Hours later, Firna herself comes to see me with a small tray of food in her hands. It's simple fare—bread, cheeses, and some fruits, but it's not the slops I was given in the dungeon.
“I’ll take the tea for the princess with me now and care for her this evening. If there’s anything we should need you for overnight, I'll send one of the maids down to collect you.”
I hum in agreement, pouring out the mixture for her, and she removes the plates from the tray and replaces them with the items for Airlie.
“I don't think you’ll need me—Airlie is adjusting beautifully, and she was perfectly fine when I left them both earlier. Is there any sign of Prince Roan yet?”
Firna sighs, pressing a hand into her forehead and looking weary for the first time since I've known the woman. “Nothing yet. Prince Soren sent messengers and extra soldiers to the Outlands, but there's been no word.”
In times of war, no news is definitely not good news, and my lips tighten as I give her a firm look. “If the princess asks, tell her the truth but keep the focus on her son. She's not one to accept pretty lies to cower from reality, but there's no use in her worrying just yet. Stress will only make things harder for her body as she heals and adjusts.”
Firna nods, taking the tray and leaving the room with the confidence of a woman who runs the entire household.
Moving to the window frames, I check the small jars of milk thistle cuttings I placed carefully on the sills. They're already showing signs of life, thanks to the little extra boost my magic gave them. It helps that milk thistle grows like a weed, rampant in the climate of the Southern Lands so long as the ground isn’t frozen or sucked dry of life. I won’t struggle to cultivate it in the small garden plots outside, a task for tomorrow after I’ve cleaned the area out.
It's not going to be easy, but I’ve never been afraid of hard work.
Removing the dress and awful Unseelie high-fae boots, I set them on the small wooden chair next to the sleeping bunk before I climb onto the mattress wearing nothing but the small shift Firna had given me as underwear.
I’ll have to see later if the keeper’s kindness toward me will extend as far as more clothing, but for now, this will do. I fall asleep quickly, secure and blissfully unwatched for the first time in months.
I'm woken by a rough hand on my shoulder. My magic flares to life, snapping out in protection as I’m caught unaware, and it reaches out to grasp whoever is attacking me. Only at the last moment do I see a maid staring down at me, terrified as she feels the tendrils of power wrapping around her arm.
I curse under my breath, pulling it back into myself, but before I can form any apologies in my sleep-hazed mind she stutters, “The prince has called for you. You must make haste!”
She doesn't specify which prince, but I can hazard a guess.
It takes me a few moments to get back into the dress and pull the shoes onto my aching feet. The maid wrings her hands by the door in panic as she waits, and when I finally gesture for her to lead the way, she bolts out of the room like a terrified rabbit.
I feel bad for scaring her so badly, but she doesn't want to be in my presence long enough for a sincere apology. When we get to the ground floor, I’m surprised when she veers away from the staircase that leads to Airlie’s rooms and instead takes me to the Grand Hall. My stomach drops. Midnight meetings in such places are never a good sign.
Lamps glow everywhere, the castle lit up like there’s a ball underway, and the marble floors sparkle as though by magic as it reflects the light. When we approach the door, it’s opened for us by two soldiers, both heavily armed as though braced for an attack. The maid steps into the room, her head bowing instantly before Prince Soren and the woman with him. She turns to me, her mouth opening and her eyes widening in horror.
This is Princess Airlie’s mother. I met her when I was dragged before the Unseelie Court. She didn’t make a great impression on me then, and the drivel pouring from her mouth now only makes matters worse.
“How could you do this to her, Soren? How could you let one of those filthy creatures touch my daughter! You were supposed to take care of her.Roanwas supposed to take care of her.”
Prince Soren holds up a hand, ignoring her indignant protests, and calls his orders to me, “The castle is on lockdown, no one in or out. You will tend to Airlie in my absence.”
I nod, moving to leave the Grand Hall, but the soldiers at the door don’t open it, standing like a wall in front of them, so I’m forced to listen as the woman's shrieking begins anew.
“You would deny me access to my daughter but send awitchinto her rooms instead? Soren, have you gone mad? After everything we’ve done to keep you safe and a prospect for the Unseelie Court to place upon the throne, you’re throwing it away for that witch? Has she cast a spell on you? I’ll have to ride out and speak to the regent myself!”
I step forward again but the soldiers stare past me, unblinking. I huff, not eager to listen to the same tired hatred and distrust for me, and the maid steps up to stand at my side. She’s been assigned to me, clearly, and I turn back to watch the disastrous scene play out before us.
Prince Soren steps toward the woman, a relation of his somewhere along the line, but his eyes are cutting as he stares at her, none of the warmth he shares with her daughter present. “Airlie doesn't want you to see the baby before Roan does. You’ll wait until she calls for you. Your daughter was offered help by the witch to break the curse and she chose to take it. The Unseelie Court passed the law that I must marry my mate before I can take the throne, they've chosen to uphold that law for almost a thousand years while everything around us died and the regent watched, uncaring for the hundreds of thousands of lives lost. That witch is my fate and if the Unseelie Court doesn’t wish that fate to pass, then they’ll need to give me the throne without our union. You shouldn't have come, Aura. You knew better than to try and now you’re wasting my time with your theatrics. By coming here, you’ve risked the safety of the entire kingdom, and for nothing.”
Her mouth opens and shuts, and then again as though she’s a fish out of water, before she sputters in outrage. “I’ve done no such thing! I felt the curse break and I knew it had to be Airlie. She was the only pregnant high fae in all the kingdom and I came straight here to be with her, as any mother should!”
Her words catch my attention, my curiosity itching without a way for me to scratch it. She felt the curse break as well. Tyton and Airlie feeling it could be explained, and the Goblin King didn’t surprise me, but Aura? Does her magic writhe within her like an unruly beast, or do the high fae simply not recognize the power they hold within themselves? It’s frustrating that I can’t question them about this further and get a proper answer. Even if they trusted me, I doubt these people would know what I was asking them.
A cold smile stretches across Soren’s lips. “And who did you tell about the curse breaking along the way? Who at Yris knows the reason you left? You might have loyalty, Aura, but you don’t see the truth of how far our people have fallen under the reign of the regent. We’re not untouchable—the witches have proved that time and time again, and my uncle has done nothing but look on as his people die.”
She glances around the room as she murmurs, “You cannot speak of him like that, Soren, it's treason! I’ve proved my loyalties to you a thousand times over. There’s nothing else I can do to sway the rest of the Unseelie Court to side with you. I’ve done everything in my power to preserve your reputation, even while you’ve worked against me. I live in Yris and adhere to the court's way of life, but there’s nothing wrong with choosing comfort over this depressing and barren stone prison! I’m more use to you there.”
Her gaze gets stuck on the scar across his face, and he shakes his head at her. “You fought for my reputation, and I fought for our lives.”
She sputters out a protest, a denial of the severity of the war, but Prince Soren cuts her off. “Every last one of the royal families deserves to starve. I might be willing to risk the Unseelie Court by letting the regent traipse around the kingdom, but I won’t have you risk Airlie or her son with your indifference to their safety simply to put on your act of a doting mother. The witch will care for her, you will stay in your guest rooms, and no one will leave this castle until I return. If I find out that you stepped so much as a single foot on the staircase to her room while I was gone, I’ll kill you.”
