My breath hitched as we walked up a steep rise. Witches were generally a name used for ancient sorcerers who worshipped nature. Not a slur.
I grimaced. “I see.”
We followed the steep rise before reaching a house larger than the others around it. The door was arched and painted in black gloss. The door knocker was made of brass and in the shape of a unicorn’s head. Large windows overlooked the roads and hills, and the white sheep-stone exterior made it look like it belonged on a beach somewhere. He pulled out a silver key and pushed it into the lock. The door creaked open, and he gestured me inside.
The living room was ordinary enough. A rug made from a wolf’s pelt lay center on the polished-oak floor. The walls looked the same as the outside, white and rough. He set the box he had been carrying onto a wooden table. Looking behind him, he glanced at the logs in the fireplace, which lit up in flames at his will. Fae magic had always bewitched me.
I masked my awe with a yawn and sat on one of the chairs. “What’s in there?”
He looked at me tight-lipped. “Can you keep a secret?”
“Depends,” I said, my eyes darkening. There was little point explaining that the last secret I was forced to keep was murder.
“Well, I hope you will.” He grinned from ear to ear.
There was movement happening inside the box. I waited anxiously as he untied the brown string. A pixie flew out from inside. I gasped loudly.
“How? They’re native to Magaelor!”
“I transported her,” he told me, unaware of my building rage. He watched the pixie with fascination as she flew around the room. “From Magaelor,” he said, absently. “Right under their noses.”
My lips pulled back. I inhaled slowly, pushing my rage deep into the pit of my stomach. The last time Berovians managed to get onto our shores, thousands of our people died. Cedric didn’t look like he could harm a fly, but then if he could get into Magaelor, any of them could.
“That’s illegal.” I placed my hand on my hip.
“Relax,” he said on an exhale, then reached for the pixie. Her small wings fluttered like a butterfly as she landed on Cedric’s shoulder. The pixie looked at me, then cocked her head to the side. She had almond-shaped eyes the color of tree bark, a small nose, and dusty pink cheeks. She was no bigger than a hummingbird, so a child still. They could grow to the size of an eagle by the end of their lives.
He gushed when she squeaked. “You hungry, little one?”
He reached into the bowl of apples in the middle of the table, then grabbed a rosy red one. I grabbed his wrist.
“They only eat honey and blackberries.”
He put the apple back. “And how would you know that?”
“If you’re going to import creatures illegally, you should at least know how to take care of them,” I replied, scolding him.
“Well, aren’t you full of surprises?”
I expected suspicion after my lapse in judgment to tell him about a pixie’s diet, but instead his expression intensified. I could sense the gears ticking in his brain, trying to work me out, but he was enjoying himself far too much to try to make sense of it. Fae loved chaos, games, and puzzles.
“Relax.” He let out a hearty laugh. “You’re so tense.”
I slumped my shoulders back, then twisted my knotted hair around my finger. “I’m not tense.”
“Right...” He set the pixie onto the table. “I’ll go into the market and get some berries and honey.” He looked at her. “You stay here with my other new friend.” He winked at me before leaving the house.
I sighed with relief once the door clicked shut, and I turned toward the pixie.
“You could have gotten me caught,” I told her but smiled. “I wasn’t about to let you eat an apple though.”
She looked at me appreciatively.
“Don’t worry... As soon as I get the chance and find a way back home, I’ll be taking you with me. Back to where you belong.” I placed my finger against my lips and shushed her. “But don’t you go escaping, okay? Pixies aren’t welcome over here.”
The pixie nodded, then flitted up and flew around the room before landing on the stone frame surrounding a mirror.
I leaned back in my chair. I was exhausted. My eyes burned as I tried to focus on a painting of a boat. The colors blurred into each other. My brain had gone into survival mode. My short-term memory was hazy at best, and all I could feel was adrenaline flooding me at every noise. My head throbbed as I closed my eyes and listened to the fluttering of the pixie’s wings.
I tried to push the lurking dangers from my mind. I wished I had Morgana’s capsules to help my anxiety. It was worse than ever.
I walked through an open doorway and across the stone floor until I found a bedroom. Nervousness buzzed in my fingers and arms. My breaths quickened and my heart raced. Cedric could find out who I was. The authorities could come here. I could be slaughtered in my sleep.
Fear gripped my tiredness, wiring me awake through clouded vision. I did my best to ignore the intrusive thoughts as I had learned to do over the years; it wasn’t the first time unwelcome and unlikely scenarios had plagued me.
Down feather pillows and a fluffy white blanket warmed underneath me in the king-size bed. The room was painted in a light yellow. Slices of light shone through the white voiles that hung over the shuttered windows. I closed my eyes and listened to the sounds of people outside, the bustles of everyday life as I slipped away. I’d shower tomorrow and plan how to get home. For now, my brain ached for the absence of thought.
EIGHT
I reached out to my brother, but his face was a blank façade. He was bleeding from his waist, but he didn’t let on that he was suffering. I waited for him to speak; I wanted to tell him I was sorry, that destiny had twisted my future with his death.
With their deaths.
I opened my mouth to talk, but Florence was already at his side, her hand knotted with his. “His blood is on your hands.” Her eyes never left mine.
“No.” I was growing more breathless by the second.
“Yes.”
I woke up covered in sweat for the fourth night in a row. The white shirt I had borrowed from Cedric’s dresser clung to my back when I sat upright. I hadn’t dreamed of them in a long time. Morgana’s herbs had kept the dark thoughts away, but I didn’t have them anymore. The darkness in my mind was cracking open, and anxiety was slipping back through.
You killed him, my anxiety whispered.
I gasped to the room. “No.”
Morgana had never told me André would die, or Jasper. Just that there would be death. Had I known, I would have tried to save them.
Lies.
Fear reared its ugly head, pulling me into a downward spiral. I tried to reason, defend myself. She said they had to die for my future, but I had never asked for it. It was out of my hands. I had never wanted the crown until I had no choice.
A crown you’ve lost.
My breaths quickened, and my arms prickled as my hairs stood erect.
“Not yet. I can still go home.”
You’ll never make it home. They died for nothing.
The voice in my head was winning. I pressed my fingertips against my forehead, squeezing my eyelids shut.
Morgana had taught me to ground myself, to acknowledge the scenarios that often sent me spiraling down a hole of panic, but not accept them as truth. My brain loved to tell me I was in danger; it was its favorite pastime. Except, this time I really was.