long enough. It doesn’t. It only gives me more questions.
Did she get my letter?
Did it reach her in time?
Or is she already—no.
I shut that thought down hard. She’s alive. She has to be.
Wren doesn’t go quietly. She doesn’t go easily. She burns and claws and fights her way through whatever stands in front of her, and the world bends around her whether it wants to or not.
But even she has limits.
And my mother—
I exhale slowly, dragging a hand through my hair.
Both sides are sharpening their blades.
“Don’t do anything reckless,” I mutter under my breath, echoing my own words back at myself with a hollow sort of irony. “Brilliant advice, Cassiel. Truly.”
She’s not going to listen. Because if she did—if she chose caution over action, distance over involvement—she wouldn’t be Wren.
I lean back in my chair, staring up at the ceiling. Robin nudges my leg and I rub his ears absent-mindedly. At least Mother hasn’t left me entirely alone.
I need to ask to see her, convince her that some time to think has given me some perspective.
I’m not sure I’ll be able to convince her that I’m willing to forsake Wren, but perhaps I can concede that the fey need to be dealt with.
Perhaps I’ll agree to help her in exchange for Wren’s safety, just until I figure out what her next actions are.
If she’s mounting an attack on the Duskfen, I have to let Wren know.
Not just for her sake, but for all the hapless fey like Marnie and Tob and Baby Eva that will be caught up in it.
There’s a faint murmur at my door, but I don’t give it much thought. It’s probably just the guards changing shift, as they’ve done multiple times before. I ignore it.
A sharp tap sounds against the window.
I frown. Another tap follows, louder this time, followed by a fierce whisper.
“Cass!”
I freeze, sure I’m imagining things.
“Cass!”
I look up and nearly fall out of my chair. A small figure is dangling outside my third-storey window.
By a rope.
“Ru?”
My sister beams at me.
“Hi!”
“Ru!”
I’m already halfway across the room. Robin bolts after me, barking excitedly as I wrench the window open. The moment it swings inward, Ru scrambles through with all the grace of an overexcited squirrel and lands heavily on the carpet.
“Are you completely insane?”
“Maybe.”
“Ru, do you have any idea how dangerous—!”
“You sound like Mother.”
“That is the most horrifying thing you've ever said to me.”
I grab her shoulders before she can wander off and give her a thorough inspection. No injuries. No broken bones. No signs that she’s just scaled down the palace walls using a rope.
Her lack of injury is probably a bad thing. She’s now certain to do it again.
“If you fell—”
“Have you ever fallen sneaking out of the castle?”
I stare at her. “I have never—” I have no idea how to finish that sentence in a way that isn’t a lie, so I leave it hanging.
Ru grins.
“Just be careful,” I say, pouting.
“I was careful.”
“You are nine.”
“I’ve been nine for ages now.”
“That isn't helping your argument.”
Ru rolls her eyes with all the dramatic suffering of someone forced to endure an unreasonable adult, particularly when that unreasonable adult is her brother.
“I’m fine.”
“You could have fallen.”
“But I didn’t.”
“That’s not—”
“Cass.”
“What?”
“I missed you.”
The words hit me with surprising force, killing the lecture instantly. Ru’s expression softens, just a little. I thought I was close to reaching my limit in regards to my solitary confinement. It never occurred to me that Ru would be reaching her limit, too.
“I am very glad to see you,” I tell her, “but you shouldn’t be here.”
“I know.”
“If the guards overhear—”
“Aunt Imogen is distracting the guards.”
I blink.
“Imogen is assisting you in breaking into my chambers merely because you missed me?”
“Yup.”
It must be bad, if even Aunt Imogen is going against my mother. I thought if she was willing to listen to anyone, it would be her. I should have known better. I don’t think anyone could get through to her right now apart from…
Well, it’s best not to think about that.
My mother, I firmly believe, has no favourite children, but Evander was supposed to be her successor.
He’s also the only one she’s lost, and the reason she is the way that she is.
She won’t listen to me not because she loves me any less, but because she hasn’t lost me.
Grief has narrowed her into a rage-filled creature.
I understand that. I hate it, but I do understand.
Ru wanders over to Robin, apparently deciding the lecture has run its course. The traitor immediately throws himself onto his back for belly rubs.
“Oh, you’re useless,” I tell him.
His tail thumps harder against the floor.
Ru giggles and drops to her knees beside him. For a little while, the room feels almost normal. She tells me about her lessons, which tutors she likes and which ones she hates. Apparently Lord Bertram assigned her six pages of historical dates to memorise, which she considers a personal attack.
“He's preparing you for statecraft.”
“He’s preparing me for boredom.”
“You’ll thank him one day.”
“I absolutely won’t.”
“I am thankful for my lessons,” I tell her.
“Were you thankful at the time?”
“That’s… neither here nor there.”
Ru grins at me, and I laugh despite myself. The sound surprises both of us. It’s been a while since I’ve had much reason to.
Eventually, though, Ru glances toward the window. The smile slips from her face.
“I can’t stay long.”
“No.”
“I’ve got lessons soon.”
Of course she does. The kingdom keeps moving while mine has stopped. Tutors still teach. Courtiers still gossip. Mother still plans. The sun still rises and sets beyond these walls while I remain trapped inside them.
Ru gives Robin one last hug around the neck.
“Bye, Robin.”
She stands and turns to me. For a moment, neither of us speaks. Suddenly, she looks younger than she looked clambering into my room.
Before I can say anything, she launches herself at me.
“You be careful,” she mumbles into my shirt.
The words make me laugh.
“You climbed a palace wall.”
“Yeah, but you be careful too.”
I tighten my arms around her for a moment before letting go. Ru steps back, smoothing down her tunic with exaggerated dignity.
“Aunt Imogen says not to give up.”
The amusement drains out of me. “What?”
“She said she’s working on Mother.”
Hope flickers somewhere deep in my chest.
“And if that doesn’t work...” Ru hesitates.
My pulse quickens. “If what doesn’t work?”
“She said somebody else will get you out.”
For a second, I can only stare at her. “What exactly did she say?”
“I don’t know.” Ru wrinkles her nose. “She got all mysterious about it.”
That sounds exactly like Imogen. Suddenly, I wish that she’d been the one to scale the wall and left Ru as the distraction, but I can understand why she did it this way round.
I can only hope she had reason to be extremely confident in Ru’s climbing skills.
And possibly place a mattress beneath my window.
Somebody else. But who else would come to get me out?
Wren would, says a dangerous little voice. Hope crashes through me so suddenly it almost hurts.
Imogen wouldn’t say something like that without reason, not when she knows how carefully I’d cling to every word. If she’s making promises, then she knows something. Someone has spoken to her. There’s a plan in place.
My mind leaps instantly where it shouldn’t.
Ru grins, apparently satisfied that she’s delivered her message. “Well, bye!”
“Ru—”
She’s already halfway out the window.
“Ru!”
She looks back. “What?”
“Try using doors next time.”
“Nope!”
I move to the window just in time to see her catch hold of the rope and begin climbing upwards with alarming confidence.
The palace gardens stretch far below, bright beneath the afternoon sun.
The sight of my nine-year-old sister dangling several storeys above the ground should probably be more concerning than it is, but after knowing Ru for nine years I've learned that worrying only encourages her.
And there is a cart filled with hay below, just in case. Aunt Imogen has clearly thought of everything.
I watch until she disappears from sight. Only then do I step back from the window.
Robin pads over and settles against my leg with a quiet huff. The room falls silent again. The same walls. The same locked door. The same prison.
Not for much longer, I pray. Someone is apparently working on getting me out. I know I said that I’d stay here, and try to pretend that I’d had a change of heart, but more than ever, I just want to get out. Imogen can be my spy. Saints, maybe even Ru can.
Either way, the game hasn’t ended just because Mother has removed me from the board.
I lower myself back into my chair and stare at the unfinished parchment waiting on the table. The words no longer seem quite so pointless.
The sound of the guards outside the door have dissipated. Aunt Imogen has clearly returned to whatever task she was doing before. Ru is likely back in her lessons. I hope she doesn’t give her tutor too much trouble.
A faint rumble sounds not far off.
I frown. It sounds like a storm, gathering in the distance. The air tightens in a way that sends a shiver down my spine.
I go still.
There’s a pressure building, the kind of thing you feel in your bones before your mind catches up.
My heart starts to race.
The world explodes.
The far wall of the castle erupts inward with a deafening crack, stone and dust and splintered wood blasting across the courtyard in a wave of destruction. I barely even have time to think before a second explosion sounds.
The window shatters. I’m thrown sideways, hitting the ground hard as debris rains down around me.