Interesting.
My assumption of them guarding me to ensure I don’t escape was off. They’re here to protect me.
Tyton grimaces and picks at his formal and fine shirt, holding it away from his chest with two fingers as though disgusted with it. “You smell fairy wine because Lady Essa was drunk enough to pour half a goblet down my shirt. I barely had a glass while I was listening to the latest gossip and distracting Mother from worrying aboutyou. I’m not going to be able to sleep with all of them here anyway, you know that. One of us might as well be sharp. Go get a few hours and then come back…unless you doubt I can deal with the regent’s soldiers myself?”
The surly prince stands up and hisses at him. “Why do you talk so openly? You know there are ears everywhere!”
Tyton only grins at him, holding up a hand that glows. “No one outside the dungeon can hear me, and I wanted the little witch to know that we're protecting her. She owes us for our kind act.”
They both turn and look at me, and there's no point hiding that I’m listening. I stare back, but I have nothing to say to either of them, and after another moment, the surly prince claps his brother on the shoulder and leaves, murmuring as he goes, “A couple of hours, and I’ll be back. I'll check on Soren to make sure he hasn't hung himself just to escape his fate and that filthy witch.”
Tyton lowers himself onto the stool and listens to his brother's retreating steps, not looking in my direction or attempting to speak until the sound of the stone door shutting over our heads echoes through the cavernous space. There’s another beat of silence, and I shut my eyes, ready to ignore this prince as I ignored the last, but his words break me out of my trance.
“Why are you giving your magic to the stones, little witch? What do you think they’re going to do to get you out of here?”
My eyes snap open and meet his piercing blue gaze.
He doesn't sense only his own magic; he can sense mine, well enough to see exactly what I’m doing here. I study him before I answer him, honest to a fault but knowing he won't believe me.
“A lot of evil has been wrought here, and the earth is begging for help. Why wouldn’t I attempt to repair that, since I can?”
His eyebrows pinch together, and it's the first sign of true familiarity I can see between the brothers. All the high fae look the same, but these two are so similar around the eyes when they scowl that their blood relationship has become glaringly obvious to me.
“Why should you care what the earth wants? Witches want nothing but power.”
How very wrong he is. How warped and twisted the truth has become here, thanks to one man's maniacal thirst for power and his drive to change the status quo and wipe out the high fae altogether.
Kharl strayed from the true path of what it means to be a witch, from our place in the world, and he’s led those who follow him away from our traditions. As much as I dislike the Unseelie high fae for their choice to abandon the magic that sustains our land and for the way that they treat the lower fae, I still understand my role in the world. I don't think it’s as a subordinate to the high fae—I don't think anyone is truly subordinate—but I understand that we all play an important part in taking care of the kingdom and helping it flourish. If one of the pillars folds, the others should hold it strong until it can be rebuilt. Not only have the witches here turned their back on everything they know, they've taken a sledgehammer to the other pillars.
I choose to give Tyton the easy answer. “I’m a healer. I always have been, and I always will be. While the earth is suffering, I can't sit back and watch it die.”
He cocks his head at me, the action the same as Tauron’s down to the tilt, and his gaze runs over every filthy inch of my being before he nods. “A healer makes sense. I suppose that's what you did in the Sol Army, too.”
It's my turn to knit my eyebrows together, but he shrugs at me.
“You stand like a soldier. Seeing you and Airlie next to each other made it obvious. I didn't see it when you were with only the rest of us, because you just looked like us, nothing out of the ordinary. Next to my refined and resplendent cousin, you stood braced for impact, and the healers within an army are soldiers, first and foremost. What a change it must have been to go from fighting against the Ureen to being a target here in the Southern Lands. I suppose you regret returning.”
I shrug back at him and let my eyes fall closed once more. “I won't deny it, but who am I to question a destiny predetermined.”
If I keep saying it, maybe it’ll eventually sting a little less passing my lips. Maybe the lessons the Fates bestowed on me will stop throbbing like a wound in my mind. I wait for Tyton to question me further but whatever he’s learned from me, whatever calculations he’s forming to pass along to the Savage Prince, he’s satisfied for now.
I let myself fall back into the connection and ignore his presence once more, a far easier task now that the wounds of my past are aching within me once more.
CHAPTERTWELVE
Soren
The only good thing that comes from the Unseelie Court wreaking havoc on Yregar Castle is the information that Tyton shares after guarding the witch.
She was a healer in the Sol Army.
Our relations with the Seelie Court have always been fraught, and I don’t have that many connections, thanks to the regent taking up space on my throne, but I still send a scout north with her information and description. Vorus is a part-blood, more goblin than high fae, but he has a small network in the Northern Lands and the Sol Army and he should be a good help to Hamyr in finding outsomethingabout this Fates-cursed mate of mine. Roan questioned him extensively before we sent him. The journey is a long one, but worth it if he finds out who she served with and the extent of her abilities.
I’m eager to find out whatever we can about the little witch the Fates have put in my path.
I want to know what her motives are.
As I sit on Nightspark at the edge of Yregar grounds near the large stone wall that protects the village and castle within, I catch sight of Roan's scowling face as he watches the scout step through the fae door.
