The hollow feeling within me is my only protection from the thread of the Fates that binds us together.
I can no longer afford to be reckless, not with the wheels of fate turning and the Seer’s vision coming to fruition around me. My mate has found me and brought me back to his people, and his people have already started to discuss the next steps needed to secure him the throne, even if he’s rejecting our union entirely. I have no choice but to surrender myself to the Fates and offer them my obedience.
I expected to return to a broken and scarred land, but I was unprepared for how sorrowful it would feel, the way that the earth and nature call to me. I'd forgotten what it meant to be a witch, a provider to the land, someone who protects and nurtures it. I'd forgotten what it felt like to behomeand responsible for more than just myself and my brother.
The responsibility of the things that I abandoned when I ran from my fate hits me with the force of a Ureen’s killing blow, the weight of the world pressing down on me all at once.
Thanks to the wounds on my wrists, it's easy enough to make myself bleed. I use one of my nails to slowly scratch away at the raw skin until a few droplets of blood land on the stone beneath my hands. It'll be harder to nourish the earth thanks to the stone floor, but I find a crack between two of the slabs and rub some blood into the dirt there, murmuring incantations under my breath, until the suffocation of the air eases just a little. The earth welcomes my offering, sighing as it absorbs my magic in a quiet and natural current. It takes only a few drops before the cycle of power establishes, passing through the dirt, into me, and then back out again.
It’s a constant ebb and flow, as it should be.
You’re home, Rookesbane. You’re home finally to protect us all.
Magic that isn’t my own sings underneath the scarred skin on my stomach and back, my connection to the Fates like the Seer’s own, though it was never my intention to form one. It didn't occur to me that I’d become a conductor for such things as a result of my near-death experience. A calmness flows into my veins, easing away the last clutches of panic, and the song of the forest deepens within my heart.
The Fates approve of my actions.
When the earth pulls greedily at my blood, draining me even as it sustains me, it’s easier to convince myself that I’m here as an act of service and not penance. It’s clear that it’s not going to be an easy task. I’ll have to fight the high fae every step of the way just to restore the land they call theirs to rule. Why they don’t care for it themselves is beyond me—maybe it’s another tactic against the witches?—but even that makes no sense.
With the passing of the summer solstice, there’s still many moons until the autumn equinox, but if I’m still trapped in the dungeon then, I won’t be able to perform the rites required to breathe life back into the lands. There were no signs of the castle marking the solstice and the ache within the earth suggests it’s been a long time since anyone practiced the fae folks’ many traditions to honor the land and all it provides. Without the rituals of the summer solstice, the land cannot sleep deeply and repair itself over the long and harsh winter. As its magic and resources are continually drained, year after year, it’s close to the edge of no return, devastation and catastrophe looming far closer than I think the high fae realize.
Will I still be in here for the spring equinox? Will I be here when the lands should be in a state of awakening and rebirth, flourishing and providing for us all?
This thought is one surefire spiral into madness, and so instead, I focus on what I can do now, pushing my life force into the earth and letting it take what it needs from me. Without a single drop of my own magic in the mix, my wrists begin to knit themselves back together. The minimal damage to my throat disappears as though it never was as the land pours back into me just as eagerly as I pour into it, gifting me this healing without my request.
I could give it every last drop of my blood and I still wouldn’t die, because it sustains me as I sustain it.
The high fae might ignore the earth, and the witches might have turned their backs on it at Kharl’s command, but I remember. The lessons my family taught me are burned into my mind, so even after centuries of fighting in a war, I can do what’s necessary and honor the land the way my kind always has.
The sleeves of my jacket cover my wrists, and I’ll keep my head low so no one will see that the damage has healed.
I fall asleep only to be woken hours later by the small hatch opening again. My plate of slops is pulled out and another bucket of water shoved inside. I keep my eyes closed as though I sleep, and I hear the guard curse and another voice answer him. Their words aren’t censored at all.
They’re not following their prince’s order to stay silent around me.
“Why would they bring a witch here? It's a danger to us all.”
There’s a grunt as the other answers, “This one's different. There are no markings on its face. I wonder why that is.”
The first speaker’s voice is closer to the cell than the other’s. “They never bring them back here alive, not since the regent found out. It's a risk to us all.”
“It's only a risk if you open your fat mouth and tell someone about it. Are you loyal to the regent or the prince?”
The first speaker huffs indignantly. “I know who’s supposed to be king around here, and I'm loyal to the Celestial line. Prince Soren would never allow me to stay if he doubted that, and you shouldn't either. I’m just saying it's risky, and I've never known the prince to act in such a way. Something is going on with this one.”
The other speaker grumbles under his breath, subdued. “I suppose he could finally be getting close to taking the throne, and then we'll be able to stop dealing with the regent’s guards.”
There's a murmur of agreement. They both seem happy with this thought. They don't like the regent, the Savage Prince’s uncle, who holds the throne for him in his stead, and it sounds as though the prince doesn’t like him either. None of that matters for me, not for the purpose I'm here to fulfill. My fate is to save the kingdom with my marriage to the Savage Prince, and when I made up my mind to come back, I assumed the Fates were asking for my simple compliance. To meet him and submit to whatever horrors the Unseelie Court has in store for me.
The state of the kingdom is far worse than I imagined. Without magic and sacrifice, the damage will soon be irreparable.Thisis what I was brought back here to correct; I know it, even without the Fates chiming in.
As I work steadily, I listen to the soldiers gossip without concern for my attention. I learned a lot during my time within the Seelie Court, and ignoring politics would be dangerous for me.
I tuck the information into the back of my mind and listen as their footsteps echo through the dungeon and slowly disappear, the air no longer heavy as it blankets me. When I open my eyes and move to the bucket for another drink, I notice how much easier it is to breathe. The earth no longer suffocates; it welcomes me, cherishes me as it holds me.
It’s happy that I'm here, even if the high fae are not.
CHAPTERSIX
