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“Shhh,” Fiona says, reaching out her arms to catch me as I start to sink into a floppy heap in front of her.
There’s a question pounding at the front of my mind, but it won’t quite take shape. I want to do nothing more than lie down and sleep...so I do.
The sweetness of the apple is still dancing on my lips as I close my eyes.
Chapter 32
Strange shapes loom up in my blurry vision, twisting bows of onyx, angular curves in ivory. I try to focus, my head throbbing as I blink my eyes. Finally, my brain starts to make sense of what I’m seeing.
Skulls. Horns. The walls are covered with them, like they’ve been punched through with head-long attacks from wild animals. Not far off, I realize, examining the chair near me, which is covered in a swirling amber hide from an unknown beast.
These are hunting trophies.
I must still be in Faerie, because these are no animals I recognize from Styrland mounted on the wall. A huge skull that looks far too human for comfort hangs opposite me, though the large size and the shape of the teeth that curl down past the jawbone has me guessing it might be some kind of ogre. Two rows down from it is a single, silver horn that I suspect is from a unicorn.
The question that eluded me as I lost consciousness finds me now: why would Fiona give me fae food?
Every possible answer fills me with dread, as does the way my hands are bound behind me with thick chains, securing my arms around the wooden pillar at my back.
The dramatic décor of the room tugs at my brain. When Ruskin and I had discussed the Wild Hunt, he’d mentioned a base for them, hadn’t he? Deep in the woods? Not belonging to the Hunt specifically, but his sister…
The clanking of the chains as I test them must alert her, because a fae woman strides into the room just then, sweeping past the overcrowded walls to come and stand before me. She’s wearing a dark purple cloak that sweeps down to the floor, her chestnut brown hair falling in waves around her face. The shape of her face, and the green of her eyes are familiar—features I’ve gazed upon a hundred times in a different form. This woman resembles Ruskin, and my theory about the lodge solidifies into certainty.
“Hello, Cebba,” I say.
She smiles. “Hello, Eleanor Thorn. You took longer than I expected to wake up. It seems you really enjoyed that apple.”
I flush, annoyed at my own stupidity. Why hadn’t I been more careful? But I know the answer: because I’d been leaving Faerie, and I’d thought the time of watching my back in this treacherous realm was over.
“How long has Fiona been working for you, then?” I ask bitterly. “Or did you somehow trick her?” Even if Fiona knew she was helping Cebba, she must’ve been forced into it, probably threatened by her horrible mistress.
Cebba’s eyebrows rise in surprise, and it’s painful for a moment how similar the expression is to her brother’s when he’s been caught off guard. Then her smile returns, wider than before.
“Oh, my dear, I thought you realized. ‘Fiona’ isn’t working for me.” She unties her cape, letting it fall to the ground. Underneath she’s wearing a familiar, plain, servant’s dress. “I am Fiona.”
I knew I was in danger the moment I woke. I feared for my life. But this is worse. The nausea rolls through me as my world tilts. This whole time, that friendly face I clung to, poured my heart out to, was just a wolf in sheep’s clothing.
“But…” I scramble around, looking for some way to refute it. “But fae can’t lie.”
Cebba waves a hand around her head, and I watch as the illusion settles into place—my friend’s face.
“We can’t, but humans aren’t very good at actually listening to what people say. I’d just give you an answer and let you hear what you wanted.”
I think back, straining my memory to try to recall her exact words to me. She’d never said her name was Fiona, I realize. She’d just told me that in the palace that’s what people called her. Which was true, if that was her alias. And her wounds at the market, the ones that had filled me with so much pity…an illusion no doubt. But when I’d asked if Lady Rivera had done it to her, she’s just warned me about angering the High Fae.
Bile catches at the back of my throat, making my mouth bitter.
“Stars, you must think I’m an idiot,” I say. How I’d agonized about being able to take her with me, when she was simply scheming away, deciding how she could use me.
“Your words, not mine. But I will admit it was rather irritating at times.” Cebba rolls her eyes, taking a seat opposite me. “Listening to you whine about your troubles, answering your inane questions. And, of course, then there was the theatrics in the Sun Room. I can’t say I enjoyed that much, but I needed you convinced that I was just a silly human desperate for your help.”
“So, Lady Rivera?” I ask, trying to understand how she’s stayed under the radar, right under Ruskin’s nose. Those wounds I tended to with such care were real enough.
“Is a dear friend of mine,” Cebba confirms. “Helpful, if galling, to play-act being her maid just so I could keep an eye on my brother. It was taking too long for the curse to work, and I couldn’t understand how he’d held it off. Until, of course, the gold started showing up in unexpected places and I realized the fool had gone and managed to make himself High King.”
“Only because you were too weak to seal the deal with the founding stone,” I spit. I know it’s reckless to rile this woman, especially given my helpless position, but I feel so hurt and humiliated that I can’t help wanting to get under her skin a little.
Her eyes flash with anger, but she doesn’t move.
