Chapter 24 The Aftermath
The Aftermath
At last, a frazzled Glo comes searching for us outside, a pink-faced Jasmeen on her heels.
It’s evident that Glo expected to find us at each other’s throats, but by the time she locates us, I am cloaked in my now familiar numbness.
There is no fight left in me. We spend the rest of our night eating dinner with an overhanging cloud of thick tension.
Jasmeen makes anxious, unsuccessful stabs at conversation here and there.
Glo plays along but keeps an eye trained on Brynn as though waiting for him to sprout wings…
or perhaps, simply combust. While we eat, various inn patrons stare, gawk, and point at Brynn.
I grind my teeth. Was I so blinded by his good looks and charm that I couldn’t put two and two together?
Yes.
No more distractions. I must return to Castle Gale and ensure my father hasn’t been manipulated by Simon or some other external force.
Then we will worry about locating Mavick and Brynn’s mother—or figure out a way of absolving us of the deal altogether.
If Brynn’s contact in Royal City cannot provide counsel. ..
We may always be bound. Ugh.
Brynn and I do not speak a word throughout dinner. Coward that I am, I cannot even look at him—even when he throws lingering, stinging glances my way. When I can no longer bear it, I excuse myself from the table. Jasmeen rises to accompany me.
“Stay if you wish,” I say flatly. “I require rest.”
Jasmeen shakes her head. “No, that’s all right—I’d like to get some sleep, too. Long day of travel tomorrow. Goodnight, Glo. Vir.”
I also bid goodnight, turning to follow Jasmeen across the tavern floor. After a few steps, I glance back—Brynn glares at the table before him, Glo watching him with quiet pity. I sigh as I look forward again, and with a yelp, crash into a rigid mass. Jasmeen has suddenly paused to scan the room.
“Pray tell. Who are you looking for?” I demand, hands gripping her forearm for balance.
“Wh—what? No. I’m not looking for anyone,” Jasmeen responds, cheeks reddening. She slips free from my grip and carries on. My annoyance overrules my curiosity.
When we arrive on our floor’s landing, I pause at the balcony.
This place could be a lot of fun. Maybe one day I can visit again and make it a less lousy experience.
That is, if I ever return to Sanctuary. I may never get the chance.
And I’d spent the majority of my time at Blackwood Inn being volatile and stubborn.
With companions who, if I’m being honest, owe me nothing.
I peer down in time to see Glo reach across the table and take Brynn’s hand in hers.
Friends. Maybe I truly don’t deserve that kindness.
Jasmeen waves the green rock in front of door 44 and we enter.
The abrupt silence feels like a sobering slap.
She busies herself getting ready for bed and does not ask what happened with Brynn.
Maybe she does not care. Maybe I was too unkind.
My stomach roils remembering how I spoke to her in my fury.
After ten minutes, she still has not spoken and my restlessness grows unbearable. I stand between our beds facing her.
“Jasmeen, I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings,” I say, folding and twisting my hands in front of me. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you that way.”
“Hmmm?” Jasmeen squints as she violently chops at her pillows, in an effort to fluff them up just right.
She pauses when the words register, her expression slackening.
“Oh! Don’t worry about it, Thea. You were upset—I knew it was misplaced.
I’m glad you took it outside, though. It took a lot of pleading to keep Glo from chasing after Vir. To give you space.”
“Really?” I ask, though it’s unsurprising. I’m not sure what Glo thought I—a weak mortal—could do against a half-fae prince who likely has formal training in combat. But Brynn carries no weapon of his own. Perhaps he shared with her how I attempted to slit his throat over a misunderstanding.
Or perhaps she trusts me so little that she still believes I may command him.
“Yes, they’re best friends of course, but she’s also his personal guard,” Jasmeen says, “if anything were to happen to Vir, it would be her responsibility.” Ah.
So Glo is to Brynn what Edwin is to me. Glo is arguably better at her job.
Now her threat makes way more sense. It’s not simple loyalty, it’s duty.
“It’s another thing that Sanctuarians take very seriously.
Most guards are Bloodtied to whomever they are sworn to defend. ”
At last satisfied with her pillow situation, Jasmeen climbs into the bed. I lean on the edge of it near her legs.
“Bloodtied?” I ask. “That sounds dark.”
“More like archaic—much like most Sanctuarian traditions. It’s a lot like making a deal, but with a blood oath. It’s said to be unbreakable. They are forever in each other’s debt,” Jasmeen says, her tone lacking weight for such a heavy subject.
The thought crashes into me and I blurt, “Does that mean that regular fae deals are breakable?”
Jasmeen’s eyes narrow in suspicion. “There is always a price for breaking a fae deal.”
“‘Because every bargain has a price. Because every deal requires sacrifice,’” I recite the riddle dully.
I should have known. The price must include one paid if you break it.
I thought it just meant sacrificing your pride or your time in an agreement to help someone else.
But no, of fucking course, it is more than that—what may be lost if the deal is broken, too.
The riddle’s implications are becoming tree roots, planting deep within my mind and splintering off in numerous, opposing paths.
It’s plain now—perhaps its purpose is to mislead me. Confound me. Drive me mad.
Ever so slowly, Jasmeen sits up in her bed. Stark realization washes over her. Her unblinking eyes widen.
“Thea. Tell me you didn’t.”
“I can’t.” I shake my head, afraid to look away from her face.
“With Vir? With the prince—the PRINCE—of Sanctuary?” she whisper-shouts.
I nod. “I didn’t know he was the prince. But it was such a stupid thing to do, wasn’t it?”
“Well, I see now why his secret upset you so much,” she admits. She doesn’t say it aloud, but the betrayal is written in her taut expression: why didn’t you tell me?
“He told me a handful of secrets—to gain my trust,” I say. “They aren’t my secrets to tell. I didn’t want to go over the specifics of the deal and divulge his business.”
It strikes me. Glo’s disembodied voice overheard outside of Jasmeen’s stall: what will happen when she realizes how valuable that is? The true name of the prince of Sanctuary would surely fetch more than riches.
Monster, chides the voice in my head. No wonder Glo is wary of me. I sigh.
“Are you positive the deal was struck?” she asks. I rub the spot where the invisible cuff of our bond buzzes on my wrist. Her gaze catches on the movement.
“Positive—but… I made the terms very broad. To allow for some free will on both of our parts, if necessary.”
“He let you set the terms?” she asks, incredulous. The smallest smirk pulls at the corner of her mouth.
“I—yes. What of it?” I snap. I apologize with a hasty wince.
“Nothing—not yet, at least. Keep Vir’s secrets, keep his trust. I need to do more research,” she says, slipping between her sheets with an absent smile, as if already dreaming of the possibilities. I’ve never seen someone so excited at the prospect of research.
I strip to my underwear and slide into my own bed.
The sheets are soft and comfortable—a far cry from last night’s cot.
With a pang of reproach, I realize they don’t smell as nice as the back of Brynn’s tunic.
Nor are they as warm. I wonder if I’ll ever take a nap that refreshing again.
The faerielight in the room extinguishes, as if it somehow knows we’re both ready to sleep—as if it knows where my mind has drifted and wishes to put me out, too.
“Thank you for being my friend,” I whisper into the darkness moments later.
Jasmeen answers with the sound of her deep breathing, already lulled to sleep. It carries me away soon after.
There is no debate who will ride with whom the next morning. I help Jasmeen mount Moon and she offers a hand to pull me up. Brynn, I note, has dark circles under his eyes.
Even with the greenish tint of nausea to his skin, and the sullenness he exudes, he is obnoxiously, undeniably beautiful.
I must have fallen into a daze staring at him, because Glo clears her throat and tosses me an exasperated look that screams please don’t—not today.
Brynn mounts Shadow behind Glo with little grace.
Glo glamours away her wings once again to avoid smacking him around in his current, haggard state.
As the veilmane begin to glide, the dagger at my hip, glinting in the scattered rays of early morning light, catches his attention.
He surveys it before finally taking in my face.
Maybe it’s my imagination, but he seems to blanch when our eyes meet.
For his sake, I sever the connection, instead throwing Blackwood Inn a parting glance over my shoulder.
Between the tension I’ve caused in our party, Brynn’s brutal hangover, and the eerie stillness of this massive forest—it’s a very quiet morning.
I reminded Jasmeen again, before leaving the eavesdropping-impervious safety of room 44, that we should not discuss any private matters within range of our companions. This will be a long, boring ride.
It would perhaps be tranquil if I hadn’t reacted like I did last night.
I know I had every right to be angry, hurt even, at Brynn’s betrayal.
But in the hours since, no doubt sparked by a decent night’s sleep, that gnawing guilt has returned with a vengeance.
I spend the first two hours of the day’s journey mulling over every possible reaction Brynn, Jasmeen, and Glo may have once—no, if—they discover that I am Thea Gale, Princess and sole heir to the Kingdom of Clouds.
Best case, Brynn decides not to hate me forever. Comes to forgive me for doing as he’d done. Though… his intentions were far purer.
Worst case, Glo kills me for hurting her best friend. This isn’t off the table. Perhaps this is the best case, depending on how you look at things.
Jasmeen would remain my friend, I think. But who knows? Perhaps my secrets outweigh her obligation to stick by my side.
I watch Shadow’s backside over Jasmeen’s shoulder, their mossy greenish-brown tail swishing rhythmically to and fro in front of us—for who knows how long now.
It is trance-inducing. Soothing. Until it isn’t anymore.
I don’t think my companions notice when it stops.
When Shadow’s tail stills. They continue to glide forward along the path, but I stare, confused, as the leading veilmane’s muscular body goes rigid—feel as Moon’s body does the same underneath me.
It’s very hard to sneak up on a veilmane, Jasmeen’s voice rings in my memory.
They sense something. But what? Brynn’s likely too hungover to notice.
My mouth opens to warn Glo, who leads our charge—
“Glo—”
Something whizzes past my right ear. At first, I’m reminded of the curse-hurling, stick-like pixies in Mayhem. But another zips by. And then another. My brain struggles to make sense of it.
With another, that slices clean through the fleshy part of Jasmeen’s upper arm, it dawns.
Arrows. Someone is loosing arrows at us.