Page 26 of Fae Farewells

“I don’t think anyone has ever pissed me off this bad.” She clicked her tongue. “Maybe Alric, but he’ll get me soon enough.”

Wednesday, June 17th

Late Night

Thatcher transported me through the void, away from my grandfather’s cottage, before I could say anything else. I didn’t blame him, not after seeing Stone and York grab Novak as he rushed forward.

We left so the guards could avoid a fight. They weren’t bad guys; they were doing their jobs so their families could eat and avoid punishment.

Because telling the queen “no” was a punishable offense. And if they didn’t pay, everyone around them would.

But this injustice came with issues of its own.

As the last of the guards landed in the execution room, they wandered away without a backward glance. Their job was done. They’d caught me. They would do no more, not even ensure I made it to a cell.

Two raised platforms ran along a pit of dark water. That was where bodies were dropped after their executions, but not many fae knew it wasn’t bottomless. It connected to a waterway that spit out the deceased at the far edges of the neutral territory.

I only knew because Alania had shoved me into it, bound and gagged, as she smiled over my inevitable death. It didn’t start as a fond memory; I was under the impression my mother had just tried to kill me.

The sirens that hid in the outer regions told me Leviathan had saved my life.

A cursed angel, Leviathan could only hold her true form for one year at a time. Between that freedom, she was a monster of the sea for seven wretched years, swimming through deep waters until she sensed the damned and deceived.

And because of her, I’d spent weeks among the sirens, learning to use more than the ice that came so naturally.

“Ice is water, is it not?” Monaly would chastise each time I failed a lesson. “You are winter and summer fae, are you not?”

They taught me how to survive, too.

I went back to the palace, on my eighteenth birthday, to live under Alania’s rule because I couldn’t stomach leaving my sisters.

That was the last time I went back, and it had been a mistake.

Today wasn’t a repeat, wasn’t a fool’s dream…

It was simply time to right the wrongs I didn’t make.

Time to slay the abysmal creature parading in my mother’s crown.

“I’ve got him from here,” Thatcher said, motioning for his partner to return to his post at the entrance.

We stood still, watching the last guard retreat. Thatcher’s hand brushed mine, slipping a thin piece of metal against my palm.

I didn’t question him. Just shook my wrists around as if adjusting the cuffs. The metal fell into my sleeve, sliding down my forearm. As it hit the crook of my elbow, I froze it to my skin, keeping the icy case as flat as possible.

Neither of us spoke a word as we moved toward the dungeon. It was just beyond the worn wooden door, behind the icy electric wards that held the prisoners inside, and down a torch-lit staircase. The weathered door creaked in its old age, unless you lifted it up when you pushed it open.

Stale air wafted through the archway, causing my nostrils to flare as suppressed memories pressed to the forefront of my mind. But I was a different person today, no longer concerned with keeping the peace for fear of punishment.

No.

I had brought punishment to my realm’s stoop.

And she wouldn’t knock politely and wait for an invitation.

She would kick the fucking door in, ready to make herself known and at home before she twisted the world to kneel before her.

The high arching ceilings soared overhead in the dark hall, the ancient wooden beams covered in a thin layer of frost that crawled down the walls to lick at my power. Dim flames flickered in the sconces, never bright enough to show more than mere inches around the curved triangular cell doors.